These Scars of Ours

~{x}~

Tuesday came quickly, and with it, more rain. Christine stared out the back window by her workstation, watching the urban monsoon pour down like a dark curtain over the city. The streets were puddling near the grates and pedestrians were sprinting to and from their destinations frantically, trying their best to stay dry as the winds blew their jackets about.

It was typical of course, that it would storm like this, seeing as how tonight would be her second date with Erik. After all, whenever she made plans to do something there always seemed to be some sort of hiccup to go along with them. She was just happy that today she'd actually noticed the dark clouds before she'd left home and had been wise enough to bring an umbrella with her. Especially since she'd have to get ready in a hurry tonight. Not having to dry her hair first would greatly help to speed that up.

As she packed up her station for the day Meg waltzed over to her with a spring in her step, whistling a merry little tune. Today she was dressed to the nines, wearing pleather leggings and a bright red frilly blouse. Her curly hair was styled off to one side and her lips were full and glossy.

"You're in a good mood today," Christine observed, laughing as Meg switched to humming and leaned against the window to glance out at the rain.

"That I am," Meg replied, turning to sit on the ledge. She held up her phone towards Christine. "Want to see why?"

Christine reached out and took Meg's phone, staring down at the string of text messages before her with a smile. Brooke's name had a small heart next to it in the contact header, and below were several texts from her gushing about their dinner plans for tonight. They would be going out for Italian, Meg's favorite, and afterwards to a movie.

"Meg, this is great! I'm so happy for you!"

Meg took back her phone, a blush in her cheeks. "It's all thanks to you, really. I never would have met her had we not gone out looking for that dress of yours."

"Did you text her that same night?" Christine asked as she turned away to pack up her bag.

Meg sighed dreamily. "That I did - and since then we've been texting non-stop! Good God Christine, she's wonderful. She really is. She has a degree in Fashion Marketing and does volunteer work on the weekends. I mean, could she be anymore perfect?"

Christine smiled. "Sounds like you two really hit it off. You think she's the one?"

"My Mrs. Right? Oh, I don't know Christine." She fiddled with her hands and flashed a shy smile. "I mean, she could be. I hope so."

As if on cue, Meg's phone began to ring. She answered it with a smile, mouthing to Christine that it was Brooke, and walked away, twirling one of her curls in her finger like an excited teenager. Christine couldn't help but beam, seeing her friend so happy. She slung her bag up over her shoulder and grabbed her umbrella, waving to her as she exited the shop with high spirits.

The rainfall had grown worse in the last hour and was heavy as it struck her umbrella, beading down in thick droplets that seemed to add five pounds to its weight. The puddles on the sidewalk were wider now because of it, and Christine had to pay careful attention not to step in any that were too deep. The idea of soaking wet feet the entire walk home did not sound appealing to her. Not when she had to wear heels tonight and would probably get blisters from that anyways.

As she looked around she noticed how truly quiet the city had grown due to the storm. Besides a passing car now and then, everyone seemed to have finally shied away indoors, not wishing to face the elements until they calmed. A smart move on their part, she realized as a loud crash of thunder made her jump.

She walked home quickly then, fighting the wind the entire way. It was nearly four when she finally arrived home, which gave her only two hours before Erik would arrive with their ride for the evening. Not wanting to waste a moment of it, she quickly tied her hair up and showered, washing away the daily grime of work. She toweled herself off and strutted into her room, happily spying her fancy pink dress box sitting on the edge of bed where she'd left it. She took off its lid with a smile, running one hand down the beautiful blue fabric in admiration.

Look out, Wells! she thought with a wicked grin as she pulled it from its tissue paper. She slid it on over her head with a wiggle, once more pleased with its comfortable fabric and the way it clung to her body like a second skin. She felt truly beautiful in such a dress, all the more like a princess as she then returned to the bathroom to curl her hair.

When she was finished she dabbed on a bit of perfume and applied her makeup, going light on her eyes and choosing a soft pink gloss for her lips. It was a rather sweet look, far less alternative than her usual one, and she hoped the change would be quite a surprise for her date. She knew it was certainly a surprise for Boris, who looked at her as if she were a stranger as she walked into the living room to sit down and pull on her heels.

She'd expected Erik to text her when he arrived, stating that he was downstairs and waiting for her. What she hadn't expected was for him to knock on the door. She blushed furiously at the sound, looking around in a panic to make sure her living quarters were in decent order. She then sighed in relief, grateful as she realized she had cleaned her apartment just the other day for Meg.

Unlocking the door, she called out that it was open, happily inviting him to step in while she disappeared into her room to grab her purse. When she returned she noticed him standing just inside the doorframe, looking about curiously.

"This suits you," he remarked as his eyes came to rest on her workstation in the corner. He seemed to look at the space fondly, as if he knew that that was where the magic happened.

"It does the trick," Christine agreed.

Erik's eyes fell to rest on her then, going slightly wide as he took in her outfit for the night. He stiffened ever so, letting his gaze drift over her slowly. It had been the first time he'd seen her in less than jeans, she realized, and for a moment he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her legs. Christine couldn't see the majority of his face, but assumed by his stunned expression that his mouth may very well be agape. She glowed inside, cheeks flushing, happy for the millionth time today that she'd purchased this dress. It had made a statement all right, just as she'd thought it would.

"Shall we?" she asked, taking him by the arm.

Erik blinked, refocusing his attention, and opened the door for her. "After you."

They walked down the stairwell, Erik leading the way as he opened up a large umbrella and held it over their heads. Christine smiled as they stepped onto the sidewalk, holding the crook of his elbow and staying closely pressed to his side as he ushered her over to their awaiting taxi. He opened the door for her, ever the gentlemen, and she stepped inside, attempting to do so as gracefully as she could in such a short dress.

As he climbed in through the door opposite of hers she finally got the chance to really look him over, taking in his formal appearance for the evening. He was dressed in an all black suit tonight, and she had to admit he looked positively striking in it. He'd also styled his hair back, only adding to the sexy and mysterious vibe he was putting off. The only thing that truly took away from it all was his mask. That stark yellow paper was so out of place with the rest of his attire, and thus overly distracting in contrast. He must have caught her staring at it, for he coughed into his hand and broke her concentration, causing her to flush with embarrassment.

She was worried she had offended him, yet when she looked back up she could see that his eyes were warm.

"Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?" he asked quietly.

"You clean up pretty well yourself, handsome," she replied with a smile, feeling her heart flutter at his compliment as she reached over to give his hand a squeeze.

She let hers linger there afterwards, their fingers lazily intertwining together on the seat between them. It wasn't the first time they'd held hands, but this time it felt different to her. Maybe because this time she was the one initiating it. As she glanced down she couldn't help but realize just how small her hand seemed in comparison to his. He had the long, pale fingers of a musician, whereas she was tiny in all aspects, and it showed.

They stayed quiet the short ride there, simply enjoying each other's company and listening to the storm outside pit-pattering on the roof of the cab. It was only when the taxi was a block away from the theatre that Erik suddenly pulled away after from her, looking nervous.

"Close your eyes," he requested, a nervous tremor in his voice as he spoke.

Christine did so, smiling as she played along to whatever he was doing. That smile faltered though when she heard their driver gasp, a horrified noise emitting from the back of his throat. At the same time the taxi jerked slightly off its course and Christine's eyes flew back open, the sudden swerve causing her to panic, only to see Erik calmly bringing his hands down from his face, a black fabric mask now in place of his paper one. She looked up from him to the rearview mirror of the taxi, noticing that the driver's eyes were now wide as saucers and firmly affixed on her date. He barely blinked, and shook as though he had just seen a phantom. Christine watched the way he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned while. He clutched it as though it were his last tether on this earth.

Christine looked back to Erik, who was now facing forward, still as a statue. If the driver's reaction to seeing his face had upset him, he didn't dare show it. Her eyes fell to his black mask, trailing upwards towards that one scared eye of his. A part of her wanted to reach out then, to pull away his mask and finally see what he looked like for herself. The curiosity to do so was maddening, but she knew if she did that then she would ruin every ounce of trust they'd so far forged between the two of them.

"Everyone has things they'd rather not talk about."

He'd respected her privacy before. The least she could do was respect his now. Though eventually they'd need to talk. She knew that. As time went on and this relationship continued they'd both have to learn to be more trusting in one another.

The taxi pulled up to the front of the theatre, Erik climbing out first and opening up his umbrella before helping her to exit the car. He tapped the driver's side window as they passed by it, holding out payment for the ride. The driver flinched in response and barely lowered the glass, taking the cash with unsteady fingers before quickly pulling away from the curb, as if he were fleeing from the very devil himself.

Trying not to focus on the exchange between her date and the rude driver, Christine took Erik's hand and smiled up at him with encouragement, cuddling up close to his side as they walked beneath his umbrella towards the entrance. She gazed up wondrously at the golden building as they approached it, taking in the lights surrounding the show posters and the large crowds that were funneling in through the main doors.

Once inside the lobby though she suddenly felt very out of place, noticing the firm up-dos and black dresses most of the other women were sporting tonight. They all looked very posh, some even bored to the point of tears. Erik must've noticed her falter, for he looked down at her and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"Would you like a drink before we head upstairs? Wine perhaps?" he asked politely.

She nodded her head. "White would be nice. I don't much care for red."

She hated to think of the fact that she may have been accepting a drink to help calm her nerves. She didn't like the idea of using alcohol that way. She never had. It was why she only ever drank one glass of anything whenever Meg came over to hang out. She never wanted to know the true feeling of intoxication, never wanted even an ounce of the total inebriation her mother carried around with her each day. In fact, it wasn't too long ago that she'd sworn she'd never drink at all. It had been Annette who'd finally explained to her that the notion of alcohol abstinence in all aspects was a silly one. That she had more control than that and needed to relax and enjoy the pleasures of being an adult every once in a while.

"Christine?" a cool voice probed.

Christine turned around and gasped at the sound of her name. She hadn't expected to run into Raoul of all people at this show, nor to have him approach her so casually the next time they ran into one another. He was dressed in pressed khakis and a grey blazer tonight, his blonde hair combed off to the same side his boyish grin was always turned up on. He was dazzlingly handsome under the crystal lights, she couldn't deny that, even with the black and purple marks to either side of his nose. Christine immediately felt nauseous, seeing the lasting damage of what she had done to him. Once more that pit of guilt dropped in her stomach and she felt its ache bring forth memories she wished she could bury.

"Raoul...I didn't expect to see you here," she said quietly, glancing around for Erik as she spoke. She suddenly wished he had never left her side.

"Imagine my surprise! It is a pleasant one though, especially seeing as how you're all dressed up. Why, I can't remember the last time you looked this beautiful."

Christine bit her lip, not sure how to take his compliment. If that's what it even was. It seemed almost as if he were insinuating that her usual look made her appear less than beautiful in his eyes, which made her feel sour inside for some reason. She self-consciously pulled at the hem of her dress in response.

Still, she supposed he was trying his best to be polite to her, in his own way, which was the exact opposite of what she'd expected from him the next time they came face-to-face. She'd expected anger, especially after she had struck him the way she did, and for him to yell, continuing to label her a freak and a psycho. And yet he didn't. He simply stuck his hands in his side pockets and smiled at her like an endearing idiot, which unnerved her even more.

"Raoul, you don't have to pretend to be nice to me just because we're in a public venue. I know you must be pissed at me."

"What, for this?" Raoul pointed up his face, then shrugged it off. "This is nothing. You didn't break any bones and the bruising will be gone in a matter of days. Besides, I think I sort of deserved it. I was frustrated and said some pretty hurtful things to you the other night. I would've punched me too."

"You know I'm not my mother," Christine clarified, remembering why she'd punched him in the first place, "You deliberately said that to hurt me."

"Like I said, I was frustrated. It's no excuse though. I apologize, Chris. I do. I wish I could take it back."

Christine brought her hands up to her hips, feeling annoyance bubble up inside of her. "Well you can't, Raoul. Saying sorry doesn't change the fact that every other word out of your mouth is a cruel one. You don't think before you speak, you never have."

His eyes softened. "Is that why you left?"

Christine paused, taking in the regretful look on his face. Finally, she nodded. "One of the reasons, yeah."

"And the others?" he asked gently, taking a half step towards her.

Christine didn't get another chance to speak. Just then a shadow loomed over her and she felt Erik's presence closing in. She turned and took her glass of wine from him with a grateful nod, gesturing to Raoul.

"Erik, this is Raoul. Raoul is-"

"An old friend," Raoul finished, holding out his hand for Erik to shake, "And you are?"

"Erik Wells," he replied firmly, looking down an Raoul with a suspicious glare as he shook his hand, "Christine's date for the evening."

Christine couldn't tell whether it was the threatening look in his eyes or the overall appearance of a masked man in black, but for whatever reason Raoul backed down completely, nodding a hasty goodbye to her before turning to disappear into the crowd. Erik seemed almost pleased with the way he'd intimidated the smaller man, straightening his tie as they followed suit. The ten minute warning lights flickered above their heads, and together they made their way towards the staircase that led to the box seats.

"That was one of those boys from back on the street," Erik observed offhandedly, taking her by the hand to help her walk up the stairs in her heels. They took them one at a time, Erik's other hand on the small of her back to help keep her balanced.

"An ex," Christine finally admitted, knowing it was pointless to hide such.

"I figured as much," was all he replied.

An usher took their tickets from them and unlocked box five, bowing her head formally as they entered. Christine was surprised at the intimacy of the box as the door closed behind them. It had large curtained walls on either side for privacy and it's own small ledge in the front, where she gratefully set her wine down before she could spill it. The box only had four seats in it, and she and Erik silently agreed to take the ones on the left. To her pleasant surprise though no one else seemed to be joining them. Erik too seemed glad for this as the lights around them faded out. He leaned in close to her as the curtain rose.

"Would you mind if I put my arm around you?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

His smooth voice was dark and tender in her ear, making her shudder involuntarily. She nodded, grateful that he had asked her first and not simply reached out for her in the dark. She wouldn't have wanted to explain to him why she would've flinched so violently in response had he done such. But expecting it she relaxed into his side and felt his arm fall across the back of her seat, his hand coming to rest lightly on her shoulder. His fingers were cold, she noticed, but his touch made her feel oh so very warm inside.

The first half of the show was marvelous, and Erik had been right about the view from their box. It was perfect, close enough to see every detail of the many sets and costumes down below. Christine was entranced by it all, lost in the wonder of this new world being presented before her. After a few songs though the colors all seemed to blur together as a sudden thought stuck her. She tuned out the sound of the soprano singing her mournful aria down below and let her mind wander back to her childhood. She wondered distantly what things might have been like had her father never died. Would that be her down there, front and center in that beautiful red dress singing to the masses? Would her mother and father be up here, in this box, looking down at her with pride? Would they be happy and in love, still to this day?

She would never know. That wasn't the course her life had taken. Her father had left her, taking his spotlight on the stage up with him to heaven. She had kept her love of art but forsaken their music as time moved on, straying farther and farther away from it with each passing day. In fact, it wasn't until this past weekend, when Erik had played her The Jewel Song, that she'd realized just how much music still meant to her. No matter how many years passed in between her interactions with it, it always seemed to tug her back in, calling to her like a siren in the waves.

She'd floated on that song as he'd played it, lost in the passion of his features as she'd tried to match them vocally. It had been challenging, as well as nerve-wracking, but she'd done it nonetheless. She had sung for the first time since college, feeling much very alive there nestled beside him on his piano bench. She hadn't wanted their time together to end that afternoon, hadn't wanted to leave him after such a touching moment...but she'd had to. Which was a terrible shame because as he'd held her there in his arms she'd come alive with a sudden and inexplicable realization.

The realization that she'd wanted him to kiss her. That she'd wanted to seal that moment of music within the two of them forever, a memory captured and forever immortalized in the meeting of their lips. She'd felt warm all over, tingling as his fingers brushed away her tears, lost in the tender way his eyes had met hers. It had seemed strange to her at first, how intimate they'd seemed to grow in only those few, simple moments. Though perhaps it was the magic of the music that had brought them closer. It had certainly awakened something inside of her, that's for sure.

She wanted to kiss him tonight. She really did. She wanted to kiss the daylights out of him and thank him profoundly for bringing music back into her life. He was like the angel of music her father had once promised her, the angel he'd said would come to her one day after he was long gone and buried. She told him such at intermission, happily relaying the tale of the mythical angel to him as he traced small circles on her shoulder in their dimly lit box.

"I know it sounds silly. But he promised one day that he would come to me. That this angel would give me the gift of our music once more."

"And you believe me to be that angel?" Erik mused with a smile in his voice.

"After the other day, I know you're that angel," she confirmed, turning her face up towards his.

They were so close then, mere inches apart, and as their eyes met she could see the fire that blazed behind his hungry eyes. Being the artists that they were, in an environment such as this, full of music and color and romance, was causing the both of them to stir inside and want for more than mere simple touches. He wanted to kiss her just as badly as she wanted to kiss him, she was certain of it, yet he was holding himself back. She could guess why, of course, but had yet to confirm her suspicions. She decided to test the waters, wondering if she'd find any answers there as she probed the unknown.

"You should take off your mask," she said as carefully as she could.

He looked shocked at her blunt suggestion, as if the lightening that raged outside had just struck him, his hand tightening on her shoulder as he stared down at her dumbly.

"I'm sorry," he replied stiffly, not loosening his grip, "I can't do that."

"Why?" she asked quietly, "Because of your scar?"

He seemed to tremble slightly. "I never said anything about that. How do you-?"

He stopped talking as she reached up and lightly traced the tip of her finger around the rough patch of skin near his eye.

"It's visible here, you know. Barely, but I noticed it the very first time I spoke to you. It's worse, isn't? The rest of it?"

"It's monstrous," he all but growled, finally releasing her and letting his arm drop down from the back of her chair.

Christine sighed, watching Erik recede into himself. This wasn't what she'd wanted. "Please don't turn away, Erik. It doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't matter?" Erik's voice was hurt as he turned back to face her, his eyes hard. "Christine, you can't say that. You haven't seen it."

"Then show me."

"I can't," he whispered harshly. He raised his hand to hold the one in her lap, as if he needed something to clasp on to in order to to keep himself steady. "I don't want to lose you. Not again. Didn't you see the way the driver looked at me earlier? That was fear, Christine. My face is terrifying."

Not again? What did he mean by that? Erik looked so scared all of a sudden, so unsure of himself. She felt terrible. All she'd wanted to do was ease his self-consciousness enough to show him how much she'd grown to enjoy their time together. To gift him a token of affection as normal couples did on romantic outings. Instead she'd nearly caused him to have a panic attack. She sighed, squeezing his hand in comfort.

"Just a little bit then," she reasoned, reaching forward. Erik immediately flinched back from her hand, holding his breath as she pinched the bottom of his mask between her fingers. She barely rolled the dark fabric up, just an inch or so to expose his mouth to her. She looked at it intently for a moment, staring at the thick pink lumps of scar tissue that started at his upper lip and trailed sideways down his jaw. His lips was misshapen, yes, but still human. Still the lips of her musical angel.

"That's all," she reassured him quietly, pulling her hands away, "Just enough."

"Enough for what?" he whispered.

"For this."

She leaned forward and kissed him then, there in the darkness of their box. If was a soft kiss at first, light and sweet, but a kiss all the same. She kept her lips pressed to his just barely, not daring to go any further until she could gauge his reaction. He froze upon the initial contact of course - stunned it seemed - but then returned the kiss most eagerly, bringing his hand up behind her neck to pull her in closer.

Slowly their kiss began to shift from innocence. He tilted his head and kissed her deeper, almost urgently so, as if he were starving for her. His warm breath intermingled with her own as she felt her lips being parted by his tongue, causing her head to swim at the unexpected pleasure those movements brought. Their kiss tasted of the wine she'd been sipping, and for a moment she simply found herself getting lost in his arms, melting into him as he expertly dragged his lips against her own again and again with a maddening and methodical slowness. Oh, she had never been kissed like this before. The rough texture of his mouth was a new and exciting territory, foreign and tantalizing all at once. She felt her free hand trail up blindly to grab at the fabric of his suit lapel, desperate to be even closer to him as his fingers slid up into her hair and gently gripped it.

He suddenly froze though as his other hand trailed up her arm, stopping at the parts of her tattoo where the ink was thickest.

"Christine...?"

He was as breathless as she was when he pulled back, his face full of confusion as he stared down at her exposed skin with widened eyes, his thumb brushing over one of the many poppy flower tattoo'd there. It was raised and bumpy in the center of it, as all the flowers on her arms were. Those long ago circular burns covered the entirety of her skin beneath that ink, and after a moment he ran his hand slowly up the entire scene, feeling each and every last one of them beneath his large palm.

Yes, they would have to talk. Soon, it seemed. But not just yet. She wouldn't ruin this moment like that. It was far too precious to her, and she needed to simply live in it. As his hand drifted back down overtop her wrist and reached her own she turned it over, gripping it tightly. She realized then that her palms had begun to sweat. She was shaking slightly, her throat dry and her eyes watering, unsure of how to feel in that moment. No one outside of Annette had ever touched those shameful bits of her skin before, and never once had they ever been touched with such tenderness.

"We all have our scars, Erik," she managed to whisper, choking up as she gazed into his concerned eyes, "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

He didn't say another word on the matter, much to her relief. He simply leaned in and kissed her again, this time gently, as if he feared she would break beneath his touch.

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I had so much fun writing this chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading it. Let me know below in a review!

xoxo

Nicole