Author's Note:
Heyyy!! Yes, it's been a while. Unfortunately, I'm back into the swing of school...yay. So my chapter updates won't be as frequent as before. I am proud to say that I finally have a definite direction for this story, so that will make me more eager to update. I would also like to urge you guys to read "I Sentieri Scelti: The Chosen Paths," by the lovely writer Eriks Siren(Lisa) and I. Read her other phics also! They're grand! We always end up working together in some odd twist... I want to thank midasgirl for betareading and all her helpful suggestions! This chapter isn't betaread, just let me know if it reeeally needs to be, and then I will send it to you. Thank you everyone for your helpful reviews, criticism, and everything else. There will be more Nadir(Nathan) and more Ray as well. Thanks for reading! This chapter is my longest yet. Isn't that exciting??? Hehe. I'm a loser. Some fluff, but it's necessary so...just grit your teeth if you don't like all that romance stuff.
~*~
It was beginning to be difficult to separate days from one another. Christine woke up every morning to a neatly furnished room accommodated to her every need and desire. The small closet that was usually found in hotel rooms was elongated, and it looked every bit as personable as one she would have in her own apartment. Inside were outfits that she'd never seen before, brand named, and tailored to fit her frame perfectly. Even though they were women's clothing, Erik's taste was impeccable and she didn't expect anything less. The room was light, airy, and with more space than she knew what to do with. In the back of her mind, she realized that she needed to return, and that people must be starting to be worried about her...but these thoughts soon became so troubling that Christine put them out of her mind completely. And whenever she questioned Erik of it, he would play for her...and the thoughts would disappear.
Time passed quickly as well. Christine could sit on her bed for hours and read one of the many books that Erik provided for her, but usually she would seek him out and persuade him to read to her instead. There was something soothing and mesmerizing about his voice. As she listened, her thoughts would dance and her gaze would relax...most of the time she fell asleep, and she always woke in her bed. It was strange how suddenly it was the next week, but she hardly even thought of how she was missing work...and class.
Christine soon found that many unexplainable things would occur...some stranger than the time difference, and they happened so often that she stopped questioning them. Erik's explanations always confused her (when he bothered to explain) so much that she would find herself going in circles around the issue. In the end, it was never resolved.
One of the odd occurrences was the occasional and extraordinary piano music. She knew that she heard it...most of the time at night and when she was about to fall asleep. It was soft at first, and then it built until she was sure that it was definitely not the wind outside. When she ventured to question Erik the morning after, she received only a gentle retort about her overactive imagination. His adoration was difficult to defy, and soon she would fall into silent acceptance.
One evening, Christine had a book and sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the chair where Erik was sitting. She had put the book aside long ago, and now her head rested on her knees as she listened to the scratching of his pen.
"Erik?"
The scratching paused, but then continued, and his response was somewhat absent. "Yes?"
His often-preoccupied nature while working made Christine oddly jealous of his music. She always listened and watched him play his violin, and she lingered about in the room as he composed, but she could never quite catch his attention completely. In ridiculous ways she would try... Once she even pretended as though she sprained her finger and then silently looked on with wide, painful eyes as he inspected it with concern. Christine began to thrive on the attention that he did give her, and her breath caught whenever he looked at her...with those eyes that almost looked black in the shadows.
Today she had something else in mind. "Can we go outside? Maybe we could go for a walk?" Christine had not allowed the idea to enter her mind completely, but she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Even though it was becoming easy to ignore the outside world, she was beginning to miss the sun...the people...the life of the city. Ray and college were the last things that were on her mind, but Christine's personality did not allow her to forget the light.
It was her triumph as the pen stopped completely. When Erik spoke this time, his voice was harder and carried a strange, disappointed note, but she knew immediately that she had all of his attention. "You are not happy here, Christine?"
Quickly, she turned and sat up on her knees, her hands gripping the chair... so close to where Erik's arm was, but not quite touching it. "No! I love it here, Erik...I only..."
In a moment, his music had been set aside, and Erik's own hand was brushing along her cheek so lightly... Christine's voice immediately caught in fear that if she continued her protests, he would stop.
His gaze drew hers almost like a magnet, and his voice did not hold the least amount of anger. "You do not need to explain anything to me. I understand...We can go anywhere that you wish."
Christine's face lit up, and she smiled. Her childish expression of happiness made Erik draw his hand back, but why he did, she did not know or even realize. "Really? Can we go to the park?"
"The possibilities are endless, my darling." Erik paused and looked at her for a moment, very thoughtfully. "Have you ever been to the opera?"
As Christine shook her head in the negative, Erik was already standing with his music and pacing to the other end of the room. She watched his back from her position on the floor, her nails drawing circles in the material of the armchair. The idea of an opera intrigued her. Not that she wasn't musical...her father was a violinist and taught her when she was younger, but the conservatories were expensive and not something that they could afford. In the end, painting was the art that she pursued, and that was mostly because of the furtive desires of her mother who never spoke her wishes, but Christine had known what they were all the same...And she never wished to disappoint her.
Still, music fascinated her. "Will we get to go?"
Erik's voice was distant, although it wasn't his music that he must be on his mind... "Yes. Someday we will, but it will not be here. I do not care for the talent that they've acquired at the Metropolitan. Perhaps in Europe...have you been to Europe before, Christine?"
The furthest that Christine had gone from her home was New York and all the states in between there and Ohio. She shook her head, somewhat embarrassed. "No..."
"We will travel there, and I will show you everything there is to see." The tone in his voice was so certain that Christine felt a rush of excitement. She always wished so much to travel... Slowly, she stood but remained by the chair. Erik turned to look at her movement, but he also remained still...though his gaze found hers again. "Everything that you wish will be yours. I would do anything to please you, Christine...you must know that..." The intensity in his eyes unnerved her a bit, and her own flitted away quickly.
"Thank you, Erik..." Although they never acknowledged their previous romantic encounters, Christine found herself thinking of them constantly and flushing a bright pink whenever she was in his presence. And she had the suspicion and embarrassed assumption that he always knew why...
In the faint moonlight, she saw the white of his mask gleam, and she remembered how black it looked that night so long ago. They surveyed each other across the room for a few more minutes until he raised his hand and held it out in a sign for her to come to him. Christine did, slowly, and as her small hand slipped into his, she felt his fingers curl around it, and his eyes never left hers. They were close, and her eyes would not completely meet his, but Erik did not seem to notice...or if he did, he did not seem to care. His other hand again touched her, but not her face this time...She felt him stroke her hair and twist the silky strands until her head tilted back slightly. There was a pause, and then Erik moved back from her, and Christine's heart nearly stopped in her chest. She felt disappointment...a vague sense of it...or perhaps it was shock, or relief...She found with a sort of uneasiness that she did not know.
She heard him speak as if from far away. "I will play for you."
Christine stepped back and found the chair. She sank into it and said nothing as Erik began to play.
Most evenings ended like this.
~*~
When Erik took Christine back to her apartment she found a piece of mail that was sealed with Columbia's Art Department stamp. She tore into the envelope with a measure of dread, already expecting it to be a reprimand about her attendance. While Erik assured her that he had taken care of everything, Christine could not help but feel wary about the situation. As her eyes skimmed over the formal introduction, she felt Erik's hands on her shoulders, and her heart did the familiar act of skipping a beat.
At first it was impossible to make sense of what the letter said. It took Christine a moment to realize that the letter was not sent because she was in trouble, and it took her a little longer to understand that it was something good.
Christine's hand flew to her mouth, so fast that the letter nearly fell to the ground, but at the last minute she clutched it tighter in her hand. "Oh! Oh, Erik! My painting was accepted into one of the art galleries!" It was a rare thing for a freshman to have a painting in any sort of art gallery, and even rarer for it to be their first painting. At the moment Christine could not recall actually entering it...but perhaps Ray did end up convincing her and she didn't remember. She felt the wild urge to hug Erik, and she did, expecting to catch him off guard...but he remained calm as always and returned it, holding her tightly.
His voice was soft, next to her ear. "They would have to be blind not to see your talent. I am only surprised that they did not send you the letter sooner." Erik's praise somehow meant more than the letter did. She knew that he'd seen her paintings at the studio the night the power went out.
Excitement passed through Christine again and she held him tighter for just a moment before pulling back. "They're showing the painting next month." Christine met his eyes after a moment's shyness. "Would you come with me?"
As Erik's hand stroked her cheek Christine leaned forward, and his smile made her hopes rise. "I would never think of missing it...or their faces when they acknowledge your talent. You've earned this, Christine, it is your own triumph."
The thought never crossed her mind that she, for once, was doing something and was receiving her own award for it. It made her feel incredibly independent. She thought of this for a moment, until she realized that she was still holding onto Erik...then she pulled back, uncomfortable. He watched her as she did, his hands lingering for a moment on her arms before he withdrew as well.
A month never seemed so far away. Christine tucked the letter safely back into the envelope, folded it in two, and placed it inside her purse. Then Erik took her arm and led her back to the waiting car outside.
Later, Christine exited her room during an obscure time of the night...she'd left her book overturned on the couch and wanted to read for a little while, or until her insomnia passed. She hadn't quite gotten to the end of the hall when she heard Erik's voice.
It was strange to hear him speak on the phone, mostly because it lacked something that she heard when he spoke to her. The tone was more even, remote, and less...personable. Everyone spoke differently on the phone to people that they didn't know, but the way he sounded...it could almost be deemed as threatening.
Against her conscience, Christine paused at the end of the hallway and listened, her hands pressed against the cold wall.
"I am calling to inform you that I won't be able to do this project any longer." A pause, and then Erik's voice became considerably colder. "That is my concern. It will have to be arranged for some other time... No, of course not, but I know how your manager is desperate enough to wait. I'm not speaking in terms of years, but I will need another month at least..."
This confused Christine. She didn't know that Erik even had contact with the outside world, and the fact that she was overhearing him speak on the phone was strange to say the least! She crept forward further, until she saw him by the piano. His hand was over the manuscript that she often saw him working on, brushing the corners of the pages...his fingers moving in elegant lack of concern.
His voice cut sharp into her thoughts, and Christine started guiltily. "No. It is complete, as of yesterday... But Don Juan has become second in my priorities as of now. He will have the composition...in a month. I will be contacting you."
When she heard the click of the phone Christine came into view, and spoke Erik's name so softly that, for a moment, she believed that she saw surprise when he turned.
It was quickly replaced with the gentle adulation that she'd come to hope for and love. "It is far too late for you to be awake, my angel." The pet names Christine would have found ridiculous in Ray she lived for in Erik. The words were like honey, sweet and comforting, and she loved it most when he labeled her an angel... It was what her father would call her.
"I couldn't sleep..."
"Is there something troubling you?" Erik came forward, and she watched him as he held out a glass for her to take. She didn't see where it came from, or how it was already prepared for her...but she didn't question Erik's world or the unexplained, she never did. In a way it was because the child inside of her did not want the enchantment to be broken or the dreams destroyed.
Christine accepted the glass and took a cautious sip. It tasted sweet, but not sickly sweet... It was the perfect mixture of herbs and sugar. She finished it in a few more drinks and handed the crystalline glass back to Erik. "Nothing is troubling me. Erik...what did you have to cancel?"
"It was nothing of any importance." The answer was immediate, and the drink disappeared directly after his fingertips touched it.
Erik's music always seemed to be his first priority, which was one of the reasons why the conversation seemed odd to Christine... "But...it had to do with your composition, didn't it?"
"It did, but it isn't a lost opportunity...merely rescheduled."
Baffled, Christine frowned and came forward slightly, watching him. "But why?"
His eyes turned to hers and she stopped. The genuine lovingness in his gaze was not shocking, but unexpected, and Christine's hand rose to her neck...where she twisted her necklace, nervously.
Gently, he took her hand from the tangled chain and lifted it to his lips. "You are more important to me than my music. I would not miss your gallery showing. I promised you, did I not?"
It suddenly became clear to Christine that he'd said that he could reschedule in a month, and she realized that she was the reason for that... By the bit of conversation that she did overhear, she knew that some sort of company must be interested in his music; enough to publish or perhaps even perform it. It was as important as her art would have been to her, it was the equivalent of her success...and he'd canceled. For her.
Christine breathed in sharply and her hand tightened on his. That Ray would never do such a thing was her first thought. But...it astounded her, the idea that someone cared for enough to put everything aside because of her request... "Oh..." She wanted to protest, but she knew without even beginning that it would be futile, which was obvious enough in Erik's gaze.
Things were beginning to become a little clearer. Erik cared for her, more than anyone she'd ever known...next to her parents, of course. The look in his eyes made her heart twist in an ecstasy that she didn't understand, but it was definitely not pity or sadness, which would be present if Christine did not care for him at all. Christine never could name a weakness in Erik...and even now, when she realized that he would do anything that she asked, she still couldn't name one... Because this wasn't a weakness to her, nor was it pathetic...it was astonishing, and for a moment Christine believed that she might even love him. Love...love, which was so far from her mind as of late. Or perhaps it hadn't been far but right there the entire time...in Erik. But... love was such a strong emotion, and when her thoughts began to seep to past events, or when her gaze lingered on the mask and that questioning crept to her mind...
No. No, she wouldn't think of it. It was too much to think about. He made a sacrifice for her that she never imagined anyone doing...he put his music aside...
All for her.
Christine stepped closer and felt Erik shift as his fingers touch her hair again. It was much like a few nights ago...but then he'd moved back to play for her. This time Christine held his gaze to hers; her head tilted back as before...and this time she did not wait for him to kiss her.
All rational thoughts escaped her in that moment. Christine rose on her tiptoes, his height was far too much to manage this feat otherwise, and she kissed him. She felt him respond as if through a dream, his hands moving to her arms as he held her against him, always so close... Before now Christine hadn't the courage nor the will to kiss him herself, even the idea terrified her...but now, it only seemed to be the right thing to do. While she was still unsure about her feelings for Erik, she knew that she did want his love, his attention...and to kiss him. She held his shoulders as well, her hands slipping behind his neck. She thought with a sort of giddiness that his hair was feather-soft, like angel wings...
He was an angel at her fingertips...and he loved her. Only a fool would not return the sentiment... but how could she forget...?
As Erik pulled back and kissed her forehead softly before kissing her again, Christine mercifully forgot.
Heyyy!! Yes, it's been a while. Unfortunately, I'm back into the swing of school...yay. So my chapter updates won't be as frequent as before. I am proud to say that I finally have a definite direction for this story, so that will make me more eager to update. I would also like to urge you guys to read "I Sentieri Scelti: The Chosen Paths," by the lovely writer Eriks Siren(Lisa) and I. Read her other phics also! They're grand! We always end up working together in some odd twist... I want to thank midasgirl for betareading and all her helpful suggestions! This chapter isn't betaread, just let me know if it reeeally needs to be, and then I will send it to you. Thank you everyone for your helpful reviews, criticism, and everything else. There will be more Nadir(Nathan) and more Ray as well. Thanks for reading! This chapter is my longest yet. Isn't that exciting??? Hehe. I'm a loser. Some fluff, but it's necessary so...just grit your teeth if you don't like all that romance stuff.
~*~
It was beginning to be difficult to separate days from one another. Christine woke up every morning to a neatly furnished room accommodated to her every need and desire. The small closet that was usually found in hotel rooms was elongated, and it looked every bit as personable as one she would have in her own apartment. Inside were outfits that she'd never seen before, brand named, and tailored to fit her frame perfectly. Even though they were women's clothing, Erik's taste was impeccable and she didn't expect anything less. The room was light, airy, and with more space than she knew what to do with. In the back of her mind, she realized that she needed to return, and that people must be starting to be worried about her...but these thoughts soon became so troubling that Christine put them out of her mind completely. And whenever she questioned Erik of it, he would play for her...and the thoughts would disappear.
Time passed quickly as well. Christine could sit on her bed for hours and read one of the many books that Erik provided for her, but usually she would seek him out and persuade him to read to her instead. There was something soothing and mesmerizing about his voice. As she listened, her thoughts would dance and her gaze would relax...most of the time she fell asleep, and she always woke in her bed. It was strange how suddenly it was the next week, but she hardly even thought of how she was missing work...and class.
Christine soon found that many unexplainable things would occur...some stranger than the time difference, and they happened so often that she stopped questioning them. Erik's explanations always confused her (when he bothered to explain) so much that she would find herself going in circles around the issue. In the end, it was never resolved.
One of the odd occurrences was the occasional and extraordinary piano music. She knew that she heard it...most of the time at night and when she was about to fall asleep. It was soft at first, and then it built until she was sure that it was definitely not the wind outside. When she ventured to question Erik the morning after, she received only a gentle retort about her overactive imagination. His adoration was difficult to defy, and soon she would fall into silent acceptance.
One evening, Christine had a book and sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the chair where Erik was sitting. She had put the book aside long ago, and now her head rested on her knees as she listened to the scratching of his pen.
"Erik?"
The scratching paused, but then continued, and his response was somewhat absent. "Yes?"
His often-preoccupied nature while working made Christine oddly jealous of his music. She always listened and watched him play his violin, and she lingered about in the room as he composed, but she could never quite catch his attention completely. In ridiculous ways she would try... Once she even pretended as though she sprained her finger and then silently looked on with wide, painful eyes as he inspected it with concern. Christine began to thrive on the attention that he did give her, and her breath caught whenever he looked at her...with those eyes that almost looked black in the shadows.
Today she had something else in mind. "Can we go outside? Maybe we could go for a walk?" Christine had not allowed the idea to enter her mind completely, but she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Even though it was becoming easy to ignore the outside world, she was beginning to miss the sun...the people...the life of the city. Ray and college were the last things that were on her mind, but Christine's personality did not allow her to forget the light.
It was her triumph as the pen stopped completely. When Erik spoke this time, his voice was harder and carried a strange, disappointed note, but she knew immediately that she had all of his attention. "You are not happy here, Christine?"
Quickly, she turned and sat up on her knees, her hands gripping the chair... so close to where Erik's arm was, but not quite touching it. "No! I love it here, Erik...I only..."
In a moment, his music had been set aside, and Erik's own hand was brushing along her cheek so lightly... Christine's voice immediately caught in fear that if she continued her protests, he would stop.
His gaze drew hers almost like a magnet, and his voice did not hold the least amount of anger. "You do not need to explain anything to me. I understand...We can go anywhere that you wish."
Christine's face lit up, and she smiled. Her childish expression of happiness made Erik draw his hand back, but why he did, she did not know or even realize. "Really? Can we go to the park?"
"The possibilities are endless, my darling." Erik paused and looked at her for a moment, very thoughtfully. "Have you ever been to the opera?"
As Christine shook her head in the negative, Erik was already standing with his music and pacing to the other end of the room. She watched his back from her position on the floor, her nails drawing circles in the material of the armchair. The idea of an opera intrigued her. Not that she wasn't musical...her father was a violinist and taught her when she was younger, but the conservatories were expensive and not something that they could afford. In the end, painting was the art that she pursued, and that was mostly because of the furtive desires of her mother who never spoke her wishes, but Christine had known what they were all the same...And she never wished to disappoint her.
Still, music fascinated her. "Will we get to go?"
Erik's voice was distant, although it wasn't his music that he must be on his mind... "Yes. Someday we will, but it will not be here. I do not care for the talent that they've acquired at the Metropolitan. Perhaps in Europe...have you been to Europe before, Christine?"
The furthest that Christine had gone from her home was New York and all the states in between there and Ohio. She shook her head, somewhat embarrassed. "No..."
"We will travel there, and I will show you everything there is to see." The tone in his voice was so certain that Christine felt a rush of excitement. She always wished so much to travel... Slowly, she stood but remained by the chair. Erik turned to look at her movement, but he also remained still...though his gaze found hers again. "Everything that you wish will be yours. I would do anything to please you, Christine...you must know that..." The intensity in his eyes unnerved her a bit, and her own flitted away quickly.
"Thank you, Erik..." Although they never acknowledged their previous romantic encounters, Christine found herself thinking of them constantly and flushing a bright pink whenever she was in his presence. And she had the suspicion and embarrassed assumption that he always knew why...
In the faint moonlight, she saw the white of his mask gleam, and she remembered how black it looked that night so long ago. They surveyed each other across the room for a few more minutes until he raised his hand and held it out in a sign for her to come to him. Christine did, slowly, and as her small hand slipped into his, she felt his fingers curl around it, and his eyes never left hers. They were close, and her eyes would not completely meet his, but Erik did not seem to notice...or if he did, he did not seem to care. His other hand again touched her, but not her face this time...She felt him stroke her hair and twist the silky strands until her head tilted back slightly. There was a pause, and then Erik moved back from her, and Christine's heart nearly stopped in her chest. She felt disappointment...a vague sense of it...or perhaps it was shock, or relief...She found with a sort of uneasiness that she did not know.
She heard him speak as if from far away. "I will play for you."
Christine stepped back and found the chair. She sank into it and said nothing as Erik began to play.
Most evenings ended like this.
~*~
When Erik took Christine back to her apartment she found a piece of mail that was sealed with Columbia's Art Department stamp. She tore into the envelope with a measure of dread, already expecting it to be a reprimand about her attendance. While Erik assured her that he had taken care of everything, Christine could not help but feel wary about the situation. As her eyes skimmed over the formal introduction, she felt Erik's hands on her shoulders, and her heart did the familiar act of skipping a beat.
At first it was impossible to make sense of what the letter said. It took Christine a moment to realize that the letter was not sent because she was in trouble, and it took her a little longer to understand that it was something good.
Christine's hand flew to her mouth, so fast that the letter nearly fell to the ground, but at the last minute she clutched it tighter in her hand. "Oh! Oh, Erik! My painting was accepted into one of the art galleries!" It was a rare thing for a freshman to have a painting in any sort of art gallery, and even rarer for it to be their first painting. At the moment Christine could not recall actually entering it...but perhaps Ray did end up convincing her and she didn't remember. She felt the wild urge to hug Erik, and she did, expecting to catch him off guard...but he remained calm as always and returned it, holding her tightly.
His voice was soft, next to her ear. "They would have to be blind not to see your talent. I am only surprised that they did not send you the letter sooner." Erik's praise somehow meant more than the letter did. She knew that he'd seen her paintings at the studio the night the power went out.
Excitement passed through Christine again and she held him tighter for just a moment before pulling back. "They're showing the painting next month." Christine met his eyes after a moment's shyness. "Would you come with me?"
As Erik's hand stroked her cheek Christine leaned forward, and his smile made her hopes rise. "I would never think of missing it...or their faces when they acknowledge your talent. You've earned this, Christine, it is your own triumph."
The thought never crossed her mind that she, for once, was doing something and was receiving her own award for it. It made her feel incredibly independent. She thought of this for a moment, until she realized that she was still holding onto Erik...then she pulled back, uncomfortable. He watched her as she did, his hands lingering for a moment on her arms before he withdrew as well.
A month never seemed so far away. Christine tucked the letter safely back into the envelope, folded it in two, and placed it inside her purse. Then Erik took her arm and led her back to the waiting car outside.
Later, Christine exited her room during an obscure time of the night...she'd left her book overturned on the couch and wanted to read for a little while, or until her insomnia passed. She hadn't quite gotten to the end of the hall when she heard Erik's voice.
It was strange to hear him speak on the phone, mostly because it lacked something that she heard when he spoke to her. The tone was more even, remote, and less...personable. Everyone spoke differently on the phone to people that they didn't know, but the way he sounded...it could almost be deemed as threatening.
Against her conscience, Christine paused at the end of the hallway and listened, her hands pressed against the cold wall.
"I am calling to inform you that I won't be able to do this project any longer." A pause, and then Erik's voice became considerably colder. "That is my concern. It will have to be arranged for some other time... No, of course not, but I know how your manager is desperate enough to wait. I'm not speaking in terms of years, but I will need another month at least..."
This confused Christine. She didn't know that Erik even had contact with the outside world, and the fact that she was overhearing him speak on the phone was strange to say the least! She crept forward further, until she saw him by the piano. His hand was over the manuscript that she often saw him working on, brushing the corners of the pages...his fingers moving in elegant lack of concern.
His voice cut sharp into her thoughts, and Christine started guiltily. "No. It is complete, as of yesterday... But Don Juan has become second in my priorities as of now. He will have the composition...in a month. I will be contacting you."
When she heard the click of the phone Christine came into view, and spoke Erik's name so softly that, for a moment, she believed that she saw surprise when he turned.
It was quickly replaced with the gentle adulation that she'd come to hope for and love. "It is far too late for you to be awake, my angel." The pet names Christine would have found ridiculous in Ray she lived for in Erik. The words were like honey, sweet and comforting, and she loved it most when he labeled her an angel... It was what her father would call her.
"I couldn't sleep..."
"Is there something troubling you?" Erik came forward, and she watched him as he held out a glass for her to take. She didn't see where it came from, or how it was already prepared for her...but she didn't question Erik's world or the unexplained, she never did. In a way it was because the child inside of her did not want the enchantment to be broken or the dreams destroyed.
Christine accepted the glass and took a cautious sip. It tasted sweet, but not sickly sweet... It was the perfect mixture of herbs and sugar. She finished it in a few more drinks and handed the crystalline glass back to Erik. "Nothing is troubling me. Erik...what did you have to cancel?"
"It was nothing of any importance." The answer was immediate, and the drink disappeared directly after his fingertips touched it.
Erik's music always seemed to be his first priority, which was one of the reasons why the conversation seemed odd to Christine... "But...it had to do with your composition, didn't it?"
"It did, but it isn't a lost opportunity...merely rescheduled."
Baffled, Christine frowned and came forward slightly, watching him. "But why?"
His eyes turned to hers and she stopped. The genuine lovingness in his gaze was not shocking, but unexpected, and Christine's hand rose to her neck...where she twisted her necklace, nervously.
Gently, he took her hand from the tangled chain and lifted it to his lips. "You are more important to me than my music. I would not miss your gallery showing. I promised you, did I not?"
It suddenly became clear to Christine that he'd said that he could reschedule in a month, and she realized that she was the reason for that... By the bit of conversation that she did overhear, she knew that some sort of company must be interested in his music; enough to publish or perhaps even perform it. It was as important as her art would have been to her, it was the equivalent of her success...and he'd canceled. For her.
Christine breathed in sharply and her hand tightened on his. That Ray would never do such a thing was her first thought. But...it astounded her, the idea that someone cared for enough to put everything aside because of her request... "Oh..." She wanted to protest, but she knew without even beginning that it would be futile, which was obvious enough in Erik's gaze.
Things were beginning to become a little clearer. Erik cared for her, more than anyone she'd ever known...next to her parents, of course. The look in his eyes made her heart twist in an ecstasy that she didn't understand, but it was definitely not pity or sadness, which would be present if Christine did not care for him at all. Christine never could name a weakness in Erik...and even now, when she realized that he would do anything that she asked, she still couldn't name one... Because this wasn't a weakness to her, nor was it pathetic...it was astonishing, and for a moment Christine believed that she might even love him. Love...love, which was so far from her mind as of late. Or perhaps it hadn't been far but right there the entire time...in Erik. But... love was such a strong emotion, and when her thoughts began to seep to past events, or when her gaze lingered on the mask and that questioning crept to her mind...
No. No, she wouldn't think of it. It was too much to think about. He made a sacrifice for her that she never imagined anyone doing...he put his music aside...
All for her.
Christine stepped closer and felt Erik shift as his fingers touch her hair again. It was much like a few nights ago...but then he'd moved back to play for her. This time Christine held his gaze to hers; her head tilted back as before...and this time she did not wait for him to kiss her.
All rational thoughts escaped her in that moment. Christine rose on her tiptoes, his height was far too much to manage this feat otherwise, and she kissed him. She felt him respond as if through a dream, his hands moving to her arms as he held her against him, always so close... Before now Christine hadn't the courage nor the will to kiss him herself, even the idea terrified her...but now, it only seemed to be the right thing to do. While she was still unsure about her feelings for Erik, she knew that she did want his love, his attention...and to kiss him. She held his shoulders as well, her hands slipping behind his neck. She thought with a sort of giddiness that his hair was feather-soft, like angel wings...
He was an angel at her fingertips...and he loved her. Only a fool would not return the sentiment... but how could she forget...?
As Erik pulled back and kissed her forehead softly before kissing her again, Christine mercifully forgot.