At first, it hurt.
The weeks slowly creeped by as Erik struggled to control his problem. Having to spend over eight hours a day, five days a week with the source of that problem didn't help. Every time he thought he made progress, she shot it down with a look. A touch. A word.
He tried to release the frustration through music, as he had always done. But she now lived in that too. It didn't matter what he played, or what he wrote. Her presence gradually creeped into each and every note until she owned the one thing that had previously brought him peace. She inspired him, to be sure. Dozens of melodies fought for a place at the tip of his pen. But the pen reminded him of her. The melodies were only about her. And with her, came pain.
Having no other outlet, he eventually turned to the familiar warmth of alcohol. Every evening, just enough to clear his head but not quite enough to leave him miserable the next day. His bottle of scotch met its end much sooner than any of its predecessors. Its successor was drained with equal vigor.
Then, he tried to fight back.
Each morning, a mental checklist attempted to quell the ache in his heart. A sort of ritual to ground himself and prepare for the day's battle. First and foremost, he reminded himself of the longstanding truth that he could not be desired, by anyone. Secondly, the level of his unworthiness was staggering, to say the least. And third, emotions aside, there was the very practical reality that she was his boss. He needed employment more than he needed a guaranteed heart break.
And every day, inevitably, his treacherous mind would creep in to whisper sweet contradictions. Well, doesn't she smile at you quite often? Doesn't she touch you when she doesn't have to? Perhaps she doesn't find you so repulsive. Perhaps you could have her and your job.
And every day, wherever those tentative little hopes presented themselves, his demons quickly rose to meet them. Disgusting. You think such an angel would ever want you? Be silent and do your job. You are not even worthy of looking at her.
Each, and every day.
He tried to tap into a skill that had lain dormant for many years. Early on in his life, it had become a necessity to turn his heart off. Turn off the pain. When his mother was screaming abuse. When he was getting beaten by a random group of boys that hated him for looking different. The switch would flip. His heart was off, and he was protected. He hadn't needed to bother with it in a long time, having made himself inaccessible to anyone who would hurt him. But now an entirely foreign, deliciously painful new assault was being waged against his heart. And the switch was reluctant to make an appearance.
Some days he succeeded. Most days he failed.
The failure of yet another day was made violently apparent on a cool Thursday in July, his fourth month of employment.
Christine had decided the beautiful weather could not be put to waste. And by unbelievably convenient coincidence, all of her appointments for the day were within walking distance.
"I think you could use a little sun anyway," she teased him when he complained about her decision. She was leading him out the front door into the refreshingly crisp morning air. Erik grimaced when the sun hit his face.
"I could not," he scoffed.
"What are you, a vampire?"
"No, I'm simply more comfortable indoors."
"That's exactly what a vampire would say."
She was eyeing him suspiciously now. Erik rolled his eyes, an action he found himself doing quite often in her presence.
"I'm pretty sure if I was a vampire, I would have been reduced to ash by now," he argued, gesturing to the sunny sky above them.
"Hmm…good point," she conceded. "That's too bad, you've got the perfect dark and sexy brooding vibe for it."
Every ounce of air was instantly ripped from Erik's lungs. It was only by the grace of heaven itself that he barely managed to maintain his outward composure. She was joking, of course. The entire conversation was a joke, right? That didn't stop his stomach from doing somersaults.
Christine carried on happily, unaware of the torment she had just put her body guard through.
They had only walked a few blocks when Christine stopped and gave a loud gasp. Erik recognized it as her "oh my goodness I'm so excited gasp", so he didn't panic. Instead he looked around for what had apparently caught her eye. He didn't have to look far.
"Oh, I'm definitely getting some," Christine stated firmly as she strode toward the busy cotton candy cart.
"Are you sure you have time?"
When he had first started, Erik never bothered to question her timing, as he hadn't considered it his place. That slowly changed when he realized she had the attention span of a squirrel. Had it not been for him pulling her away from one distraction or another, she would have been late to several vital appointments in the past few months. Erik wondered if he should request a raise for practically holding Daae Enterprises together.
"Of course I do!" She insisted.
Erik checked his watch, checked how far the Augustine Theatre was, and reluctantly agreed.
The line was long but fortunately moved quickly. When it was Christine's turn, she took her time selecting the perfect combination of flavors.
"I think raspberry and strawberry would go good together, don't you?"
"Oh yes, definitely," Erik agreed, only wishing for her to make a decision so they could move on.
"They'll be close to the same color though, and that will look pretty boring…"
"What difference does it make what it looks like? You're going to eat it."
"Yes but I want to look at it first."
Erik chuckled. Had she been anyone else, he would have been outrageously annoyed.
The cart owner chimed in with a recommendation. "I could do strawberry and blue raspberry. Tastes similar but will look different."
Christine's eyes lit up. "That's perfect, thank you!"
The man got to work and Christine watched with rapt attention. Her childlike wonder never ceased to amaze Erik. One moment she could be standing in front of a board of managers, the picture of professionalism as she outlined exactly why their theatre needed her company. And the next, she could be...well, ordering cotton candy at 9:30 am.
When it was finished and they were finally moving along, she had a happy little spring in her step. Erik watched in amusement as she snapped a few pictures of her treat before ripping off a piece.
"Worth it?"
She nodded firmly, mouth full of candy. Then she looked from the colorful sugar cloud in her hand, to Erik, and back again. She popped another piece into her mouth and let it dissolve, testing if it could be enjoyed without chewing. Deciding that it could, she held it out to him.
"Here, try some."
He looked at her in surprise. "Uh...that's ok, thank you."
"Oh come on, please? Look, it's easy," she put another piece in her mouth, wordlessly demonstrating how his mask would not get in the way. He caught on, but still hesitated.
"Isn't that just pure sugar?"
She laughed. "Ya, that's what makes it so good." She again held it out. "Just try it."
"I'm good."
"Are you allergic to sugar?"
"No..."
Christine gave a sly smile, ripped off a small piece, and promptly held it up to his mouth. Erik's eyes widened slightly and he looked at her.
"Come oooon," she said sweetly, like a parent trying to coax a child. "Give it a try."
He hesitated again, wondering if he should just grab it. But her intention was so blatantly obvious that it would almost be rude, if not more awkward, to take it with his hand. So slowly, cautiously, he opened his mouth.
Christine fed him the candy with a delighted little grin. Her fingers brushed against his lips in a way that not even Erik could mistake as anything but intentional. Pure pleasure radiated from his lips to the rest of his body. He barely remembered to close his mouth.
"See? It's good right?"
"Mhm," he hummed, not trusting himself to speak.
Dear god. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? She had to. Surely she had to. Maybe she had caught on to how he felt, despite his strenuous efforts to conceal it. And now she was toying with him, increasing his pain as a boost to her ego.
No, Erik knew better. She was too kind for that. Too pure. Even if she knew, she would never deliberately hurt him. They had grown close as friends over the last few months. She felt comfortable with him, that was all. That was all.
"Oh maybe on the way back we can get snow cones!" She said excitedly, pointing to another cart across the street.
Erik wondered how she didn't have a mouth full of cavities.
—
Mid afternoon, Erik was waiting for Christine right outside a hotel conference room. She never let him be in the room during her meetings, stating that a "dark looming presence" would scare off potential clients.
As he waited, he remained alert, surveying his surroundings carefully. He looked down the hallway and noticed a large glass door leading outside. Something out on the sidewalk caught his eye. A small lemonade stand, just setting up for the day.
Erik looked at the door to the conference room. He looked at his watch. Christine would be done any moment. It wouldn't take long. Was it silly? No...no surely not. She had fed him cotton candy, this was certainly a step down from that.
Decision made, he stepped toward the door.
When Christine stepped out of the conference room, the first thing she noticed was the lack of Erik's comforting presence. Normally it wouldn't have been an issue. But the level of discomfort her current company was causing, made her all the more anxious when she realized he was missing.
Fortunately she didn't have to fret long. The next moment she spotted Erik walking down the hall towards them. She only wished he would walk faster.
"Anyway, I knew I had him the moment I saw him," Mr. Simon was telling her proudly. The last five minutes of their meeting had been consumed by his very detailed hunting story. The first twenty, consisted of him barely paying attention to her proposal, and not so subtly leering at her chest. "Took him out with one bullet. Now his head sits right above my desk in my office. I was barely able to fit him in, my wall is almost full," he laughed at himself. Christine tried an awkward smile.
Then he was stepping a little too close to her. "That's part of why I wanted us to meet here instead. I was afraid all my trophies might have turned your poor stomach. And we couldn't have that..."
He gave her a sickening sort of grin. Christine tried to step back.
Erik had noticed her discomfort even from a distance and had stepped quickly to be at her side in a matter of seconds.
"Everything alright?" He asked gruffly. His eyes were fixed on Mr. Simon. The man was tall, but just barely shorter than Erik. He was clean cut, good looking, and had the eyes of a reptile.
Christine nearly sighed in relief. "Yes, we were just finishing up. Mr. Simon, this is my guard, Erik."
Simon eyed the imposing man before him. "A guard dog eh? You must get heckled quite a bit."
She gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. "Well, more than I would like. We need to get going, but I'll call you sometime next week to-"
"Say," Simon interrupted. His intention had shifted from Christine and was now focused squarely on Erik. Christine frowned at his blatant disregard. "What's with the mask?"
Christine scowled but Erik simply sighed. "I believe Miss. Daae was speaking to you," he responded flatly.
"Ya, just a second sweetheart," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "What's the story with the mask mate?"
Erik rolled his eyes and drew breath to give the same vague, snarky response he gave to every rude interrogator he came across.
But Christine beat him to it.
"Excuse you Mr. Simon, but it's really none of your concern. You are here to negotiate a theatre management contract with my company, not pry into my guard's personal affairs."
His eyes snapped down to give her a venomous glare. "Well well, who's guarding who?" He turned to Erik, "It's just a question mate. You gonna answer it or not?"
"Erik, don't you dare," Christine snapped.
Erik's eyebrows went up. He had dealt with Simons' kind many times before. Rude questions and stares did bother him, but he had also grown used to it. He would ignore them or snap at them, depending on the situation, and move on. Christine on the other hand, seemed much more concerned with the issue.
"Just a question or not, it's inappropriate, not to mention none of your business."
Simon was still barely glancing at Christine. Instead he flashed Erik a taunting smile. "I thought you were the body guard here. Seems I was misinformed. What's wrong mate, don't got the balls to speak for yourself? Need little miss thing to do it for you?"
"Mr. Simon-"
"You must be hiding something really freaky if you're that scared-"
"MR. SIMON."
Finally, he looked at Christine, taken aback by her sudden outburst. Christine slowly inhaled a breath, then let it out with a smile that never reached her eyes.
"I'm afraid Daae Enterprises no longer has a place for your theatre in our system. Good day."
With that, she turned on her heel to leave, leaving a dumbfounded theatre owner behind her. Erik hid a smile as he followed. Simons' face contorted in an ugly mixture of confusion and rage as he watched them walk away.
Then, he stomped after them.
"Now wait just a minute!" He grabbed Christine's arm, pulling her back.
Instantly, Erik snatched his wrist with an iron grip. Simon hissed in pain as his wrist was twisted and wrenched away from Christine. Erik took an imposing step forward, eyes ablaze.
"You do not touch her."
Cradling his now sore appendage, Simon glared between the two people in front of him. He pointed to Christine. "You can't do that! I will be speaking with your father! We've had this contract in the works for weeks!"
Her devilish smile returned and she took a step forward. "We certainly have. And to think, you ruined it all with a few careless words."
The man's face was now crimson with rage. "I will be speaking with Mr. Daae!"
Christine's smile changed to one of mock eagerness. "Oh, please do! In fact, please call him right this moment! That way I can see your face when he informs you that I make all of our contracting decisions. He has no say in the matter. Now please, do accept this with some dignity"
Once again she turned to leave. Erik stared down the confounded theatre owner for a few moments, ensuring he would not make a further nuisance of himself. Satisfied that he was thoroughly subdued, he followed his boss.
He caught up with her just as they reached the front door.
"Christine I…you didn't have to do all that-"
"Oooh, where'd you get the lemonade?" She interrupted, pointing to the clear plastic cup in his hand. Her tone was once again bright and bubbly, as if she had not faced down an irate man mere seconds ago. Erik looked down at the lemonade he was holding. He had almost forgot he had it. "Strawberry lemonade's my favorite, I should get one too."
Erik slowly looked back to her, still trying to process everything that had occurred. "I, I know…it's for you…" He held it out to her and produced the straw he had stored in his pocket.
Christine's face lit up as she eagerly accepted. "Thank you Erik! You're so sweet!"
He gave a little half smile. Normally her compliment would have sent him reeling, but his mind was still catching up to everything else. "Christine…you didn't have to cancel one of your contracts because…because of me. I could have handled him, really…"
She waved a dismissive hand as she sipped on her drink. "I know you could have. But that guy was a douche. I didn't want to work with him anyway. Hearing what he said to you just made it that much easier."
They had made their way outside. Christine checked her schedule, looked up the next address, and turned to the left.
"Do you think Mr. Daae will be upset that we lost a client?"
"Nah," Christine said with a shrug. "Even if he is, he won't be once I tell him what a jerk the client was."
Erik fell silent. He felt like he should say something more. Thank her, somehow. In a way more substantial than a sugary beverage. Unfortunately nothing befitting came to mind, so he resorted to basics.
"Well…thank you."
She smiled at him. It was not a smile of happiness, but of empathy.
"No need to thank me Erik," she paused, looking down at the cup she clasped in both hands. "I know I don't know a whole lot about you, but…I get the sense you're used to fending for yourself…" she glanced at him timidly. His expression was blank but not unkind. "And…well I just think you deserve to have someone else stand up for you, for a change."
Erik was at a complete loss for words. That was, without a doubt, the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. And to have it come from the mouth of Christine made it that much more meaningful. God, he wanted to hug her. He wanted to hold her close to him and tell her just how much she meant to him and express all the words of adoration he had stayed up conjuring late into the night.
Instead, he looked at the ground, coward that he was.
He was worried his lack of response would create an awkward tension. He should have known better, considering who he was talking to. The next second her squirrel mentality quickly fixated on something else.
"Wow, look at those guys go!" She said with a laugh, pointing to a row of runners across the street. A few were shirtless, some of them were decked out in professional gear. "Do you like running? I love to run."
"No..." he answered with a slight shake of his head. He was going to have to learn to keep up with her topic changes.
"I bet I'm way faster than you then," she teased.
"I doubt it."
She scoffed and rounded on him. "What, because you're a man? You think you're just naturally faster than me huh?"
He gave a sharp laugh. "No. My legs are much longer than yours. I can simply cover more ground."
Christine crossed her arms, eyes narrow. "Oh, you know what we definitely have to do now..." she started edging forward ever so slightly.
Erik's face fell. "Christine, no..."
"Christine yes."
"I'm in a suit!"
"Sucks to be you onetwothreeGO!"
And she was off.
Erik growled and ran after her. Not so much to play her game, but at least to keep her within reach. With his luck, today would be the day she decided to get mugged after running out of his sight.
He had to dodge people on the sidewalk, trying to follow the sporadic path Christine carved. All he saw was a moving flash of chestnut hair. How on earth did she manage to move so quickly in heels? He heard someone curse at him as he narrowly clipped by. A glance over his shoulder told him it was a frail looking old woman, who was staring daggers at his back.
Christine ran for an entire block, not slowing once. She finally reached an intersection, which she apparently deemed the finish line. Barely slowing, she grabbed the pole of a stop sign and spun around to face Erik. He closed the last several yards between them, scowling the whole time.
"Ha! I win."
"I wasn't…racing you," He argued with a slight pant.
"Oh really? Cause you were running."
"To keep…an eye on you. That's my job."
Christine laughed and poked his shoulder. "You're just a sore loser."
Erik smoothed out his jacket with a frown. "Well if I had been racing you, which I wasn't, you cheated. So your victory wouldn't have been real."
"How did I cheat?"
"You didn't give a fair start!"
The rest of the afternoon's conversation consisted entirely of proper race procedure discourse.