It started out with small things—so small that Erik didn't even notice at first. He would be playing or composing, and he would think of something that he wanted to go over with Christine at their next lesson, some technique for her to try or another note to give her on something they'd discussed. That much didn't concern him. He was her teacher and he wanted to see her do her best. There was nothing wrong with thinking about their lessons throughout the day. But the thoughts began to occur more frequently, and then they weren't just about lessons. He would catch himself wondering if she liked something and quickly remind himself that it didn't matter; he shouldn't be concerned about anything beyond their lessons. He once caught himself wondering if he should find more excuses to sing during their lessons. She'd complimented his voice before—would she be impressed if he sang more? Would it make her think more highly of him? Not that it mattered, of course. If he was a little concerned about what she thought of him, it was only because he sought her respect as her teacher.
After a few weeks he found himself mentally cataloging all the little facts that had come out during lessons. She lived with her best friend. Her favorite subject other than music was English—so much so that she was taking an extra literature class even though she had already fulfilled the requirement. She had a sweet tooth and a weakness for sugary coffee confections, even though she generally avoided coffee for the sake of her voice. She'd mentioned a boyfriend in passing once (something about this fact irked Erik, but he refused to think about why). Each little bit of information created a fuller picture of her, and for some reason he wanted to know more. Perhaps it was just that it had been quite a while since he'd had regular interaction with anyone besides Nadir. Maybe he was just bored and learning about someone else's life was interesting. It didn't feel like a clinical interest, though, and the fact that he couldn't pinpoint what it did feel like bothered him. Even so, he was careful to remember everything he learned about her, each new bit of information like an artifact to be studied and recorded.
One day he found himself picturing her smile. The smile she always greeted him with had been polite at first, but it had grown a little easier now, a little bigger, like she was actually glad to see him. Her smile held only sunshine and sincerity, and he had started to find that he looked forward to seeing it. It stuck in his mind now, and even as he tried to return his attention to the work in front of him, his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the way her dark eyes lit up as if her smile alone couldn't contain all the light in her, the way her lips quirked when she was trying not to smile but couldn't quite stop herself, the pleasant rush of warmth that swept through him when he saw her.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching for his laptop and typing her name into the search engine. It was easy to find her social media, and though the accounts were private, there was her face, beaming back at him. The photo didn't quite capture the brilliance of her smile in person, but Erik supposed it was as close as a photo could get. It was too static, and Christine was so lively and animated. But it did give him the opportunity to study her more closely than he normally could. He ran his eyes over the curve of her cheek, memorizing the lines of her face, feeling something catch in his chest as he looked into her eyes.
And then his mind caught up with him and he slammed his laptop shut, standing abruptly and stalking out of the room. What was he doing? He would have to be completely insane to allow himself to feel even the slightest attachment to her; just the fact that their lessons weren't unpleasant didn't sit particularly well with him. It would make much more sense for him to be constantly on-edge around her, just waiting for something to go wrong. He didn't exactly have a good track record when it came to interacting with people, and there was no reason to think that things would be any different now. It had barely been a month since they'd started their lessons. Just because disaster hadn't struck yet didn't mean that it wouldn't.
Every relationship he had ever had with another human had been a disaster. Even with Nadir—the one person who had ever stuck with him—things were often still difficult and tense during relatively good times. Nadir had suffered through enough that any other person would have been driven away long ago. Even now, after everything they had been through together, Erik knew that he didn't make friendship an easy thing. Nadir could be overbearing at times, sure; he kept a closer eye on Erik than Erik would have liked, and he had a habit of trying to interfere. But Erik countered this with coolness and annoyance, even when he knew Nadir meant well, even when he knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't fully understand why Nadir continued to put up with him. And that was the only successful human relationship he'd ever had, if success could be defined simply as the continued existence of the relationship. Everything else had either been bad from the start or had gone up in flames very quickly.
There was something about Christine that felt different, though. Erik had expected their lessons to continue much like the first one: formal and rigid, with that little bit of discomfort between them preventing their interaction from changing. But, much to his surprise, that discomfort had started to fade. Christine, to her credit, never seemed particularly uncomfortable—if she ever was, she hid it well. True to her word, she never mentioned the mask, but she also didn't seem to acknowledge it at all. She never treated him any differently or acted like he was anyone but an ordinary teacher. If he didn't know better, he could almost imagine that she didn't even notice the mask anymore.
Even beyond that, there was just something about her that kept him from being completely on-edge—some aura of softness around her that gave her a kind of innate trustworthiness. He had felt it even during that first lesson, and it had only become more pronounced since then. Of course it wasn't enough to completely put him at ease. There were still moments when he was painfully aware of himself, of his own awkwardness and uncertainty. What surprised him was that those moments didn't make up the entirety of every lesson. They didn't even make up most of a lesson. Most of the time, he could forget about himself and just be her teacher. It was like there was an unspoken understanding between them, some shared way of thinking. She followed his instructions closely, she worked hard, she asked all the right questions. She always seemed to understand what he was trying to convey to her. There was just something about it that clicked. He couldn't quite explain what it was that worked, but he knew it did. It made teaching her feel easy, natural.
Still, he reminded himself, that was no reason for him to hope that this would actually work in the long run. Music may have created some kind of tenuous link between him and Christine, but he would be a fool to expect it to last long. Realistically, the best-case scenario was that she would simply tire of his presence in her life and move on. What could he possibly hope for beyond that, anyway? In less than two years she would be done with school and, if he was successful with her, she would leave to pursue her career. Their lessons had an end date even if everything went as well as they possibly could, even if he didn't manage to ruin things before then—just another reason not to let himself grow attached to her. Her presence in his life was only temporary. Really, he reminded himself, this was nothing more than a diversion for him. It was just something to fill the time, to prevent the monotony that he had settled into from driving him insane. Hopefully all would go well and he would be pleased with the result, but at the end of the day, it was just a bit of amusement.
It was with that in mind that Erik returned to their practice room the next day. He had only been there for a few minutes when he glanced up at the sound of the door opening, and then there was Christine, greeting him with that sunny smile as easily and naturally as if he had been anyone other than himself. And very much in spite of himself, he found the edges of his own mouth quirking in response—not quite a smile, but probably as close to one as he had ever come without thinking about it.
"Good morning, Erik," she said cheerily, sliding her backpack off her shoulders and pulling out her music.
"Good morning," Erik replied quietly. He was suddenly aware of how intently he was watching her and glanced away, but then quickly felt that it was weirder to be avoiding looking at her and cautiously turned his gaze back. She didn't seem to notice, at least. Or perhaps she did notice and was just being polite.
"How are you?" she asked as she arranged her music on the stand, and even though he knew it was only small talk—she wasn't truly interested in how he was, it was just a question that came automatically—he couldn't help but be a little pleased that she would even bother with it.
"Fine," he told her. "And you?"
"Good," she said. He didn't think she had ever replied that she was anything less than "good." "It's been a busy week, but a good kind of busy, you know?"
He considered asking her more but decided against it, doubting that she really wanted to have a conversation with him about her personal life. Instead he began their lesson without further preamble, relieved to be able to rely on the structure of it. This, at least—being her teacher—was something he had come to understand. There was still that prickle of something else in the back of his mind, though. There was still that craving, however slight and ridiculous it was, for something more. Some delusional part of him wanted to talk to her more, to move a little further beyond their current boundaries, to grow more comfortable with her. He wasn't quite ready to admit that he liked her in any way, but he didn't dislike her, didn't really even want to dislike her. And despite the instinct telling him that that was bad, that he should put an end to all of this right now, he couldn't quite bring himself to.
They were nearing the end of the lesson when Erik paused and turned on the piano bench to face Christine, who met his gaze expectantly.
"I was thinking," he began, pushing down a wave of self-consciousness, "if it is amenable to you, of course, that it would be beneficial to work on duets from time to time. Practicing performing with others is just as important a skill as anything else."
"Sure, I think that sounds good," Christine said easily. "Though I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated to sing with you," she added with a small laugh.
"Why would you be intimidated?" he asked, a little wary of the answer.
Her smile turned embarrassed and she ran a hand through her hair. "It's just… I mean, you're so good."
Erik felt his face grow warm and was grateful for the mask. "You are plenty good yourself."
She glanced away, and for a second he feared that he had done something wrong, but then she met his eyes again and nodded. "Okay. I'm up for it if you think it'll be helpful."
"Very good." Erik reached for his bag and pulled out a stack of sheet music, handing it to Christine. "You may choose any piece you wish."
She rifled through the stack for a moment, flipping through the music thoughtfully before pulling out a few sheets. "I'm not super familiar with this one, but I remember liking it," she said as she held the music out for Erik. He glanced at it and motioned for her to keep it.
"In that case, you will also get to practice sight-reading," he replied.
"Should I find something that I know better?" she asked, her brow furrowing a little as she glanced over the sheets.
"No, no," he assured her. "This will be perfectly fine."
Christine nodded but still looked a little uncertain. He gave her another moment to look through the music, and when she looked back at him and gave him another slight nod, he turned back to the piano.
The beginning of the song was Erik's alone, and Christine held her breath as he began. She'd heard him sing a few notes here and there, but hearing him really sing now was something else. Even as she listened to him, she couldn't find the words to adequately describe his voice. It was so rich and full and fine and he sang expertly, every note perfect and every phrase measured and thoughtful. The thought of singing with him had been intimidating to begin with; if he had ever been harsh toward her, she would surely be frozen in fear now. But he'd never been harsh, had never been critical without offering a correction, and she could only hope that that patience would extend to this moment, because as soon as she began to sing with him, her flaws would be more obvious than ever.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she hurried to find her place in the music, knowing that her entrance was approaching. She took a breath to steady herself and, forcing herself to narrow her focus to the music, sang her first notes with as much sureness as she could muster.
Erik's lips twitched when she began to sing. Her lack of confidence was unfounded—while there was room for improvement, she could certainly hold her own. She stumbled a little in one or two places, but she seemed to grow more certain as she sang, losing her nerves in the lushness of the song.
"We could make believe I love you…"
He felt an odd twinge at these words but quickly brushed off the thought, attributing it to the beauty of her voice and not the words themselves. And then their voices joined and he couldn't think about anything but the rush of singing with her.
That rush caught Christine off guard and she stumbled again, losing her place in the music. Erik stopped playing and glanced back at her, and she let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
"Sorry."
Erik shook his head. "No need to be sorry. You were doing well."
She smiled a little at this. "Thank you."
He instructed her where to pick the song up again, and she paused for a second to refocus. Singing with him had felt… well, she wasn't quite sure what it had been. It had taken her breath away. There had been an intensity to it, a thrill that she hadn't been expecting, but it wasn't bad. They began again a few bars before he joined her, and when his part came in again she was ready, keeping her focus on the notes she was reading. As self-conscious as she had expected to feel singing with him, after a few moments she found that she felt less uncomfortably aware of her own voice. There was something that felt natural about this, and that feeling put her a little more at ease, allowed her to lose herself in the music.
Erik felt electrically aware of her—of every note she sang, every breath she took, every slight movement and pause. He tried to make note of everything in his head, knowing that she would be expecting feedback when they were finished, but he was finding it difficult to focus the analytical side of his mind. It was much easier to let himself be absorbed in her voice, in the sound of their voices together. As untrained as she was, they were a good match. And with the lushness of the melody and the romance of the lyrics, he was finding himself far more wrapped up than he knew he should have been.
When they reached the end of the song, he took a deep breath, letting his head clear for a second before turning to her. "That was very good," he told her. "There are a few places I'd like to go over again, but first, is there anything that stands out to you?"
Christine shook her head, looking over the music again—she hoped that she wouldn't have to admit that she'd forgotten the need to be engaged with the music in that way, to be watching for parts that she needed to practice and things that she should do better. This was a lesson, after all, and of course they were working on this for the sake of her learning. "Nothing really sticks out right now, but I'm sure I'll remember something if we start working through it," she said.
This seemed agreeable to Erik, and for a while they worked through the song bit by bit, focusing mostly on her part. Then, in no time, it was time for Christine to leave for class and she reluctantly packed away her music.
"I liked working on the duet today," she said as she zipped up her backpack, and Erik nodded.
"I am glad that you found it useful. Perhaps we can continue to try duets from time to time." He tried to prevent the note of hopefulness from entering his voice, though he reasoned that there was nothing wrong with him enjoying it as well. Surely, it was good for a teacher to find at least some enjoyment working with a student.
"I'd like that. If you think it's beneficial, of course. I do feel like I learned from it." She gave him a smile and a small wave. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow." Erik remained in the practice room for a moment after she left, doing his best to rationalize away that shy, excited flutter he'd felt when she'd smiled.