Erik woke with a start, jumped practically, into an upright position. Christine had taken a step back, alarmed by his sudden jolt. He was not used to having company in his home and had completely forgotten that she was there.
"I'm sorry to wake you," she apologized in the sweetest voice possible, "But I've started my week and it's sort of heavy… could you possibly go out and get me some stuff? I-I'll give you my card."
Erik stared at her for a moment, trying to piece together her words as his mind slowly drifted back to him.
"My period," she elaborated, mistaking his long gaze for confusion.
"I-I know what you meant. Just… give me a second to gather myself. I'll go get you something."
Erik lifted himself off the couch using his knees as leverage. Christine ran off to collect her phone and send him a message detailing what she wanted. He looked to the clock on the microwave in his kitchen and groaned. 4:13 in the morning. Much too early for his taste, even being the night owl he was.
"Here's my card," Christine said, walking back through the door. "The pin is-"
Erik held his hand up to silence her and reject her offering. "It's fine. I've got it."
"A-are you sure?" She wanted him to allow her to pay for something, anything. Especially at least this.
"You are no financial burden on me. I've got it all taken care of." He managed a weary smile as he pulled his jacket back over his shoulders.
"Thank you," she said, weakly smiling back.
Erik approached her, lifting his hand to push back one side of her hair behind her ear. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Don't make too much of a mess while I'm gone. You neither!" he added as Ayesha entered his vision.
Christine laughed, and with that, he was out the door.
He stood in the feminine products aisle, his phone opened on their conversation and his eyes searching frantically for the brand she'd sent him. God, why did there have to be so many options?
"May I help you, sir?"
Erik turned in alarm to find a girl standing at the edge of the aisle, hair dark as ink, eyes just the same, and a slightly amused smile tugging at her lips. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
"Don't tell me," she said, her smile widening to show a neat row pearly teeth, "You don't happen to be Erik, do you?"
He froze still. How did she know his name? Where was this girl from?
She burst into laughter as his mouth dropped open to speak without much accomplishment. "I thought so!"
He waited for her laughing to subside before she explained herself. "I'm Meg," she said, finally having calmed herself down. "Christine has told me a lot about you."
It struck him then. Meg. The girl from Christine's band. "Oh!" he laughed in realization. "Yes! Meg! I recognize you."
She chuckled. "Is there anything I can help you with?" Her eyes shot back to the shelves.
Erik looked back at the selection in front of him, laughing awkwardly now. "Actually, I'm having trouble finding this brand." He turned the phone over to her.
She chewed the inside of her cheek as she examined the message. "Ah, yes… they're right over here." She led him further down the aisle, pulling two boxes for him.
"Thank you," he replied smiling as she handed the boxes and phone over.
"Christine usually likes to take bubble baths when she's on her period," Meg added. "I thought you might like to know."
Erik froze for a second, wondering how she knew he was purchasing things for Christine. It struck him that the messaging app showed people's names at the top of the conversation.
"I don't have anything for a bubble bath."
"Would you like to get some solution?" she asked. "I know her favorite scent. And chocolates! Girls always like chocolate."
"I guess I could get some-"
Her smile widened further and she cut him off. "Great! Let me show you."
Meg, Erik came to learn, was Christine's closest friend. In the short walk to the bathing aisle, she'd revealed to him a small sliver of their history. They'd met when they were just five years old in a small afterschool ballet class they were pushed into by their parents. The girls bonded over their family's similar background being in the fine arts. Meg's mother was a ballerina when she was younger; Christine's father, a violinist.
"We loved classical music. I adored Tchaikovsky, she adored Mozart. I guess we were just destined to be friends." She looked over her shoulder at Erik, a sort of nostalgic gleam in her eyes.
A small chuckle sounded in his throat. "And now you two are in a hard rock band together?"
Meg laughed. "We've got a large palette."
She stopped before a row of bubble bath solutions, searching for a moment before finally finding what she was looking for. Bending over, she pulled a small purple bottle of lavender-scented bubble solution from the bottom of the shelf and handed it over to Erik.
"Now for chocolate," she said decisively.
Erik returned home, a single bag full of full of raspberry-filled dark chocolate squares, bubble solution, and feminine products in his hand. He'd spent nearly a solid hour out, most of it spent talking—more like listening—to Meg's stories about her and Christine. He'd found out that Christine loved horror movies, especially cheesy ones from the 70s and 80s, and that she also liked walking around shopping centers for hours on end, looking around without truly buying anything. Her favorite places to browse were home good stores where the girls would look at the decor on sale and discuss where they'd put what if they had a house of their own.
"I'm back!" he called out, setting the bag on the kitchen counter before removing his jacket.
Christine appeared out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her waist, her jeans absent, and his bed sheet in one hand. He eyed her in confusion.
"I'm sorry." Her voice sounded shaky as if she were on the verge of tears. "I thought I would be able to clean it, but-"
"It's fine," he said, approaching with a hand out to take the sheet from her. He bundled it up into his arms and shot her a forgiving smile. "I'll wash it. Your bag of stuff is over on the counter."
Christine padded over to the counter as he left for his washroom. She gasped at the sight of her favorite self-care products and ran off to the bathroom with the entire bag.
It was early in the morning, she knew, but it had been some time since she'd last enjoyed a bubble bath and she just couldn't help herself. Besides that, the comforting memories of falling asleep with a blanket of lavender covering her skin seemed most pleasant especially at the moment feeling quite embarassed for having made a mess of herself in front of the guy she liked.
A knock at the door sounded as she began drizzling a generous amount of solution into the tub while it filled. "Come in!" she yelled over the running water.
Erik entered behind her with a fresh set of clothes for her to change into, setting them upon the sink's counter. He had changed into his own pair of clothes for the night as well; a pair of gray sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt that, if he pulled it up, would keep from revealing the edge of the scaly, puckered skin on his chest. Christine turned to him with a smile as she knelt on the floor, one hand in the tub's water to make sure it didn't cool down too much as she turned the cold water knob a little further.
"I hope you don't mind that I do this right now." Her head dropped with a sigh. "I should've asked first, I know, but I got excited."
Erik laughed. She could hear that he was tired. Every time he'd laughed, the final one wasn't as even or loud as the previous.
"You can go to bed," she said, sounding as if she did not want to say it. "I'll finish up in a little while. You don't have to stay up because of me."
"It's fine," he replied, adding in the softest chuckle of the night. "I enjoy talking to you."
Christine's lips slowly pulled into a smile, her heart faltering for a moment. She pursed her lips together as she thought. "You could sit on the other side of the door if you'd like." Erik tilted his head toward her, wondering what she meant. "You know, to keep me company."
Erik swallowed slowly, pulling his posture back. He turned to the door, walking out and shutting it behind him.
The tub's water had reached a desirable level, and Christine turned the knobs back so that the water stopped.
"Erik?" she called out in a whisper.
A voice rumbled from behind the door. "Mhmm?"
She smiled. "Just wondering if you were there."
Erik tried to manage another laugh, but it only played out as a smile that she could not see. "I'm here," he assured her.
Christine undressed herself, careful to place her somewhat clean and dirty clothes in separate piles. She rinsed out her underwear so it would be clean enough for her to put back on when she dressed herself once more.
She slipped into the tub with a heavily pleasurable sigh, smiling at how the water helped relax her muscles. Bubbles of lavender surrounded her, and she sat back against the wall of the tub, closing her eyes.
"Did you happen to run into Meg at her work?"
Erik had laid down, nearly drifting off entirely. "I did," he slurred. "She was quite the help."
Christine laughed. "She knows what I like."
"Mhmm."
Christine had tilted over the side of the tub closest to the door, folding her arms on the ledge. "It was certainly kind of you to purchase all of this anyways. You didn't have to do what Meg suggested." She was certain her friend had brought it up without his asking.
Erik shrugged despite knowing she couldn't see. "She convinced me."
Christine rolled her eyes. "I doubt she needed to do that."
Silence filled between them and with that silence, a thought. A funny, little romantic thought.
Christine groaned dramatically.
Erik managed his eyes open, wondering what was wrong. "What is it?"
"I left my bag of chocolate sitting on the back of the toilet," she pouted.
Silence.
"Do you want it right now?"
Christine pursed her lips together in an attempt to push back a devious little smile. "Could you get it for me?" she asked as innocently as possible. Erik froze still. "There are too many bubbles for you to see me," she added quickly as if she knew he was uncomfortable with her request, which she had considered.
The door opened and Erik entered, avoiding looking in her direction. He gathered the bag of chocolates and handed them to her, only seeing her hand.
Before he could leave once more, she spoke out. "Would you mind sitting in here with me?"
Erik turned back again slowly, finally meeting her eyes. She offered him the most precious of smiles next to an innocent flutter of lashes. He couldn't reject her. Of course, he couldn't.
He took his seat by the tub, using the wall behind him to help keep him up. Christine opened her bag of chocolates, pulling a square from within and holding it up for Erik's taking.
He held up his hand in rejection. "I'm fine."
"But they're so good," she insisted, lifting it closer to his mouth.
He locked eyes with hers once more, seeing the same thing he'd seen the first night he met her. He leaned forward ever so slightly and bit off a corner of the square, chewing slowly.
Christine smiled and brought the square back towards herself, biting off another corner. "It's good isn't it?" she asked in between chews.
"Excellent," Erik replied, smiling wearily.
Christine finished the square as Erik leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. She wrapped up her bag and placed it on the floor between his leg and the tub.
He was so peaceful-looking, she thought. Even with the leather mask, he somehow managed to look so natural when he was tired. Her eyes traced the thin line of his lips, soft and relaxed. The little bit of his jaw that she could see was slowly slackening as his breaths grew longer and more steady. Then it was his eyes. The skin of his eyelids were partially melded and his lashes incredibly long and dark.
It pained her that she hadn't seen his face. The idea of his reaction made her heart twist as she remembered his reaction to her seeing the ruined flesh of his shoulder and chest. Every hour they grew closer and closer, and she wanted so desperately for him to allow her to accept his reality. She knew what was underneath, she'd seen pictures of burn victims before. It was hard to look at, she admitted to herself, but it was probably even harder to live with. Maybe at least she could make it a little more bearable.
Christine tilted over the edge of the tub, trying to lean towards him without revealing herself all too much. Even with the slight slosh of the water, he did not open his eyes. She grew shakier as she got nearer to him, holding her breath more and more with every inch she closed between them. Finally, she was close enough, and she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth for a brief and sweet moment.
His eyes fluttered open, relaxed at first, then grew wide as soon as he realized how close she was and what she had done. He brought the pad of his thumb to her lower lip, swiping it across as if to check those were, in fact, the lips he had felt.
This time, he was the one to lean in, slowly as to take precaution in the case that she didn't want more. But as soon as he lips pressed against hers, he knew she did. Christine pressed back in an instant, conjuring a thankful groan from his throat. He broke away after a few moments, studying her lips as if they were something otherworldly.
"I'm going to get dressed, okay?"
It took a moment to register she had said something, and he pulled his hand away from her chin to stand, exiting the bathroom once more. He took to the couch this time, far enough to hear her in case she wanted to carry on with conversation.
He heard the door open once more and her soft feet padded out of the bathroom onto the hardwood floor.
"Do you think this is funny or something?" Her voice sounded with irritation.
Erik sat up and peeked over the couch to find her standing a few feet away, one hand holding a bunched up towel and another on her hip. He did not respond, waiting for some sort of elaboration.
"This shirt," she said, "Do you think it's hilarious or something?"
His eyes fell down to the shirt he'd pulled for her, the word Blondie in a bright road line yellow appearing right next to a young Debbie Harry. Erik laughed. A full-on, hearty chuckle reverberated through him.
"Oh, so you do find it funny?" Christine squinted at him as he fell back against the sofa's armrest.
He shook his head and his laughter settled. "Honestly, I didn't even notice."
She pursed her lips, giving him the most incredulous look she could manage. "Mhmm, sure you didn't."
He pushed out one final chuckle, a small thing, and Christine sighed.
"Come on," she said. "You're joining me in the bed." Erik eyed her steadily, but before he could put up an argument, she fought back, "It's much too cold in here and that couch is not long enough for you to be comfortable, so you're either joining me or I'm joining you to make sure you don't freeze to death."
He smiled wearily and stood, following her off to his bedroom. He had already replaced the sheet he'd thrown in the washing machine with a robin's egg blue one from his closet, making up the bed while he was at it. Christine peeled back the comforter and crawled underneath it to the other side, holding the corner up so that he could join her. With a groan, he set himself down upon the mattress, and she threw the comforter over his shoulder, straightening it to make sure he was covered completely.
She cuddled up with him, shivering as she pressed herself against his side. "You're freezing," she grumbled.
"You're warm," he retorted with a smile.
Christine tilted her head up towards him despite not being able to see in the darkness of his room. "You see? You would be dead without me," she teased.
His hand ran across her hair and tugged at the hair tie that she'd put there to keep it up while she bathed. "I know, Christine. I've been telling myself that every day for these past couple of weeks."
He finally managed to pull her hair from the confines of its bun, and her curls fell out and over her shoulders. Her arms wrapped tight around him and her heart ceased at his words.
She gathered the courage eventually and crawled her hand up to the ribbon at the back of his head, her fingers tugging gently at the bow he'd tied there. His hand seized her wrist in an instant, and she felt her heartbeat settle in her throat.
His breath came out in short, quick bursts. "What are you doing?" For the first time that night he sounded incredibly alert, his speech not a grumble or near-slur of words.
"Erik, I-"
"Christine…" Her name sounded so pitiful now, not the lovely tune he'd seemed to make out of it before. His next intake of air caught in his throat as tears took their place on the edge of his eyelids.
"I just wanted you to be comfortable," she said in defense.
"Please," his voice cracked with a sob, "Please, just let me sleep like this."
Christine felt her heart breaking and she was sure his felt just the same. "Erik, I-I know you're tired. I'm tired too, but I'm especially tired of this."
Erik pushed out the most strangled cry she'd ever heard. He knew it was coming. He'd tried to convince himself that Christine was too good for it, that she wanted to play along as well, but he knew it was all too good to be true.
"Christine…" he whispered in protest.
"It's okay, Erik. I cannot see you. I can only love you."
He squeezed her wrist lightly, letting go with a certain amount of hesitation. Her fingers resumed their work, tugging the end of the bow down so the ribbon fell. She pulled the edge of his mask down and placed it behind him. She could feel his breath shaking more than she could hear it, and so she brought her hand up to his cheek, a cheek she'd never seen and could not see, and felt the scarred tissue there. His shaking grew as her palm roamed the expanse of his cheek, exploring every little imperfection with a gentle fondness he'd never known.
Her thumb found the corner of his mouth and once more she closed the gap between their lips, drinking the strangled cry that resulted from his throat. He pressed back with equally gentle pressure and the tears resumed, his heart soaring off into the heavens until she eventually broke away and wrapped her arm back around his waist.
His hand stroked away at her hair and the tears slowed. He did not hear her whisper of a "Goodnight," falling back into sleep in mere seconds.