The lobby outside the auditorium was buzzing as the performance let out, people chatting and waiting to meet the friends and family members they had come to see. Christine stood off to the side, content to be on the edge of the crowd as she waited for Meg. She always loved watching Meg dance and had been more than happy to come to the recital tonight, but she always felt a little awkward standing by herself and waiting like this. She didn't have to wait long, though. Meg quickly appeared, talking excitedly with a few of the other dancers as they wove their way through the crowd to Christine.
"Hey, you were great," Christine grinned when Meg was close enough to hear her.
"Thanks," Meg beamed, pulling her into a hug. "And thanks for coming. Did you like it?"
"Yeah, it was really good," Christine replied. "All of you did a great job."
"Listen, a bunch of us are heading over to this party on Green Street if you'd like to join us," Meg said. "It's supposed to be a good one.
Christine smiled but shook her head. "I think I'll pass tonight, but you have fun."
Meg hesitated. "Really, you won't come? I feel bad ditching you."
"It's fine, Meg, don't worry," Christine insisted. "I'll see you at home. Be safe and call me if you need anything."
"Alright," Meg said. "See you at home." With that, she was hurrying off with the other dancers, leaving Christine to make her way through the dispersing crowd to the exit.
The feeling of someone watching her made her pause, but when she turned to glance around her, she couldn't spot anyone who might have been looking at her. Shrugging it off, she pushed open the heavy doors of the university's concert hall only to be greeted by a burst of cold wind. Pulling down the sleeves of her cardigan until they partially covered her hands and wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped out into the night to begin the walk back to the apartment.
She had barely made it a few yards, though, when the prickling sensation of being watched returned. Whipping around to look behind her, she could see a figure standing near the doors of the concert hall, just a dark outline against the warm light streaming out of the building. She turned and continued walking, quickening her steps a little. Of course it wasn't suspicious for someone to be standing there, she reasoned. The recital had just let out and people were leaving. The feeling of being watched did not go away, though, and her heart sped a little at the thought of being followed. It wasn't too far of a walk back to the apartment, but it was far enough. She took a breath, gathering the courage to look behind her again.
"Christine." The voice was suddenly very close to her and made her jump, and even as she recognized the man beside her, it took a second for her to catch her breath.
"Erik," she breathed in relief. "You scared me." He was wearing a different mask tonight, she noticed. The usual black one had been replaced by a skin-toned one that stood out less. She supposed that if she had only glanced at him in passing she might not have noticed it at all.
"I apologize," Erik said with such sincerity that Christine couldn't help but smile.
"What are you doing here?"
"I occasionally attend performances to keep an eye on the department," Erik replied. That much was true, at least. The fact that he had happened to see that Christine's roommate would be a soloist in the recital and figured that Christine would probably be in attendance definitely hadn't influenced his decision. "And you?"
"Meg, my roommate, is a dance major. She was one of the soloists," Christine said proudly. "I'm mostly here to support her, but I do like ballet."
There was a pause, and Christine realized how odd it was to see him outside of their lessons. Her face must have shown her amusement at the thought.
"What?" Erik asked.
"Nothing," Christine replied. "It's just, you know when you were a little kid and you kind of thought that teachers lived at school because you just couldn't imagine them anywhere else? And then you saw your teacher at, like, the grocery store and it seemed really bizarre."
Erik's confused silence answered that he did not know what the experience was like.
"Never mind," she said quickly. "I've just never seen you outside of our lessons, except for when you drove me home that once."
"And you find seeing me here… unpleasant?"
"No, not at all. Just unexpected."
Erik gave a nod, satisfied with this. Another moment passed with only the faint sound of traffic to break the silence. The breeze picked up again and Christine shivered; without a word Erik removed his jacket and offered it to her.
"That's okay, I'm fine," Christine told him, smiling. "I was heading home anyway."
"Would you like a ride?"
"Sure. That'd be great, actually."
"I'm parked just over there," Erik said, nodding. She turned to head in the direction of Erik's car but stopped when he made no move to follow. When she turned back to him, she found him still holding out the jacket to her. "Take it, Christine. You're cold."
Christine reluctantly accepted the jacket from him, slipping her arms into the too-large sleeves. "Won't you be cold?" she asked, immediately aware of how much the jacket sheltered her from the wind.
"I'll be fine," he said with a small smile. Then he turned and started walking without another word, and she followed, wondering amusedly at this man she couldn't quite seem to figure out.
The drive to the apartment passed in comfortable silence, and when they arrived, Christine slid the jacket off and handed it back to Erik.
"Thanks," she said. "And thanks for the ride home." She paused, considering. "Do you want to come in and have some tea or something? Meg went to some party after the recital so I have the apartment to myself tonight."
Erik looked at her for a moment, half expecting her to realize that she had just invited him to spend time with her and rescind the offer; she had probably just been being polite, making the kind of offer that she expected him to thank her for but decline. But she sat there waiting for a reply, watching him earnestly with those warm, dark eyes, and his heart beat a little faster.
"Alright," he said eventually. "If it's not inconvenient for you, that would be nice."
"Great," she smiled. Climbing out of the car and quickly leading him across the parking lot, she let him into the apartment. "Make yourself at home. I'll go and make some tea."
Erik nodded, watching as Christine headed into the kitchen and busied herself filling the kettle. There wasn't much to the apartment—the quick look he'd had before had revealed just about everything—but he found himself wandering around anyway. The apartment was only filled with a few worn basics, but there were little signs of Christine everywhere: scattered books, little knick-knacks, an empty mug or two. He reached the doorway to what appeared to be her bedroom and turned away quickly, sure that she wouldn't want him to look inside. Instead he returned to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, and Christine reappeared a minute later with a steaming mug in each hand. She offered one to Erik before, to his surprise, sitting down beside him.
"I'm surprised to see that your Friday night apparently starts and ends with the ballet," Erik commented.
Christine shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "Raoul, my boyfriend, is out of town this weekend. And since Meg's at that party, I'm left without plans."
Erik felt an odd twinge at the word "boyfriend," but he pushed it aside, choosing not to think about it. "No parties for you?"
"It's not really my thing." Christine paused, watching Erik for a moment. "So did you grow up around here?
Erik glanced at her questioningly and she laughed.
"I'm just curious," she said. "We've spent an hour together almost every day for two months and I know basically nothing about you. And I figure that this is a more acceptable venue to talk about personal stuff than our lessons."
Erik relented, a little amused. "I did not. I ended up here about five years ago."
"So where were you before here?"
"Why do you ask?" he replied with a small smile.
She shrugged. "I told you, I'm curious."
"About me?"
"Yes, very," she laughed. "Besides, I told you about my dad. I even cried in front of you, which was super embarrassing. So now it's my turn to learn something about you. Maybe even something embarrassing if you really want to even things out."
With anyone else, Erik wouldn't have been swayed. His life was not something that he enjoyed thinking about, and he certainly never talked about it. The only person he might consider talking to was Nadir, but since Nadir already knew everything, there was mercifully no need to ever talk about it. But Christine was sitting beside him so casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be here right now, and he felt… not quite at ease, he supposed—he was far too aware of her to be completely comfortable—but he felt strangely good. He would probably be annoyed later by his inability to deny her, but for now it was far too tempting to indulge her. He would just need to leave out the details.
"I traveled a lot before I came here," he said. "When I was quite young, I went all over the country, and eventually I traveled all over the world, just seeing where I ended up and moving on when it was time." That sounded pleasant enough, he thought—no hint of the years of barely surviving on the street.
"What got you started traveling?"
"I started when I decided to leave home and my mother. The two of us had lived a fairly secluded life, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. She didn't like me."
The matter-of-factness in his tone startled Christine. "Erik, I'm sure that's not true. She was your mother."
"I… wasn't what she wanted," Erik sighed, gesturing vaguely to the mask. "I'm sure you've guessed by now."
Christine looked at him a little astonished, unsure how to respond to his reference of an expressly forbidden subject. When he glanced hesitantly at her, she gave him a small nod—it had occurred to her that the mask might not just be an eccentricity, that it could be concealing something.
He shifted, a little uncomfortable, but continued. "She wanted a perfect child to remind her of my father, and instead she got me."
He hadn't really meant to be this open, and with a pang of guilt he recognized the sadness on Christine's face. Even with as little as he'd told her, even with as much of the pain as he left out, he'd still managed to hurt her.
"At any rate," he said quickly, "I eventually wound up in some trouble abroad." That certainly wasn't a lie. "I managed to return to the country and wandered for a while. But I decided that I was tired of living nomadically, and here seemed as good a place as any to stop."
"I'm glad you did," Christine said with a smile, banishing any lingering traces of pity from her expression.
Warmth bloomed in his chest at her words, and he gave her a shy smile. "I am too."
It was odd, he thought, how just a smile from her could make him feel like this—like he was somehow separate from the awful things in his past, like he was closer to being whole and content. Part of him wanted to berate himself for letting her get to him like this, but it was too pleasant of a feeling for him to put a stop to it.
"Can I ask you one more question?" Christine continued after a moment.
Erik nodded, though her hesitancy made him a bit nervous about what the question might be.
"Why are you wearing a different mask tonight?"
He nearly sighed in relief; that was an easy enough answer. "This one blends in better. It's easier to go unnoticed in a crowd. I prefer the black one, though. It's more comfortable."
"That makes sense," she said, pleased that he had so easily told her about the masks. As little as he shared about himself, maybe he was finally starting to feel comfortable enough to open up.
They were quiet for a moment before Erik spoke again. "I watch soap operas," he said quickly, his voice low, and Christine gave him a confused look.
"What?"
"You asked for something embarrassing," he replied.
For a second, Christine wasn't sure what to say. And then the laughter bubbled up out of her, light and genuine. The sound was infectious, and Erik found himself chuckling a little with her, caught up in the way she seemed to light up as she laughed.
"You watch soap operas?" she repeated, still laughing. "Like, every day?"
"Not every day," he defended. "…But there are a couple that I watch once or twice a week."
"Oh my god," she grinned. "Thank you for telling me that. I think we're even now."
The loud buzzing of her phone interrupted them, and she dug through her purse with an apologetic look to Erik.
"It's Meg," she explained before answering. "Meg? What's up? …Oh, um, yeah, I can do that. Where is it? …Okay, I'll be there in like fifteen minutes."
"Is everything alright?" Erik asked when she hung up.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Everything's fine. Meg just wants me to come and pick her up from this party. I guess the friends she was with abandoned her." Christine was already standing to pluck the extra set of car keys from the hook on the wall. "Sorry to end this so abruptly," she said.
"Oh, of course. It's fine," he replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt at her genuine apology—he really had no right to be there in the first place, and here she was apologizing for not spending more time with him.
"Is there any way you could drop me off back at the music building? Meg left her car there before the recital."
"I could just take you to get Meg," Erik offered. "It would be faster that way. Just tell me where to go." The words came out without thinking; he'd spoken on impulse, that desperate, reckless part of him urging him to try to spend just a little more time with her. He knew that he should take the offer back, but he couldn't quite make himself do it.
"You really don't have to do that," Christine protested.
"It's no trouble. I don't mind at all."
"Alright," she said after a second of consideration. "That'd be great. Thanks."
Erik nodded and stood to gather his jacket and keys, but he stopped when he felt a warm hand on his arm.
"And thanks for hanging out with me tonight," she added. "This was fun."
He looked down at where her hand lightly rested on his forearm, smiling a little. It occurred to him that he had probably smiled more in the past two months than he had before in his entire life. "I thought so too."
The party was in full swing when Erik and Christine pulled up in front of the house, and he gave her a sidelong glance.
"Meg and I will really owe you for this," she said, straining to see out of the car. "I don't see her out here. I'll try calling her."
They waited a minute while the phone rang, the thrumming of the bass from the party reverberating through the car in the silence. Christine sighed when there was no answer.
"She's not picking up. I'll just run in and grab her. It'll only take a minute."
Erik glanced back toward the house, eying the group of burly and clearly intoxicated young men who were stumbling inside. "I'll go with you," he said, turning off the car before Christine could protest.
She looked a little relieved. "I'll text Meg and tell her we're here. Hopefully she'll be looking for us."
As they climbed out of the car, the thudding bass intensified, accompanied by muffled music filtering out of the house; when they walked inside, the volume increased so much that Christine wondered how anyone could stand to be there for more than a few minutes. She and Erik shared a look, grimacing a little at the chaos that greeted them. The place was packed so that they could hardly move without bumping into someone, and the fact that anyone having a conversation had to yell to be heard over the music did nothing to make the noise more bearable. At least everyone seemed either too drunk or too involved in their own activities to give Erik a second glance.
They had weaved their way through a couple of rooms when Christine spotted Meg, who waved and made her way through the crowd towards them.
"Christine," Meg called, the noise of the party threatening to swallow up her voice. "I know I said I was ready to go, but that guy who works at the coffee shop in the library just got here, and if you give me ten minutes to get his phone number I'll love you forever."
"Can't you just get it when you see him at the coffee shop?"
"Have you ever seen that place be less than insanely busy? Good flirtation can't be shouted quickly over people's latte orders."
Christine wondered how it apparently could be shouted over blaring music and the raucous game of beer pong in the kitchen. "Well, I would say that's fine, but I'm not the one who drove here," she said, glancing back at Erik.
Meg's eyes flickered to him, just now noticing the masked man who loomed behind Christine. She shot a questioning look to Christine before giving him an uncertain smile. "You must be Erik, right? Thanks for picking me up."
"You may stay longer if you wish," he told her. "We will meet you outside."
Meg lit up, already turning to hurry off. "Ten minutes, I swear!"
Christine gave him a teasing grin. "That was nice of you, but now we're stuck at this party."
Erik shrugged. As nervous as the crowd made him, no one seemed to be taking particular notice of him so far. And it may have occurred to him that being nice to Christine's best friend would be met with her approval. He was glad, however, when she led them back out of the crush of people and onto the lawn. They stood to the side of the house, out of the path of anyone coming or going, and for a minute they waited in silence.
"I love this song," Christine said when the music playing inside changed, absentmindedly swaying a little to the beat. She paused when she caught Erik watching her, feeling her cheeks grow warm. But she noticed the small smile on his lips—faint but easy, like he wasn't aware of it. There had been so few times when he had looked so genuine, and she decided that some dorky dance moves and a bit of embarrassment on her part was worth keeping that smile in place.
"Is that how you dance?" he asked amusedly.
"Why?" Christine laughed, her less-than-graceful movements becoming more exaggerated. "Am I embarrassing you?"
"No," he said with a chuckle.
"How about now?" she teased.
"No."
"Are you really sure?"
"I'm sure," he confirmed, his smile widening. "But I will have to teach you how to actually dance at some point."
Christine rolled her eyes. "What, is this not actual dancing?"
"That's not what I would call it, no."
"Hey, you don't get to criticize me until you show me some of your moves," she said, stopping to take a step closer to him, her hands on her hips. "Show me how it's done."
"This is hardly the right music," he started to argue, but she had taken another step closer and the challenging look on her face was quite sweet, and once again he found that he didn't have the will to deny her. He sighed, and she grinned triumphantly.
Holding out his hand for her to take, he hesitated for a second before placing the other on her waist, his fingers nervously skimming the soft fabric of her cardigan. His heart was suddenly pounding heavily in his chest as he realized just how close to her he was. He was intensely aware of the pleasant pressure of her free hand resting on his shoulder. As he began to instruct her to take the first step, he glanced up and met her eyes, and the words died on his lips.
It had, of course, occurred to him before now that she was attractive. He had noticed it, objectively, that night when he had seen her for the first time at the Nightingale. And in the months since then, it had struck him from time to time how the warmth of her eyes and the sweetness of her smile made her seem all the more beautiful. But there had been a kind of barrier in place then, and this, now, felt different. In their lessons, he had a defined role; he was her teacher, and the rigid definition of that role had been something he had clung to since the beginning. She had agreed to work with him as her teacher, so as long as he was only her teacher, he would be safe. True, it had been a while since he was only her teacher. Things between them had gradually grown more comfortable, less awkward. There were very few people Erik tolerated, and only one who he would even come close to considering a friend, but he'd found himself actually looking forward to seeing Christine—and not just for her voice. And then tonight she had voluntarily spent time with him, not for the sake of improving her voice but just to spend time with him. Somehow, without him even realizing it, he had found himself stepping beyond his role.
Maybe that had been enough to break down the barrier between finding her attractive and being attracted to her. Now he was very aware of the warmth of her hand in his, of the very few inches of space between them. He wanted to pull her closer. His gaze flickered to her mouth, where her playful smile had started to fade into an expression he couldn't quite read, and he felt something stir inside him. For the briefest moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
But then he met her eyes again and the impossibility of it all came crashing down on him. Just her agreeing to take lessons from him had been improbable at best; any closeness that had developed between them was cautious and uncertain and almost definitely involved some amount of pity on her part. She was so gentle and kind and he was… well, him. The relationship they had was already so much more than he could reasonably expect. How could he even think about anything more?
Her gaze dropped from his. "Actually, Meg will be here soon," she murmured, her hand falling from his shoulder as her grip on his hand weakened. "I don't think we'd make it very far. But maybe you could teach me another time?"
Erik nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides and taking a small step back. "Yes. Another time."
As if on cue, Meg emerged from the house only a few seconds later, the end of the song amplifying for a moment when she opened the door. She glanced around for a second before spotting them. "Got it," she beamed triumphantly. "Thanks for waiting for me."
Erik was already heading toward the car, and Meg lingered to walk beside Christine. Her brow furrowed as she scrutinized her friend's face. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Christine replied, giving Meg an unconvincing smile. "Everything's fine."
Meg gave Christine a doubtful look, and though she said nothing more, Christine knew there would be questions when they got home. As they climbed into Erik's car, though, Christine was grateful for the silence. She wasn't sure what she would say even if she understood what had just happened.