Updated with edits to mechanics. 10/03/2020
sickyoungchick, ghostwritten2, guest, and EmeraldHeather...you all have no idea what it means to me to read your comments! I appreciate you so much, and I will (and do) take your suggestions and constructive crit to heart (in a good way! :D)! Thank you so much for your continued support!
New readers and beautiful readers: thank you! I am truly grateful that you are a part of this little High School AU.
From ofbeautsandbeasts: "...your fic is seriously the light of this year for me! During these dark times, I can look forward to immersing myself in that high school world where life is simpler and more hopeful and where my favorite characters live again. It makes me so happy that you've expanded my drawing into a whole universe."
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE INSPRIATION...your words and support mean so much to me!
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A FLASHBACK CONTAINING DRUG USE, EMOTIONAL, VERBAL, AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE.
I have placed in bold where it will start and where it ends.
Inspired by ofbeautsandbeasts creation and cannon. With appreciation and love, my friend.
Only take someone's hand in a certain way, even look into their eyes in a certain way, and the world is changed forever.
~Iris Murdoch
As sixth period came to an end, Erik retreated into his mind. He became lost in his melancholy having to accept that he would have to wait until Monday morning to see Christine again.
When he felt a touch on his arm he grew tense and angry. He never allowed anyone to touch him, and he vehemently hated to be touched by anyone.
He quickly whipped around, ready to strike whoever dared touch him. Only this time, instead of coming face-to-face with someone meaning to intentionally do him harm, he was face-to-face with her. His reflexes froze as her innocent blue eyes took hold of him rendering him still and defenseless.
What if he had reacted as he intended? Like so many times before, he could have blacked out with rage. He could have struck her! He could have hurt her! He had all ready hurt her enough through his actions; that the thought of him ever harming her caused him intense self-loathing and guilt. He would sooner take his own life, than harm her.
She carefully reached for his left wrist and softly held the back of his hand in her's. Unconsciously, his fist relaxed, his long fingers uncurling, exposing the freshly dried blood over the open wound.
Her touch sent goose-bumps up his arm and down the back of his neck as his face flushed.
"Poor Erik, have you forgotten me?"
Her question left him speechless.
"Forgotten you? How could I ever forget you, my angel! For as long as I live, until my last breath, I will never forget you!"
He slowly exhaled as his body's fight or flight instincts eased. A new feeling overtook him as he stared at his hand in her's.
With his face being covered by the surgical mask it was hard for Christine to read any facial expressions he made. In the absence of his words, only his eyes revealed his thoughts. She was taken aback when his eyes shifted to her's, and held her within their warm shades of gold and amber.
How could she know the way he felt?
Touch, a simple gesture, a thing that most people don't even give a second thought; perhaps, some even take for granted.
Most of Erik's life was mired in physical abuse—abuse driven by impulsive cruelness and malicious intentions. He only experienced violence through touch.
Now that he was no longer a small child, he had the ability to physically defend himself.
But her touch! How strangely wonderful it felt!
She wanted to...she was willing to touch him! Her willingness showed him that she was not like the others. She did not see him as a reviled creature to punish with beatings and send away. No, she did not judge him—her eyes were full of such sincerity and kindness. Her actions proved to him that she cared.
There was something in the way she held his hand. Her touch, her unspoken language, made him feel human.
"We need to take care of you," she whispered.
"Come with me," he responded, carefully removing his hand from her's.
***TRIGGER WARNING***
"God damn it! Get me a fucking lighter that works!" Chloé yelled.
"It's your fucking house, you drunk bitch!" a female's voice shouted back throwing her a lighter.
Chloé put her cigarette down on a nearby ashtray, while trying to level a large spoon full of liquid and a cotton ball in one shaky hand, as she lit the lighter beneath it with her other.
"Do you have the needle?"
"Of course I do! What the hell?"
"Chloé, you're such a desperate junkie!" a boy laughed laying on a dirty old beanbag chair.
"Fuck off!" Chloé snapped.
"Damn it! Where's the belt?"
The door to the little room burst open, followed by the running in of a cheerful four year old boy.
"JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" a voice screeched.
"Ignore it! Damn it, ERIK!" Chloé shouted, trying to keep her hands steady.
"Its'...face! What's wrong with its' face?!"
Erik paid no attention to what was around him, he only sought out his mother.
"MAMA! MAMA! What are you doing? Mama, hugs!"
Running up to hug Chloé, he accidentally knocked the spoon from her hand causing it and the heroin to fall onto the dirty floor.
"You...YOU LITTLE FUCK! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT SHIT COSTS?! HOW MUCH I NEEDED IT?!"
Chloé tightly gripped his arms while she shook him.
"Aw, damn, Chloé, that was the last of it, too!" the girl reclined back closing her eyes.
"MAMA! I'M SORRY! I..." Erik began to cry.
"You're gonna be sorry you fucking freak!"
Chloé's anger over the loss of her fix blinded her. Reaching into the nearby ashtray she took out her smoldering cigarette and stabbed it into Erik's arm.
"OWWW! MAMA I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" he fell to the floor crying holding his freshly burnt arm.
"I wish you were never born you fucking little monster! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"
Erik stared at his mother with sad confusion as tears fell down his face.
"Get out." Chloé hissed staring at him with intense hatred.
"Mama…" he cried reaching out for her.
Slapping his hand away she screamed, "I CAN'T STAND THE SIGHT OF YOU! GET OUT, NOW!"
***STORY RESUMES HERE***
Knowing the theater very well, Erik had taken Christine to the set design shop. He knew there would be a fully stocked First Aid kit there. The shop area was vacant leaving just the two of them in the large room.
"Erik?"
As his eyes slowly opened, she could see that whatever he was thinking about had caused him sorrow.
The abuse Erik endured had created a deep psychological distance in establishing trust.*
Yet, he trusted her. With her there was no anger, there was no violence, there were no punishments. Just her, her concern, and her comfort.
She held out her hand.
Ever so slowly, he placed his hand in her's.
Again, her touch! This was the third time she willingly touched him!
Unbeknownst to her, just her touch served as a profound agent in the process of healing;* not just for his present physical wound, but for his hidden emotional ones. Here, she was reaching out to help him by unknowingly reassuring him that he was allowed to be treated with kindness.
"This might sting..."
She began to slowly cradle his hand as she dabbed it with gauze and peroxide.
Again, he showed no reaction, but it did indeed sting him.
"This seems all too familiar...it's almost as if...we've been here before...Deja vu?" Christine smiled up at him.
She, couldn't help but notice that his eyes had spoken for him. The melancholy that was ever-present in his eyes seemed to be replaced by a fond contentedness.
"She makes me smile…"
Christine...
She nodded as she continued to attend him. While she placed the dry gauze over his wound she noticed his hand had small scars, but what caught her attention the most was a vertical scar starting at his wrist rising up his arm just where the cuff of his shirt rose up.
"This scar…did he slit his wrist?"
He had a terrible home life...Nadir's family adopted him…
She could not stop thinking just how terrible things had to have been for him. She grew more sullen as she wondered if he had a matching one on his other wrist.
"Christine…"
Startling her from her thoughts she stammered, "I'm sorry...I…"
"Why is Mozart's The Magic Flute your favorite opera?"
"Should I answer you in French?" she joked.
"Why? We are not in French class now," he responded, confused and not understanding her playful nature.
"I...was making a joke. Since we were having that discussion in French class," she continued wrapping his hand.
"But...we could continue the discussion outside of French, can we not?" he sincerely asked.
She smiled an understanding smile.
"I guess I appreciate its humor."
"It does differ greatly from Faust," he nodded.
"When Prince Tamino is persuaded by the Queen of the Night to rescue her daughter, Pamina, from the high priest Sarastro's captivity, Tamino goes with every intention of fighting and rescuing Pamina, but ironically ends up really liking the community Sarastro had. Then Papageno, who accompanies Tamino on the quest to rescue Pamina is rewarded even after he fails his trials to join the community and receives the hand of his ideal female companion, Papagena."*
"...his ideal female companion…"
The tardy bell for seventh period rang.
"I guess I'm late…" she sighed while she secured his bandage.
Erik felt guilty.
"Christine...if not for me, perhaps you might have had a normal day! If not for me, you wouldn't have cried! If not for me, you wouldn't be reprimanded for being late for class...if not for me..."
Her eyes locked with his, causing him to cease his self-depreciation.
"Erik...please don't hurt yourself! Your poor hands! You need your hands to play your music…" she said with stern caring while continuing to hold his hand.
Emotion overtook him. He turned his palm upwards holding her hand up, their hands now placed palm to palm. His fingers continued to extend over her's. In a very unconscious way they were innocently comparing their hands. She was taken aback at how his hand and fingers were long and graceful, just as he adored how her hand and fingers were slender and elegant.
It was just a light touch that existed for a mere second. An unexpected electric shock surged through them,* though neither knew how the other felt, nor could they quite explain to themselves just what it was.
Erik's mind was torn between agony and ecstasy. He felt such a curious sort of magnetic pull that drew him towards her all the more with such a ferocious intensity.*
"Her hand fits in mine like it's just made for me..."*
Citations:
Barrie, Zara. "Sexual Chemistry: Why Our Bodies Understand Love Before Our Brains Do." Elite Daily, 2015. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. "The Magic Flute." Wikipedia. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
Murdoch, Iris. "Holding Hands Sayings and Quotes." Wise Old Sayings. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
Tower, Roni Beth. "Touching Can Communicate Love In Ways That Go Beyond Words." Psychology Today Online 52 Ways to Show I Love You: Touching, 2017. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
Unknown. "Holding Hands Sayings and Quotes." Wise Old Sayings. Retrieved via Google Search, 2020.
Original quote: Your hand fits in mine like it's just made for me.