"So," Meg said as soon as the apartment door was closed behind them. "Are you going to tell me what happened back there?"

Christine stooped to pull off her shoes, avoiding Meg's eyes. "I really don't think there's anything to talk about."

"Let's just start with the beginning of the night and work our way up to now because, honestly, there's not really a part of this that I understand." Meg settled into a corner of the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest as if she was preparing to hear a good story. Christine sat down beside her, knowing that when Meg was determined to get information there was no escaping it, even when she had no information to give.

After they had left the party, Erik had driven them silently back to the music building to get Meg's car. Meg had climbed out of the car with another 'thank you' to Erik, and Christine had followed her quickly, muttering a brief goodnight and saying that she would see him on Monday morning. Erik had mumbled a reply, and she had crossed the dark parking lot and climbed into the driver's seat of Meg's car without another word. She'd hoped that the drive back to the apartment would have been enough time for her to gather her thoughts at least a little, but she was just as uncertain now as she had been when they'd left the party.

She wasn't sure what had shifted between Erik and her. They had been having fun, and she had been hopeful that he might actually be comfortable with her. It had been nice to see the departure from the stiff formality that had prevailed for so long and had only recently started to relax. She'd come to like the sort of friendship that they were developing, and tonight had seemed to encourage it. But then something had happened and he'd withdrawn again.

She couldn't quite let herself think about that brief moment when they had been standing so close and something in his eyes had made her breath catch.

"So my recital ends and I head off for the party," Meg prompted. "What do you do?"

"I started to walk home and I ran into Erik," Christine said. "I guess he does a lot of advisory stuff for the music department and likes to kind of watch over it, so he goes to performances sometimes. He offered to give me a ride home, and then we ended up just hanging out and talking for a while."

"He doesn't seem like a particularly talkative guy."

Christine laughed a little. "He's not, but he talked a little bit tonight. It was actually kind of fun. Then you called asking for me to pick you up, and Erik offered to drive."

Meg hummed thoughtfully at this but offered no explanation when Christine looked at her questioningly. "Go on."

"That's pretty much it, though. We went to the party, found you, and now we're back here," Christine said with a shrug.

"No, there's something that you're skipping," Meg insisted. "Something was weird when I came outside. It was… I don't know. There was just something off."

"Maybe you're just not used to Erik," Christine offered. "He can come off as a little tense."

Meg looked at Christine thoughtfully. "You really don't want to talk about this."

Christine sighed. "It's not that I want to keep something from you, Meg, it's just that… I don't know. I don't know what it is. There was just kind of a weird moment and I don't really know what to make of it. But it's fine," she added quickly. "It's not a big deal."

"Alright," Meg said. "I'm tired anyway. I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight."

Christine remained on the couch after Meg had disappeared into her room. She felt oddly unsettled and wasn't ready to go to bed. But there really was no reason to be unsettled, she told herself. Nothing had happened, just like she had told Meg. It had only been a brief moment, just one of those little awkward moments that happens all the time. Except it didn't feel awkward, not exactly. It had been pleasant at first. She had made him smile, had made him laugh. And then they had been standing closer than they ever had, and her hand was in his, and his hand was on her waist, and something had changed. He had looked at her with such intensity, but there had still been a kind of softness to it. She had grown accustomed to the expressionless mask over the last two months, instead learning to read his eyes, his demeanor. She knew she had seen the shift; she just didn't know what to make of it.

That moment had made her heart beat a little faster. But this had been immediately followed by a stab of guilt, though she told herself she had no reason to feel guilty. Things between them weren't like that. Nothing had happened.

And then Erik had been pulling away, not meeting her eyes. He had hardly spoken the rest of the night. Had he seen the change in her expression and taken it as something against him? Or maybe she was misreading things entirely—maybe he'd suddenly realized how close they were and had grown uncomfortable, or maybe it was something else that she wasn't even thinking of. Christine sighed, tiredly pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Meg certainly wasn't alone in not understanding tonight.

She wasn't sure if she was glad when the beginning of their next lesson seemed completely normal or if she was just confused by it. She hadn't known what to expect when she stepped into the practice room that morning—if it would be weird, if Erik would even speak to her or if they would have reverted back to the rigid silence of their first lessons. But Erik greeted her normally when she arrived, even offering her a small smile.

"How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked, searching for any sign of the shift that she had seen that night.

"A bit of a blur," he replied, turning his attention back to the stack of music he was sorting through. "I spent most of it composing and almost lost track of time completely. I suppose we're lucky that I'm here now and not still buried in my music room."

Christine smiled a little at this. Maybe she had been making more of that moment than was necessary. It seemed like nothing had happened now, and she supposed she shouldn't overthink it—she should just be relieved that there was no lingering awkwardness or anything. It really had been nothing.

"Well, that sounds much better than spending the whole weekend working and writing an essay," she said. "But I survived, and now I'm ready to get into some music."

The lesson proceeded as usual. Erik guided her through some warm-ups and exercises, and then it was time to turn to the piece she had been working on. He played a brief introduction for her and she took a breath, glancing over the mess of notes on the pages in front of her. As soon as she began, she wanted to stop and start over, and she waited for Erik to comment. No correction came, though, and instead she struggled through a few more lines before breaking off abruptly with a frustrated huff.

"Is there a problem, Christine?" Erik asked, turning to look at her.

"No, not exactly," she sighed. "Sorry. I just… I'm a little frustrated."

"Why?"

"Because we've been working on this for a over a week now and I'm still struggling with the same things," she said. She met Erik's eyes but quickly looked away, a little ashamed by her small outburst when he never seemed ruffled by her lack of progress.

"It just takes time and practice," he said calmly. "You're working hard and you are improving. Just because you're struggling now doesn't mean it's beyond your reach."

"But what if I'm just not good enough?" she asked quietly. "What if you overestimated me?"

Erik shifted to face her more fully. "Christine, do I seem like the kind of person who would waste my time?"

Christine shook her head.

"Do I seem like someone who would make you believe that you are more talented than you are? Or perhaps make an error in my musical judgment?"

"No."

"And do you claim to know more than I do when it comes to the matter?"

"I would never." She glanced up and, much to her surprise, found a smile tugging at his lips.

"You must try to be patient," he told her. "What we're working on is meant to be difficult. There would be no point in learning these pieces if they did not challenge you. I am pleased with the progress you have made, and you should be too. The fact that there is still more work to be done does not indicate that the goal is unattainable."

Christine nodded slowly. "Right. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry." His voice was gentle, and when she looked up again, he was watching her with an odd intensity in his golden eyes. He looked away quickly.

They resumed their lesson and Christine began the piece again with a little more confidence, and though she still stumbled in places, she made herself continue until she had finished the section. Erik seemed pleased, and the rest of their short time together went smoothly. By the time Christine had to leave, her frustration had dissipated; it even felt like she had made a bit of progress.

"I wish we had more time," she said apologetically as she packed up her things. "I'll be registering for next semester soon. Maybe I'll get lucky and my schedule won't be quite so hectic. It'd be nice if I had more time for our lessons."

"That would be nice," Erik agreed quietly.

"So, you know I'll be going home part of next week for Thanksgiving," she began as she slung her backpack over one shoulder.

"I assumed as much."

"Well, I was thinking," she continued a little warily, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction. "I don't know if you have any plans, but I wanted to invite you to our dinner."

Erik looked at her suddenly, and she hastily continued.

"Of course you don't have to come. But it's just Meg and her mother and me, and they'd both love to meet you. Well, I guess Meg's met you now, but they'd like to get to know you, and I think you would get along with them. Mrs. Giry used to be a very talented ballerina and she knows a lot about music, so there'd be plenty to talk about."

"I… I do not know if they would be pleased with a strange masked man joining your family dinner," Erik said carefully.

"Oh, no, they would be happy to have you," she told him. "We've talked about it. I've told them a lot about you."

He smiled a little bit at this. "Dare I ask how you possibly could have explained me to your family?"

Christine laughed lightly. "I told them that you're very private and a little bit… eccentric…"

"Of course you found the kindest possibly way to say that."

"But I also told them that you're a genius and that I'm very fortunate to have you as my teacher, and that you're very kind and patient with me," she finished.

"You view me too kindly, Christine," Erik said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

"I really don't," she replied. "That's all the truth. Look at today, even. I'm incredibly lucky that you're my teacher."

"I'm the lucky one," he said softly, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. After a second he went on. "I… it is a very kind offer, and I appreciate it very much. But I do not think it would be possible."

Christine nodded—this had been about what she had expected. She had only been concerned that he might not have anyone and had figured she could at least give him the option. "I understand. But the invitation still stands if you change your mind."

"Thank you." There was something about the way that he said the words that pained her; it was so tender, like he was truly, deeply grateful. If anyone was indebted, though, surely it was she. Any kindness that she showed him was only repaying the kindness he'd already shown her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said.

Erik nodded. "See you tomorrow."

As Christine made her way down the halls, she thought, not for the first time, how much easier things might be if she could just see his face. If he was just a little less inscrutable, if she could catch more than a glimpse of the thoughts that she just barely got to see… maybe then she'd be able to identify what it was that always left her a little unsettled, though not in a bad way.

Her steps quickened when she pushed open the heavy main doors and found Raoul waiting for her outside. She had hardly heard from him all weekend, and while she knew it had only been a couple of days, it seemed like it had been much longer than that since they had shared more than a few texts here and there. With a pang of disappointment she realized that this visit would be little more than that before she'd need to get to work, but at least it was more time with Raoul than she had expected.

Raoul was waiting for her with open arms, taking a few steps forward to meet her as she drew closer. Christine hurried into his embrace, giggling as he lifted her off the ground for a moment before gently placing her back on her feet with a kiss.

"Hey, I was hoping I'd catch you," he grinned. "Care for a ride to work?"

"Absolutely. It feels like it's been ages since I've seen you," she told him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm probably going to be pretty swamped for a while."

"It's alright," she said, taking his hand as they walked to the car. "Only a month until break, and then we'll have plenty of time."

"That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," Raoul said, pausing as they reached the car. "Apparently we have a family ski trip planned for most of the break."

"Oh."

"But," he continued quickly. "I was hoping that you might join us after Christmas."

Christine paused. "Oh, Raoul, that sounds really nice, but I couldn't—"

"You would be my guest," he said. "Consider it a Christmas present, if that would help. And having you there would be a present for me, too."

She smiled in spite of herself. "But would your family really want me intruding on their trip?"

"Of course," he told her with a laugh, as though the question had been completely unfounded. "I mentioned this to my aunt and she thought it was a great idea. We'd love to have you with us."

Christine somehow doubted that the woman she'd met was quite as welcoming as Raoul made her out to be, but he was looking at her so hopefully, and it would be nice to have that extra week with him…

"I'll think about it," she told him. "But it does sound great. Thanks for inviting me."

Raoul pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Sounds good. I'm optimistic that you'll agree. But we should probably get going—I wouldn't want to make you late for work."

Erik remained sitting at the piano for a minute after Christine left. It felt like he had been holding his breath since the lesson began. She had seemed a little uncertain when she first came into the practice room, and he had feared that things had changed between them. But then they had fallen into their lesson naturally, and by the end it was like nothing had happened. Maybe that moment outside the party had been nothing. Or at least she hadn't noticed anything.

As relieved as he was about that, he couldn't stop thinking about that moment.

He still couldn't quite believe that the urge to kiss her had entered his mind at all. It was ridiculous, and he should know better by now; he would have thought that after all these years any hope of companionship, of being close to someone in any way beyond perhaps cautious tolerance, had long ago been beaten out of him. He knew perfectly well that no one, even someone as kind and generous as Christine, would really desire his company in any way, much less in a way that even verged on romantic. And he had always told himself that he was fine with that. What was the use of wanting to be part of a world that would only scorn him? It was just his lot in life.

Nadir had been the one exception to this. The two of them had been thrown together in Iran. Erik had been at his lowest point, and Nadir had saved his life, both literally and not. Nadir had seen to it that Erik made it out of the country, even knowing that he was risking his life for a man who had done terrible things. Erik had argued that he wasn't worth saving, but Nadir had been persistent—Erik still didn't understand why. Nadir had only told him that he'd had nothing to lose, that his son had been his entire life and he'd already lost him.

Neither of them had suggested that Nadir flee with Erik. It had just happened, and then they had just stayed together.

Still, the relationship had always been a somewhat tense one, and though things had grown less strained over time, Erik knew that Nadir still kept a close eye on him. The lingering suspicion was not unfounded, he supposed—after everything Nadir had witnessed and with everything that he knew, he had plenty of reason to worry about what would happen should Erik relapse into old habits. Erik also knew that, as much as this concern was for anyone who might fall victim to him, it was also for his own well-being.

This did not make Nadir's habit of dropping by unannounced less annoying. Erik grimaced at finding the familiar car parked in front of his house when he arrived.

"I would think that breaking into houses would be a behavior you'd want to avoid modeling for me," he said flatly as he walked inside, hardly sparing a glance at Nadir as he headed to the music room.

"Anything of the sort that I could model would be elementary compared to what you already know," Nadir replied, unfazed, from his seat in Erik's living room. "Besides, it's hardly breaking in if I used a key."

"That key is for emergencies."

"You weren't answering the door. How was I to know?" Nadir paused, watching as Erik sat down at the piano, flipping through sheet music but not playing anything. "I'm surprised you were out. I hope it's a good sign that you look less tense than I would expect."

Erik sighed inwardly. He had been able to avoid telling Nadir about the lessons, but he supposed the man would get it out of him sooner or later. Perhaps it would be easier to just tell him—the fact that two months had passed without some terrible disaster should help smooth over the revelation.

"I was teaching," he said simply. "I've taken on a student."

Nadir's surprise was evident. "A student? I thought you said you'd never take a student."

"I made an exception."

Nadir nodded once, still watching him carefully. "How long have you been teaching this student?"

"A little over two months."

Nadir raised a brow. "Two months? You've never mentioned it."

"I must have mentioned it at some point," Erik replied, though he doubted Nadir would buy it.

Nadir made no further comment on the omission, figuring it would be useless to argue the point with Erik when they both knew he knew the truth. "I've been telling you for years that you ought to teach," he said instead, "and you've always said that it would be impossible, that even aside from the obvious impediment, you would never be able to find anyone gifted enough to hold your interest. This student of yours must be something special."

"She certainly is. Her voice…" He shook his head. "It's impossible to describe. But the moment I heard her, I knew I had to train her."

"You approached her?"

"It was spur of the moment," Erik admitted. "Reckless. But she's been a remarkable student."

"I suppose she'd have to be to hold your interest," Nadir said. "Does she have a name?"

"Christine." Just saying her name felt oddly affectionate, and he fought to keep any tenderness from his voice.

"And she doesn't mind the mask?" Nadir asked a little hesitantly.

"I don't know. I asked her not to question it and she hasn't."

Nadir hummed thoughtfully. As much as he wanted to know more, as many questions as he had, he knew it would be best not to push Erik. Perhaps, over time, he would open up more on his own, but if he pushed him now, Erik would close off and the subject would become untouchable. "Well, I'm glad it's working out. It will do you good to get out of the house more often."

Erik nodded but didn't reply; he wasn't quite sure if it was doing him good or not.