Thank you for the support! We meet the ghost in this one :)

"Good, but try to remember the crescendo in measure five," Anne prodded and Christine shifted uncomfortably in her stance beside the piano. She had been struggling in comparison to her first lesson. Ever since hearing that song from her neighbor, she hadn't been the same.

"I know." She exhaled her uneasy emotions and tried once more when Anne began playing.

She stopped her at the same measure and Christine shamefully put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Anne reached over and empathetically patted her shoulder. "Everyone has off days, Christine. You're too hard on yourself."

Christine dropped into the chair behind her, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I feel like I'm having off years, to be honest."

Anne considered her for a moment. "I'm going to ask you something personal and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Christine looked up at her warily. Personal questions weren't her strong suit. "What is it?"

Anne took a deep breath, her gentle blue eyes regarding her. "Your struggle with singing again and your reluctance, does it have anything to do with your fathers passing?"

Christine's heart plummeted and she dropped her eyes. The recently resurfaced emotions she'd been dealing with over the past week was disabling her and she felt like closing in on herself again. Something she had fought to overcome. "Yes," she confessed, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Anne was silent for a long moment and it just made Christine feel like a failure; like she had wasted their time. Eventually, Anne changed positions on the piano bench and clasped her hands together. "When my husband died, I felt like my whole world had ended. I didn't want to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone go to a school and teach." Christine hesitantly looked up at Anne at the countenance, her heart aching with relatable pain. Anne kept her eyes above Christine, staring off into middle distance with a somber expression.

"I had always considered Thomas to be my soul mate. My other half. My parents had been strongly against us getting married so young, when he came from a family without money. He worked every single day of his life and never complained. He told me he loved me every morning and kissed me goodnight before we slept. When he was suddenly gone, it was like a piece of me had been ripped apart and I could never get it back."

Anne tightened her wrinkled hands and looked down at them with a stricken expression that Christine knew all too well. "I didn't think I had it in me to continue to live this life, knowing I'd be doing it alone. Without his silly jokes and teases at my expense. How even him leaving the toilet seat up, something I'd always nagged him about, would never happen again and I'd miss it." She suddenly met Christine's teary eyes and gave her a small smile. "But it was you that got me through it."

Christine's eyes rounded. "Me?"

"Well, you and your classmates," she laughed softly at the memory. "I realized that I wasn't truly alone. I had people who depended on me. Who looked up to me and needed my guidance. That my job here on this earth was not done, even though my dear Thomas' was. I found my purpose. A purpose that didn't hinge on my husband. That was solely me."

Christine chewed at her bottom lip as she processed just what Anne was trying to tell her. That even though her father was gone, she had so much more to live for. She heard what was being said to her, convincing her heart and her head was something different altogether. She wanted to feel happy again and was desperate for it but had no idea how to obtain it.

Christine left her lesson and silently paid the Uber driver before getting out of the car that evening. She had absolutely no appetite and didn't feel the rush to go make dinner and so she aimlessly walked around the complex. She found a small little park on the other side of the building that she must have overlooked. There was a basketball court to the side and trees lined around it. She found a wooden bench and sat down, feeling even heavier than she had in days.

She reluctantly looked up at the stars beginning to appear in the darkened sky, her eyes were instantly drawn to the constellation Orion. Her father had always told her that any time she felt lost, to always look up to Orion and he would protect her. It didn't seem to matter where she was, her eyes always found Orion in the sky and a warm comfort immediately blanketed her.

This time, she felt oddly cold, and she grabbed her arms, getting goosebumps.

"Dad…" she whispered the title aloud, it sounding taboo to her ears. She trembled under the weight of it. "What am I supposed to do? I am so lost. I thought that getting a good job and my own apartment would make me happy, to know I'm supporting myself and not depending on anyone anymore… but I feel just as lost as I did before. Maybe even more so. I desperately hoped that music would help, that maybe it'd bring you back-" she choked on the word, trying to keep the horrible sobs from breaking through. "I just wish you were here to tell me what to do. To help me figure life out. To teach me to live…" she trailed off and released the silent tears that she had been suppressing all afternoon. They did nothing to help her grief.

As if he was reminding her from the heavens above, his favorite song she used to sing him drifted into her mind and she couldn't help but hum it into the darkness before she was slowly giving it words. It was a Swedish folk song, a song her father had taught her when she was only a child and she'd sung it often to him through her childhood to make him happy.

Knowing she was alone, all the other tenants probably eating dinner and enjoying their evening, she let her voice ring it into the darkness. She closed her eyes, imagining him there with a warm smile on his face and listening to her with such adoration. Even when he'd been sick, he had asked her to sing for him. He'd always been so proud of her voice.

Just like your mama, he'd say.

Everything she'd been holding onto for years suddenly burst through and she was singing with so much longing, sadness, and desperation that she had momentarily forgotten where she was and who could be listening.

When the last word left her lips, she opened her eyes, breath heaving from the emotional havoc going on in her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched the ring over her heart.

The night stirred around her and she slowly realized she didn't hear much of any of the normal Midwest evening sounds. It was completely silent.

She inhaled then exhaled.

And all of a sudden, she knew she wasn't alone.

Her body froze and with paranoia, she peered around the park, noting the empty basketball court and the uninhabited playground. The trees gently swayed, but she didn't see anyone.

That is, until she did. Her eyes swept around the gaping tree line that led back to the complexes. There, seemingly in one of the trees, were two glowing yellow lights.

Eyes.

For a long drawn out moment, she simply locked eyes with whatever it was - whoever it was - too frightened to even blink, let alone move. The eyes stared unwavering back at her and her heart quickened at the realization that she was essentially trapped in the small park and the only way out was to confront them.

Out of the question, she immediately thought, but she knew she had to get out of there. La Rue Apartments were in a safe area of town and she'd never felt threatened or in harm's way by living there alone. Nonetheless, the sky had grown almost black with twinkling stars bright above her and she knew it had gotten late fast.

She cautiously got to her feet, still unable to tear her eyes away in fear that if she did, she'd lose track of them. No human had glowing yellow eyes, she tried to reason. Yet, her fragile mind had up until recently thought her neighbor was a ghost and so she did what she had to: she made a run for it.

She didn't think she had run as fast as she had that night in her whole life. She didn't stop until she was safely up in her apartment with the door locked and the chain locked into place.

For the next several weeks, yellow eyes continuously creeped into her dreams.

oO0Oo

Christine had had a horrible week. It seemed with the warmer weather came grumpier customers. The dogs could feel it too, she imagined, as there were far more difficult than easier ones. Huskies were the worst. Not only were they antsy on their tables, but had so much hair to blow out that she felt like she was inside an itchy snow globe more than half the time. It had even followed her home; she'd found fluffy hair in her socks several times.

To make things worse at work, her manager, Amanda, was taking advantage of the boom in customers. She had told them all to sell as many spa packages as they could, but Christine was never one to be pushy with customers. If they didn't ask for it, she didn't offer.

Unfortunately it came back to bite her by the end as she had only sold one package the whole week and that had been because the customer had specifically requested it.

Amanda had come around the counter and scolded her, relaying that she was the only one unable to make the upsell. Put on the spot and told how bad of a job she was doing left her in almost tears. She had never been great with confrontation.

Amanda had walked off, her point clear, and Lucy cautiously approached her with a sad smile. "I have a spa dog coming in at two, Christine. I can transfer her over to you. I don't mind."

Christine looked over at her with a wane smile, through her watery eyes, her chest heavy. "Thank you Lucy. You're a lifesaver. Toby's coming in at two for a bath. He'll be easy for you."

Lucy brightened. "Toby's coming in? Aw, I love that little guy. Thanks Christine!"

Even so, by the time she got off of work, her mood worsened as it had begun to rain. It rained often during spring in the Midwest, so it shouldn't have surprised her, but it was enough to leave her huffing in irritation as she exited the salon.

She could have sent for an Uber to take her home but it hadn't been raining too hard at that point, so she had just sucked it up and walked the few blocks back to her apartment, using her smock to protect her thin t-shirt from getting wet.

Midway through, she was regretting her decision and she felt wetter than she had in the bathing room after giving Thor, a Saint Bernard, a bath earlier that morning.

"It's fine," she told herself through gritted teeth. "I'll be home soon and I'll have a whole weekend to do nothing but recuperate."

Christine was relieved to finally see her stairwell and she almost wept with excitement at the prospect of going inside and flopping down on her couch dramatically, but as if fate had other plans, her smock caught on the edge of the railing and it sent her flying backwards. She slipped from the wet stairs and her ankle twisted while trying to catch herself. She yelped in pain, gracelessly falling to the ground.

Her bag had flown from her shoulder, sending the contents rolling across the sidewalk and to her absolute horror, banged loudly against the apartment door of A1.

She scrambled, trying to grab her belongings as fast as she could reach without disturbing her throbbing ankle. The last thing she needed was for someone as scary as him to confront her. Hopefully he hadn't even heard—

The door swung open and Christine squeaked, forcing herself backward, her ankle sliding painfully on the concrete. Her hair hung damp in her face and she dared to look up and see the man behind the ghost.

In the doorway was an exceptionally thin and exceedingly tall man, wearing all black from head to toe, as he had the first time she saw him. His slacks were pressed, his coat tailored and sleek, and underneath he wore a dark form-fitted turtleneck. His shoes were pointed and shiny. He looked like a well dressed shadow.

Christine's eyes took him in with a matter of a couple seconds, flickering over his appearance before finally settling on the full black mask that nearly covered his entire face, save for his thin mouth and two eyes. He was so tall that she couldn't see what color his eyes were from her pathetic position on the ground.

She gulped. Strange indeed, she thought. Was he some sort of criminal? Outside of Halloween parties, she'd never seen anyone wear a mask.

After her initial shock, her heart began hammering painfully in her chest. Everything about him screamed for her to flee. Warning bells rang through her mind and she struggled to get up onto her feet.

"S-Sorry!" She stammered and attempted to push herself up, yet her weight awkwardly came crashing down on her injured ankle and she cried out, tears welling up into her eyes for the second time that day and dropped back down to the ground, mortified.

"Are you injured?"

Her eyes snapped up at the sound of his voice, hardly able to comprehend how someone could sound so - sound so... ethereal.

At her stunned silence, he knelt down on one long leg and looked her over. Christine shut her gaping mouth to swallow back a lump, avoiding his eyes, and unable to form a coherent thought. Was he going to kill her? Kidnap her? She wouldn't even be able to run away and the pepper spray she normally carried was in her other bag…

"Your foot?" He asked as Christine's mind quickly caught back up and she struggled to clear her throat.

"I - Uh, yes. Well, it's my ankle. I fell down the stairs and, and I... twisted it," she told him uncomfortably. The rain picked up and the wind that came with it, sprinkling them from under the canopy. It knocked loose a thin, dark brown strand of hair that had been slicked away from his face, falling delicately upon the forehead of his mask.

"Just a twist then? No breakage?" He asked her, and when he did, his eyes glanced at hers and she held back a gasp.

The color...

It was... like nothing she had ever seen before. It wasn't even a color, she didn't think. The irises were very pale, almost yellow, and blended unnaturally with the whites of the eyes.

Trying to not be caught staring, she forced herself into the present. "I don't think it's broken," she assured him and herself. "I just twisted it. I... I'm sorry I disturbed you. I am, I can manage."

"Can you?" He asked in a voice that hinted at incredibility and her embarrassment turned to childish stubbornness.

"Yes, of course," she insisted and once again, attempted to stand. She'd had plenty of falls throughout her life, this would be nothing—

Her ankle screamed in pain and she was forced to grab the railing to keep herself from falling to the ground again.

To her absolute surprise, his hands shot out instinctively and grabbed her by the shoulders, balancing her so she was able to bear her weight on her good foot. Cool leather was upon her bare skin under the short sleeves of her smock and she glanced down to see that his hands were encased in gloves. His fingers were abnormally long and circled her whole bicep easily.

Noticing her glance, he released her instantaneously as if he had been burned, eyes avoiding hers. "I am afraid I will have to help you to your apartment. There's no possible way you'll be able to walk up these stairs on sheer stubbornness, or shall I call an ambulance?"

Christine's cheeks flamed hot and she forced her eyes down in shame. Calling 9-1-1 for a twisted ankle was absolutely mortifying to think about. "N-No, I'm fine. Thank you though I -"

Without warning, her bag was thrusted into her arms, startling her. She had forgotten it completely with the appearance of her odd neighbor.

"Foolish girl," he muttered under his breath and to her absolute horror, swept her into his long, lanky arms and carried - carried! - her up the stairs toward her apartment with absolute ease, despite the fact that he was so thin she was surprised the wind hadn't knocked him over.

"Oh no, please I… you don't have to—"

He ignored her pathetic attempt to get him to stop helping her and she cringed, wishing she'd just remained in bed that morning. It took only seconds for him to reach her door, but she was able to make out that he had an angular jaw beneath the mask and delicate lips. He almost smelled familiar, but she didn't have time to come up with what it was. He paused at her door. Only then did he finally acknowledge her. "Do you have your key?"

Christine's heart jumped at the reminder and she hurriedly stuffed a hand into her bag to try and find the blessed thing. Finally, she pulled out a small ring with her apartment key, mail key, the Giry's house key, and a small teddy bear keychain that she had held onto over the years.

This is so embarrassing.

She handed the key over and with a shift of his arms under her, he unlocked the door and used his foot to open it.

A rush of warm air flew to her face and she realized she had forgotten to open a window that morning to relieve the musty air of her not well circulated apartment. Thankfully she was a rather clean person and it didn't smell.

He walked her inside and carefully placed her on the tattered brown couch of her living room. As soon as she was released from him, she felt like she could breathe easier. Had she been holding it that whole time?

To her embarrassment, his eyes raked over her apartment. Probably realizing that she had absolutely no furniture besides her couch and a small outdated television on the floor. His eyes lingered for a long moment on her music book, resting on top of it, but then finally looked back at her with an unreadable expression.

She quickly forced her voice out. "Thank you, sir. I - I really appreciate your help. You didn't have to."

"It is... no matter. I could not have you sniveling outside my door for the rest of the evening."

Christine flushed and looked down at her throbbing ankle. "Either way."

"Be sure to ice your ankle and take anti-inflammatories for the swelling," he told her, his eyes barely noticed from behind his mask and telling her nothing of how he thought of her. She was better off not knowing; she smelled of wet dog and rain. He probably was on his way to wash her scent off of him and his fancy clothes.

"I will," she breathed, still appreciating his help.

"I will leave you to it then," he told her stiffly and before she could fully look at him again, he was shutting the door and she was left alone. She looked down and noticed that her keys were on top of the music book. When had he placed them there?

The wind swooshed outside of her windows and rattled the gutter. The rain pelted the glass loudly and she took an enormous, deep breath and dropped her head to the back of the couch in defeat.