On a typical Thursday night, the bar kept a decent crowd—everyone from music fans to people just looking to flat out get hammered. This night, however, was unusually busy. Erik had already spent the entire car ride trying to coax Christine and her nerves, but now, as they walked through the door to find the bar packed and bustling with business, he too found himself thrumming with equal anxiety. Whether it was for her or for the music they'd worked on together, he was not sure. Perhaps both.
They'd already made their selection of what she would sing. Every solo artist was allowed five minutes of performance time on stage, enough for her to squeeze in two songs. He made her practice time and time again, first to get comfortable with singing them and second to get comfortable singing them in front of him, as he had become aware of how she blushed with nerves every time he requested that she sing something for him.
Christine turned to him now, her eyes wide, begging: please don't make me do this. He bit back his own feelings of apprehension and lifted a hand to her cheek.
"You'll be fine," he promised, trying to speak over the crowd. "Just be yourself, concentrate on the music, and every little worry will wash away."
Her eyes slipped down to his mouth, and she tilted her head ever so slightly towards him in a request. He smiled and pressed his lips to hers for a short moment, afraid that if he held much longer, his brain might fuzz from the exhilaration of kissing in public and he might have to be carried out on a stretcher.
He slipped her electric guitar off his back and handed it to her before she walked off, making a straight line to the bar.
"Nachos?" the familiar bartender questioned before Erik could even have a moment to open his mouth.
He chuckled and shrugged, slipping a ten dollar bill over the counter.
"Nachos, again?"
Erik's head shot in the direction of Nadir taking the stool beside him and his friend laughed at his surprise. "Thought you might be able to avoid me? Been too wrapped up with this girlfriend of yours, eh?"
Erik's mouth molded into a hard line. He wasn't sure so much if he could define Christine as his girlfriend. Labeling her so felt like it reduced her being; she meant so much more than that. And 'love of my life' seemed too cliche.
"Wrapped things up early at work?"
Nadir sighed and perched his arms upon the bartop. "It wasn't all too busy today."
The bartender placed Erik's nachos before him, receiving a thankful nod before he lifted a cheese-drenched tortilla chip from the basket. "Have they replaced me yet?"
Nadir nodded, cringing slightly at the sight of his friend eating his overly-processed nachos. "The poor boy is quite young, though. He struggles with keeping up."
"He'll learn eventually."
Making conversation was rather taxing knowing somewhere in the back of the bar Christine was probably pacing a room, shaking her hands as if she'd just washed them, one breath away from hyperventilating. That image of her the night she confessed to signing up for a soloist spot remained in his mind. A worried, distressed Christine was not his favorite image; he preferred her smile over the ridges that formed between her brows when she gave him a look of concern (although he had concluded that she was adorable either way).
By the time Christine came out, Erik had already munched through his entire basket of nachos and downed half a mug of beer in spite of Nadir's teasing side-comments which often prompted a disconcerting glare on Erik's end.
The Christine he saw on stage now was remarkably shy in comparison to the Christine he saw on stage with Mephistopheles. His heart ached at the way she ducked her eyes from the crowd, allowing her hair to curtain her face as she plugged her guitar into an amp. But when she finally found her way to the mic after fixing the guitar strap over her shoulder, strumming the first few chords to the song they'd practiced time and time again, everything else seemed to fall away, and all that mattered in the world was her and her music.
The crowd applauded as her song met its end, and Erik smiled as she did, finally finding the courage to meet the crowd's gaze as she did so. She paused for a second, then a second longer, and suddenly too long. Her face did not belong to Christine—it belonged to a deer in headlights.
Erik stood from his seat, fully prepared to run on stage and sweep her into his arms before she could lose it all. But he held back and froze as soon as her eyes found him beyond the crowd. She appeared to swallow nervously and dropped her eyes back to her feet.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. Erik thought he might die at the sound her voice—so strong in song, yet so weak now before him. She shook her head and, in another wave of courage, met the crowd's eyes once again. "I planned on singing another song tonight, but I don't think it's the one that needs to be heard." She strummed a chord in trial and sighed to relax.
When she proceeded, Erik realized it had not been a song he'd heard before. She'd played seven songs that she'd wrote, but never this one. The chord progression was entirely unfamiliar to him. When she began to sing, he returned to his seat, leaning forward towards her as he would when she sang to him in her bedroom.
The song was about him, or at least he was sure it was about him. She sang words of newfound love, being cautious and afraid to have her heart broken again. The lyrics pulled his heart in every direction—in ways that would make him cry and in ways that made him wish there was no crowd or stage between them so that he could wrap his arms around her and hold her as tight as possible, never letting her go.
The song was well-received, but Erik no longer cared about the crowd's opinion for her sake. His ears were deaf to the applause and deaf to Nadir's questions as Erik stood from his seat once more to travel to the back of the bar. A bouncer stood between him and the doorway, and suddenly all hopes of seeing her before her next performance slipped away.
A heavy hand found his shoulder, and Erik turned to see Nadir by his side once again. He smiled, a mischievous glint twinkling in the back of his eyes. "I've got this."
Erik would've questioned the practicality of Nadir's plan, asking how he thought that it was possible for him to slip past the bouncer as tall as he was and especially with his stark white mask, but as soon as he heard the thick Persian accent emerge from his friend's mouth, he knew it was all over with. The unforgiving gaze the bouncer had put on shifted into something of a panic as Nadir frantically asked if the man had seen his made-up daughter, swearing he'd seen her walk into the bar.
Erik made his way into the back and traveled down a long hall, catching the back of Christine's head before she entered the bathroom. He should've thought better of it, he knew, but he decided against his better judgment and entered after her.
Christine stood before a mirror, hands gripping the ceramic rim of a sink. They made eye contact in the mirror, and she whipped around, staring at him questioningly for a moment before she gave in and ran to wrap her arms around him. He accepted her, happily folding her into his arms as well.
By the time they pulled away, she had unshed tears in her eyes, her brows furrowed deeply.
"What is wrong?" he asked quickly, his hands finding her wrists.
"I froze."
"Oh, Christine." He folded her back into him. "You did a splendid job. Your little hiccup doesn't matter, because you sang tonight and gave them your music in spite of your reluctance."
"I didn't sing for them." Erik cocked his head at her, maintaining his grip.
He knew what she meant without asking. He could see it in her eyes exactly what she was feeling, and felt it deep within him too.
"Kiss me."
Her request had come out on a breathless note, and he realized his breathing had become shallow in the brief period of having her so close. When he finally pressed his lips to hers, however, it felt as if his lungs were going to burst, his body thrumming with life. Her hand found the back of his head, fingers slipping into his hair, and pushed him closer.
The bathroom door burst open. "Chris-"
They broke apart frantically. The dark-haired girl Erik recognized from Christine's band stood in the door with the most stupified expression he'd ever seen. Before the girl could say anything, Christine moved to the door and pushed her out of the bathroom, glancing back at Erik once before leaving, a small grin upon her lips.
By the time Erik had made it back towards the bouncer, Nadir had already moved onto the phone, speaking in Farsi as he pulled his hair with a clenched fist. He pretended to sigh in relief, ending whatever "phone call" he'd been on while he proceeded to thank the bouncer with a light pat on the shoulder.
Erik made his way back to the bar, smiling his thank-you to Nadir who returned it with a wink as he headed out the front door.
Christine had something of a renewed confidence when her band came out. There was no room for anything more than smiles, energy, and music on that stage.
Erik waited by the back for her, greeting her with a kiss and an open hand that rid her the burden of carrying two guitars at once.
"Where to now, my Christine?" He smiled as he remained leaning over her, their mouths inches away from one more kiss.
Her cheeks warmed with a peachy red. "Home?"
His smiled widened, and he straightened himself, turning as he took her hand. He didn't have to ask if she meant his or hers; he already knew.
Ayesha welcomed them back with a loud wail, headbutting their legs as they stopped to set the guitars down.
"Good evening," Erik chuckled as he leaned to scratch her back.
Christine started toward the bathroom door with an overnight bag. "I'm going to go wash up for the night."
"Okay."
Erik moved Christine's guitars to a safer corner of the room and cracked open a can of wet food for Ayesha, spooning it into her dish. The cat, however, was hungry and not in the mood for allowing him to dawdle. Headbutting his hand out of the way, she forced him to pour the second half of her food onto the countertop. He heard the bathroom door open as he began cleaning up the mess, swearing at Ayesha for being an impatient girl.
"Erik?"
"I'll be there in just one second," he replied, his voice layered with frustration from the cat.
Small arms snaked around his torso when he made his way to the sink to rinse out what residue was left in the can, pulling him against the tiny body behind him. "Ayesha can clean up her own mess. Come to bed," Christine whispered, standing on her toes to speak into the shell of his ear.
Erik's throat emitted something of a growl. "Count that as two impatient girls," he spoke mainly to himself but loud enough so that Christine could hear it as well.
She released him when he spun around, his narrowed eyes widening at the sight of her: strawberry cheeks, hair tossed into a messy bun with loose whisps at her ears, a silky ice-blue chemise in place of her earlier jeans and t-shirt. He didn't have to say anything for her to know just what was going on in his head; his eyes said it all.
He carelessly tossed the can in his bucket of recyclables and absentmindedly followed Christine into the bedroom, his eyes never seizing to scan every inch of her that was visible to his eye.
She had him over top of her, his lips brushing hers, seeking what angles she liked most. He seized when she did, meeting eyes that spoke everything he felt but couldn't articulate.
"Did you like my song?"
It took him a moment to realize she had spoken, lost in the sea of her eyes. He cleared his throat and smiled. "It was good."
Christine frowned. Good. Just good?
"There are some things I would change, like when-"
Christine punched his shoulder, and he yelped in pain. "Asshole!"
He laughed as he brought a hand to his shoulder and rubbed what he was sure would be a bruise by morning. "I'm just joking, Christine." His voice softened into a sultry state that made her feel as if she was melting. "It was perfect."
Suddenly they were nose-to-nose again. Christine lifted her arms, placing a hand on each of his masked cheeks.
"Here," Erik said, lifting back, "let me take care of that."
Christine smiled as he pulled off his mask for the first time on his own since she'd been around, and placed it on the nightstand nearby. Cautiously, he turned back to her once more, grinning meekly as a smile crept onto her lips.
His eyes traveled down her once more, stopping at a long scar that sat lengthwise on the front of her thigh. She did not flinch when he traced the scar with the pad of his thumb.
"Ice skating," she explained. "With my dad."
Erik smiled at the little faded slash and bent to press his lips to it. She groaned his name, receiving a small hush in response.
"Permettez-moi d'embrasser toutes vos cicatrices, ma Christine."
Christine relaxed against the bed and let him kiss her, let him hold her, let him love her as she loved him. Everything felt as it had earlier that night when there was nothing more than her and music. It didn't matter if the world was crumbling away outside; all that mattered was them.
A/N: Supposedly "Permettez-moi d'embrasser toutes vos cicatrices, ma Christine," translates to "Allow me to kiss all your scars, my Christine." In case you too do not speak French.