Apparently this story has shorter chapters than I intended. I try to reach 3k but it just isn't natural for this one.

Enjoy regardless!

Chapter 5

It was a week later that a letter from Antoinette came.

Not Antoinette herself.

A letter.

Within that time, Christine and Erik spent an increasingly large amount of time together, especially while Gustave was away. Most of that time, of course, was spent in the confines of the parlor, wherein they would read for hours upon hours. Christine watched with amazement as Erik read, sometimes, two books in a single day. He was ploughing through her book collection - and soon, she thought, she'd have to request books from her father's shelves to keep up with his appetite.

"How do you do that?" she asked as he finished Around the World in Eighty Days, before the clock even struck noon.

He stared at her. "How do I do what?"

"Read so fast!" She closed her own book, another Verne novel, over her finger. "I thought I was a quick reader - but you! It's like you're devouring the words right off the page."

He gave a small quirk of his lips and shrugged. "I don't know."

"I must know how."

"I think it's just practice." His little smile disappeared. "I had a lot of time by myself. My mother locked me in the attic all day, so I had nothing but books to keep me company."

She was appalled. "Goodness, what did your father have to say about that? Surely he tried to stop her."

"My father died before I was born." Shadows passed over his gaze. "And I left home a few years ago and joined the carnival." He blinked and shook his head. "Now I am here. I am grateful to be here. Excuse me, Mademoi- Christine. I am going to find a new book." He turned his back to her stiffly and went to her shelf.

When they were not reading, Christine was watching Erik receive violin lessons from Gustave. Her father was never impatient or unkind, and though it didn't surprise Christine, it seemed to fill Erik with wonder. He would hit the wrong note, and would flinch and apologize for his stupidity.

"No, Erik," said her father with gentleness, "you are learning. Mistakes are expected - and even a good thing. Mistakes mean you are trying, and you will only improve from here."

"Yes, sir," whispered Erik in amazement, and would stare at him with wide, unbelieving eyes for a few seconds before turning back to the instrument.

When her father was around, it was as though Erik worshipped the ground he walked on. Every one of Gustave's jokes was met with laughter, every word from his mouth paid utmost attention to. It was more than gratitude, in Christine's opinion - it was almost like he considered him a hero.

Which was perfectly fine, of course. If she thought about it, every time she touched Erik's hand or smiled at him, he looked at her with the same sort of dazed happiness.

But then the letter from Valerius came.

Her father read it without immediately relaying what it said, and his nostrils had flared. He excused himself in a low voice, and disappeared into his study. It was only later that she found out, after he had cooled, what her governess had written.

Antoinette had told her brother about Erik, and her brother told her about a boy he had seen in a carnival, and had also told her exactly what the boy looked like. Mme. Valerius, upon hearing the description, was horrified - and refused to return, believing Erik to be a thing sent by the devil himself. She said she would only come back if Gustave rid of Erik entirely.

Her father, instead, wrote back with a letter of recommendation for Antoinette to find work elsewhere. That he would not throw a child out onto the street, and that he wished her the best in her future professional endeavors.

Christine wanted to cry. Would she never see Antoinette again?

Upon seeing the tears in Christine's eyes, both Erik and Christine unable to focus on the books in the laps, and with Gustave in his study, Erik let himself grimace with grief.

"This is my fault," he said softly. "I've torn your household to shreds."

She shook her head. "No. You haven't."

"I have. If it weren't for me, your governess would be returning to you."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Still." He looked absolutely miserable, and glanced in the direction of the front door. "Perhaps I should-"

"No!" She closed her book with vehemence. It made him jump. "No, you can't leave."

He swallowed.

"You're my first real friend, and I won't lose both you and Antoinette in the same week. Absolutely not, Erik." Her heart pounded. "I forbid you to go."

He widened his eyes at her. "You consider me a friend?"

Taken aback by his surprise, she blinked. "Of course. Do you consider me so?"

"Y-yes, I-"

"Then...then it's decided. We are friends. And, therefore, you are...you are bound to stay here. You cannot go."

"I..." Shock paled his cheeks. "If you forbid me..."

"I do."

"Then I suppose I mustn't go."

"Good."

He stared at her a while, then his gaze drifted down to the Persian rug on the floor. "I haven't ever had a friend, either."

"Even more reason for you to stay-"

"I will stay." His voice was soft. "And...I will be the very best friend. I will be an excellent friend. An absolute master at being a friend." His eyes shot back up to hers, and he sat up a bit straighter, determination in his expression. "You will see. I'll prove it. We will do whatever you want, whenever you want. You shall never tire of me, and-"

"Not everything I want to do," she interrupted, but was grinning. "That's not fair. We will take turns coming up with things to do. We will be equals."

"Equals," he repeated. She nodded.

At that, Christine was able to get back to reading. Erik continued reading too, but sometimes she would feel him staring at her - but every time she tried to catch his eye, he appeared to be completely absorbed in his book.