"My birthday is in two weeks," Sonia said. "I'm going on a trip to Greece!"

"Oh, I went to Austria for my birthday last month," another girl nodded.

"Christine, are you going anywhere?"

"Yes, are you doing anything fun?"

"Oh, of course I am," she hoped her words held a conviction she did not.

In truth, she hadn't planned anything. She had been so busy, first with Raoul, and then with gearing up for the new production. Hearing the other girls talk about their fancy getaways made her envious, and she suddenly wanted to do something special.

But what could she even do? Ice cream with Meg and a few others had been a favorite when she was younger, but that seemed rather childish now. A trip was more suitable for a young woman her age, or a day at a spa - but the other girls who took trips were able to do so because they had boyfriends or patrons who paid for the expenses. She couldn't afford a trip out of France - she could barely afford a trip out of Paris.

The other girls oohed and aahed.

"Where are you going?"

"Yes, where?"

She looked down, bashful, and smoothed her hands over her tulle ballet skirt.

"Just out," she said demurely, her face tinged pink.

The girls giggled, assuming the color in her face was indicative of the secret suitor that several of them were convinced she had - but in actuality it was because she was embarrassed over her lie.

"Ooh, will you be away for the night?"

She smiled a little and looked up at the ceiling.

"Oh, I knew it!" Colette squealed. "Oh, is he very handsome?"

She looked off to the side.

"Hmm," was her only reply.

Colette heaved a dreamy sigh before shoving Sonia's shoulder.

"I told you she was seeing someone!" she giggled.

Christine kept smiling politely, her eyelashes lowered. On the inside she was screaming at herself - now look what she'd done! She'd have to find someplace to stay overnight for her birthday, and she couldn't afford that! But she also couldn't afford not to - if she stayed in her dormitory for her birthday night, the other girls would never let her live it down. They'd tease her relentlessly for having pretended. She might be able to make up a story about a secret beau who had dumped her on her birthday - thus stranding her with no fancy trip away. But what if they found out that was a lie too? That would be even worse!

She'd stay with Adele, she told herself. Yes, that could work. No one would have to know, and Adele wouldn't mind the sudden imposition.

A sandbag dropped from the flies, landing much too close to a prop that was being sanded down.

Shouts and exclamations went up, as did an enormous cloud of dust.

Christine and the other girls started coughing, and scurried off to find an easier place to breathe. Christine shot a parting glare up to the flies, and caught sight of Buquet there. Petty revenge for her having embarrassed him in front of the company, she supposed, and coughed again.

But the next day she realized it wasn't so petty after all. She awoke with a cough that still lingered, and a sore throat from the paint fumes.

She groaned and put her hands over face. She had a lesson with Erik tomorrow!

She quickly dressed and made her way backstage, hoping she might catch a glimpse of him. She heard a gentle footstep behind one of the curtains, and moved to look behind it.

But it wasn't Erik, and she gave a little gasp.

It was the Persian man.

"Oh, good day, Monsieur," she quickly collected herself.

"Mlle DaaƩ, it is good to see you again," he replied with a little bow. "Are you, ah, looking for someone, perhaps?"

"I am, in fact," she smiled. "Are you, as well?"

"It seems we hold a similar goal," he returned her smile. "I was just about to head to Box Five, would you like to join me? I believe I saw some movement in there a moment ago."

They ascended the stairs together, and he motioned for her to knock, which she did.

"Erik?" she called quietly.

The door swung open.

"Christine," Erik breathed, standing in the doorway. "My dear, what are you doing h-" he caught sight of the Daroga behind her. "The devil do you want, Daroga?"

Christine's eyebrows flew up. She had never heard his tone go from so sweet and tender to so childishly petulant before.

"I merely wanted to see that you were well, Erik."

"I'm well," he said flatly, then looked back down at Christine.

"Come in, my dear," he held the door open for her, and she entered.

The Daroga made to follow her, but Erik put his hand on the doorframe, blocking him from entering.

"You were not invited, you great booby," Erik hissed poisonously, before placing a hand in the middle of the man's chest and roughly pushing him backwards.

Once he was out of the doorway, Erik slammed the door, locking it for good measure.

He turned on his heel and faced Christine, his features softening.

"What can I do for you, sweet?"

Christine gaped at him.

"Erik, I thought that man was your friend! How could you treat him so shamefully?"

"He's a meddling old ninny, Christine," he muttered, straightening his jacket and not meeting her eye. "He has no right to be in here, he knows that-"

Christine coughed into her hand, and he paused mid sentence.

"Christine- no lesson tomorrow," he said firmly. "Not until that cough clears up."

"That's what I wanted to tell you," she frowned. "I can't sing like this."

He nodded.

"Quite right, my dear. Take some time off and feel better."

She nodded her head, and lingered in the box - and even though Erik thought the conversation had run its course, he was not about to send her on her way again. No, she could stand there and stare at him all day if she wished, he was not about to cut short their time together.

She cleared her throat nervously and her hands fidgeted.

"Erik," she started, eyes darting to him and away. "There's, ah, there's a restaurant that sells this soup that's so wonderful... and I know you don't go to restaurants, at least I don't think you do, but- but I can get the soup to take home, and I was wondering..."

She pushed a stray curl behind her ear, staring down at her feet.

"Would you like to eat soup with me?"

Erik was as still as a statue. Eat soup with her? What?

She lifted her gaze to his blank face. She had bungled it, she knew, and tried to explain.

"Tomorrow, I mean. Instead of our lesson. We could have it in my dressing room, or I suppose we could even have it in here. I know it would probably get cold by the time we took it to your house," she frowned. "But I think you'd like to try this soup, really."

It made no sense to Erik - most things that had happened that day made no sense to him.

if she treats you like a man, then the only one clinging to the facade of the monster is you

"That... would be quite lovely Christine," he attempted a smile, hoping she wasn't having a go at him.

But her face lit up and she grinned at him, and how could ever say no to her when she looked just like an angel?

"May I ask something?" he frowned.

"Of course."

"Why?"

It was her turn to frown.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you still want to spend time with me, if not for a lesson?"

There was an undercurrent of vulnerability in his voice, and it made her heart ache.

"Because you're my friend," she said simply. "Because I missed spending time with you when I was away all week. I like spending time with you, did you not know that?"

"Oh."

She bit her lip as she waited for him to say something - anything - else, but it seemed he was done talking.

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow at our regular time? Is in here okay with you?"

That seemed to pull him from his reverie.

"Yes, of course. That's fine," he hesitated. "Do you- do you need money for the soup? I'm sure you normally wouldn't be buying two lunches..."

"Oh, no, don't worry about that! Besides, I've eaten so much of your own food in your home, you've always been so kind - but please let me take care of this meal."

He acquiesced, although he didn't agree (he should be the one providing for her, after all, he had piles of ill-gotten money and she was on a budget).

They said their goodbyes and Erik peered outside the door, looking this way and that to make sure the nosy Daroga wasn't outside spying on him (he wouldn't put it past him), he swung wide the door so Christine could leave.

He sat in silence a while after she had left, contemplating.

They had eaten together a number of times before, that was nothing new. But it had always been because her lesson had run long and she needed a meal afterwards, or because she needed a moment to rest after her journey underground, and what better way to rest than with a little snack? Christine was not like him - she was a normal person who needed to eat several times a day to feel well. It was purely out of necessity that she ate her meals around him or in his home... wasn't it?

He was suddenly unsure. Did she truly wish to spend her free day, her extra day that she didn't have to be in presence - did she really want to eat lunch with him when she didn't have to?

But she had asked, hadn't she?

He was baffled by it all - she had even said that she enjoyed spending time with him. What an odd concept, almost unbelievable, really. But... she had said it, and he didn't think she was being completely false.

He suddenly remembered what else she had said - because you're my friend - and he was hit with a wave of affection for her that nearly overwhelmed him, a warmth in chest that spread across him, threatening to consume him entirely. He stood and made his way back home, intent on finding something else to occupy his mind lest he die of love for the dear girl.

The next evening, after a tedious day of waiting around on stage while the director bumbled through the libretto, she walked as fast as she could to the little restaurant, her cheeks glowing as she put her money down on the counter. She couldn't help the little flutter in her chest at the thought of their impending lunch together. She swiftly returned to the opera house and knocked on the door to Box Five and he let her in.

The chairs in the box seats could be moved any way one wished, so two were pulled up next to the table and Christine settled their food in front of each of them.

"This is my favorite soup to have when my throat doesn't feel it's best," she told him, and handed him a small wooden spoon. "It always helps me feel better. It's an Italian recipe."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Whenever I think of Italy, I think of Carlotta."

"Ew! Erik!" she laughed. "Don't ruin it for me!"

"Now, now - it ruined it for me, too, my dear."

He took a taste.

"But I must admit, it is good."

"I knew you'd like it," she smiled as she stirred hers.

They talked on matters of no real consequence until Erik asked that fateful question-

"What do you have planned for your birthday coming up?"

She paused, then ducked her head.

"Nothing, really."

"Oh, Christine - that won't do. You should do something fun. Birthdays come but once a year."

She squirmed.

"I was going to-"

She was about to tell him about staying at Adele's, about how that came about, but she cut herself off.

She wouldn't need to go all the way to Adele's.

Erik had a lovely home, did he not?

And he had offered.

"Erik."

She looked down at the table, propping her elbow on it and resting her chin on her hand.

"Erik, what are you doing two days from now?"

His brow furrowed, unable to see what she was getting at. He shrugged a little.

"I don't think I'm doing anything. Why?"

She chewed at her lip before looking him in the eye and straightening up.

"I was thinking, that is, if you aren't too busy and didn't mind, maybe- maybe I could stay the night with you for my birthday?"