A/N: I'm trying to get better with revealing the thoughts and feelings of characters. It's usually what I enjoy most about fanfictions I read. I used to refrain from it as often as possible just because it's so hard for me to write emotions I find to be believable, plus I'm afraid to overdo it. Please tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!

Every night after work, Erik attended the bar in hopes that Christine would be back on stage performing. Even when he was not at the bar, he kept thinking about her. He worried he'd made a bad first impression. He could hardly remember about half their conversation, but he hoped he hadn't made a complete fool of himself and that she might be willing to have another one. He wondered if, when he saw her again, he would even have the courage to approach her once more.

He hadn't told his friend Nadir of this new girl. He knew that if he was aware of his infatuation with Christine, he would not hear the end of it. Lunch would be a constant bombardment of questions on whether or not he'd seen her again and if they'd finally gone on a date and if he'd picked a ring out and... he just wouldn't be able to handle it.

At first, Nadir had only raised an eyebrow when Erik told him to go on without him as they were wrapping things up at work Friday evening. "I'm going to finish up with this customer's order and I'll take a cab home. Don't worry about me."

Then again, Monday evening, Erik tried pushing him away with the same excuse.

"I'll just wait for you. I have to finish up a few things as well," Nadir replied, returning himself to his desk chair.

"Well..." Erik had cracked. He knew his friend would have stayed all night with him had he actually planned on continuing with work. And Erik would've stuck with it as well, but he had a band to see and he was not going to miss it just for pride. "I actually planned on going to the bar afterwards."

And so Erik did. Monday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday night. Nadir allowed Erik's new behavior to slide for the first couple of days, but he grew concerned that it was becoming habit for his friend, and so he decided to go along.

"You ridiculous man," Nadir said, following Erik for the short walk to the bar after work. "I told you not to get hooked onto the alcohol."

"It's not the alcohol," Erik replied.

"What is it then?"

Erik looked ahead of himself in the direction of the bar. Should he dare admit it was a girl that kept him coming back? No. All the teasing and poking that would occur... it would not happen. "It's the nachos," he lied.

Nadir looked at him in disbelief. "The nachos?"

Erik nodded. "Yeah. They're really good."

"A pile of fat and sodium is what's keeping you crawling back every night?"

"Well, when you put it like that it makes them sound bad."

Nadir rolled his eyes. His friend had already lied to him about staying after for work. He couldn't understand why nachos would be a reason for sneaking around his back. Erik was up to something, he knew, and he wasn't going to let him get away with it. "I guess I'll have to try these nachos you speak of."

They sat at the bar, two glasses of water and a tray of nachos between them. Erik truly wasn't all that hungry and he hadn't had the nachos since Christine ordered them, but he ate them anyway. Anything to clear off his friend's suspicions. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was that the alcohol was absent from his tongue or maybe it was that someone else had made the nachos last time, but they weren't as good as they were the week before. Just plain tortilla chips and processed cheese. Nothing special or magnificent.

"I could've sworn they were better last night," Erik said, holding onto his lie by the fingertips.

"They're alright," Nadir said, scrunching his nose. "It's food for alcoholics and people just looking to fill their stomachs. Maybe you were just imagining things with all that vodka in your blood."

Erik's eyes narrowed at his friend, his jaw set hard. "I haven't had any alcohol since that first night." And it was true. He did not want to be intoxicated the next time he talked to Christine, and to him that meant refraining from even a single drop. He wanted to have complete control over his words and it pained him that he could only remember fragments of their last conversation. He tried and tried to remember, nearly driving himself mad when he could not recall an entire sentence.

"Sure," Nadir replied incredulously, rolling his eyes. He was waiting for Erik to break, to order a shot of Smirnoff and drown out his frustrations from the day. Work had calmed down since last week, but he thought Erik might have had other complications he was not speaking of, alcohol serving now as his way to salvation. Usually Erik told him everything, complained about a particular customer or something from his past that was nagging at him. Recently, however, he'd been rather quiet. Few complaints. Nadir didn't know that it was because his mind was occupied with other things like where Christine liked to shop for clothes and how much time she had to spend getting herself to look so pretty.

The crowd behind them cheered as another band took the stage. Hopeful Erik turned, watching as Christine and her other band mates set up, plugging in and tuning.

"Ah," Nadir said with a pleasurable sigh, "Music to entertain us and distract us from the fact that you spent a whole ten dollars on these mediocre chips."

"Shh," Erik hushed, wishing to hear them play.

There were no malfunctioning microphones this time, to his disappointment. They performed the same few songs, throwing in a cover towards the end. Erik hadn't realized, but he emptied the entire tray of nachos.

"As I said," Nadir spoke, plucking the empty tray from his hands, "Music to serve as a distraction."

Erik watched him as he stood, walking to a nearby trashcan to dispose of the empty paper tray. "I was going to lick the rest of that."

"What? The cheese on the bottom?"

"Yes."

Nadir was growing tired of Erik's lies, yet still he played along. "Maybe you need to go on vacation. First alcohol and now dive bar nachos? I don't know who you are anymore."

"Hey, Erik," the voice that had been stuck on repeat in Erik's head for the past week was now approaching him. Erik turned, his eyes locking with eyes which were both sad and bright at the same time. Her hair bounced with her as she walked towards him, setting her guitar case on the ground as she took the stool next to him. "Nachos, please," she said to the bartender standing by to take her order expectantly.

Erik had stilled for a second, staring at her as if she were a ghost or other supernatural being. He did not have to work up the courage to approach her again. Instead, she had approached him. All his worries of having made her uncomfortable dissolved and hope filled every corner of his body.

Christine turned to him, her expression contorting with amusement at his gape. "What?" she asked.

Erik blinked hard, pulling himself from his dazed state. "Sorry," he apologized, "I was just staring off into space."

She laughed. "I hate when that happens. I do it a lot at work. Especially on my most boring days."

Erik nodded, chuckling lightly. He wasn't sure what to say. All the time he'd spent thinking of her was vanishing before him. Every conversation starter he'd imagined, everything he wanted to know and to ask her. It was all leaving him, replaced by a growing awkward air. All he could manage to do was stare into those blue eyes, praying they'd drown him or drift him far from this world.

"Are you gonna introduce me to your friend?" she asked, glancing in Nadir's direction.

"Oh, yeah," Erik said, completely forgetting he was there. "This is Nadir. We work together."

Christine reached her hand out for Nadir's. "I'm Christine."

Nadir took her hand, shaking firmly. "Nice to meet you, Christine." He shot a glance at Erik, releasing his grip on her hand. Erik could feel the quick graze of his friend's eyes on his neck, his lie shattering loudly as it hit the floor. He tried not to let it bother him, to focus on Christine rather than the pestering that was to come.

The bartender placed the nachos before her. "Thank you," she said, reaching into her pocket for cash.

"Oh no, I can get that for you," Erik said, quickly fishing his wallet from his pocket. The nachos, he noted, were only eight dollars. Christine, however, was generous in tipping two and he'd decided it was best to do so as well. He pulled out two five-dollar-bills and handed them to the bartender.

"You didn't have to do that," Christine said, frowning.

Erik waved her comment away, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. "Little money."

Christine pushed the tray in front of Erik so that the three of them could share. Nadir looked at them in repulsion.

"They're really good," she said, grinning at Nadir's expression while pulling a chip from the basket. Erik followed suit despite being quite sick of them. As he brought one to his mouth, however, it tasted much better. They must've put something in them whenever she ordered them. More salt maybe?

Nadir joined in on the nacho eating too, not wanting to be rude although he kept himself to two chips.

"So how was your day?" Christine asked, directing her question at Erik.

"Fine," he said, nodding with a small sigh. "Much better than it was last week."

She laughed. "I wish I could say the same."

Erik smiled. He loved her laugh. Had she laughed the last time they talked? He wondered if it had made him feel warm then as well or if maybe the warmth of the alcohol seated inside of him was much too potent for him to notice the warmth that he felt within his chest. He tossed another chip into his mouth. "You guys did wonderfully tonight."

Christine shrugged modestly, a small, incredulous hum emitting from her throat.

"You don't believe it?"

"I mean, I always could do better."

Erik shook his head. Was that how she felt about her voice? "That doesn't mean you didn't do well. I heard your playing and singing, and it was excellent." Without thinking, he lightly pat her knee. As soon as he realized he was doing so (which wasn't but two pats in), he pulled away. Inappropriate. Inappropriate being a man she hardly knew. But she didn't flinch or pull her leg away. Neither did she stiffen. It was fine. She was fine.

Christine sat grinning for a moment before she jumped, her eyes widening in a sudden realization. "I left my phone backstage. I'll be right back." She stood from the stool, leaving her guitar behind as she ran to the back.

"Nachos, huh?" Nadir teased as soon as she was out of earshot.

Erik rolled his eyes and returned to the tray, taking another chip into his mouth. So it begins, he thought.

"So this Christine," Nadir continued cheekily, watching as Erik's figure grew tense, "Erik doesn't happen to find her... attractive, does he?"

Erik huffed, shoving another nacho chip into his mouth. It was the only thing keeping him from punching his friend. He wish he'd just leave.

Nadir laughed heartily, amused by Erik's silent answer. Erik's shoulders drew up in irritation. It didn't matter whether he spoke or not, his friend knew. Erik, a man who'd spent his entire life trying to build himself into a brick wall was like glass to this man.

"Why do you care?" he muttered, consuming another chip.

"Because I didn't know you were capable of loving anyone other than your own mother. You've always been so... consumed with other personal endeavors."

"I'm not in love, I just like her voice."

"In the same way the nachos have made you a loyal customer to this bar?"

Erik turned to him, his eyes piercing him sharply in their golden amber blaze just the way he desired them to. "Why don't you just leave?"

Nadir smirked. "Ah, you want her all to yourself?"

If Erik's mask hadn't been in the way, his friend would've seen the flare of his nostrils, the deepening red of his face. Only the hard line of his lips, the rising flames in his eyes, and the tensing of what little was exposed of his jaw below the mask served as an indication of the violent storm that was raging inside him.

"I'm joking!" Nadir said, hitting Erik's shoulder playfully, taking a sip of his water as if he were setting his weapons down. "I will leave when she comes back."

It was a short promise, but Erik knew Nadir was a man of his word and he relaxed at that. Yet still, it was not enough that he didn't leave then. When she returned he could slip in a word or two asking her out for Erik or perhaps tell her something embarrassing about Erik's past. The rage that was once boiling within him was now replaced with an immense amount of anxiety.

Erik relaxed further at the sound of her voice in returning. "Sorry about that. Don't want to leave without it."

"It's fine," Erik said, smiling warmly as if he wasn't just about ready to explode and take everyone in the building with him.

"Well," Nadir stood, Erik clenching every muscle within him in anticipation of the worst, "It was nice meeting you, Christine. I've got to head on home."

"Nice meeting you too," she replied, reaching out and shaking his hand one last time.

"See you tomorrow, Erik," he said, slapping his shoulder lightly.

"See you." They watched as Nadir left, turning in the direction of the nearby parking deck.

"You know, I was thinking about taking you up on your offer," she said.

Erik turned to her, his mask shifting as he raised his brow in confusion. "My offer?"

"You offered to buy me a drink last week."

"Oh," he said, trying to recall that part of their conversation. He could picture it. It wasn't something he would've offered had he not had a drink in his own hand and the building fog in his brain. Then it came back to him. "But I thought you said Mamma would kill you."

She chuckled. "She would, but sometimes she goes to bed before I get home."

"Is she against you drinking in general or just drinking in public?"

Christine shrugged. "Just getting drunk on my own without someone to look after me, I suppose." She laughed, a thought bubbling into her head. "I thought it might be funny if we got drunk on a Wednesday night here and sang some karaoke together."

Erik laughed. "So every Wednesday is karaoke night?" He had sat through countless people, the night before, singing horribly and laughing amongst one another, many drunk or wild enough to participate in spite of their sobriety. Everyone seemingly enjoying the company of one another; joy and friendship working at its finest. He too had pictured a moment of him and Christine sharing the mic, a moment of romance between them as their voices intertwined. He kicked the thought aside, though, not wanting to pleasure himself with silly fascinations and fantasies. After a short while of mirthful singing, he realized they weren't going to wrap it up and bring out some bands, so he'd left.

"Yeah. I usually don't come on those nights, but I thought it might be funny if we did it."

Erik grinned. He wasn't sure exactly who the 'we' of her thought was. "You and me or you and Mamma?"

Christine giggled. "You and me." She tried imagining Mamma drunk on the mic singing some song by Katy Perry and shook her head. "I doubt Mamma would want to do that with me. Besides, she is quite old."

Erik felt heat rush to his face at her first three words. She wanted to get drunk with someone she barely knew? And sing in front of a crowd of people? Maybe he'd misjudged her character, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of it all. He sipped on his glass of water for a moment, eyes glimmering at her. "You'll just have to tell me which Wednesday you want to do it and I'll be there."

She smiled. "You're fun, Erik. You know that, right?"

He snorted, nearly choking on his water. "I've heard people say a lot of things about me, but 'fun' hasn't been one of them."

"Then what?" Her head cocked with curiosity.

"Well, just this last week I heard 'douche bag,' 'stick-in-the-ass,' and 'piece-of-shit'."

Christine pursed her lips, trying to apply those words to him. She shook her head in defeat. "I don't see it. Were those from customers at work?"

Erik nodded. "Every one of them."

"Customers just get frustrated sometimes. I bet if they actually met you they'd think you're fun too."

Erik laughed. "You should see my routine. 'Fun' is not a word that can easily be applied to my life."

Christine grinned. "Well, if that's so, we'll have to do that karaoke thing one night."

Erik smiled at the bar in front of him, his mind wandering off on the idea of just what songs they'd sing. Something romantic? Something silly? Either way, if they both were drunk, it would most definitely be less romantic than he had originally imagined. Enjoyable nevertheless.

She sighed and pat the space of the bar top in front of him, gaining his attention once more. "I've got to head on home. It was good talking to you again, Erik."

"You as well."

He watched as she jumped off her stool and pulled her guitar onto her back, leaving the bar with one last smile and glance at him. He tossed out the somewhat empty tray of nachos and headed out shortly after her, looking in the direction he'd seen her walk when she'd left the bar. He thought maybe she was heading to the nearby parking deck, but far down the street he caught her crossing the somewhat empty road, looking both ways before she did so.

He frowned, a rush of concern swiping over him. The city wasn't entirely dangerous, he knew, but it was nothing a girl like her should be walking at night. Especially not alone.

Christine cut another street corner, hurrying quickly back home to her apartment building. It had been another long night at the bar and even longer due to the fact that she had made the decision to extend her stay and talk with her new acquaintance. She was usually discomforted by drunken men, especially those she encountered on the streets, but this one had been nice. And he said he liked her voice! Maybe it was the alcohol, but she didn't care. He'd obviously been sober enough to even noticed she had sung on stage. Or maybe it was just a wild guess made from the guitar she had strapped to her back. Whatever. He wasn't drunk tonight and he still complimented her performance. That was enough. Besides, he wasn't like those dudes that approached girls at the bar and immediately asked for their number or if they were looking for a 'good time'. He was actually conversational and friendly.

Another corner. Quickly now. Mamma wanted her home ten minutes ago and if she was still up she was in for it.

"Looky here," Christine heard, a voice coming from a man leaning ahead of her on the window of an old store closed for renovations, his eyes fixated on her. She looked to him for a moment, her eyes shifting in the direction of the noise without her permission. She swallowed, focusing her eyes back ahead. She shouldn't have done that. She really shouldn't have.

She walked past him, head high, posture confident. He followed, pushing himself from the window. "How are you doing tonight, madam?" She could feel his presence on the back of her shoulder, the toothless smile of sin and ill will.

"Mmm the quiet type, eh?" She heard his devilish chuckle and her legs picked up speed, walking faster.

"Listen," he continued, "I've been kind of in need lately. A little down on my luck, you know?"

Christine swallowed. No, she did not know. She did not understand and she would never understand what compelled these men to think a woman like her would ever give herself over.

Her apartment complex was not far now. Just one more turn of the corner and she would be home.

"I've got a little bit of money and maybe-"

"Christine!" She didn't want to stop, but she did, surprised to hear her name. Maybe it was an angel that was coming to her rescue. Finally, her silent prayers answered.

"Christine!" The voice yelled again and she turned, hearing it come from down the street behind her. A tall, dark figure with a nearly full stark white face was running towards her, not too far behind. The man that had been following her had stopped as well, turning to see the same figure. Startled, he ran across the empty street towards a back alley.

Erik caught up to her, slightly breathless. She stood bewildered, watching as he caught his breath. Two men had been following her. Erik looked at her, his eyes sparkling with golden flakes and half his mask shadowed by the lonely streetlight ahead of them. His face turned in the direction which the other man had ran, making sure he was truly gone, then back to her. "Are you alright?" he asked in between breaths.

"Yeah," she replied softly, unsure whether she should be glad for his appearance or if he might be another assailer.

"Come," he said, his breathing finally back to normal. She felt his hand gently push against the back of her guitar case in an attempt to turn her around. "Let's get you home."

She allowed Erik to walk her back, afraid to push him away for the possibility of the other man returning, her mind running with a thousand reasons why he might have been following her as well. She stopped as soon as they reached the front of her building.

"Ah, so this is it?" he asked, looking up at the face of her apartment complex.

"Why were you following me?"

She couldn't wait any longer. She had to know why, prayed that he wasn't a stalker. She thought he was different. Once and for all she could meet someone in this city that didn't want something from her, just wanted to talk and share some nachos. It drove her insane how she could not just meet anyone like that. And now that she had finally found someone, they were being ripped from her hands right in front of her eyes, replaced by someone else. Unless he could convince her. Oh how she hoped he could prove to her that he was the man she thought he was.

Erik looked at her, his eyes full of concern. He swallowed. "I saw you walking on your own."

"And?" she asked reproachfully. That was no reason for him to follow her.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe." She stood staring, still not entirely convinced. Erik sighed, his shoulders slumping. She was going to be difficult. He wish she knew everything that was flowing deep inside him, that he'd spent countless hours thinking about her and hoping she was doing alright and wondering if she was thinking of him as well. Now he had the opportunity to help her and to keep her safe and... and she didn't believe that he had good intentions. "I know I shouldn't have followed. I just didn't want you to…"

"To what?"

He didn't want a million things to happen. Every possible scenario of what could have occurred had he not interfered flowed rapidly through his mind. He couldn't expel to her just everything. It would scare her that he'd even been capable of imagining those things happening to her even those thoughts had scared him as well. He wished they hadn't crossed his mind. He didn't want them to cross hers. "To get hurt."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Erik squinted at her, a small puff of irritation coming out of his nostrils. Did she not realize the reality of the situation? "Are you certain?"

She pouted her lips, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I was fine," she muttered through gritted teeth. "I was almost home anyways."

"Christine, the men out here are dangerous and-"

"And how am I to know you're any different?"

Her words were a punch to his gut. All he wanted was for her to trust him. He knew she had every right not to, but he just wished he could convince her. Erik stood for a few moments, silence passing between them with the bitter air.

He tried calming himself before speaking, his voice as soft and genuine as he could manage it. "You have no reason to trust me, and I'll respect that. I'm sorry for following you, Christine. I truly am." He decided it was best to leave it at that. The more he talked, the worse things got. He didn't want to lose her. But the more he thought about it... he was sure he already had.

Erik turned to head down the street in the direction of several cabs parked on the side of the road.

"Wait," Christine called softly. Had he started walking, he might've not heard her. He pivoted back in her direction. Her face had softened. "Thank you." She was grateful. She truly was. She knew what could've happened to her. She was aware of the dangers of the world and, had Erik not stepped in, she knew very well she might not have actually made it home. As much as she wished she could have protected herself, she knew she probably wouldn't have been able to.

He nodded and turned back in the direction of the cabs. "Will you walk me home next Thursday?" she asked after he got a few steps in.

He stopped and looked back at her, his brow raising beneath his mask. "You want me to?"

She paused for a moment of reflection, feeling hesitant. "Yes. I do." It seemed safer. Either trust her life with a man she'd just met or trust she could make it back safe again on her own. It didn't matter which way she went, she was still gambling with her life.

"Alright," he replied.

She smiled for a moment before backing towards the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Christine watched as he walked away and towards a taxi at the end of the street, his tall figure turning one last time to look back towards the apartment complex before entering the vehicle.

"You're late." Mamma was waiting for Christine in the kitchen. Her old age had taken a toll on her, her under eye bags heavy as if two stones were set beneath her skin. But Christine noticed something different now. Her eyes were red. Unusually red. And not the type of red where one had been staying up all night to make sure someone they cared about got home, but the red where someone had been crying.

Christine practically tossed her guitar in its case on the floor. "Are you alright, Mamma?"

The old woman held tightly onto her mug of tea, the tips of her fingers going white as she did so. Her shoulders rocked with her as she choked, her head turning in an attempt to spare Christine of her tears.

"Mamma!" Christine ran to her side, gripping onto her arm.

"I'm sorry, Christine," she said between tears. "Aunt Inga passed away this afternoon. I just received a call from Uncle Edward."

Christine felt frozen for a moment. Then she felt like she was going to vomit. "Aunt Inga?" She hadn't been very close to the woman, but she knew she had a kind heart and was Mamma Valerius' only sister. In a family that had consisted of four other boys, Aunt Inga was the only hold of sanity Mamma felt she had growing up. Besides Big Mother, that is.

Mamma nodded.

Christine hesitated for a moment, not sure how to react. "I'm… I'm sorry, Mamma."

"It's fine, my dear," the woman laughed for a moment. "I guess it was her time." She started crying again, incapable of holding back from the aching call.

Christine enclosed her arms on Mamma's shoulders in a hug so tight it would have broken a glass. Mamma rubbed Christine's shoulder out of gratitude.

"It'll be alright," Christine consoled, whispering into Mamma's hair as she continued crying. "It'll be alright."