Erik already returned from the studio, fuming on the balcony and pacing over it. That Daroga still hadn't come back from his simple task and Christine wasn't in her room. He didn't bother to knock at her door or even leave his flat, it was too silent for the actress to be home. Usually, her cheerful voice would be nonchalantly singing a tune or speaking on the phone with her frustrating agent.
But that Persian should've long returned from retrieving a few documents. It wasn't that Erik felt incredibly concerned for the man himself, but that there was absolutely no reason for the Daroga to still be out. The sky was already beginning to darken and Erik scanned the view from his balcony to try spotting a familiar face.
While muddled in his thoughts, he failed to notice the pair in question walking through the entrance of the building. They soon arrived upstairs and came through the doorway, catching Erik by surprise momentarily before he made his way towards them.
"Ah, I see what took you so long to collect my documents Daroga. You found the company of Miss Daae and decided to drag on the task for another 3 hours." Erik scolded.
"Stop your complaining, I still have your papers in perfect condition. We simply ran into each other near Rue Scribe and Christine expressed that she wished to see the Garnier. I decided to accompany her-"
"And delay the process of bringing me vital paperwork that could result to the downfall of my company if I didn't have it finished in time." The masked man interrupted, sounding a tad melodramatic.
"You're exaggerating, my friend. And I wanted to ensure that Miss Daae did not get lost or troubled in any other way."
Christine piped up for the Daroga's sake: "I'm truly grateful that he did accompany me, I surely would've lost my way back. And he was very kind to give me a tour of the Palais Garnier."
Erik's tone softened, "Fine. But do not cause such a delay in giving me my business deal papers again, Daroga."
The Persian agreed to his terms, walking off to the kitchen to prepare some tea. The young woman seated herself on the sofa beside Erik's standing position. His expression reflected exasperation as he sighed and decided to sit down.
"How was the rest of filming today?" Christine asked.
"Don't bother to ask. I'm not entirely fond of people, especially those who take forever to finish whatever task I've given them. It's a wonder that the Daroga has remained in my company for so long."
"He's very caring towards you. While we were walking through the Garnier he would always speak kindly of you and your assistance in its upkeeping. Is there anything else you excel at but failed to tell me?" She smiled.
"Architecture was my line of work before showbusiness became more popular and I was offered a fair deal in the industry. Music, of course, is a passion of mine. From my travels, I've acquired a repertoire of languages to speak, and occasionally I can produce decent works of visual art."
"It's amusing that you call your talents'decent' when you do better than a master in the trade. I can barely draw a cat or play Fur Elise on the piano."
"That is highly improbable."
"And I love how you speak so formally. It's refreshing in comparison to the usual slang people use."
"Why should I sound like a commonplace idiot? It seems only right to do so." Erik shrugged, not quite understanding her fascination.
"You're a very unique person." Christine complimented, referring to his skills.
"Well I don't suppose you see too many people shielding the world from half of their face..." Erik responded, anger creeping into his voice.
"That's not at all what I'm talking about."
"What's refreshing about you, dear girl, is that you have the gall to still be here after seeing the atrocity of my face."
"Gall? Only shallow people would solely focus on appearances."
"Then there are far too many people like that. You, Christine, have an enchanting appearance so people treat you with some respect. I, on the other hand, am not given such a luxury."
Christine's understanding heart ached for the despondent man sitting only a foot across from her. She moved closer to him, tightly holding him in an embrace that was, unknowingly to her, much more affection than he received from his own mother.
Initially, he was stiff as a board with his discomfort and lack of familiarity with such gestures. But the warmth of Christine's arms eased him into returning the motion, feeling his chest tighten at the feeling of this angelic girl pressing her head against it. One of his hands patted the soft curls of her hair, bringing unwanted tears to his eyes.
It was wonderful to feel another person so caring towards him without any personal benefit attached, besides his Persian friend. His heart warmed and beat harder, fueling a few wild thoughts to run through his mind. The worst part was that he couldn't stop himself from thinking that way, Christine seemed so willing! This perfect girl didn't even shudder at his touch or shriek at his face. But Erik wouldn't dare to do anything against her wishes and simply cherished holding onto her.
The Persian returned to the room, once again shocked at what he saw. It was a relief that Erik's mask was on- a clear sign that their tears were not due to Erik's incredibly short tempter and insecurity over his face. They pair didn't seem to notice the Daroga until he placed a tea tray onto the coffee table before them.
"What have I missed?" The older man questioned, sitting a slight distance away.
Their hug broke apart, Erik looking irritated after wiping away his tears and Christine forming a small smile despite her pain for Erik.
"A story of how cruel people can be." Christine responded, not quite sure if Erik was alright with her exposing any details.
"My mother." Erik explained.
"Ah, unfortunately one of the most mild of Erik's experiences." The older man sighed.
With a gold-rimmed porcelain tea cup in her hand, Christine sat up in surprise: "How could such a story be 'mild'? It's the source of the other troubles and the basis of conditioning Erik into believing that he wasn't wanted. Which isn't true, by the way."
"Interested in psychology, are we?" Erik mused, no longer wanting to be the subject of conversation.
"It's a recent social science and I enjoy reading." She explained curtly, "But that means much more being his mother and all, not just some distant relative."
"Quite true." The Persian agreed, drinking a sip of tea.
"Are you finished talking about me? I'm not a specimen for you to examine, though that has been tried before." Erik growled.
"If I knew who was responsible for such a thing, I would give them-" Christine began in a passionate energy.
"Hush. You're no tiger, just a kitten in comparison to those brutes who believed me a monster." The masked man silenced her and almost chuckled at her fiery side.
Erik continued to tell another story from his childhood, this one describing how he learned to play the piano. He was tragically forced to live like an animal after his mother sold him to a traveling circus, being shown off to disgusted audiences every night. If he ever refused to pull the burlap sack over his face, they would beat him into submission. There were always a few people who seemed to object to such brutality, but the circus always moved before police could intrude.
When the show was over for the night, one of the performers taught him to play a few tunes on the cheap piano in hopes that it would bring in more money. Usually, they were gloomy tunes to fit his fearsome appearance better and the theory making up the music fascinated him. The patterns remained in his mind, allowing him to create his own melodies with unimaginable complexities. His talent became very profitable.
Christine had, once again, fallen into a state of shock after the story. It was incomprehensible for her to think of how people could maltreat a child, no matter what he looked like. Years of pain likely stopped Erik from being affected when recalling such horrifying memories. He only began to cry again when the girl caught him in another tight embrace.
"I'm so sorry for blubbering, but- it-it's just so horrible. I c-can't bel-lieve someone could d-do that. And to a def-fenseless child!" She exclaimed.
"You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, I wasn't completely defenseless." He said, taking in a deep breath.
"Erik, are you su-?" The Daroga warned.
"Yes, Daroga, I know but Christine should learn the truth. I escaped one night when all of the people in charge went off to get wasted, the man who kept me came inside my enclosure with a whip in his hand. It was clear that he came to take out frustration on me and I grabbed a nearby rope, hurling it over his neck and squeezing before he could realize what it was." Erik breathed, looking away from the young girl to shield himself from her reaction.
"You killed him..." She whispered.
"Yes, your acquaintance is a killer- terrifying both inside and out!" He declared, trying to ward her away before she expressed any disgust.
"Erik, calm-" The Persian tried easing the tension.
"I'm not going to leave just because you shout at me!" The actress rose her voice, raising a sense of power she didn't know she possessed.
Both men looked up in surprise, seeing a hidden strength in the usually demure girl before them. Her chest heaved and there was a determination within her blue eyes as she waited for them to respond.
She only received a disappointing silence and the dumb look of astonishment on their faces.
"Thank you for the pleasant evening then, goodnight to you both." Christine said coldly and quickly left their flat to return to her own.
They heard the door across from their own slam, still bewildered by her outburst and sat for a few more moments of silence.
"How is this possible?" Erik said softly.
"What?" The Daroga asked in confusion.
"She left because we didn't say anything. Not because she's afraid."
"Clearly not." The older man chuckled.
"And this only tortures me further." He groaned, lifting himself up from the sofa and going to his bedroom to plop onto the ever-made bed in agony.