Wow! I can't believe the support I've gotten since the last chapter updated! I love hearing from you. Every single one of you made my day! I hope all of my American friends had a wonderful Thanksgiving! And I hope everyone else simply had a good week!
Angsty Erik alert for this chapter!
"That's a beautiful song, Christine. What is it?"
Christine paused in her scissoring of a Pomeranian and realized she had been humming Erik's song while she worked. She looked up at Lucy with a flash of a smile. "It's the song I'm singing at the concert. You're all invited to come. It's at the Marlers Music Company the weekend after next."
Lucy sighed. "I wish I could. My husband's been complaining about how little we've been to the mountains since we got married."
Christine smiled. "Aw, I hope you have fun! The mountains sound great. I haven't been since I was a kid."
"Hey Chris, someone's here for you!" Amanda called from the salon door and Christine frowned, glancing up through the glass window into the lobby. She blinked.
Raoul grinned at her and held up a plastic bag of take out.
Her stomach twisted uneasily. What was he doing here?
"Ooh, who's that hottie? Do you have a boyfriend, Christine?" Lucy asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.
Christine blushed wildly and put a quick bow in the finished poofy hair before taking the dog from the table. "Definitely not. He's just a friend," she assured her and left the salon to put her away in the kennel. She smoothed her smock down and took a deep breath.
"Christine! I was hoping to see you here!" He said with his ever charming grin and kind eyes. Her lips turned upwards without even realizing it.
"I work here, where else would I be?" She joked, eyeing the bag in his hands.
"I brought lunch for you. I asked your manager if I can whisk you away and she said you don't have any dogs coming in till two so… you're mine for a whole thirty minutes!"
Christine vaguely felt betrayed by her manager, as if they had conspired against her. Now she didn't feel like she had much of a say.
"Go ahead, Christine. I'll call Roxy's mom and let her know she's ready to be picked up," Amanda told her from behind the counter, phone already in her hand.
"Oh, okay. Sure let me just grab my bag," she quickly turned away from them and tried to feel good about the situation. It was just Raoul, and he'd bought her lunch. Shouldn't she be happy about it? Why did she feel… off?
Raoul took her outside and they found a picnic table between the salon and the little shop that was located next to it. He had brought sandwiches and chips from a deli, along with two bottles of sweetened tea. Christine didn't drink it, but didn't say anything to him, not wanting to appear rude for the free meal.
She had promised Erik she wouldn't drink anything like that anymore. She had to focus on her voice if she wanted to achieve what they were working toward.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you sing again, it'll be like old times," Raoul told her between bites of his sandwich, somehow reading her thoughts. "You always stole the spotlight in our elementary spring concerts."
She smiled after swallowing a potato chip. "Yeah! It should be great. It's only a small little concert, but I'm taking it seriously. My teacher told me I should take any chance at performing seriously if I want to continue a singing career. No matter how small."
"Makes sense." They ate silently for a few more minutes before he looked up at her over his bottle of tea. "I'm sure your dad would be super proud of you, ya know? He always loved when you sang."
Christine's chewing of a bite of sandwich faltered and she tried not to choke on it when she swallowed. "I'm sure he would be. I hope, at least."
"I'm positive he is."
"I just wish he could be there," she admitted, her eyes downcast and watching an ant crawl down the middle of the wooden table. "He always knew exactly what to say to make my nerves go away."
Raoul comfortingly put a hand over hers and she tensed at the contact, her eyes sliding up to meet his blue ones in question. "Your dad is always with you Christine, he knows. And I'm here now."
Christine swallowed uneasily and nodded once. He squeezed her hand. "Yo-you're right," she said, attempting to keep her voice steadier than she felt and glossed over his last sentence. "He's watching over me. Mama too."
Raoul smiled, not noticing her avoidance, and finally let her hand go. She slid it down into her lap. "Everything will be fine. You're going to do great and hey, afterward we can all go out to eat to celebrate your return to the stage!"
Christine blushed and couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "That sounds wonderful."
When they were finished with their meal, Raoul helped her clean up the wrappers and throw them away. She clutched the unopened tea bottle in her hands, intending on giving it away to one of the girls once he left.
"Oh hey, before I go. I just wanted you to know that my mom's been asking about you. They're having a small get together soon and I was wondering if you'd come? It'd be like old times, eh?"
Christine turned to look at his eager expression and smiled. "Sure! It'd be nice to see your family again." Although, the idea of seeing his older brother and father again made her anxious. They hadn't always been welcome to her in the past. More like a tolerance.
He grinned brightly and before she knew it, pulled her into a tight, warm embrace. She held her breath as her face was accosted by the shagginess of his blond hair. It tickled her nose. She weakly returned the embrace.
It did feel nice. It had been a very long time since a man had given her a hug.
He pulled back with a smile, eyes twinkling. "All right, I'll text you… Little Lotte."
She rolled her eyes at his lame joke and watched him leave for his car. She waved with a hand as he drove off.
Something inside of her realized what was happening and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.
oO0Oo
Christine entered the music room that afternoon for her lesson with Erik and was surprised when he didn't turn around and greet her. Instead, he sat at the piano, his shoulders hunched over as he wrote notes on the musical score of his copy of her song.
She slid her bag off of a shoulder and stood next to him. Awkward with the silence, she cleared her throat. "Hi Erik."
"Don't do that with your throat. You'll strain it," he quickly chided and her mouth fell shut, the uncertain smile disappearing completely.
"Sorry," she murmured, feeling small at his words. He could be strict and passionate with his criticisms over her voice but something about his tone now was different.
For a very long moment, Christine stood awkwardly at his side as he continued to ignore her and go over her song with his red pen. The words were blurring together so furiously she could not make out any of it. She bit her lip and wondered if they'd even have a lesson at this rate. Her eyes trailed up to the small clock above the door.
Ten minutes had already passed.
Just when she had gained the courage to ask him if he was okay, he straightened and his gloved fingers posed over the keys. "Scales!"
Christine jumped at his stern command and positioned herself weakly beside him. Her voice wavered, her mind focused more on his anger than the complicated warm ups. Of course he immediately took notice and he pressed loud, harsh notes on the piano in the middle of her familiar scales and made her flinch, her voice constricting and going quiet.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, without looking at her. "Is this a game to you? Have you forgotten how to sing scales?"
Christine's lip quivered and her face flushed. "N-No," she stammered. The whole time she'd known him, he'd never been this angry before. Was he mad at her for something? She couldn't think of anything she'd done to upset him.
"Again!" She winced and when he began with the piano she tried harder, trying to focus on the music but she trembled and her voice shook. He pounded on the keys, finally whirling around on her.
She took an instinctual step backward, his pale eyes somehow flashing behind his mask. What was wrong with him? She felt almost… fearful of him. She'd never felt that way with him before. He'd always been so soft spoken and polite.
"Perhaps you've given up," he stated harshly, a wry, sardonic edge of humor to his words. "Perhaps you've found something better to occupy your time!"
Christine shook, her whole body trembling. "What? Of course not, I—" How could she explain that it was him that was causing her to mess up?
He stood to his full height then and she shrunk away, wishing to be small and away from him. "Tell me, Christine, do you always tell lies? Your teacher said that he could help you if you simply devoted yourself to the music - only the music! Instead, you went ahead and let yourself become distracted. Now look at you! You're wasting my time!"
Christine's eyes welled up with tears from his accusations that were untrue. "No! I am devoted. I am! I didn't lie!" She cried, warm, hot tears uncontrollably falling down her cheeks. She put her hands to her head, wishing he'd listen. Wishing he'd stop being so angry. Wishing he would go back to her kind Erik. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever I did. I didn't mean to make you angry! I'm sorry!"
At her sudden cries, Erik quickly stopped yelling at her and she heard him sit back down on the piano bench, the creak of the wood loud in the small practice room. Sobbing now, she glanced up at him to see his head hung in his hands, looking defeated.
She wished she knew what had caused him to become so furious. She wanted to make it right! Please let her make it right. "I'm sorry," she tried again.
"Don't. It is I who must apologize, Christine," he rasped, his voice twisted in anguish. "I shouldn't… no, you don't deserve my anger. I'm having a… bad day, I suppose. Yes, a bad day. I am sorry that I took it out on you."
Christine shuddered and put her hands over her face, trying to stop the wretched sobs that had overtaken her.
"Please don't cry," he pleaded, a little over a whisper. "Oh, Christine… please don't cry."
She tried, oh she tried to stop the tears but his voice sounding more like the Erik she knew made her heart hurt worse. "What did I do?" She asked weakly, sliding her palms to her cheeks to look at him through her wet eyes.
He was looking at her again, eyes no longer the blazing fury she'd seen previously. He shook his head violently. "Nothing! Christine, you did nothing. It's Erik's wretchedness that is to blame. You are never to blame for Erik's monstrous anger."
His slip into third person alarmed her. If not her, though, why was he so angry? Did something happen to him? "Is… is everything okay?"
Erik blinked and considered her for a couple of beats, bewildered by her question. "You were just at the tip of my knife of a tongue, terrified and crying, and you're asking me, if I'm okay?"
Christine wiped at her eyes, her tears subsiding. She nodded slightly. "You said you were having a bad day. If you're this angry, I'm assuming it was horrible."
Erik chuckled but it was a dry, sarcastic laugh and he turned his face away, looking about the floor without a response. She sniffed, her runny nose making it difficult to keep her composure.
His hand suddenly reached into his pocket and she watched him pull out a handkerchief, offering it to her with lowered eyes.
Christine swallowed thickly and took it from him. Surely she'd have a collection of them at this rate. "Thank you."
"It's the very least I can do." She wiped her face and blew her nose. "Tell me Christine," his tone sounding slightly desperate. "What can I do to reinstate your opinion of Erik? Or have I destroyed everything?"
Her opinion of him? Up until that point, he'd been like a mysterious masked angel to her. Surely he must know that her opinion of him after everything he'd done for her couldn't be ruined because of a misunderstanding and misguided anger.
She folded the handkerchief in her hands, careful not to get mucus on her fingers, and gazed up at him. "My opinion of you hasn't changed."
Erik stared at her silently, perhaps trying to read if she was being earnest or not. Finally he sighed, a puff of air leaving his pale thin lips. "I'm pleased to hear that… although I'm afraid I have ruined our lesson for this evening. Surely you cannot sing after crying in such a manner."
He spoke the last two sentences with utter bitterness and self hatred that she shook her head quickly. "No! I can sing. I can, just give me a minute and I—"
"No, it's all right Christine," he assured her in a surprisingly comforting voice. Her heart slowed at the sound. "I was wrong to say those things to you. Even in the short amount of time I have been your teacher, I have seen miles of improvement. You'll be ready for the concert and more when the time comes, I'm sure of it."
Christine was relieved to hear that, feeling herself relax at his honest praise. "You're sure?" She asked anyway.
Erik's lips twisted. "You're doubting my sincerity. It's because of what I said—"
Christine's eyes widened and shook her head, preventing him from hating himself again. "No! I believe you I… just don't have a lot of confidence in myself."
"Yes. Yes I know, but we will change that. After your performance you will see just how right I am. Everyone will see."
Christine smiled then, a small one, but it reached her eyes. Erik stared at her for a moment longer with an unreadable expression before turning and shutting the piano, his voice a soft murmur now. "Perhaps I shall sing for you, then you will believe me, yes?"
Her smile vanished and she watched his back tense under his jacket, his fingers fidgeting on his knees. "You sing?" She asked him, although should it have surprised her with how melodic his speaking voice was? Or how he knew so much about vocal coaching?
He slowly turned back to her, his eyes lifted as if amused. "Surely you didn't expect me to be tone deaf after the lessons we've had."
Christine flushed in embarrassment. "Of course not!"
His lips did that little awkward lift upwards as he stood. He took a couple steps away from the piano and she watched with bated breath as he took the form that she now recognized.
"You may sit, if you wish," he murmured and she nodded, moving to sit down on the chair beside the piano.
Then, he began to sing.
From the very first word, she was entranced. The song was in Italian and he sang it effortlessly and easily as if barely breathing. His whole body oozed with confidence that she only saw glimpses of when music was concerned. His presence filled the room, bouncing off the walls and enchanting her. She was unable to remove her gaze from him and goosebumps raised on her arms, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
How in the world did he praise her mediocre voice knowing he sounded like that?
The last word rang throughout the music room and she realized she had stopped breathing. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her mouth parted, almost to say something, but no words or thoughts left her.
At her stunned silence, Erik's hand lifted to his mask and adjusted it, as if to make sure it was still there. Christine shook herself.
"Erik, that was amazing," she whispered in the silent room, yet she knew that wasn't even the proper word for the experience of hearing him sing. She could easily become addicted to it. She suddenly wanted him to sing more. Anything.
"Thank you." He looked relieved. "Do I have validity now? Will you believe me when I speak of your abilities?"
Christine swallowed, her brain still foggy from his entrancing voice. "Oh, yes."
A long drawn out silence grew between them and her eyes slid away from his masked face to look down at her hands. Her body was still buzzing uncontrollably from his performance.
"Do you like milkshakes?"
The question was so quiet that she had a hard time hearing, let alone believing he'd asked it of her. Her eyes snapped up to him, but his back was to her and he was facing the piano again. She hadn't heard him move. "Milkshakes? Oh, um, yes I do," she answered awkwardly. "Do you?"
"Definitely not. They're horrid for your voice." He straightened the music on the stand carefully and then slowly turned around, his eyes uncertain. "Would you care to get one? I will pay for it."
Christine's eyebrows rose and she almost gaped. "But you said—"
"Yes I know. And you've done a lovely job with listening, haven't you? Your hard work is paying off, even with your teacher yelling at you. Just this once, I will allow it," he told her, his fists clenched at his legs, and she felt her heart flutter in her chest at the gravity of the situation.
"I'd love to," she told him instantly.
Erik visibly eased and almost seemed to smile. She would relish the day when he actually would.
Christine found it slightly amusing to see such a man in a Dairy Queen drive thru. When asked, she quickly chose strawberry, her favorite. True to his word, he didn't order one for himself.
She was surprised when he pulled into a parking spot after handing the shake to her, obviously wanting to let her enjoy it before going home. She didn't mind. She wasn't quite done with his company just yet either.
"So, do you perform for the theater?" She questioned him after taking a long sip from her shake, watching him fiddle with the car stereo until soft classical music began playing.
"I do not."
She was actually surprised to hear that. He played it so well, she assumed he played professionally. And his voice… It would have explained why he wore a mask. Perhaps to hide his identity. "I see. Can you play other instruments?" The strong rosin scent that came from his presence always comforted her.
"I haven't met an instrument I've been unable to play," he told her simply, his gaze on her as she drank from her milkshake.
She dropped the straw from her mouth. "Wow, that's impressive," she murmured. "I've always wanted to learn how to play piano. Or cello. However the latter is probably over ambitious," she laughed lightly.
"I could teach you piano, if you wished," he offered and she flashed him a smile, the car growing dark as the sun continued to set. His yellow eyes began to glow, but she was used to such a thing by now.
"I may take you up on that after the concert," she told him and paused to take another drink from her shake. It was delicious. She hadn't had one in a long time. "My father played the violin. He was amazing. He played when and where he could, carnivals and fairs. Sometimes for theaters, although he was never able to keep the job for some reason or another. He traveled often and I went with him. He's… he is the one who introduced me to music."
"That must be a lovely memory for you," he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face.
She nodded, her heart tugging in that familiar way when she spoke of her father. For some reason though, it seemed to be getting better recently. She didn't almost burst into tears any time he was mentioned. That was a good sign, right?
"What happened to him…" His voice broke her wandering thoughts. "Is that the reason you gave up singing?"
"Yes." She looked down at her milkshake, her mind growing dark as it normally did. One step forward, two steps back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bring down the mood."
"Don't apologize," he said quickly with a touch of guilt. "I am the one who questioned you about it. Forgive me for reminding you of something so painful. It wasn't my intention to upset you."
She shook her head, giving him a small smile that she hoped would reassure him. "It's okay." She took a deep breath. "From as far back as I can remember, he would get me on stage with him to sing. Whether it was church or in a park. His eyes would light up and he'd always tell me how proud he was of me. He'd request I sing almost every day when he… when he got sick. It comforted him, I think. So when he… passed, I had no motivation to continue. I had a full scholarship to a university for my voice, but after a year I gave up. I just couldn't bring myself to continue."
He said nothing, his eyes sliding from her face to peer down at the steering wheel. She looked over at him, his expression concealed by his black mask, and wishing she could ask him why he wore it, but not quite having the courage to do so.
His eyes hesitantly slid back up to hers and her heart quickened. She immediately looked away, feeling her cheeks warm. "But anyways," she continued, trying to cover up her staring. "I'm trying to sing for myself now. I…" She peered up at him again, finding his gaze still on her, giving her his full attention. It almost made her stop right then and there, but she willed the strength to tell him the truth. "You have helped me realize that my voice isn't just for my father. Or my past. It's for me and…for the first time, I'm proud of myself. I don't think I could have found that without you."
"Christine," he breathed, the sound caressing her as if he had touched her. Softly, gently. Their eyes gazed at each other and something changed in his, making her breathless and completely forget about the milkshake in her hand. His mouth parted, as if to say something, and she held her breath, but it eventually shut into a hard line. What's going through your mind?
Ultimately, he tore his eyes away and shifted the gear of his car, visibly uncomfortable. "I should get you home. It's getting late." His long fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
Christine swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, looking down at her milkshake as the car began its descent back to the apartment complex. "Alright."
Her stomach was twisting and her body felt warm. She didn't know exactly what had just happened between them but it had not felt like anything she'd felt before. She kept quiet throughout the drive and he didn't say anything else either. She didn't know what to say. Nothing felt right.
He walked her to the stairwell and she turned to him with a shy smile. "Thank you for the milkshake. I promise I won't let it affect my voice," she teased to break the tension, but she stopped when one of his hands lifted seemingly on its own accord and reached for her face.
She held her breath, unable to move as a leathered finger brushed a stray curl from her cheek, the cool, smooth material skimming her skin unintentionally. Her heart quickened and she stared at him as his eyes followed the slow movement of his hand. Finally, his gaze shifted to hers and her body flushed hot from the vehemence.
Before she could blink, his eyes widened when he realized what he was doing and his hand shot to his side, taking a measured step backward. "Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well." He nodded slightly at her and then spun on his heel, swiftly closing himself up in his apartment before she could respond or react.
Christine stared at his shut door for a long moment, startled by his abrupt departure. She jumped when she heard the piano, the keys pounding in chords that did not make sense and made her heart pound. She let out a long breath she had been holding and felt herself shiver. He had touched her… of course he had touched her before when she injured herself, but this was different. Very different.
When she finally reached her apartment, she threw her bag down and put the half drunk milkshake on the counter before going to her bed and dropping down on it, his music beating heatedly in her ears. She kicked her shoes off and curled up, listening, and desperately wanting to know what it meant.
Something dug into her leg and she fumbled with getting her phone from her pocket. She glanced at it, seeing that Raoul had texted her that evening.
She didn't text him till the next day.
