Chapter 2.
Christine!
The word explodes in his mind. Close enough to touch, She passes by. Erik holds his breath, wills himself not to sob. Christine drops down into a thread-bare and worn sofa. He watches as she closes her eyes. Before he realises, Erik's stepping towards her, one hand outstretched. His hand touches a strand of curling hair. And Christine stifles a scream, and sits up, jumping away, shying away, stepping backwards, her eyes wide. And his heart breaks as her eyes fill with tears.
"No, no..." He whispers.
Christine's backed herself up against a table, she's shaking her head. As he steps closer the tears slip down her cheeks. His fingertip touches one and traces it's path to her chin.
Christine turns her face into his palm.
Time stops.
Her eyes close, and she tilts her head fully into his hand.
Erik can't help the shaky sigh that escapes his lips. Christine smiles, and steps close, resting her full weight against his. And then his arms are around her, his body shakes as it comes into contact with hers. He savours the feel of her, he drinks in the smell of her perfume. It's musky and inxicating. He clings to Christine to her like a drowning soul. The fragile grip he's had on his sanity snaps, like a tired elastric, and he sobs, gulping sobs, the sobs of hurts present and past...and most miraculous of all, Christine' arms tighten around him, and she's cradling him in her arms. He wants to ask if this is a dream, but he can't.
God, if this is a dream, then never send me back to cruel reality...
The word explodes in his mind. Close enough to touch, She passes by. Erik holds his breath, wills himself not to sob. Christine drops down into a thread-bare and worn sofa. He watches as she closes her eyes. Before he realises, Erik's stepping towards her, one hand outstretched. His hand touches a strand of curling hair. And Christine stifles a scream, and sits up, jumping away, shying away, stepping backwards, her eyes wide. And his heart breaks as her eyes fill with tears.
"No, no..." He whispers.
Christine's backed herself up against a table, she's shaking her head. As he steps closer the tears slip down her cheeks. His fingertip touches one and traces it's path to her chin.
Christine turns her face into his palm.
Time stops.
Her eyes close, and she tilts her head fully into his hand.
Erik can't help the shaky sigh that escapes his lips. Christine smiles, and steps close, resting her full weight against his. And then his arms are around her, his body shakes as it comes into contact with hers. He savours the feel of her, he drinks in the smell of her perfume. It's musky and inxicating. He clings to Christine to her like a drowning soul. The fragile grip he's had on his sanity snaps, like a tired elastric, and he sobs, gulping sobs, the sobs of hurts present and past...and most miraculous of all, Christine' arms tighten around him, and she's cradling him in her arms. He wants to ask if this is a dream, but he can't.
God, if this is a dream, then never send me back to cruel reality...