Hi everybody,
thank you so much for reading, putting on alert, adding to favorites, and,most of all, for reviewing. I know some of you have been hoping for Erik and Christine to get some alone-time, and here it is now, the chapter you have been waiting for. I hope you will like it! But please keep in mind that I do not own these characters...
Chapter 7 – Share Each Day With Me...
A few weeks had passed. Christine and Erik continued their voice lessons as usual, except that these now took place in Erik's home. Mme. Giry had talked to Christine as well and explained how it could hurt her reputation if people overheard her talking to Erik, as had already happened with the Vicomte and Christine had only been too happy at the prospect to have future lessons in 'the lair', as they called it. Their time together was heaven for both of them, as well as hell. They enjoyed each other's presence, their shared love for music, their working together, but both longed for more.
Christine was now studying the role of the countess in the upcoming production of "Il Muto" with Erik. Of course Carlotta was once again going to be the star of the play, and since Erik had promised Christine he would not interfere on her behalf again, chances were small that she would actually be able to sing the part at all. But one never knew. Carlotta was unreliable. She could send word one day that she was not feeling well and therefore would not be up to singing this evening's performance. In such a case it would be expected of Christine to step in. Erik therefore wanted to make sure she could sing the demanding role to perfection.
"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha!" Christine sang, when Erik interrupted her.
"The laughter must sound lighter," he explained. "The countess is amusing herself at the expenses of her husband, this needs to sound gay and happy and maybe a little bit spiteful. Can you imagine feeling that way?"
Christine thought for a moment, then nodded. She only had to think of the Vicomte, who had taken her and her loyal chaperone Mme. Giry out for dinner a few more times those past few weeks, who seemed convinced that he was irresistible and that sooner or later she would fall into his waiting arms, swooning. And then she thought at how fun it would be to see his face once she'd told him that she was in love with somebody else. A mischievous smile crossed her lips. That must be pretty much how this countess in "Il Muto" felt about her preposterous husband.
"Good," Erik commented. "Now try again, but imbue the music with these feelings. One, two,..." His fingers danced across the keys of his organ and Christine began again.
"Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha ha ha!" Her voice now was full of laughter and glee, the countess' amusement very obvious.
"Much better," Erik praised her. "That is exactly how this song should sound. Light, lively, full of laughter. You have done well, my child."
Christine winced. Was that how he saw her? As a child? Was that, why in all those weeks since he had revealed himself to her as a man, he had never even tried to flirt with her, never even hinted at the possibility that he could feel more for her than a teacher's love for his student? Had she been mistaken that first night, when she had thought he had hoped to win her love? Had she somehow misunderstood him when he had told her that fear could turn to love? Had he only expected a student's appreciation of a good teacher from her? But if so, why then the red rose?
She knew she loved Erik with all her heart. She had always loved him, even when she had only believed him to be an angel. They had spent so much time together over the years, he had helped her in so many ways, not just after her father's death or with her voice. He was such an educated person, he had taught her so much. They shared many opinions on all sorts of topics. And the most important thing, they shared a love for music, that few others would be able to understand. But that was not all. The more time they spent together, the more Christine longed to get closer to him, to have him take her hand, look her deeply into the eyes, maybe even kiss her.
She shyly glanced at Erik. Half his face was hidden under that mask of his. She knew he was heavily deformed. Even though she had been too frightened that first night to look at his face, and he had been quick to turn away from her and cover his disfigurement with his hand, she understood that this part of him was not a pretty sight. She had asked Mme. Giry to describe it to her, and what she had heard sounded downright ghastly. Supposedly the flesh on his right side was marred, and the skin was so thin in one place that the skull bone was shining through. But... Erik's eyes were the most expressive ones she had ever seen, and his lips... Somehow she wished, she could touch them,with her fingers, or even better, with her own lips.
Christine blushed at the thought. But she also realized that there was no chance of this ever going to happen, if Erik continued to treat her as the child she once had been.
"I am not a child anymore," she therefore said, looking Erik into the eyes and standing up straight, to showcase the fact that her chest had taken on a more womanly form in recent months.
Erik squirmed. It was painfully obvious to him that Christine was a woman now, with a woman's body. She did not have to flaunt her assets at him that way, thus making him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. But he could not attack her like that. She deserved more respect."
Fighting for control, Erik turned away from the tempting view of Christine. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then rasped, "I know."
Christine's eyes widened. He knew! Then why was he still treating her like a child? And why had he just turned away from her? She was sure that Raoul would not have missed such a chance to stare at her bosom with hungry eyes, making her feel almost naked. How come that the man she had no interest in seemed to appreciate all she had to offer, while Erik, the one she wanted to notice her assets, seemed to shy away from them?
"And...," she began again. She hesitated. What could she say now? How could she find out if he did not find her pleasing enough, if her appearance was not to his taste, without embarrassing them both?
"I mean,..." Christine stammered. "Is that a problem? You still treat me like a child, not like an adult, you even just called me child."
Erik sighed. He understood that he had somehow hurt her, that he had made her feel inferior, treated her in a condescending way. He had not intended that. Hurting her in any way, shape or form was the farthest thing from his mind. He had to somehow explain the situation to her.
"This is difficult for me," he slowly began. "I mean, I am used to seeing you as a child and to treating you like one. I know how to deal with a child. But this... this is a new situation."
Christine frowned. Had he just told her that he needed time to adjust to the fact that she now was a woman? "You would rather have me be a child still?" she asked. "That would be easier for you?"
Erik nodded. "I have not much experience with... women," he confessed. Well, that probably was the understatement of the year. His experience with the fair sex was practically non-existent. Most women in his life had been treating him in a rather hostile way, his mother, for instance, and the Khanum. True, Antoinette was a woman, too, and he interacted with her regularly, but somehow he had never truly seen her that way. To him, Antoinette was a friend, the person that had helped him escape from the gypsies, and in that not too different from Nadir, the person who had helped him escape from the Shah.
Christine smiled. So that was it! He had no idea how to deal with her, now that she was not a child anymore. Her hand shyly reached out for his, intertwining her fingers with his.
"Look at me," she whispered. "Erik, Angel, please look at me!"
Erik slowly turned around. He could not believe it. This most desirable woman, his sweet darling Christine, had reached out to him, had touched him, the hideous freak of nature, out of her own free will. He looked at their joined hands and took a deep breath. No, he had not imagined it. She really was holding on to him, squeezing his long, bony fingers with her soft ones.
"You... you touch me," he rasped, his voice shaking.
Christine laughed. "Why would I not touch you?" she asked. "We are friends, are we not? We have known each other for such a long time. Friends touch each other, they hug and..." She blushed. She had almost said "and kiss". But that would have been too wanton, would it not? She could not tell him that openly that she longed for his kiss, that she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers.
"That's different," Erik insisted. "Your other friends,... they are not like me." And he pointed to the mask that hid his ugliness from her.
Christine thought she understood. The mask! Of course, how could she have forgotten! He obviously thought that because of whatever lay beneath it, he was somehow unworthy, an inferior being. That's why he always kept his distance, always stayed an arm's length away from her, while still giving her red roses and sometimes looking at her in a way that gave her butterflies in the belly.
"Erik," she begged, squeezing his hand even tighter and stepping a bit closer. "I know why you are wearing that mask, and even though I have not seen the right side of your face yet, Mme. Giry has described it to me. It does not matter, I promise. It makes no difference. You are still my Angel, my best friend. Is the fact that we are still having lessons together proof enough to you that I don't care about your face?"
"You have not seen it yet," Erik insisted. "At least not clearly. If you had, you would not be standing here, you would be running away as fast as you can, screaming." He sounded resigned, and his eyes... Oh God, Christine had to look away, for she could not bear the sadness that lay at the bottom of his eyes. All the sadness of this world.
"No, I would not," she whispered, trying in vain to give her voice strength. "Erik, please, believe me."
Christine knew that this was a decisive moment. That the next minutes would either bring them together or pull them apart forever. She had to be strong now, she had to summon all her courage. Both their happiness might depend on what would happen next.
"Let me show you," she begged, stepping even closer. "I know you have had bad experiences in that regard, and I can understand that it is hard for you to trust me, but, please, Erik let me see it. You are the most important person in my life, have been the most important person for me since my dear papa passed away all those years ago. Do you really think that could change because of such an insignificant detail as looks? You will always be as dear to me as you have been those past couple of years. My opinion of you will never change. Your face will make no difference. Let me see it. Let me see my Angel's real face, not a mask covering part of it. We are friends, are we not? Does a friend not deserve to know your true face?"
Erik sighed. Christine was standing very close to him now, her breasts almost touching his chest, their fingers still interlaced. Her hair smelled of wild flowers, and her eyes looked at him so pleadingly. He could have stood like that with her forever. He was certain that he would never again experience such exquisite pleasure again, such a feeling of nearness and belonging.
He did not really want to do it, deep down he knew that it would end this perfect moment, but how could he resist her, when her closeness was making it impossible for him to think clearly? His free hand almost automatically reached for his mask, and after another brief moment of hesitation, he took it off, instinctively turning his head, to face away from her.
"Erik," Christine's voice sounded jubilant. "You did it! You took off your mask for me. You do trust me!" She smiled at him encouragingly, and her free hand now reached for his head, urging him to face her again.
She looked him deep into the eyes and saw fear there, panic, as if he only now realized what he had done, that she could see his uncovered face. "I need to be strong now," Christine told herself. "I need to show myself worthy of his trust. He is so vulnerable now."
She slowly moved her eyes to the ravaged part of his face. She gasped. It was terrible, truly hideous. There were no words to describe the degree of his deformity, and yet... This was Erik, her Angel, her best friend, the man she had fallen in love with long before she had known he was real. And this affliction had caused him a lot of pain already in his life, had forced him here into this subterranean tomb that he called a home.
Overcome with compassion, her hand reached for his ravaged cheek and slightly caressed it. "Oh Erik," she whispered, "my poor Erik! Does it hurt? It looks so raw to me."
Erik stood there, paralyzed. He was in shock. When Christine had first turned his head to get a full look at his deformity, he had felt exposed. He thought he would not feel half as embarrassed if for some reason he were suddenly standing on the stage of the Opéra Populaire, stark naked, in front of a full audience. He held his breath, waiting for Christine's scream of disgust. That scream never came. He vaguely noticed that she was talking to him, speaking softly, though her words did not register with him. And then...
Heaven! Pure Heaven! Erik felt Christine's hand on his cheek, touching it gently, almost lovingly caressing it. He could not believe it.
"You... you did not run!" he whispered, still unable to fully process what was happening.
"Why should I?" Christine cooed to him, one of her hands still holding his, while the fingers of her other hand were gently tracing the lumps of flesh on the right side of his face. "You are my best friend, Erik. I told you, nothing will change that – ever."
"You... you are not disgusted?" Erik stammered.
Christine shook her head. "Why would I be?" she asked again. "It is a face, admittedly a rather unique and unusual one, but still, just a face. Faces are not disgusting. Your face is not disgusting, nor frightening or whatever else you think it might be. It is just different, that's all. But it is the face of my Angel, of my dear, dear Erik, that's all that matters to me. That you finally deemed me worthy to see it, to finally know what you look like without your mask."
Erik fell to his knees, sobbing. He could not believe it. Had he heard her correctly? "You... you... do not mind?" he asked.
Christine crouched down beside him and put her arms around him. Somehow she knew that he was overwhelmed, that he needed comfort now. "I do not mind at all," she whispered into his ear. "Nothing has changed, you are still my Erik." Somehow her lips found his forehead for a feather-like kiss.
"You... you would kiss me?" Erik looked up, straight into her eyes, and all he saw there was compassion, understanding, love. Christine smiled at him, her lips wide and red and inviting, and suddenly Erik could not hold himself back anymore, he lowered his head towards hers and their lips touched.
A bolt of electricity shot through both their bodies as their lips connected. Christine closed her eyes and melted into Erik's kiss. Instinctively she opened her mouth as she felt his tongue teasing her lips, and met his tongue with hers. Erik's arms were encircling her now, and their bodies were pressed together, as their tongues touched and explored each other.
They both felt timeless, and neither wanted this experience to end, but after a while they had to break apart for breath. "I love you," Erik whispered, just before his mouth caught Christine's for a second kiss.
Half an eternity later, when they finally broke away again, Christine replied. "I love you, too, Erik," she cooed, pressing herself against him. "I have waited so long for you to kiss me!"
"I didn't dare," Erik confessed. "I didn't think you would want somebody like me, a man as ugly and old as I am!"
"As if I'd want anybody but you!" Christine teased him. "It is the person you are that I want and love. You have always been so caring, nurturing with me, so understanding. You helped me over my father's death, and you are the only one that understands and shares my love for music. I was so nervous you would not want me, thinking of me as a stupid child, intellectually your inferior!"
Erik stood and pulled Christine to her feet again. "And what happens now, that we know that we love each other?" her asked.
Christine blushed. "We kiss again?" she suggested and Erik complied.
After some more kissing, they sat down on Erik's couch, huddled closely together. "Will you marry me, Christine?" Erik asked, looking her deep into the eyes.
"Of course I will," Christine assured him. "I have dreamed about you asking me that for a long time!"
Erik suddenly grew serious. "We might have to wait a while, before we can get married," he confessed. "Antoinette … Mme. Giry, she will not give her consent unless I can offer you a normal home, and unless I have a job that enables me to support you."
Christine frowned. "Why can we not live here?" she asked. "And you could continue to act as unofficial advisor to Messieurs André and Firmin."
Erik shook his head and explained to her what he had discussed with both, Mme. Giry and Nadir. "Nadir is currently in Amsterdam," he finished, "but that city does not seem to be right for us. He is planning to go to London next. We will just have to be patient. I have also been working on a more lifelike mask, but so far I have not had much success. Now that I know that you love me, I will double my efforts, but it may still be a while before we can leave Paris behind and start our life together. Christine, will you be patient? Will you not grow tired of waiting?"
Christine hugged him. "Now that I know that you love me, I will be strong," she promised. "It may take a while, but I know now that our day will come, the day when we can finally be together, when you can share each day with me, each night, each morning, when you won't have to hide in the dark anymore, and will be able to stand at my side openly, as my husband and love."
