Erik opened his eyes in the morning and immediately panicked, thinking he'd gone blind. His hands fluttered up to his face only to find that he was not, in fact, blind - he had forgotten to take his mask off the previous night and it had slipped up across his eyes. He pulled it off and rubbed cold fingertips over the sore spots it had left in its wake before righting it over his face once more. It had been ages since he'd fallen asleep with his mask on, he realized.
He looked in the icebox for breakfast and sighed. He took the banana downstairs and settled into a chair to wait for Antoinette, who would be dropping Christine off.
It was only a few moments later that both came through the door. Antoinette set her purse down and began to go around the room, gathering what she'd need for her day of field work. She did a double take in Erik's direction, wrinkling her nose at the rather old banana he was in the process of peeling.
"Erik, that's disgusting," she stated.
"Nonsense, it's perfectly fine."
"Perfectly fi- how many days has it been since that banana was actually yellow, Erik?"
He shrugged and broke off a piece, putting it in his mouth.
Antoinette huffed.
"I suppose since you're eating old fruit it means you've finally run out of other food?"
"I have. I need to go grocery shopping today."
"Please promise me that you won't get more bananas. You always say you want to eat them, and then you let them molder away in the back of the icebox."
"And I still eat them, do I not?" he innocently placed another piece of overripe banana in his mouth.
She glared at him.
"Only because you know it bothers me."
Her voice was annoyed, but he could see the hint of mirth in her eyes. He was struggling to keep the smirk from his own face, too.
He glanced over at Christine, curious despite himself about her reaction to their banter. She was sitting on the couch, her gaze downcast as she played with the end of the long braid her hair was in. She either wasn't paying attention or didn't find it very amusing.
"We'll have plenty of time to go to the store before the show tonight," he said to no one in particular.
Antoinette finished filling her purse with her notebooks and various items and gave the room once last glance before turning towards the door.
"I'll leave you both to it, then. Good luck on your show tonight, dear," she gave Christine's arm a squeeze before she left.
The smile that briefly lit up Christine's face quickly faded when the door closed. Erik sat silent a moment, wiping his fingers on a napkin and tossing the banana peel into the bin by the desk.
"Are you ready to go to the store?" he asked.
She nodded but kept her eyes downcast, not looking at him. He unconsciously raised a hand to his face, and then ran it over his wig, making sure both were in place. He stifled a sigh and went for the door, Christine rising and following right behind.
Christine desperately tried to think of things she could say, ways to fill the empty void spanning between them, but each thing she could think of seemed to require extra thought to make certain it was the right thing to say and by the time she felt sure it would fine to say out loud, the moment had already passed. She settled for dumbly following him around the store, trying but not quite succeeding in finding a balance between curiously eyeing his purchases and not gawking at them.
It was an odd mixture of very simple boxes and canned foods and what she assumed were ingredients for a very involved meal that she was too shy to ask about.
He went to the produce section last, stopping in front of the display of oranges and reaching to the very back to pluck out two. Christine didn't give much thought to his reaching for ones in the back, she assumed that when one had arms that long it was only natural, after all. Perhaps she too would grab ones at the back if she were capable of reaching them. She didn't realize that the real reason was because he wanted ones that people hadn't put their grubby hands all over, and he was very glad that she made no comment on his choices - unlike the time he had gone shopping with Antoinette, and she had demanded to know what was wrong with the ones in the front, and then he had to explain that while he was aware that all of the fruit had been touched by whoever harvested it and also by the grocer who put them in the display, the ones that were touched and squeezed and heaven forbid coughed on by all and sundry who were passing by were simply unacceptable to him, regardless of the fact that he didn't eat the peel anyway. Yes, he was quite glad to not have to repeat that explanation.
She paused by the green apples, admiring them.
"Is something wrong, Christine?" he hoped the stress wasn't causing her to crack - he'd never seen someone stare at an apple so wistfully.
"Have you ever had these?" she surprised them both with her question.
"Yes, I believe I have tried an apple before, maybe once or twice," he nodded solemnly.
"No, I mean the green ones."
He shrugged.
"Perhaps. An apple is an apple, it never made that much of an impression on me, I suppose."
"Oh, no, they aren't! Green ones are special! They taste so different than the red ones you find everywhere, and Raoul and I used to always take green apples with us when went on picnics..."
She trailed off, her smile beginning to fade a little.
"They were my favorite," she sighed at last.
"Were?"
"I haven't had one in ages. I suppose I'd still like them even now, but- well, I guess I can't claim they're still my favorite if I haven't even bothered to try one in all this time?"
Erik didn't know how to answer that question that didn't entirely seem to be about the apple. Christine turned to look at the different fruits offered, lost in her own thoughts, and probably mourning the Vicomte, he thought. She still wasn't looking when he reached back and took two of the green apples and put them in a bag before placing them in his shopping basket.
She did, however, notice the very last item he picked up before heading to the cashier to pay - a single banana.
Christine silently scolded herself on the walk back from the store. Why did she have to babble on about the apple? Erik didn't care about her little childhood picnics and odd stories. Did she truly want so desperately to have a conversation with him that she'd bring up such nonsense? Apparently so, she groaned inwardly.
When they reached the office he went upstairs without a word, putting his groceries away in the ice box - all expect for the single banana. He took that back downstairs with him.
"You have a few hours before your performance, what would you like to do?"
Christine considered his words.
"Could we go to the opera house early? If you don't mind, that is."
"Of course," he nodded.
She gathered her things up once again, but stopped to watch as he opened the top drawer on Antoinette's desk and placed the banana in the back of the drawer before closing it again. She stared at him, confused.
He straightened out his trench coat, keeping a completely straight face with his explanation.
"That'll make a nice surprise for her in about a week, don't you think?"
Her lips quirked in a smile before she looked away. She would have to do her best not to laugh now every time she saw Antoinette open that drawer.
They left for the Opera House, and once there Christine gave him an apologetic look.
"I don't go to my dressing room until I'm almost ready to go on stage. There's an old storage room I usually practice in beforehand, you see."
She led him down twisting hallways until she stopped in front of gilded door.
"It's practically abandoned, no one has used it in years," she turned the doorknob and ushered him inside.
His footfalls made no sound as he crossed the carpeted floor and sat down on a rather dusty ottoman. He could definitely believe that Christine was the only one to enter this room in ages. There were large prop pieces leaning against the walls and several shelves worth of various odds and ends, broken clocks and tangled wigs and fake flowers.
She set her purse and tote bag on the floor, color creeping into her cheeks that made her want to slap herself. No matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, she couldn't help the little flutter her heart gave when she considered that during the nearly three hours she'd be warming up and practicing, it was at least somewhat probable that Erik - who himself was a singer, she had not forgotten despite barely having heard him - would say something about her singing.
She cleared her throat and began her first warm up exercise. She let her eyes close, finding it was easier to focus on her voice that way - she was too nervous, too temped to glance over at Erik to see if she could determine any sort of reaction from him.
She was halfway through the exercise when the surprised yelp of a man from behind her caused her eyes to fly open. Erik was there in front of her - quite close - she hadn't even heard him approach. His posture was stiff, yellow eyes glaring at something just behind her, and she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a coiled red rope clutched in his left hand before she whirled around to see where the yelp had come from.
Jospeh Buquet stood there, shamefaced and sullen.