Christine's footsteps echoed as she ran down the dark hallways of the theater. Her arms were full and it made using her flashlight almost impossible.
It didn't really matter. She knew the hallways nearly as well as Erik did by now.
She skidded to a stop in the center of the wide hallway, frowning. "Erik?" she called into the quiet.
Silence was her answer and she huffed in frustration. The boxes in her arms were heavy and so was the theater door. It was odd to not be met by him at the front door but she wanted to surprise him and failed to give her customary warning. She also almost never visited midday, mostly because she was afraid she would be arrested for trespassing, so it wasn't so very concerning that he wasn't right there immediately.
"Erik?" she called, just a bit louder. "I need help! I brought something!"
There was still no answer and she sighed, continuing down the hallway at a much slower pace.
When she bumped into something solid she let out a squeak, and she only heard a soft chuckle. She was glad that her arms were full because if they weren't, she feared she would have slapped his arm and she genuinely wasn't sure what his reaction would be.
"You must be quiet, Christine," he murmured, taking a box from her hands. "You'll wake the ghosts."
She rolled her eyes but she couldn't help her small smile. Erik was sweet. He was slowly opening up and the more he did, the more she actually found herself enjoying her time with him. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and she found herself laughing often.
He seemed to enjoy making her laugh, even when he didn't mean to.
"What is all this?" he asked, shifting the box he had taken from her in his hands.
"Lunch," she said with a grin. "I'm starving. Are you hungry?"
"That's very kind," he said slowly, leaving her with his vague non-answer
She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt so awkward but she tried her best to shake it off as she followed the sound of his footsteps.
"I brought a camping light," she said to fill the quiet between them. "It's a lot more dim than my flashlight - it's yellow light instead of white."
She heard the loud creak as he pulled a door open. "You are very thoughtful, Christine," he said, the words measured and quiet.
He seemed thoughtful in his quiet so she let it settle between them, walking ahead as he held the heavy stage door open for her.
It wasn't until she was center stage that he finally paused. "I've meant to ask," he said softly, the sentence trailing off and dying in the center as his long fingers tapped nervously against the side of the cardboard box he held.
"You can ask me anything." she said softly when she realized that he was losing his nerve, the sentence hanging dead in the air between them.
His shoulders dropped. "I would like to take you someplace tonight," he said, the words seeming to come from nowhere and decidedly not a question. "But it would have to be after dark."
"After dark," she repeated, cutting herself off before she could jokingly ask if he meant to kill her.
Erik didn't always understand her jokes. She tried her best to keep her more depreciative jokes to herself, disliking the hurt look in his eyes far too much to actually find them funny.
After all, if he meant to kill her, he definitely would have done it by now.
"Okay," she agreed slowly when he said nothing. "After dark. Where will you take me?"
When he turned to look at her, she could almost pick out the mischievous glimmer in his eye. "If I told you it wouldn't be much of a surprise. You'll need your flashlight."
Christine thought that Erik must have some funny ideas about what a date was.
He probably had some funny ideas about a lot of things.
Regardless, the expansive cemetery wasn't exactly what she would call romantic. What might have been pretty and calming in the daylight was gloomy and almost oppressive in the darkness. When she wrapped her hand around his forearm, he hardly even flinched.
He was getting used to her small touches. "Why a cemetary?" she asked, suddenly realizing how quiet it was around them.
He paused, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. "I am not a ghost," he said, the words sounding almost like a confession. "But perhaps I can help you find one. A real one."
Christine frowned, her hand tightening around his arm. "You've brought me here to scare me," she accused. "Or to make fun of me."
"Certainly not," he said, sounding truly offended. "I've had quite enough of frightening you and I find no humor in your search."
"I don't know if I even believe in ghosts," she confessed, speaking the words out loud for the first time. "And anyway, aren't they supposed to be where the people died? Not out in cemetaries."
"I haven't the slightest idea," he admitted sheepishly. "I'll confess that I've never had much interest myself... but it is important to you. Do you have your little recorder?"
Something in her softened at that, and she stared up into his mask in the oddly blue moon light. "I don't," she said softly. "I haven't carried it with me in a long while."
His mask shifted and she was pretty sure he was frowning underneath it. "Then how will we know if there is a ghost?"
She might have laughed if she wasn't suddenly feeling so serious as she stared up at him. "It's my turn," she said softly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Certainly," he answered easily.
" ... Erik, do you like me?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice as unthreatening and accusatory as possible.
"Of course," he answered just a bit too easily. "I would have chased you off otherwise."
"No," she said softly, staring up at him carefully, hoping that she might catch some sort of look in his eyes. "I mean as more than a friend, Erik."
He went quiet for a long moment, looking away from her. "I'm afraid that I wouldn't know," he confessed eventually. "I've never had many friends."
She swallowed, staring at him and his face that was obstinently turned away from her. She wanted to ask him about the friends that the statement implied that he did have, but there was time for that later. "Do you want to kiss me sometimes?" she asked instead.
His eyes snapped back to hers and he didn't have to answer for her to understand the look in them.
She moved slowly, pushing herself up on her toes, and the kiss that she pressed to the unmoving lips of his mask was quick and shy.
There were a lot of questions to ask. Questions about his past, about his friends, about what was hidden under his mask, about how she could ever actually go about entwining his life with hers, but none of them seemed to matter in that moment. Not when she rested her temple against his bony shoulder and stared at a fading grey headstone.
When his free hand shyly covered hers, still wrapped around his left forearm, she realized it really didn't matter at all.
They had all the time in the world.