Christine's hands fretted over her clothes, scrunching up creases then quickly smoothing them out again. She didn't know what to do with her arms anymore and seemed to have forgotten how her legs worked. Instead of holding her weight, they wanted to melt and drag as she walked - between rehearsals and the shifts she was maintaining at the restaurant, she spent most of her time running this way and that, and the ache was becoming a permanent fixture.

She glanced to one side and saw that Raoul had turned to smile at her. Her arms snapped back down by her sides and her back straightened, legs holding her up properly again. She returned his smile nervously and fought to maintain an intelligent conversation with him while her mind spiralled anxiously.

Now she had stopped thinking about her clothes and focused instead on his; they were simple and smart, like hers, but his were visibly of better quality and he wore them with such ease. She had been delighted when he asked her out to dinner, but now she was afraid of where they might end up going.

Raoul was wonderful and normal in person, but she was painfully aware that his background was considerably posher and richer than hers. What if he took her to some fancy restaurant? Was she underdressed? Could she afford to pay her half of the bill?

They stopped outside a building long before Christine was ready. She had been quite content exchanging simple pleasantries with Raoul, as though they were the only two people in the world. She was not prepared for whatever would come next.

Nevertheless, she forced a polite smile and kept her shoulders back as she entered, slipping into the performer she could be on stage like it was armour. She halted in surprise when she entered, however, confronted with a small, simple restaurant unlike anything she had expected.

The furniture was cosy and quaint, a candle on each table lending a warm glow to the room. A delicious haze of smells filled the air, and the buzz of conversation was complemented by a live group playing folk songs in one corner. There was a clear area by the band, where a few people were already dancing along.

"What do you think?"

Christine turned to Raoul, who had entered behind her and was now watching her intently, his bright eyes looking as nervous as she had felt until a few moments ago. "I love it," she said simply, and watched his expression relax into a smile that she returned excitedly. "It looks amazing."

"I'm so glad," he said with a relieved sigh. "I hoped you would like it, but I started worrying…" His brow creased a little again. "You don't mind live music, do you?"

"No, it's perfect," she reassured him as they were guided to a table.

"Good." He seemed to actually relax this time. "I remembered you said your dad used to play folk music with you, and I couldn't help but think of you when I spotted this place."

Christine swallowed the lump of simultaneous grief and joy that formed in her throat. "Thank you," she said quietly, unable to form more words.

"And I have to admit, I've been hoping for a while now that I'd find an excuse to ask you out to dinner," Raoul continued with a sheepish smile, though there was a roguish gleam in his eyes.

Her cheeks warmed, and she was grateful for the low light until she spotted the way he started to blush too. Her heart squeezed, though it was undoubtedly not with fear or sorrow, but with delight.

The pair of them talked and joked as they ate, the meal passing in a blur as they discussed everything and nothing. After the food had been cleared and paid for, he suggested dancing and she accepted eagerly. All thoughts of tiredness or aching legs fled her mind and she thought no moment could have been so perfect.

The song - one she recognised from her father's repertoire: Kullan Ylistys - might as well have been a slow dance as she melted into him. They moved in perfect time, twirling as one. Christine was very conscious of his hand on her waist, but not in an uncomfortable way - it was like she had been moulded to fit with him. They had been this close before, with increasing regularity in rehearsals where he had to act out a seduction of her daily, but that make-believe was so different to being in his arms, his gaze shining down at her, warm and earnest. She may have acted falling for his charms many times, but now it was really her and really him, and she was falling all over again.

They barely let go of each other on the slow walk back to her apartment, strolling arm in arm and taking several detours with the excuse of wanting to show each other something they knew in the city.

At one point Christine's distracted attention was snapped unwillingly to her scarf, which she had brought to ward off the chill of the evening but was now slung loosely around her neck, as she had barely noticed the cold since leaving the restaurant. A stiff breeze danced around them as they walked, and one particularly strong gust tugged her scarf up and away from her.

It began to flutter down the street like a ruby snake, until Raoul ran after it despite her protests and caught it from midair. He returned and carefully wound it back around her neck, tucking it under her chin and gently extracting her hair. It felt as warm as if it were his embrace, and she blushed almost as red as the material.

When they reached her flat at last, he released her arm and gave a bow, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. She laughed delightedly and couldn't help but remember when Erik had brought her home after a similar wander through Paris at night. She realised, however, that the formality Erik utilised like a shield was a front to impress others, whereas for Raoul it was real - he was a born gentleman, something quite separate from wealth and privilege.

She also noticed with surprise that for the first time in weeks, her mind had not been on Erik or his music. For a long while her thoughts had often been preoccupied with wondering about her mysterious new friend, his melodies sticking in her mind as she practised and practised to impress him.

Recently she had worried often about their sometimes fragile friendship, and there was some sort of unearthly power in his voice that kept it in her mind like a constant fog. Nothing had been the same between them since she had seen what was under his mask, and the will to be there for him still wared with residual wariness from his explosion. On top of that she spent a lot of her time rehearsing the show's songs and dances both openly and in her head, striving to perfect them.

But for tonight there had only been her and Raoul, and she was perfectly happy with that.

"I know you're forced to be with me repeatedly at rehearsals anyway," he began in his gentle, warm voice. "But would you see me again like this? I… I really like you." He gave her a look of such anxious hope that her heart swelled fit to burst.

Christine smiled so widely in return that her cheeks ached, but she didn't mind. "I would love to," she replied earnestly. "I've had such a great time I'd almost agree to spend every moment with you."

He laughed, such a sweet and happy noise. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he stepped closer to her, and hesitantly bent to place a light kiss on her cheek.

A breath caught in Christine's throat, and the world seemed to freeze for one wonderful moment. His lips were warm and soft, his breath gentle against her skin, and the two of them were joined for a wonderful moment in nervous excitement.

"Until tomorrow, then," he said as he straightened again, his cheeks blushing but his eyes sparkling. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight," she breathed. She leaned back against her door as she watched him leave, catching the slight glance he threw back over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

It may have been that she was tired, or exhilarated, or simply new to relationships, but in that moment, she would have sworn to spend her whole life by his side.