The Girl Next Door

Christine was granted the rare luxury of sleeping late the next morning. She only awoke when the incessant ringing of the telephone drilled into her skull. She lifted her head from the pillow and felt around on the bedside table, knocking a book from it.

"Hello?" She yawned, glancing at the clock, which read 11:15.

"Hey Christine. Merry Christmas!" Said a cheerful voice. Christine smiled, collapsing back onto the pillows.

"Merry Christmas, Stuart."

"So, what did you get from Father Christmas?" He teased. Christine groaned.

"I haven't even looked. I'm still in bed."

"You lazy woman!"

"Yeah, yeah…" She smiled. "What about you?"

"Socks. Plenty of socks. Gran is still convinced I'm ten years old."

"You can never have too many socks." Christine told him solemnly.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Stuart said goodbye and Christine put the phone down. She debated for a short while over whether to have breakfast first and then have a shower, or the other way around. Eventually she decided on the shower, scrubbing her face and rinsing her hair. Christine pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pinning her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head. Putting the radio on, she listened to one of those Christmas songs that all sound so similar you couldn't tell one from the other as she made her coffee.

As she tucked into a bacon sandwich, her eyes fell upon the cheerfully wrapped gift for Mr De- Erik. Christine swallowed her mouthful and decided to wait until the afternoon before going to give it to him. There were several gifts for her from people at work. She sat on the sofa and reached for the one from Meg. It was a basket of bath salts and bubble bath mixtures. Christine smiled and unwrapped the rest of the presents.

She spent the morning watching television and sat at the piano. She was just reaching for another song to play when there was a knock at the door. She crossed to it and found Erik Destler outside.

"Merry Christmas." She said with a smile.

"And to you." He held out a bottle of wine in one hand and her cross in the other. She took them and then stepped back, letting him into the apartment.

"Did it help?" She asked, nodding to the cross. Erik deliberated over his answer.

"I found a little peace. If only for a few short hours."

"Then it helped." Christine said decisively. She held up the wine. "Want some?"

He nodded and she disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, Erik was stood by the piano, looking at the song she had been playing.

"No white Christmas." She said, glancing out of the window. A thick frost scattered the ground, but there was no sign of snow. Erik nodded.

"Snow is an overrated experience."

"I'll agree with you there. It looks pretty but that's as much as I like about it." Christine said, handing him a glass of wine. He accepted it and said,

"May I hear you play?"

"Oh… I don't know. You're an expert and I don't-" Christine mumbled. But he was looking at her intensely, his green eyes boring into hers. Reluctantly she sat at the piano and began to play that music that was perched on it. But suddenly her fingers seemed to have swollen twice their normal size and they stumbled over the keys. She stopped hastily.

"I can play better than that. I just… you make me nervous."

"Why?"

"Because you are a musician. And I'm just…" She made a helpless gesture and Erik lifted his eyebrow a couple of millimetres.

"Just what?"

"…I just like to play." She said, appalled at how weak it sounded. A miniscule smile touched Erik's mouth and he said,

"Then play. Pretend I'm not here."

He moved out of her eyesight, standing on the opposite side of the living room. Christine took a deep breath.

He's not here… you're alone… nobody here at all…

She began to play again, concentrating on everything but the man standing behind her. She thought about Christmas, about Stuart, about the second bar where the notes quickened briefly, about the charm bracelet on her wrist reflecting little lights onto the music.

The music drifted into silence and they were both silent for a moment before Erik said,

"That was much better." He walked back over to stand by the piano. Christine smiled.

"It was easier that time. Perhaps one day I'll be able to play properly for you."

"Perhaps." He agreed.

A bottle of wine later found them sat down, avidly discussing… well, nothing in particular.

"We had the staff Christmas party a few days ago. It was a bloody nightmare." Christine muttered. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"What made it such a terrible ordeal?"

"Do you know Carlotta Guidacelli?"

"I met her briefly."

"Well, I can't stand her. She annoys me so much. Anyway, she got up on this karaoke machine and blew everyone away and I hated it."

"Why?" Erik asked curiously. Christine picked at a stray thread on her t-shirt.

"Because… I used to sing. I was pretty good. At least, everyone told me that I was. And Carlotta was trying to goad me into singing, probably because she thought I'd screw it up. And, just for a moment, I wanted to get up there and sing."

"Why didn't you?"

"One, I haven't sung since school and two, I didn't want her to gain the upper hand. I know it's petty and stupid, but it was a matter of pride."

Erik considered her for a moment.

"Pride can be an asset. It depends how far you are willing to go in order to keep it."

"With my attitude disorder, too far."

"What attitude disorder might that be?" Erik smirked. Christine sighed.

"Stubbornness. I don't like admitting when I'm wrong. I never change my mind. I don't like people saying things I don't want to hear."

"That isn't an attitude disorder. That's human nature." Erik told her firmly.

"Human nature? That's a little general." Christine commented. "Surely not everyone is like that."

"Cruelty has a human heart

And Jealousy a human face

Terror the human form divine

And Secrecy the human dress." Erik quoted. Christine looked at him blankly. "William Blake. It's a very apt description, don't you think?"

"I think William Blake must have been a very depressing man. And he can't have had many friends if that's how he saw the world." Christine said firmly. Erik smiled briefly.

"You think so? Perhaps he just saw things more clearly. What's to say that we don't all just hide behind a facade?"

"Because if we did, I wouldn't get so annoyed at Carlotta Guidacelli." Christine said frankly.

She looked across at him, examining him for a moment in silence.

"Erik, can I ask you something?"

"I know what you're going to ask." He said swiftly. She blinked.

"Oh?"

"You're going to ask about the mask."

"…Well, yes."

"You want to know what is underneath and why I wear it."

"…Yes."

He sighed and met her eyes.

"No."

"Fair enough." Christine said. It was an understandable reaction, even if she was still rather curious. She considered him for a moment. "Can I ask you a different question?"

"You may."

"How old are you? You called Stuart a 'young man' but you don't look much older than us."

"I am thirty-seven." He said, accepting another glass of wine. Christine was surprised.

"You don't look it."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He said wryly. Christine laughed and then looked at the clock in the surprise.

"Five-thirty? I didn't realise how much time had passed. Do you want to stay for food? I don't know what there is but I'll find something."

"No, I won't take up anymore of your time." Erik said, putting his glass down. Christine looked at him frankly.

"And what are you going to do by yourself on Christmas Day? I don't have anything to do, and you've already as good as admitted that you don't. So stay."

She put his glass back in his hand and leant back in her chair. Erik looked as though he were trying to decide whether to be irritated or entertained. He settled for a resigned surrender. Christine, pleased at having won the argument, picked up her drink and said,

"How long have you been living here?"

"Two years. Nadir found it for me."

"How long have you been working with him?"

"Six years." He didn't elaborate, seemingly lost for a moment in his thoughts, before his eyes cleared and he decided to jump in with a question of his own. "What made you move in here?"

"I needed a place and my boss found this one for me."

"Where were you living before?"

"Other side of town. Not too far. But far enough." Christine said. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"That's a very cryptic answer."

Christine smiled weakly.

"There are some things that happened that I wish hadn't. I needed to put some space between me and them."

"What things?" He asked. Christine shook her head with a little smile.

"That's my mask."

"I'm sorry?"

"You won't answer questions about your mask. I won't answer them about… about what happened before I came here."

"That's fair. We all have things in our past that we regret."

There was a moment of silence. And in that moment a sort of understanding shot between them. Christine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said,

"I'll go and see what there is to eat. Do you like pasta? I think there's some sauce."

"That sounds good."

As Erik prepared to leave, several hours later, Christine had finally worked up the courage to give him his gift. She went into the study and returned with the wrapped gift, thrusting it into his hands, a little shyly.

"Here."

"What…?"

"It's Christmas. Hence - Christmas present." She said. Erik felt immediately awkward.

"I didn't get you anything."

"You brought wine and saved me from a horrific fate of holiday television specials." Christine smiled. "Don't open it now though, I'd be too embarrassed."

Erik nodded and offered a faint smile.

"Thank you, Christine. This has been an enjoyable day."

"For me too." He lifted her and kissed the top of it gently before letting himself out. Christine grinned. That guy had stepped straight out of the pages of a Jane Austen novel.

The time he spent in apartment 5b was a confusion to Erik. He felt… strange. He was not angry or distressed or unhappy. Barely once did a negative thought cross his mind. He was perfectly willing to talk, to eat, to drink, to accept the company of another person.

It didn't hit him until he had gotten home, late that night. He was content.

How odd. He hadn't felt content in quite some time. He pondered it as he wandered aimlessly around the apartment. For a moment he was still contemplating the reason why he should feel like this.

Erik's eyes slid to the door and imagined what lay beyond it. The hallway, a second door, an apartment and a young woman who had somehow managed to make him feel content.

It had been so long since he had talked to someone for so long, not related to work. He had a debt of gratitude to Christine Daae. Perhaps one day he could repay it. He considered the monkey box, with the little description card beside it. It was a strange gift, yet he appreciated it all the more because of its lack of conventionality.

He wound up the key and listened to the tune, the tiny ching of the monkey's cymbals adding a charming oddness to the song. As the music played, an idea twisted itself around his mind.

On Boxing Day Christine decided to go for a walk. Snow had still not fallen and the apartment was stuffy and overheated. A brisk walk in the cold air was just what she needed.

When she returned she found a small parcel outside her door. She picked it up and read the note scrawled on top.

Christine

Merry Christmas. I hope this doesn't depress you too much.

Erik

She smiled and unwrapped the package as she let herself into her apartment. A book fell out, a little tattered and clearly well-loved.

Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience

By William Blake

Christine laughed.

A/N: Hooray! It's Christmastime and there's no need to be afraid, etc and all the jazz. Anyway, I quite liked this chapter too. Building up a friendship, keeping it all very platonic and a bit of Blake thrown in for good measure. I happen to be studying him at school and some of his poems are rather inspirational. That particular quote is from 'A Divine Image'.

Bad news – it may be a while before the next update. I have good reasons though! One – it's my birthday on Sunday. But since I'll be working all day, I'm going to be out tomorrow with my friends. And then on Tuesday my new story is going to start going up. Unfortunately, I have not finished the story, and I really need to for reasons that will become clear.

So, leave a review, leave a smile, take a cookie and have a great weekend.

Lotsa luv

Katie