There were two days until Sunday morning, and Christine spent them in a bit of a daze. She was still surprised by it all - surprised that she still wanted to work with him, surprised that he wanted to work with her, surprised that she had the courage - nearly audacity - to ask for her demands, and even more surprised that he had so readily agreed to them.
It had been a risk, she knew, secretly meeting with a man who could so easily overpower her, and she hadn't told anyone about the meeting beforehand - he could have kidnapped her and no one would have known where to even start looking for her. Who knew where that tunnel behind her mirror led to?
But still, he had been very respectful just as he said, and it had turned out well enough. Better than well, considering that it seemed to be a situation where he held the majority of the power - she needed him to refine her voice if she wished to go anywhere with her career, yet he could surely find any number of other students instead of her, so she was replaceable in this equation and he was not, at least that's how it looked to her.
Erik. She finally had a name to call the Voice she had known for so long.
As she took her seat in the back row of the chapel, she wondered if he'd truly show up or if he'd just been humoring her at the time when he'd agreed. It began to seem as though her fears were coming true as the service was starting and he still didn't show up.
He slid into the pew with her like a shadow, and she almost jumped when she noticed him suddenly sitting a few feet from her. She was relieved that he was there, but she stared at him with wide eyes - he was wearing a black hat with a long brim that he had pulled low over his face. He could feel her looking at him, and one glance at her was all it took to realize that she expected him to remove the offending hat.
He slowly removed it and set it next to him. She gave a silent huff at the now revealed sight of that damn mask on his face. What was he hiding trying to hide from with that? Was he, perhaps, a wanted man attempting to avoid being recognized? The thought unsettled her. She would have to find a way to bring the subject up with him at some point.
He hadn't been in church for religious purposes since he was boy, but he found he still remembered enough to follow along with the responses and he had guessed that simply sitting there next to Christine was not what she had been wanting him to do when she had asked him to come to church. Besides, maybe if he followed along with everyone else, he would draw less attention to himself and be able to go unnoticed.
Christine looked at him curiously as he made the sign of the cross along with the rest of the people in the pews. There was so much she didn't know about him, despite having talked to him so often for so long.
The priest moved on to the sermon, a short one but based on the evils of lying and how wicked a sin it was and where the eternal destination was for those who practiced such a thing. Half way through the sermon Erik glanced at Christine again, and found she had pinned him with the most doleful stare he could have imagined. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if perhaps she had spoken to the priest beforehand and requested this particular topic or if he just had the spectacular luck of running into a coincidence like this.
Finally it ended and he breathed a sigh a relief. He moved to stand so he could leave before the others in the chapel walked past him, but Christine whispered to him to wait.
Wait? His eyes widened, disbelieving. What on earth was there to wait for? But, she had asked him, so - he sat back down.
His anxiety grew as the handful of people began to make their way to the doors that were just behind the pew he and Christine were sitting on. He was about to be seen-
He slid down to his knees, bowing his head and resting his trembling hands clasped together on the back of the pew in front of him, his face completely hidden by his arms. For all appearances he looked to be the very portrait of a man deep in prayer. He was afraid that he was giving Christine the impression that he was pious when really he was only a monster, but it couldn't be helped. Perhaps if he actually did say a prayer while he was down on his knees, he would be a little less ashamed of himself, but the only words that could come to mind were Dear God, please don't let anyone see me, which he supposed might be a sort of a prayer.
Christine watched him with confusion, uncertain if he was having a moment brought on by the sermon but not wanting to interrupt him regardless. She waited for the handful of people to exit the chapel before standing and making her way towards the corner where a number of candles were kept on a long table.
Erik, hearing that the chapel was now empty except for Christine, looked up to see what she was doing. In the midst of his anxiety to leave before being discovered, he had forgotten all about her long-held habit of lighting candles on Sundays as she prayed. He had seen her do so on various occasions - it had been in front of one of those very candles that he had first heard her whispered plea for the Angel of Music.
He watched now as she lit one and paused a moment over it, then lighting a second one and pausing over it as well. It was the third candle that left him wondering what it could be for. One for the soul of her papa, one for the soul of Mamma Valerius, and one for-? He tried to imagine who or what it could for, but came up blank each time.
The thought that it could be for him never crossed his mind once.
She opened her eyes and looked down at the little flame as it slowly melted the white wax. It was difficult to reconcile the thought of the man who had hid in her dressing room with the thought of the angel who was supposed to have been watching over her, but she knew without doubt that regardless of how she felt about him she didn't want him to end up in perdition. She knew, too, that it was not a choice that was up to her, that it would be up to him to sort that out for himself, but she also knew that it was going to be a frequent subject in her prayers from now on.
Her prayers finished, she pulled a few coins from her pocket and placed them in the alms box, then turned and saw him still kneeling while he watched her. He stood up with only minor difficutly, and accompanied her to the exit.
"Thank you for waiting for me, Erik," she said softly.
He nodded. Hearing his name said by her voice was a sound he marveled at - it was soft and sweet, like everything else she said, and when she said his name there was no trace of disgust or disappointment to it like he had so often heard from others.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, then? For my lesson?" she added.
"The same time as always, Christine. I want to use the room with the piano in it instead of your dressing room, however. It's high time you had some accompaniment."
But despite how well their Sunday had gone, things were rough again by Monday morning. Being in the room with her as she sang was not all he had romanticized it to be - it was frequently awkward and despite the room being larger than her dressing room it felt rather crowded as well.
Her warmups were shaky, and he continually stopped her and made her start over. She seemed suddenly incapable of things she had excelled at previously, and it was irritating and frustrating to both of them.
"Christine," he chided as he turned from the piano, trying to keep from snapping at her. "You've done this exercise a thousand times before and never had this problem. You need to focus on what you're doing."
She scowled. She was losing patience with herself and his tone certainly wasn't helping her feel better.
"I'm trying, Angel, it's just I've never had to sing with a man in the room with me before and it's very distracting."
She spat the former title with all the vitrol of an epiteth, and she saw his jaw clench at it.
He turned back to the piano without another word and banged out the melody once more, using a little more force than was strictly necessary, waiting for her to being again.
She managed to hold it together and get through the rest of her warmups. When it came time to work on the songs from the upcoming show, he abandoned the piano and instead watched her, occasionally pacing the room as he listened. She had seemed to recover from her earlier problems and was no longer as shaky. Her shoulders, however, steadily found their way up with a tension that would do her no favors. He moved from behind her to the side of her to brush his hand across the top of her shoulder, but before he could even get close to doing so, she caught sight of him and his outstreched hand. She stopped signing entirely, taking a step away from him, her arms instinctvily going around herself as thought to protect herself from him, a flash of panic across her face.
He jerked his hand back and quickly moved away from her, instead sitting once more on the piano bench, his hands firmly gripping his knees.
"Your shoulders are too high," he said tightly. "You need to let them relax more than that."
"Yes, Erik," she nodded, and tried to let her shoulders drop.
He stayed on the bench after that. He was embarrassed and irked all at once, the two emotions mixing together and blackening his mood. Had she thought he was trying to grab at her? Clearly she still didn't trust him, but really he had only himself to blame for that. He shouldn't have reached for her so suddenly, either, but it had only been an innocent gesture and yet she reacted as though he were some sort of scoundrel. It was a moment that was going to eat away at him for some time, he knew.
She began the song again only to hit a sour note less than halfway through.
He clicked his tongue and glanced behind him. Her shoulders were tense again. She knew better than that.
"Really, Christine, you're doing abominably today. I don't know what's gotten into you."
Was it truly him? Was he so awful to be around that his mere presence caused her to revert to her old bad habits that she had broken so long ago? He felt inadequate, as though he had failed her, and though a small part of his mind cried out at him to stop, he was taking it out on her when he knew it wasn't her fault at all. Snapping at her made him feel like it wasn't entirely his fault, made the ache in chest better for a moment, but he knew he'd be feeling terribly guilty after the lesson was through.
He had never snapped at her before, when he was her Angel.
He heard a soft sniffle and turned to face her.
A few tears rolled her cheeks.
"Christine," he admonished. "Pull yourself together."
She hated this. It was nothing like it had been before. Perhaps trying to continue lessons had been a mistake after all.
The sight of those tears made him supremely uncomfortable, especially since he knew they were caused by him.
She scrubbed a hand across her face and frowned.
"I'm trying my best, Erik."
"No, you aren't," he said coldly, his own mind screaming at him with every detached word. "Sloppy posture and halfhearted warmups are not your best. You aren't even trying, and you flinch from me when I try to help you - you obviously don't trust me. I've done everything you asked of me and this is what you give me in return?"
He turned from her again, hating himself for speaking to her so. She was a pure, delicate flower, and he was trampling upon her kind soul just because of a bad lesson. How many days had she spent pouring her soul out to him in song, practicing relentlessly to improve? And now when things went sideways he was so quick to heap criticism upon her in an attempt to salve his own bruised ego.
"No, you haven't."
The words were just barely spoken, but spoken all the same.
"What did you say?"
"I said you haven't done what I asked you to do," she frowned, blinking back the rest of her tears and clenching her fists.
She could tell he was in an awful mood, and part of her realized the wisest choice would have been to remain silent and excuse herself from the lesson and try again a different day, but she couldn't stop herself. How dare he berate her for flinching? She couldn't help it! How dare he sit there and speak of trust when he didn't even trust her to know who he was?
"You said you'd be honest, but you're lying to me even now."
His brow furrowed, unsure of what she was talking about.
"What he devil are you talking about?" he demanded.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she shot back. "You claim to want to be honest about everything, but you're still hiding."
He turned away again, and for some reason it infuriated her. He couldn't just turn away and pretend she wasn't there!
"This lesson is over, Christine," he said, knowing that both of their emotions were running too high to continue getting any work done. He didn't notice her marching up behind him. "Go get some rest and perhaps we will discuss this at a later time."
But she didn't want rest. She wanted the truth.
Who was this man who had pretended to be her angel for so long? Who was he really? How dare he continue to hide after promising her honesty?
From the corner of his eye, Erik noticed her small hand reaching up to him, but his mind refused to realize what was about to happen.
He didn't have time to stop her when she reached up and snatched his mask away.