Darkening of the Light
~(x)~
Erik had first learned about the five stages of grief from his therapist back in the day, a skinny man Farid had insisted he see after that night he'd found him on the bathroom floor. Mr. Richards, or Evan as he'd preferred to be called, had explained them to him slowly, going over and over again in detail the steps which were denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance. Erik had then been forced to analyze each of these phases, applying them to his own life.
He'd been given this assignment because the way he'd been handling life before those sessions following the fire hadn't exactly been healthy, and Evan had insisted it was because he'd somehow become stuck in the state of depression and had never fully found acceptance in what had happened to him. He'd stated that he needed to reach that end goal if he were ever to begin to move on from his traumatic loss and start anew.
And thus Erik had started from the beginning, and had begun to discuss his ordeal with denial, that vapid wench, and how she had done quite a number on him.
Denial itself is a funny thing, in the least humorous way an ideal can be. Erik recalled the first day of his new life clearly, the day his world turned upside down. He'd woken up in the terrifying environment of an ICU, monitors beeping in mismatched tones all around him. The sound of a woman screaming could be heard down the hall, a shrill noise straight from a box office horror flick. The lights above him had been bright - too bright - and he'd squirmed back into the mattress below him as he'd slowly opened his eyes, closing them immediately shut again as they blurred and watered his vision. He hadn't liked this new place, these sounds, and had tried to roll onto his side to escape them. He'd wished nothing more then to return to the black void that had been oh so comfortable only moments before.
A voice had told him to stay with him though, to please wake up, please Erik, and so he had. He'd groaned heavily as the voice thundered in his ears, eyes dry as they finally adjusted and he looked around the hospital room in confusion. He hadn't been able to recall what had brought him there, not at first. He'd simply glanced over his shoulder to see a very tired Farid hunched over his bedside, looking like he hadn't shaved in days as he whispered a prayer in a foreign tongue and held his hand. He'd been speaking to a higher power Erik had never truly believed in at the time, and when they'd made eye contact his friend had begun to cry in what appeared to be relief.
Erik had tried to speak to him then. There had been a million questions stirring inside of him. The first one being why Farid was even here. The last time he had seen the man he'd been dropping he and Sue off at SMO, wishing them a happy holiday as they boarded their plane to Virginia. Farid's presence unnerved him immediately. For him to have come all the way to Bradbury from Santa Monica meant something awful must've happened. Yet the second Erik had opened his mouth to inquire his presence Farid had held up a single finger, warning him that it was best not to speak yet, that he didn't want to hear himself speak. Farid had just barely begun to explain to him the concept of an emergency king airway before a nurse and doctor entered the room, having been alerted that he was finally awake by a passing technician.
The next thing Erik knew he was being poked and prodded, still half asleep in a state that was neither living or dead. He'd later learn that it had been a Morphine drip that had caused his state of lucidness, the drug coursing through his veins both a blessing and a curse as he'd healed. Questions had been fired at him faster than he could answer, and as he'd struggled to process them a needle had been stuck into his arm for a lab draw.
In the middle of the unknown medical exam Erik had noticed Farid in the foreground, placing a firm hand on an officer's chest in the doorway, telling the man that he needed to leave. The officer had pushed past him and the nurse alike though, impatient as he'd insisted the medical professionals give him a moment alone with their patient. They'd obliged, displeased though it had seemed, and had walked across the room to gossip to one another in whispers as the officer placed a hand on Erik's bed rail.
"Confirm your name for me, boy," the officer had said firmly, looking him dead in the eye.
"Don't you tell him a damn thing," Farid had insisted from across the room, "Don't you say a single word, Erik. You wait until I call my family's lawyer."
A lawyer? Why would they need a lawyer? What trouble had his pesky friend gotten them into this time? And why was he the one in the hospital bed?
"Erik," he'd chosen to reply when the officer hadn't backed down. He'd had to swallow twice, unnerved as he'd heard his voice for the first time. Farid had been right in saying that he wouldn't want to hear it. It had sounded hoarse, rough and crackled as he'd tried again. "Erik...Wells."
"Alright Erik, humor me. Can you tell me how it is you got here?" the officer had pressed on, pulling out a notepad and clicking a pen.
"I don't even know where here is," was all Erik had managed to slur as he'd cleared his throat in frustration.
The officer had sighed heavily. "You're in the burn ward at St. Jude's, son. The medics brought you here after you were pulled from the fire."
A fire...? Had he heard the officer correctly?
It had struck him then. Why he had been brought to the hospital. Why he was attached to so many cables that had begun to beep frantically. He recalled seeing the blaze and smelling the charring wood and dying flowers. He remembered the scream. Suddenly the aches and strains on his body had reason. The warmth and stinging pain in his limbs had cause.
"I need to see Tabitha!" he'd suddenly demanded, sitting straight up, "Where is she? Is she here? Where is my sister?"
"Geez. Woah. Calm down. Listen kid-"
"Don't you dare," Farid had said loudly as he'd re-entered the room once room, effectively cutting off the officer, "Don't you even think about it. You have no right to be the one to tell him. Now you get the hell out of this room! You can come back later once his lawyer arrives."
"Fine."
The officer had eyed Farid with daggers, flipping his notebook shut as he'd stood up. He'd pushed past the smaller man with his shoulder, not saying another word as he'd taken a seat outside the doorway, waiting once more. Erik had felt his anxiety spike simply watching the two of them interact. He'd grabbed Farid's shirt sleeve hard as he'd returned to his bedside, a desperate and pleading look in his eyes.
"Farid, I need you to tell me what's going on - right now. What the Hell did that man want...and where's Tabitha? Where's Sue?"
Farid's eyes had glossed over as he'd sat back down, a hand coming up to cover his eyes as he hung his head and sighed.
"Sue got a hotel for the night. This whole ordeal has been a bit much for her."
"And what about my family? What about Tabby? She was hurt...wasn't she? Is she also at this hospital, or did they take her somewhere else?"
Farid hadn't answered his question. Instead he'd simply turned his head to gaze out the window. It had still been snowing outside.
"Erik, please. Don't make me say it out loud. You folks, your sister...they were like family to me."
Were.
Erik had made him say it then. He'd made him say aloud that they were dead, that he himself was the only one to make it out of that building alive. Yet even after hearing the words aloud Erik hadn't believed them. Instead he'd cursed his friend with every vile word he could think of and asked him how he could flat-out lie about such a horrible thing.
He'd then demanded to be taken to his sister, pulling the IV free from his arm as he'd staggered to his feet, the Morphine having done a number on both his balance and judgement. Blood had coursed slowly out the crook of his elbow, rolling down the bandages on his arm as he'd pushed the Iranian aside with as much force as he could muster. The nurse and doctor had still been on the other side of the room then, and had slipped out the door quickly as the officer ran back in, pressing him back to the mattress as he fought back with every ounce of strength he had left.
The monitor attached to his chest had gone wild as he'd yelled at the two of them, as he'd demanded that they bring him his family. Because they couldn't be dead. That wasn't possible. He had just seen them. It had only been hours ago...hadn't it? They'd been sitting in the living room together...he had played the piano portion of his symphony for them! His mother had wept proudly as he'd played off the final notes, and his father had patted his shoulder, warning him not to forget about them when he became famous.
It had been such a dad thing to say.
Afterwards he'd offered to clean the kitchen while his parents trudged off to bed, scrubbing away at the pots and plates from their dinner. He'd been placing the last of them in the drying rack when he'd heard the gentle sounds of someone weeping coming from down the hall.
Tabby had been crying, which was so unlike her. He'd knocked on her door and opened it up to find her hugging a pillow to her chest, whispering into the phone to a friend the woes of her young love life. She'd hung up the phone the second he'd entered the room, embarrassed that she'd been caught speaking such intimate confessions. When she'd realized the man in the doorway was her brother and not her father though she'd invited him in and explained everything. She'd told him about the boy she'd been seeing, and how that idiot had gone and cheated on her the other night at their winter formal. It should've been awkward for him, knowing that his baby sister was dating now. Yet it hadn't been, because he'd realized she wasn't a child anymore. She had grown up while he'd been away, and was a young woman now.
He'd wished Sue had been there. Sue would've been able to do so much more to comfort the distraught teenager. But Sue had gone out to visit an old friend of hers for the evening and hadn't returned yet. So instead it fell to Erik to comfort his sister and explain to her that young men were stupid and not worth her time. That she should focus on finishing high school and then revisit the subject of dating after she'd graduated. Tabitha had nodded her head in agreement, not on everything, but definitely on the fact that boys were indeed stupid. She'd also used his words to her advantage and flipped them back at him.
"You'd think I'd know boys were stupid by now. I mean, I grew up with you, didn't I?" she'd teased.
Erik had grabbed the nearest pillow off her bed and swatted it at her head, telling her to respect her elders. He'd then softened back up, reminding her that he was always just a phone call away if she ever needed to discuss things like this to someone who wasn't their parents. She'd nodded her head and thanked him, pulling her covers up to her shoulders and rolling away with a yawn as he'd stood up and walked towards the door.
"'Night, Tabs. Get some rest. We'll talk again in the morning."
"Goodnight, stupid," she'd shot back with a smile as he'd flipped off the light.
He'd rolled his eyes, inwardly grateful though that his sister had stopped crying, and it was then that he'd spotted a candle on her bookshelf. It had been the pine scented kind, a scent that his sister had always loved even though it made he himself want to vomit. Figuring it would help her to relax he'd lit it, placing it back on the shelf just as his cell phone had begun to vibrate in his pocket. It had been Sue, calling to say that she was outside waiting for him. He'd smiled to himself as he'd answered it, picturing her reddened cheeks in the dark as she stood down on the curb impatiently tapping her foot, twirling a strand of black hair with her fingers. He'd fled quickly from the room at her request to unlock the door downstairs, shutting Tabitha's a little too hard behind him as he went.
He hadn't known at the time that the candle had fallen from the top of the bookshelf when the doorframe shook. He hadn't known that Tabby was already fast asleep and couldn't smell the scent of her astrology books as their spines caught fire and the small flames began to lick and travel up the sides of the shelves. How could he have? He had already been downstairs, unlocking the door to the flower shop and stealing a passionate kiss from his sweet fiancee under the moonlight.
Oh yes, denial was indeed a funny thing. Because he'd known Farid and the officer to be telling him the truth even as he'd fought them back, just as soundly as he'd known back on the sidewalk as he and Sue had stared up at the flames that no one could possibly survive that degree of engulfment. But his mind wouldn't allow him to accept that they'd died any more than it would let him forget the memory of lighting that damned candle. He'd started to picture it over and over again as he'd fought the officer above himself, feeling himself flick-flicking that lighter and smelling that sickening scent of pine fill his sister's bedroom as he'd struck a fist out blindly towards the man's face.
He'd slipped back into the blackness then, a needle jabbed into his shoulder by the nurse as Farid stared down at him with pity in his eyes. He'd eventually let go of his denial and anger during the long rest that followed, going numb as he once more awoke in that blasted ICU that very same evening, this time in a clearer state of mind due to a dial back order on the drugs. Farid had been fast asleep by then, ankles crossed as he sat in a chair in the corner of the room with his head lolled off to the side. Erik silently faced the harsh reality then that Farid would probably be one of his only visitors during his stay in the hospital, that his parents wouldn't be stopping by to see him any time soon.
He'd wondered a moment later why Sue hadn't come back yet.
But Sue wouldn't be back. Not until he was finally moved to the rehabilitation clinic and out of the majority of his bandages. Even there she'd only visit him one time, seeming distant as she sat across the room and spoke with him in a quiet voice. He should've known that very night that she no longer loved him from the way she left without a single touch. Did they not always kiss one another goodbye? For Christ's sake, he should have known. Maybe that would've saved him from reverting straight back to anger the night she left him. Maybe that would've kept him from begging her not to go, like some damned dog on his knees.
Maybe he wouldn't have nearly died on that bathroom floor.
~(x)~
Christine ending things with him two weeks ago had been drastically different from the way Sue had ended things. Whereas Sue had said aloud plain and simply that she no longer cared for him, that her love had become ruined by what he now was, Christine's spin of phrase had been vague, as if she hadn't known what to say in that moment. She had run from him out of nerves and fright, that much had been apparent, yet it hadn't seemed to be the same sort of fright that Sue had felt.
He'd slipped right back into denial that night, hopeful that they could work things out as he stood like an idiot there on her doorstep for the better part of a half hour. He'd been confident at the time that she would come to her senses and allow him to explain himself and the circumstances surrounding his secrecy. He'd waited patiently to do so. First on that stoop and then every night following that one, leaning against the window of his own shop, hoping to see her rounding the corner as the sun began to set overtop the buildings.
Then a week had passed, followed by another. By the middle of week two he'd gone from hopeful to dejected to angry all in the manner of what had seemed to be a single day, sometimes feeling all three things at once. He'd quickly allowed himself to accept the growing possibility that he'd truly never see her again. He'd phoned Farid to ask for advice one night, only to be told that women were complicated and that he needed to relax and wait things out. But the waiting had all but driven him mad. He would sit around his shop for hours trying to busy his mind and hands, yet nothing had seemed to help. He'd simply ended up leaning over his countertop countless nights wondering how she'd found it so easy to cut him away from her life when he himself was all but burning for her company, even after the pain and confusion she'd been causing him.
This morning he'd finally stopped moping around and had resolved to believe that she was over him, done and moved on. He had reached that final stage of acceptance, and in a way it had felt good. He'd managed to convince himself that he was done with her as well. That he didn't need a young and fickle woman playing him like a fiddle. It had worked too. He had kept her out of his thoughts nearly the entire day, not dwelling on her absence in the least until, fate being the bitter crone that she was, they collided, quite literally, once more.
And now here she was, in the flesh and looking quite flushed from the close proximity they'd shared only moments ago, back into his life like a sudden gust of wind. And for that he was many things - confused, elated, trepidatious - but most of all, grateful. He felt as though he could finally breathe again as he gripped her hand tightly and walked her across the living room, his heart thumping in his chest.
He hadn't wanted her to see the relief in his eyes when they'd met once more on the street. No, instead he'd tried his best to remain neutral and not get his hopes up. Because for all he knew she had simply come back to more formally end things between them, to crush his last bit of happiness once and for all and affirm his suspicions that she no longer cared, just as Sue had done. That was why he'd ignored her when she'd first tried to speak. It was because he hadn't been ready to once again feel that sting of rejection. He'd wanted to seem on ice to her charms, wanted to put on a strong facade in case he'd have to seem indifferent to her continued cruelty.
But then she had been so close, standing there before him in his kitchen, telling him that she wanted to try to work things out between them, touching his torso through his clothes in a way that had made his spine stiffen most pleasantly. And in that moment he'd realized just how badly he'd missed her, how much he most certainly was not over her.
His days had been long and quiet again with her away, his need to create music gone once more without his muse. His nights as well had returned to being restless. Without his late night composing he was never truly tired and would lie awake for hours simply wasting away in bed. So for this dream of a woman to have suddenly been standing right in front of him again - why, it had almost been too much to bear. He had nearly kissed her right then and there as she'd stepped into his kitchen, with all the urgency and need that he'd kept pent up inside ever since that first kiss of theirs in the opera box. He'd imagined lifting her up onto the countertop, pressing her back into the tile, her legs wrapping his waist as their lips met once more in that heated dance he craved so much...
Yet he'd held himself back. Because he knew they couldn't just dive straight into things again. If they did it would spell disaster. No, first he needed to come clean with her and tell her why it was that he was so messed up, inside and out.
Erik knew, of course, that there was a chance that two people, damaged as they both seemed to be, were just too much to handle when combined. Like the coming together of a tidal wave and a hurricane; perhaps they wouldn't heal one another, but instead install further damage. But that was a risk he was willing to take. She was worth that risk.
He was apprehensive though. Because there was so much he was used to hiding away from people, so much that he had kept pent up inside for years now, and keeping such things in had screwed up his head in more ways than one over the years. Was he ready to come clean about his past? To release all the guilt he carried around inside himself upon this poor, young woman? It would probably be too much for her too handle, knowing what he truly was, knowing what he'd done. She could very well grow to hate him for it. It was a possibility. He was prepared for it though, and wouldn't stop her if she chose to go. If she stayed though, after everything was out in the open, he wasn't sure if he could ever bear to let her go again.
He dropped her hand to pry open the large window next to his piano, hearing the metal hinges squeak softly as the warm, late summer air rushed in. He then gestured for Christine to step forward, earning himself a rather tentative look from her.
"You want me to go...out there?" she asked warily, pointing to fire escape.
"Trust me," was all he replied, pressing gently on the small of her back.
It was a lot to ask, after everything, yet his words must've soothed her fears, because she simply shrugged her shoulders and laughed nervously, placing both hands on the frame as she heaved her legs over the edge. She paused a moment then, sitting there and staring down nervously before dropping the few inches onto the metal walkway below. The sound her boots made as they hit the steel echoed loudly, causing her to jump back and squeal in surprise. She quickly grabbed hold of the rail before her, eyes wide as he followed suit, steadying her with his hands.
He never would've guess that something as seemingly simple as heights would be a fear of hers. He assumed it was a rational enough fear though. He knew all too well the damage that falling from this height could cause.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
She shook her head, determination in her eyes as she turned towards him. "Of course not."
"Good," he replied, gesturing to her right, half amused, "After you, then."
She swallowed hard as she turned towards the ladder he was pointing at, a thin piece of metal leading all the way up to the roof. It took her a moment to begin taking baby steps towards it, yet she bravely inched forward nonetheless, holding onto the rail the entire time as her shoulders shook.
As she took hold of that first rung and stepped up though a rather powerful breeze sifted the air, causing her to grip the bars before her with all her might, leaning into them with her forehead pressing into the metal. He instinctively took a hold of either side of her legs, firmly enough to steady her.
"I've got you Christine," he reassured, "You won't fall."
"Are you sure?" she asked in a panicked voice that reminded him much too much of another's.
"I'm sure," he insisted, feeling his eyes begin to sting.
He held his breath, wondering whether or not this was still a good idea. He'd wanted to share something personal of his, as an apology to her for all the secrets he'd been keeping, but had never considered her being scared of the journey.
At the top of the roof he watched her grip either side of the brick opening, heaving herself over the ledge. He quickly followed suit, hoping that her fears were lessened now that she couldn't see over the edge, and smiled to himself softly as he watched her eyes go wide. She took in the sight of his rooftop garden with a childlike wonder, slowly turning in a small circle to take it all in. It seemed to bewitch her, much to his pleasure, and as the sun began it's final descent in the evening sky he crossed over to plug in the cable hidden behind his greenhouse, illuminating the rounded lights that he'd strung between the trees last summer. Those fairy lights surprised her, and a small smile fell upon her lips as she studied the many floating orbs with fascination, reaching up to touch one with a single finger.
It was both pleasant and unnerving to be bringing someone new into a place Erik considered so sacred to himself. As a child he and his sister had spent many a night atop this roof, naming the stars and watching the people down below as they passed by on the street. If had been their secret place, a place where they could be themselves. When Tabitha had been very young she had covered every inch of this concrete patio with chalk drawings while he sat nearby, perched against the ledge with a book. He swore as he looked down at the concrete that he could still see the outlines of her terrible artwork sprawled across its surface, even with the many years that had come to pass.
It took Erik a long time following his recovery to venture up here again. He'd dreaded it at first, knowing it would be just as hard on him as coming back home had been. After a particularly grueling day of self-loathing though he'd found himself wandering up the ladder, not quite right in his state of mind, turning to look over his shoulder at the distance to the street. A fleeting thought of self destruction had gone through his mind as he'd continued upward, desperate to breathe more clearly. The flower shop had seemed particularly stuffy that day and he'd wanted an escape, but his upstairs apartment hadn't been far enough away, and so he'd taken Tabby's dreams to heart and had looked towards the sky.
It was up here, in this sanctuary, that he'd finally found the courage to take off his mask outside for the first time. He'd felt the sun on his newly damaged skin, a feeling that had delighted him, and he'd smiled earnestly, feeling free for a moment.
The garden itself had started small as he'd continued to spend his days hidden away up here, yet had grow vastly over the many years. Flowering trees and shrubs now lined the walls, with smaller potted plants spread throughout the inner areas. A small greenhouse was nestled off in the far corner, and that was where his more fragile flowers lived. For a man who hated his career as a florist, he had to admit he did enjoy gardening and seeing new life grow and thrive under his hand.
It had been Farid's idea to get proper outdoor furniture for the space after Erik had first shown him his little project. Together they'd gone online and selected a large stone table and the two wicker benches that now inhabited the middle of the large space. Getting them up onto the roof after they'd been delivered had been a struggle, and a dangerous one at that. Yet the two men had laughed at their endevour and afterwards had brought up a chess board and played well into the evening.
"Erik, this in incredible," Christine whispered as she drifted her hand down and ran it over the leaves of a nearby fern. She turned towards him, dumbstruck, "You did all this yourself?"
He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking around the garden with a small half-smile. "I suppose I've had a lot of time on my hands these past couple of years."
Christine crossed the small space between them, looking up at him tenderly. "You never cease to surprise me, Wells."
"I'm sure you have plenty of surprises in the wait yourself, miss Daae."
"Possibly. But nothing like this," she said with a laugh, "I mean, just look at this place!"
He smiled down at her, amused by her excitement. "Would you like to see more?"
"There's more?"
Erik took her hand and walked her over to the greenhouse. The interior of it was small, too small for two people, and so he simply opened the door and allowed her to venture inside on her own, reveling in the joy on her face as she studied the potted orchids and African violets lining the shelves. His heart warmed as she gazed fondly at the young rose bush in the corner before turning towards the collection of empty vases he kept below his tool shelf. She picked up a thin purple one, twisting the glass back and forth in her hands.
"Hmm. I recognize these ones," she said, a guilty grin on her face.
"It was how we met," he confirmed.
"That day seems like a lifetime ago," she said wistfully as she slowly set the vase back down.
"We were just strangers back then," he agreed.
"Sometimes I feel like we still are," she said softly, looking down at her feet.
Erik stepped inside the greenhouse then, filling up the last of that small space. The air inside was especially warm as he reached forward to move aside a strand of blue hair from Christine's face, feeling the smooth skin of her cheek brush the back of his fingers.
"I don't want us to be," he said quietly as her eyes met his, "I meant what I said that night I walked you home. Anything you want to know, remember? That was my offer."
Christine nodded, looking down once more as she took hold of his hand. She studied it silently a moment, tracing the silver scars across the back of it.
"Tell me then...how did you get these?" she whispered.
Erik swallowed hard. "It's a long story."
"Then I suggest we take a seat?"
He nodded in agreement, opening the door to the greenhouse. As he did so he felt a chill creep up his spin. After being inside the greenhouse even the warm August air felt cool for a moment.
Christine saw herself over to nearest bench, kindly sliding over for him to take a seat beside her. He did so apprehensively, wondering where he could possibly begin. Beside him he noticed Christine looking rather nervous, obviously uneased by the unknown about to be presented to her. He wished he could console her, tell her she had nothing to worry about, but he couldn't. What he was about to tell her was as dark as tales came.
"These particular scars are from a mirror I broke," he said simply, staring ahead as he rubbed the marks in question, feeling their small divets, "When I struck it a good portion of the glass got stuck in my hand."
He could feel it still, that rush of adrenaline, that feeling of warm blood afterwards. Christine looked down at her lap.
"Why did you break a mirror?" she pressed gently.
"I'm not a senseless violent," he assured her quickly, watching relief pour over her face. He didn't want her to think of him as a man that would ever lay a hand on her. "It was merely the result of a string of bad events all catching up to me at once."
"What started it all?" she asked.
Erik reached up to straighten his mask, a nervous twitch of his. He noticed then that the bottom of it had been pulled up this entire time, his mouth and jaw still exposed from when he'd removed it in the kitchen. He made a move to lower it back down, only to feel a gentle touch on his forearm.
"Please don't," Christine said gently, "I've enjoyed being able to see you speak."
He nodded, bringing his hands back down to his lap. How he wished he could read this woman's mind. How he wished she would say aloud what she thought when she saw these parts of him.
"The fire is what started it all."
"The fire that caused your asthma?"
"Among other things," he snorted, gesturing towards his face in disgust. He glanced off towards the direction of the trees. "It was fourteen years ago now that I left home to attend college out in California. There I met my closest friend, and together he and I made a good four years of memories together. He was studying theater management and I, music composition, as I've told you before. There was also a girl though..." He paused, looking down at his feet, not daring himself to make eye contact with his Christine as he spoke of another woman. "She and I dated for three years, and a few months before graduation I proposed to her."
"You were engaged once?" Christine's tone of voice was unreadable, yet she appeared to stiffen.
"I was."
"What was her name?"
Erik scoffed, crossing his arms. "Does it matter?"
He felt a small hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Christine looking up at him with kind eyes. "It does. If you're going to tell your story, then tell all of it. Get it off your chest. Obviously you never married, or if you did then you're divorced now. Which means she ties into all this."
Clever girl, his Christine.
"It was Susanna," he whispered, feeling a lump form in his throat as he spoke the name. God, how that name left a bitter taste on his tongue. "Susanna Dawson. Though to me she was always just Sue."
He took a minute to himself then, feeling himself clench and unclench his hands. That same anger he'd felt the other day thinking about that woman once more surged through him.
"It was Christmas break and we had just flown in to visit my parents and tell them the good news. I'd also brought along the symphony I'd written for my final grade in music comp, and had played it for them as a gift. Then Sue had gone out for the night, to visit an old friend of hers and allow me to spend some quality alone time with my family. She'd later called me, close to midnight, asking me to come out and take a walk with her through the fresh snowfall. It had snowed all day long, and the landscape of Bradbury had been breathtaking. We'd strolled for over an hour, enjoying the way the streetlamps made everything glisten. You yourself would have been very young that year. I doubt you remember the ice. Even the river had frozen over..."
He felt Christine reach for his hand, steadying it. He hadn't even realized he had begun to shake. He took a deep breath.
"I smelt the smoke before I saw it. When we returned the fire had already been sky high. The entire shop - as well as my family's apartment above - all of it had been shrouded in flames. I'd heard a scream inside as we'd approached. Sue had tried to stop me but hearing that cry had made me determined to get inside the building. I hadn't even considered the consequences at the time - I'd simply burst through the front door and headed straight for the staircase."
"And then it collapsed," Christine whispered.
"You remember," he noted quietly.
Christine grew deathly silent for a moment, and finally he dared to look over to her. When he did he saw tears glistening in her eyes.
"Erik, your family...what happened to them?" she finally dared to ask.
"They died that night," he said simply, his voice unwavering, "My parents never even escaped their bedroom and my sister...well, she tried her best, but in the end her best wasn't good enough."
"You've never mentioned a sister before. How old was she?"
"Seventeen."
Christine covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.
"That's so young."
Erik nodded his head in agreement. "She was attending the St. Agnes School when she died. It was a private high school that her grades had gotten her into. When they built the new science wing later that year they named it after her. She was one smart kid. Would've had one hell of a future."
"You have a fire escape though. Were they not able to get to it?"
"This current rig was only put in after the reconstruction. Our fire escape at the time had been falling apart. My parents had gotten it taken down before the holidays, with plans to have the new one installed after the New Year."
He didn't know what else to say on the matter. In fact, there wasn't much more to say. After everything else, he couldn't bring himself to tell her the worst part. He didn't dare tell her the exact way Tabitha had died, nor the fact that it had been his fault the fire had started. He couldn't, not when she was looking up at him so sympathetically. Instead he reached over and gripped her palm hard, setting his face in his free hand as he willed himself to hold it together.
As he sat there he felt Christine slowly traced the silvery scars on his hand with her thumb. After a moment she let go and reached towards his face, tilting his chin towards her. Once more her fingertips moved up towards the scar around his eye. She touched it light as a feather before trailing down to the ones that covered his mouth and jaw.
"You were almost burned alive that night," she said distantly, tears still threatening to fall, "You could've died."
"In the days that followed I'd wished that I had," he admitted bleakly.
She didn't response to that. Instead she took her hand and drifted it down further, off his face and down towards his collarbone. He watched her eyes go wide as she felt the large, jagged scar there underneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
"How bad is it?" she asked, "All of it?"
"Let's just say I don't make a habit of walking around shirtless."
His joke was spoken humorlessly and even he couldn't bother to laugh at something so true. His thoughts drifted back to college for a moment, when he, Farid, and Sue would drive down to the beach on the weekends. He hadn't seen the ocean in over ten years now, having rejected every offer to go with Farid since the accident. Yet there had certainly been summers where he'd wished he could say yes. He'd loved the ocean like a second home at one point in his life. But the crowds would be too much for his anxiety, and the heat unbearable with the way he would have to dress to keep his body concealed from prying eyes.
Erik stiffened greatly as he felt Christine lay her palm flat against his chest, bringing it slowly up over his shoulder and down his arm. At his wrist she moved to slide her hand under the fabric, feeling the twisted skin on his forearm with the tip of her fingers.
"Would you show me?" she asked nervously.
He pulled away from her with a jerk of his shoulder, feeling cornered. "Why would ask something like that?"
"It's only fair. You've seen mine," she reminded him.
He looked over towards the sleeve of her jacket. He supposed he had. And she had been brave, sitting there in the opera box and he'd run his hand over each and every mark.
He reached up with a sigh and attempted to unbutton his shirt. His hands shook violently though, tremors causing his grip on the small rounds of plastic to slip. He cursed under his breath.
Christine took over for him, gently lowering his hands down onto to his lap. She then slowly released the first three buttons, her breath catching as she caught that first glimpse of the angry red skin beneath. He tensed up as she undid three more, staring down at him. There she stopped, pulling the top of the fabric widely to either side.
"Oh, Erik."
She spoke in broken whisper, tracing the top outline of the overly large scar that covered his breastbone. Her fingertip tingled the sensitive skin there, causing him to stir evermore. He wasn't uncomfortable per se, though he had never felt more exposed in his entire life. He might as well have been naked before her, and felt his entire body tremor as he turned slightly towards her and set his hands on her knees. He hadn't realized how badly he'd needed to balance himself until he'd done so.
Christine leaned into him then, resting her forehead just above that scar. He froze at her sudden closeness, dreading the thought of her being so near to the more grotesque details of his body. She didn't pull away though. Instead he felt her whole palm drift and come to rest just above his heart. It fluttered wildly at her gentle touches. She pulled back only slightly as she did so, and that's when he felt it, the smooth brush of her lips upon that mangled smear of tissue.
He squeezed her knees in response, probably harder than he should have, and found himself releasing an agonized sigh. She pulled back at that sound, startled by such a response, bringing her hand up to hold the side of his face with worry. He felt himself flush.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked, concern laced in her voice.
He brought his hand up to cover hers, relishing her tender hold, all the while also making sure her fingers didn't come close to the absence of a nose beneath his mask. He squeezed her fingers lightly, feeling his eyes begin to water. Oh, what a mess he was. What kind of a man was he to break down in response to something as simple as a kiss? Yet despite his lack of composure Christine stayed before him, gazing upon him, holding his face softly.
"No," he managed to say, smoothing his other hand over the soft material of her jeans. "No, not in the least."
She reached up and brushed away his tears, her face full of sympathy and tenderness. "Good. I promise I won't ever hurt you."
"Please don't make such a promise lightly." Those quiet words left his lips before he even registered thinking them. He immediately wanted to bite off his tongue as he hung his head in shame. Here she was extending a kindness to him, and all he had to return her good heart was bitterness.
"I would never say something I didn't mean," she replied, sounding more than a little bit hurt.
"I'm sorry," he added quickly, "I wasn't trying to imply that you weren't being earnest. It's just that I've...grown to be wary of promises."
"Why?"
"Because of Sue," he said solemnly, "She was everything to me back then, my entire world. And the day she promised to be my wife was the greatest day of my young life. Yet after the accident when the bandages came off she got sick to her stomach and ran at the mere sight of me. I only saw her again one time after that, the day I was released from rehab. That was the night she came over to return her ring. I never heard from her again."
"As far as I'm concerned, that was her loss," Christine said sourly, "You're a damn fine catch, and she couldn't see that...well, then good riddance."
Her response earned a genuine laugh from Erik, who had never once heard himself referred to as a damn good anything before.
"Good riddance," he agreed quietly. He looked down at Christine tenderly, smiling to himself. "You know, in a way I'm almost glad now that she left that night."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Well, think of it this way. If Sue and I had indeed gotten married would you be here tonight, up on this rooftop?"
"I suppose I wouldn't be."
"Exactly. So maybe it's as you said before, and sometimes certain things do happen for a reason."
She smiled happily at his words, and it was a smile that spoke a thousand words. He felt it then, that pull from her, both figuratively and literally as her fingers pinched the front of his shirt to draw him in nearer. There was a telling look in her eyes, and he responded to it by bringing his hand up to hold her waist tenderly.
"Kiss me," she said softly, drawing ever closer.
Erik couldn't tell if her breathy words were a question or a demand, but he knew all the same how he wanted to answer them. He closed the space between them immediately, once more feeling the softness of her mouth brush against his own. He sighed against her lips at the sensation, squeezing her waist gently before sliding his hand around to her lower back to pull her in closer. As he did so her hand once more moved to his chest, eliciting him to groan softly into her mouth as she touched that tender skin. This only seemed to encourage her bold movements. She turned to face him fully, bringing her leg up underneath herself so that she was propped up and taking lead of their kiss.
Erik felt his head tilting back as her arms slowly wound themselves around his neck. She played with his hair with the tips of her fingers as she smiled against his lips, teasing him with flicks of her tongue against his. A moment later he felt his back pressing into the arm of the wicker, Christine leaning slightly overtop of him. She pulled back then to brush her hair back from her face, looking down at him with fascination on her flushed face. It took him a moment to even contemplate what she was staring at, until he realized how odd his mask must feel against her skin as they kissed one another.
"One day," he said quietly, bringing up a hand to play with a loose strand of blue hair that had fallen back down, "I'll take it off for you, I promise I will. But not tonight, Christine. Please don't ask that of me."
"I'm not Sue," she reminded him quietly, nestling down so that she was laying half across his chest. "Remember that, okay?"
"Soon, my dear," was all Erik reinstated, relishing in the feeling of her snuggled so closely to him. He ran his hair back through her curls. "I just need a little time is all. I don't want to scare you."
"I'm a big girl, Erik," she said teasingly, "I'm not afraid of the dark and I'm certainly not afraid of piano playing florists."
"Just heights," he reminded her gently, a smile creeping up on his lips.
"Just heights," she agreed with a small laugh.
She smiled at him from the crook of his shoulder, reaching over to take hold of his hand once more. When she did she traced a finger down has palm slowly, as if she were studying it, before finally pausing over his ring finger.
"I still can't believe you were once engaged," she said quietly, looking out towards the trees as she bit her lip.
"Does that bother you? Knowing I was once that close to someone?" he asked.
"No, not at all. If anything, it makes it easier to admit to you that I was once in that same boat."
"Raoul?" he asked, already knowing and dreading her answer.
"Yes. He and I were engaged a little over two years ago. It didn't last long though."
"Can I ask why?"
Christine sighed against his chest, laying down fully. "It's complicated. I mean, the thing about Raoul is...well, he's demanding. Controlling. He had expectations in our relationship that I didn't always live up to, and he would always make sure I knew that our problems were ultimately my fault. I can't even recall how many times I apologized for things that weren't my fault. Towards the end of it all I was just so worn down, so hollow. I simply let him use me as he saw fit. But I though that he loved me, and that I loved him. I used that to excuse many of his actions. I realize now though that I never truly loved him. The therapist Annette made me see once helped me to understand that. That woman was the one to finally explain to me that not all abuse leaves marks, as my mother's had."
"You didn't deserve to be treated like that, by either of them. No one does."
Christine scoffed. "Do you know what the real salt in the wound was though, when it came down to me finally leaving Raoul? It was learning that he'd been cheating on me for the majority of our engagement."
"What?"
"Mhm. With his secretary at work. How cliche is that? He was always saying he'd fallen beind on paperwork, or that a meeting had run late. I wasn't stupid though. Some days he'd come home without his tie, and other nights the buttons on his shirts would be one-off. If those things weren't hints enough he also must've never realized how strong her perfume was. Most of the time he'd come home and the first thing I'd smell before I even saw him was that overpriced Prada scent. It was nauseating, the lot of it, and he never even suspected that I knew."
"Come on, he must've. You're too smart not to have guessed," Erik reasoned.
Christine scoffed. "At least someone thinks so. I know some days I don't feel that way...especially lately." She turned to prop herself up. "God, I'm so sorry for what I did to you, Erik. I never should have closed that door on you."
Erik sat up as he saw her eyes begin to water again, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey now, none of that. It's water under the bridge Christine. None of that matters anymore. We're here now, aren't we?"
Christine laughed lightly, sniffling. "That we are, and so far neither of us seem to be running."
"A miracle, really."
Christine shook her head, bringing her hand up to wipe at her eyes. "God, look at me. I'm sorry, I'm such a mess. I guess talking about these kinds of things still gets to me a little."
"Then how about no more talking?" Erik suggested, pulling out his phone, "How about we just enjoy each other's company a while?"
He unlocked his phone and opened up an internet radio app, clicking on a soft rock station. Immediately the air began to stir with the gentle sounds of synthesized drumming and a lightly strummed guitar.
"It always comes back to music with you, doesn't it?" Christine noticed, sitting up, "When there's no more words to say I feel as though you turn to it to speak for you."
"It's partially because I can't stand the quiet," he admitted freely, "Empty air is much too loud for me. And as the saying goes...when words fail, music speaks."
He stood up then, turning to offer her a single hand.
"Dance with me?" he asked.
Christine laughed awkwardly, politely shaking her head. "Oh no, I can't. Really Erik, I'm not much of a dancer."
"Christine, please. Just humor me."
He watched as she bit down gently on her bottom lip, raising her hand up to lay it softly upon his. He smiled, wrapping his fingers around hers and pulling her to her feet, bringing her in close to himself. He let his left hand trail back down to her waist as his right one took a hold of hers once more. Together then they began to sway under the many floating lights above. In a way it was like dancing beneath starlight, even though the glow of the city was much too bright tonight to see the real ones above.
Still though, there seemed to be a magic in the air as they danced, a freedom to it. In a way it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from Erik's shoulders tonight, and because of such he was allowing himself to live in the moment, not giving a damn to the past as he held this angel of a woman in his arms. He spun her around as the chorus played on, a tiny laugh like a song escaping her lips as she smiled up at him. A moment later she was resting her cheek against his shoulder, softly singing along to the last few verses of the track.
At the sound of her singing a sigh escaped his lips; he felt himself closing his eyes, finally at peace and content with his life.
.
.
.
.
This update is over 9,500 words long (and was re-written four times), therefore I would love to hear some feedback from all you lovely readers on it!
P.S. In case you were curious, the title of the this chapter is a song by the band Concrete Blonde, and is also the song these two are dancing to as it concludes.
xoxo,
Nicole