A/N: Hey, everyone! This chapter marks the halfway point through the fic, so I just wanted to jump in and say thank you so much for reading. I've had so much fun working on this story and I hope you all are enjoying it so far. There's lots more to come!

If you feel so inclined, please do leave a review! It makes my day to hear from you all. :)

Christine watched with curiosity as the familiar scenery gradually grew less recognizable, trying to figure out where they could be headed. It felt a bit like a dream—gliding through the darkness without any idea of their destination. Erik drove silently, though she noticed his glance shifting to her every now and again as if trying to gauge her thoughts. Minutes ticked by, and eventually the city faded into only a smattering of houses separated by long stretches of road and trees and sky. She looked around more intently as a thought occurred to her, only to be confirmed a few moments later when Erik turned the car off the main road.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting Erik's home to be like, but it came as a bit of a surprise to her when the headlights of the car illuminated a picturesque little Victorian house nestled in an alcove of trees. The large bay window, the little wooden porch with its carved bannisters… it all seemed so ordinary. Erik turned off the ignition and looked at her expectantly.

"So this is—"

"My home," he confirmed. "I thought you might like to see it." He watched her carefully as he spoke, still uncertain whether or not he had been too bold in assuming she would actually be interested in coming here.

She smiled, looking between him and the house, before climbing out of the car to inspect it further. He was right—she was interested to see where he lived. It seemed so obvious now that Erik would live in a plain old house like anyone else and not some… well, she had never actually thought of an alternative. But she also hadn't pictured him living someplace so normal.

Erik came around the car to stand beside her, his lips quirking amusedly as he looked at her. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she told him. "It's just not what I would have expected."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know," she admitted, looking away embarrassedly. Erik didn't seem to mind, though, much to her relief, and she followed him up the wooden steps to the front door.

The door opened into a small hallway and a flight of stairs, with a living room off to one side. The house was old but looked to have been well-maintained, and she quite liked the character added to it by the rather eccentric-looking collection of furniture and items scattered about. As Christine stepped into the living room, she could see that shelves lined most of the walls, some spilling over with books and some stacked with records. There was a doorway near the back of the room and, seeing her notice it, Erik motioned for her to follow him in. He flicked on the lights, revealing what could only be his music room.

An old upright piano sat centrally against one wall, and cases and stands for other instruments littered the room. The rest of the walls were taken up entirely by towering bookcases, all brimming with music. There were stacks of loose paper strewn haphazardly about, some blank and some covered with notes scrawled with varying degrees of legibility. Christine looked over everything with delight until her inspection of the room led her back to Erik, who stood in the doorway watching her with a slight smile.

"This is amazing," she told him. "Can you really play all these instruments?"

"I can."

She leaned closer to inspect a sheet of the handwritten music. "You wrote this?"

"It's a work in progress."

"Will you play me something that you've written?" she asked, giving him a sweet smile that would have made it impossible for him to refuse her even if he'd wanted to.

"I suppose I can if you'd like."

Christine stepped back to observe him as he took his place at the piano, a little thrill running through her at the knowledge that she was finally about to hear the music that such an incredibly gifted man could produce. She held her breath as Erik paused for a second, his fingers poised just over the keys, and then the room was flooded with the most ethereally beautiful music she had ever heard. The melody was soft and sweet as the music clouded her mind, pushing out all other thoughts; it felt like she was floating. All she could do was stand and listen in awe, watching Erik's hands flit effortlessly across the keys. He seemed as caught up in the music as she felt—his mouth was set in a firm line, but his eyes were closed and his movements flowed with the music as he played. The piece was over too quickly, and everything was still as the final notes faded. It wasn't until it was completely silent that Erik turned back to look at her.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but it took a moment for words to return to her. "That was incredible, Erik," she said softly. "Really. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth and he ducked his head, and she realized with a little amusement that he was embarrassed. "Thank you," he replied quietly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Do you ever compose professionally?"

"Here and there," he said. "Anonymously. And the pieces I publish are less… distinctive. Wouldn't want to draw too much attention."

"You deserve the attention, though," she told him. "I understand why you wouldn't want it, but you more than deserve it."

"Thank you," he said again, glancing at her with that shy smile that always made her own smile broaden. "Your compliments are plenty for me."

"Well then, I'll have to make sure to give them more often." Pausing, she looked around her for another moment; there was so much in the house to take in.

When her eyes landed back on Erik, he was still watching her with a soft smile. She fit here, he realized, allowing himself to indulge in the thought for only a second before banishing it. It was too easy to imagine her being here regularly—or all the time. She seemed comfortable, interested in the barely contained chaos. Her mere presence brought warmth into the lonely house. But of course she really had no reason to be in his home apart from tonight, he reminded himself. As pleasant of a picture as it was, he shouldn't get used to seeing her here.

"Sorry, it's rude of me to keep you standing in the doorway," he said, standing and motioning for her to follow him back out into the living room.

Christine trailed behind him, taking a closer look at the varied possessions that cluttered shelves and end tables around the room. She paused at the shelves of records, tilting her head to try to read the name on the side of a particularly battered one.

"You're welcome to put one on, if you'd like," Erik told her, and she smiled at him over her shoulder.

"It'll take me all night to choose from such a big collection."

"Take your time."

Stooping to flip through more of the albums, Christine smirked a bit to herself at Erik's remarkably diverse taste—there really seemed to be a little bit of everything in his collection—until she came across an album that sounded good. She put the record on the turntable, and as the lively music of Glenn Miller began to blare through the speakers, she turned to find Erik approaching her, hand outstretched.

She quirked a brow. "What?"

He smiled a little and glanced away. "Remember when I said I would teach you how to dance?"

Nodding, she gave him a playful grin. "Is this the right music?"

"It is."

Slipping her hand into his, she let him pull her into the center of the room, pausing to reposition her herself as he instructed her. They moved haltingly at first, her steps hesitant and uneven as she did her best to follow his directions. She giggled lightly at her own fumbling movements and Erik joined in, although, ever the patient teacher, he was sure to add that she really was doing pretty well. By the end of the song she could do the basic step with some semblance of success, and they began the second song with much more sureness.

"This is fun," Christine laughed as Erik spun her.

"I'm glad you think so," he said with a grin that mirrored her own.

The music played on, and a couple more songs left her grinning and breathless. There was a brief pause between songs and she met Erik's eyes, and the affection in his gaze made her heart speed a little more. He was doing this for her, she knew—to take her mind off the day, to cheer her up—and the thought warmed her. She had tried again and again to convince herself that her feelings for him had only been a silly little crush, that they hadn't meant anything, but as much as she hated to admit it to herself, those feelings had never really gone away, even when she had been happy with Raoul. The realization sent a wave of shame through her, but she pushed the feeling away. There would be plenty of time to feel guilty. Right now, Erik was doing this for her, and it wasn't such a bad thing to enjoy his kindness for a little while, was it?

The slow, sweet strains of a familiar song crackled through the speakers, and she and Erik fell into step with it. She felt his hand tighten on her waist almost imperceptibly, and she absentmindedly stroked the back of the hand she held with her thumb. Taking half a step closer to him, Christine looked up to find him studying the floor. He seemed to feel her gaze, though, and after a second his eyes flicked up to hers. She gave him a gentle smile and tried to ignore the way her breath caught when he returned it.

And then the song was over, and they were left with only quiet static as the needle reached the end of the record. Neither of them moved, and for a moment Christine hoped that Erik might pull her closer and she could have the comfort of his arms around her. But then he took a step back, just a small one, and let his hand drop from her waist. The other remained loosely entwined with hers, and she made no move to pull away.

"It's getting late." If his voice hadn't been so quiet and gentle, it would have been jarring after the stretch of silence. "I can take you home. Or…" he fidgeted nervously, and Christine waited for him to go on. "I do have an extra room. You're welcome to stay here if you'd rather."

"I'd hate to make you drive all the way back to my apartment just to turn around and come back here," she told him. "I can stay if it's not too inconvenient."

He smiled a little. "I would not have offered if it was inconvenient." He paused and glanced away, not entirely sure what to do from here. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

"Tea sounds nice, thank you."

He nodded and turned to head into the kitchen, reluctantly letting his fingers slip from hers. Her hand was so soft and warm and small in his, and she had stood so close to him, had let him put his hand on her waist. He'd never understand how she could stand to be so close to him—he still couldn't quite understand how she could just reach out and touch him like she did sometimes or even how she could want to be around him so much—but she hadn't seemed wary or disgusted at all. When he had asked her to dance, she had taken his hand without hesitation, and she'd seemed to have fun.

He wouldn't let himself think too long about how much he had enjoyed holding her, how during the last song his only thought had been that he'd wanted to live in that moment forever. There was no point to lingering on thoughts that would only make him long for something that would never happen.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, he quickly set about preparing the tea, but when he returned to the living room she wasn't there. He found her sitting outside on the steps, gazing up at the sky, and he wordlessly sat down beside her and handed her one of the steaming mugs. She accepted it silently, cradling the warm cup in her hands, and as he studied her face more closely he frowned at finding tears streaked down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something but wasn't sure of what to say. She noticed him looking at her and quickly wiped away the tears, giving him a watery smile.

"Sorry," she said, sniffling a little. "I'm okay. I just… it was a hard day. …Raoul and I broke up." She felt a little silly saying it, hoping that Erik wouldn't find it too trivial a matter for her to be so upset about. But as soon as she had been left alone, the guilt had flooded through her again. Maybe Raoul had been right about her—true, she hadn't cheated, but wasn't just having any feelings for Erik at all bad enough? Was the fact that she had enjoyed being so close to Erik just now evidence that she might as well have cheated for as horrible of a girlfriend as she'd been? If she'd just let herself acknowledge and work through those feelings, would things have ended differently? She pushed the thoughts away again, not quite ready to look at them more closely.

"Oh." Erik hesitated. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Christine was quiet for a moment as she stared into her tea. "It's probably for the best," she said eventually. "I thought that we might be able to work through some things and meet each other in the middle, but it just wasn't going to work. Maybe it was just time."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset," Erik replied gently.

Another second passed, and she sat deliberating whether she wanted to say more. "He proposed to me," she said suddenly, hardly aware that she had spoken the words, and Erik looked at her in surprise. "This morning. He took me out for brunch and proposed at the restaurant. I told him that I wasn't ready to get married, and we ended up having this huge fight. And he said that if I didn't want to marry him, we should just break up. I think he thought that would make me change my mind."

It was a second before Erik replied. "That does sound like a difficult morning," he said, and she smiled weakly.

"Yeah. It wasn't great." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just… it was such a terrible fight, and I'm sure he didn't mean all the things he said, but I can't get it out of my head."

Anger flared in Erik at the idea of anyone intentionally hurting Christine. "What did he say?" he asked, trying to keep the hard edge out of his voice.

"He, um, said that I didn't really care about him and that I was just using him for his money. Things like that." Erik shifted agitatedly beside her, and she turned to face him. "Like I said, he was upset and the argument was escalating. People say things they don't mean when they're hurt."

"Him being hurt does not give him the right to say things like that to you," he said, now seriously considering hunting down this boy and making him suffer. "You are the kindest, most caring person I have ever met, and you deserve much better than that."

Christine gave him a small smile. "Thanks for saying that. It'll be okay. It's just the kind of thing that leaves you feeling crappy for a while."

"I'm sure you'll be happier in the long run." Erik had never been particularly prone to optimism, but it was difficult to imagine how Christine could not be better off without this boy, even as little as he really knew about him. Besides, if there was any justice in the universe, surely someone like her couldn't be kept unhappy for long.

"I hope you're right." They sat quietly for a minute, and she took a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air and the soft rush of the breeze blowing through the trees. "It's beautiful out here," she murmured. "You can really see the stars. My dad always loved living in places a little outside the city like this. He liked the peace—he said it let him hear the music in his soul."

Erik sipped his tea, watching Christine with a small smile as she looked off into the night sky. "Did your father ever compose?"

She shook her head. "But he was always making up the most beautiful little songs to play for me. He never wrote anything down, though. I can hardly remember any of them now."

Her voice had grown so soft and sad as she remembered that Erik couldn't bear it. Very tentatively, he put a gentle hand on her back, surprised when she leaned into him until their shoulders touched.

"Thank you for inviting me here," she said after another minute had passed. "Despite the crying, I do feel a little better."

"I'm glad to hear that," Erik told her, his smile softening as she stifled a yawn. "You should get some sleep. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"I think that sounds like a good idea."

She shifted away from him slightly so she could meet his eyes, and her breath caught a little at how close he was. Those intense gold eyes flicked away from hers, and despite how much better she had become at reading him, what little of his expression she could see now was inscrutable. The slight weight of his hand on her back was comfortable, and her arm was warm where it pressed against his side. It occurred to her that Erik might be uncomfortable with this closeness, but he had been the one to reach out to her, and he had yet to move away.

"The room is just at the top of the stairs," he added quietly after a second. "You'll see it."

Christine nodded. "Thank you for letting me spend the night."

"Of course." There was another pause as he glanced away; when he met her gaze again his eyes glowed with intensity that she couldn't quite read. But his lips quickly quirked in a slight smile and his eyes softened. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight."

She wasn't sure what she was thinking—she likely wasn't, instead acting on pure impulse. But before her weary, muddled mind could catch up with her, she was leaning forward and pressing her lips to Erik's. For a brief moment everything stood still. There was only the hitch of his breath at the contact and the still night around them and the thrill of his lips against hers.

The boldness of the kiss didn't register with her until she pulled away, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks immediately. She could hardly summon the courage to glance up at him, and his eyes remained downcast. She opened her mouth to speak but found that she couldn't seem to form any words. Instead she stood a little uncertainly and turned to go inside, wishing that she could muster a slightly more collected reaction. But her heart was hammering in her chest and she could only imagine how flushed she must be and the kiss had sent a pleasant little tingle down her spine and it was just too much. Muttering one more "goodnight," she hurried inside and up the stairs without a glance back.

Erik remained sitting on the steps, his eyes following her until she was out of sight, one hand unconsciously raised to touch his lips.