Love.
Love, love, love.
With love.
What did it mean to send something "with love"? What was she thinking of when writing those words? Did she kiss the page before she put it down? Did she smile, scrunching up her nose in that adorable way when she does? He could imagine her writing those words, though in his mind, they would never be for him. But, according to his name on the top of the paper, this note was meant for him. She left this note, with love, for him.
Did she love him? On the surface, one could say from this note that she did, but Erik knew better. There were infinitely many possibilities for the origin of such a thing. Perhaps with love was a customary signature on a note of this nature. She wanted to reciprocate his affection in an innocent, socially-accepted fashion, and chose the appropriate closer. Yes, he could see his Christine showing an innocent affection for him, nothing more than warm nights on the sofa and the beauty of their music. But the love that he felt for her… it burned. It burned with a heat that he had never felt, scorching his cool skin with an inferno that he was entirely unprepared for. It had come so fast, taken everything he knew about himself and consumed it within the depths of such a feeling, leaving him to start from scratch. He loved her, and he loved her so much that it hurt.
He had gotten a taste of that love the previous night. He held her while she slept, pulled her close to his cold, undeserving skin. She was so warm and soft, she was everything he had never gotten a chance to experience. Sleeping alone was an experience Erik had gotten used to, due to lack of an alternative, and not sleeping at all was something even more common. The nightmares came when he was vulnerable, after all. But there were no nightmares that night. He slept soundly, with Christine… and that heat! It followed him everywhere he went now, this burning, itching, uncomfortable ache in his chest that he was quite sure would kill him someday. In this sense, he missed being cold. He missed the comfort, the predictability of being frigid, when people were just pawns and each day blurred into the next. There would be nothing special about the passage of time… There would be nothing special about Christine.
But there was something so special about her! Christine had made him warm now! With her very presence, she had melted the ice around his suffering heart, forcing him to face the fact that he wanted to live. He had been merely existing as a ghost for years, so much so that he had lost track of his own age. Although, back then, he was perfectly content to exist that way for the rest of his life, he could see now how miserable that had been. No, he wouldn't settle anymore, not for one more second. He wanted to live. And that terrified him.
Christine had pulled him into the light, but how long would she be happy to continue dragging his weight? She had turned this ghost into a man, but could he expect her to continue to be patient, to keep loving someone like himself? Erik could not find the words to describe her, so radiant that the world "beautiful" turned into an insult. There were infinitely many ways that he could remember that porcelain skin, those cheeks that blushed with the hue of roses, and that golden hair which danced in the light like a halo. When he first laid eyes on her that night, he was convinced that he was struck with the image of an angel. But that angel carried a corporeal body, a heart that beat just like his… a heart that beat for him.
He wanted nothing more than to admit that she didn't love him, to stop torturing himself with the possibility that she might just return his affection. But, the truth was, she did. He could see it right before his eyes! The way she looked at him during lessons, as if he were the sun she alone revolved around. When he sang to her, she melted at the sound of his voice, allowing him to show her a side of himself that no one else knew… When they slept together that night, he awoke to find her content in his arms, perfectly at peace with where she was. To Erik, she was a miracle. A miracle he would fight to the death to keep.
And that brought him to his work today. Although he missed immensely having Christine in the house, he was grateful to be alone to conduct his business, since there was no way he would be able to focus with his temptress so close. And he needed to focus on this… it was about her, after all. Yes, he tried very hard - and succeeded - in keeping this secret, and to his delight, she did not expect a thing. They continued their lessons, working tirelessly to hone in on her craft, though to his songbird, her career still seemed so far away. Little did she know how close to a breakthrough she was.
The gala had been a resounding success for Christine's introduction into the world of opera. Not only did the performance give her the confidence she needed to continue her lessons with attentiveness and dedication, but it showcased that she, even so young and so new, was in for an astounding career. A career, in fact, that many wanted to be part of. Since that night, countless colleagues had contacted Erik about Christine's performance schedule, as they assumed that she was being managed by him (of course, she wasn't, but that would have to be remedied quite soon as well). Offers for solos in oratorios and parts in opera had become such a common occurrence that Erik had to set time in order to sift through them all. Well, he had done that, and today was the phone meeting with the production he has chosen to be Christine's debut.
It was all very professional, involving some negotiation and an immense amount of ass-kissing by the man on the other end of the phone. Erik remembered Dr. Greene from the gala night: a hair-brained, but essentially capable man, currently serving as the new artistic director for the Paris National Opera. Being in such a new and highly prestigious position, the man was extremely impressionable, which served to Erik's advantage. Having already spoken to Christine on gala night, and after hearing her sing, he was absolutely convinced that he needed to be involved in her opera debut. And of course, Erik was not one to argue that point. He wanted only the best for his love, after all.
He allowed himself to remain elusive, essentially forcing Dr. Greene to chase after him, until the man could take it no more. A contract was sent and negotiated, modified and resent, until Erik was entirely satisfied. Informing the man that he would have the contract signed by Miss Daae and returned in a timely manner, Erik then set to work on his own contract, both of which would be presented to Christine that night. A romantic dinner, he imagined, perhaps out at a restaurant. He would allow her to have a glass of wine to celebrate the occasion. Everything would be perfect, and he could hardly stand the wait.
When Christine returned to his apartment that afternoon, she was met with the sublime sound of him composing. Full to the brim with creative energy and excitement, Erik didn't know what else to do other than to play, expressing his joy through the strings of his beloved violin. It was several long moments until he realized that she had returned home, ceasing his playing and coming to greet her in the foyer.
"Ah, you're back." He tried to contain his elation at this fact, instead keeping his tone at its usual cool color. She gave him a fond smile, one which further melted his already molten heart. "You dressed warmly, I hope?"
"Yes, of course," she greeted him warmly, following him further into the apartment. "Did you get much work done while I was away?"
"Lots, in fact." He tried not to give anything away, but it was just so difficult. Just a few more hours, he told himself placatingly. "We will discuss it more later. For now, have you eaten lunch yet?"
She shook her head, commenting that he should eat as well. Surprisingly, he found that he was able, and he led her to the kitchen to make something for the two of them while he continued to speak. "We will eat, and I would like to hear you sing today. We will not do anything major, but the voice has to be kept warm."
Christine agreed with this course of action, thanking Erik once he set a plate in front of her, containing a sandwich. After a bit of urging, he made one for himself as well, and together the two passed lunch with pleasant conversation, as always. They found that it was easier to speak to one another more than ever, with exchanges such as Christine going back to school tomorrow or Erik's meeting to cast the senior production of Faust on Wednesday. Of course, he was dying to cast Christine as Marguerite, but that would have to wait until later. Nepotism of that sort would be overtly obvious, and as much as he hated it, the role had to go to Carlotta Guidicelli. There would be a riot if it didn't.
As per a usual day in the apartment, the afternoon was passed in the customary swirl of music that neither occupant could get enough of. When Christine sang, especially now, it was like she could breathe again, the stale air of grief and sorrow pushed out of her lungs with the effort it took to produce beautiful song. It cleared her head, it helped her concentrate, and most of all, it made life not seem so bleak. And, as always, Erik would never deny himself the pleasure of teaching her. Her voice was growing by the day, improving with steady progress that surpassed even his high expectations. He could only imagine what she would sound like opening night.
"Are you available the rest of tonight?" He asked once they had finished their lesson, not wanting to assume.
"Of course," she replied, albeit a little confused. It was now mid-evening, the time they would normally wind down with some dinner, perhaps a movie if she wasn't too tired.
"Then I would love to have the pleasure of taking you to dinner," he offered, just as he had been rehearsing in his head for hours. He saw her head immediately perk up at this, intrigued, and he followed his statement with, "if you would like to, of course."
"Dinner out?" She asked curiously to clarify, growing excited and nervous at the same time. When Erik confirmed her suspicions, she answered, "of course, I'd love to."
Erik allowed himself to internally beam at this victory, standing from the piano to his full height. "Would a half hour to change be sufficient?"
She agreed, and before Erik could abandon his plans and spill his surprise right there, she disappeared into the guest bedroom to prepare. She was eternally grateful that Erik had the mind to take her favorite sweater, and even more grateful when she discovered that it was clean. She also took the time to apply a small amount of makeup - which she almost never did - mainly some lip gloss and mascara. She did not spend a lot of time on her outfit or her face, for she knew that her hair was going to take the most of her time. She took the braids she had been wearing out, ran some product through it to reduce a majority of its frizz, and after combing and pinning it back, she deemed herself presentable enough to go out.
He took the time to freshen up and dress as well, combing his hair back and changing into a fresh pair of his customary black ensemble. His preparation took much shorter time than Christine, for all he had to do was affix the realistic mask to his face, checking for unusual seams and alignment before he was ready to face the world. It was then that he phoned a local bistro to expect their arrival, and after he was done, he tucked the contracts into the inside of his coat. Once he emerged from his isolation to meet Christine in the living room, he in fact saw that she was already there.
"You look stunning." His voice was all quiet breathiness, the sentiment immediately causing her to blush pink. She thanked him, and after a few more moments of less-than-subtly staring at her, he suggested that they get going.
On the way to the lobby, Christine asked where they were going, and after learning of their destination suggested that they walk. While he was intending to drive, he agreed that it would be much easier if they instead took the light stroll, of course after confirming that she was indeed dressed warmly enough for the occasion. He seemed to often forget that, with this mask, evening walks on the sidewalks of Paris were now possible without the glares and questioning looks of passers by, a luxury which he would definitely never take for granted. Of course, Christine wouldn't have cared if he chose to go out maskless, but she noticed that he seemed all too happy to look normal, and she wouldn't take that joy from him.