Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"W-what?"
"Your Angel - Erik - he's in love with you!"
She shook her head.
"No, no he's not," she sighed. "I already told you-"
"But I've just just spoken with him, Christine! He told me so himself!" Raoul insisted.
Christine's face went pale and she gripped his shoulders.
"Oh, Raoul - Raoul, what have you done? You followed him and spoke to him? You shouldn't have done that! He's going to be terribly upset!"
Raoul frowned.
"He seemed fine..."
"He hates when people seek him out, Raoul! One time one of the managers sat in box five and waited for him to show up so he could talk to him, and after that Erik disappeared for an entire week! Oh! I might never see him again now..."
Raoul began to feel uneasy. Had he done the wrong thing? He was only trying to help, and it had seemed right at the time!
"I'm sure it will work out..."
But he wasn't sure, not any more.
"I'm sorry, Christine," he was suddenly shamefaced.
"It's alright, Raoul," she bit her lip. "You didn't know."
The next four days felt like an eternity for Christine. Rehearsals seemed to drag by, and she felt she was endlessly glancing up to the rafters, hoping that he was up there silently watching and not hiding away in a tomb somewhere.
Every soft noise in the hallways made her pause and whisper his name, listening intently for some sort of reply. She wasn't sure if it was merely the creak of the walls or some small animal she didn't want to imagine, or if it really was him and he was merely ignoring her. Either option made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
She'd make her way to the room where she had her lessons, sitting there on the little couch and staring miserably across at the empty piano. She'd call out for him sometimes, hoping he'd be there somewhere. She called out apologies on behalf of Raoul, hoping out loud that he hadn't take offense to anything he had said to him. Her only response was silence.
Erik didn't hear any of this, though. He didn't leave his house on the lake for the entire four days. He set about making a replacement mask right away, throwing himself into his work so he wouldn't have to think about what was to come after this. There were powders to mix at just the right temperature, and clay to be shaped just so, and ages of waiting until it dried hard enough, then sealant to spread across it, and layers of paint here and there, and then some more sealant.
He didn't dare go out of his home without his mask, especially not after being accosted by that boy. That incident still shook him, the suddenness and unexpectedness of it all. He was unnerved that it might happen again, and while he supposed there was nothing he could do about that, at the very least he would prefer to be wearing his mask if or when it happened.
Finally the mask was finished. He held it up and inspected it under the bright electric light in his home. He was pleased with how it turned out, almost better than his previous one. His pleasure in how it turned out was dampened by the fact that it wouldn't really matter after his next lesson with Christine. After tomorrow afternoon, he wouldn't be face to face with anyone very much at all. But still, it was nice to look nice just for oneself, and even though his home contained no mirrors, he liked to be able to reach up and touch the smoothness of his face and pretend that it wasn't artificial.
One more day, he thought to himself as he brushed his thumb over the cheekbone of the mask.
Christine sat on the couch in their music room, nervously watching the clock. She was afraid that he would be terribly angry when he arrived, that he would feel betrayed that she had told Raoul enough about him that he was able to find him. Or perhaps he just wouldn't show up at all, he might never show up again. Or he might appear just to scold her and then disappear forever. Her stomach felt like it was in knots.
But sure enough, right as the clock struck three, Erik stepped out from behind the mirror.
He had paused before sliding the mirror back, taking a moment to watch her before she knew he was there. She looked terribly worried. That worry seemed to melt away when he stepped into the room, but a bit of apprehension remained in her eyes despite the smile that formed as she saw him.
"Hello, Christine," he greeted her.
She rose to her feet, but in her painstaking appraisal of whether or not he was angry at her she neglected to return his greeting.
His own smiled faltered.
"Is something wrong, my dear?"
"No, no... I was just worried that you would be upset with me - because of Raoul, I mean," she dropped her gaze to the ground.
He walked over to the piano bench, suddenly unable to look at her. He hadn't expected to topic to be brought up so soon - he had just wanted their lesson to be like old times before everything had to change.
But still- "I could never be upset with you, Christine," he told her gently. "Shall we begin?"
Her tension began to fade as they settled into their familiar roles once more. She sang the best that she could, while he offered praise and corrections in turn. It seemed they ran through nearly every song in her repertoire, and when she happened to glance up at the clock she was surprised to find that he had let the lesson go on for much longer than he usually did.
He noticed her confused glance at the clock and hesitated.
"Would you like to go on, or should we stop here?" he asked, trying to keep the question casual and bracing himself for her to ask to be finished.
"Could we go on? If you don't mind, that is," she looked hopeful.
"Of course, my dear. I happen to know that we will be playing Hannibal next season, would you like to go over some of the songs from that? It's never too early to prepare, you know."
She nodded eagerly, he handed her the sheet music and lyrics.
Sweet, trusting Christine. She had no idea why he wanted to prepare her for this role so far in advance, couldn't possibly know it was to be their last lesson together.
He tried to fit as much advice as he could into the time he had, tried his best to memorize the pitch of her voice and savor these last moments with her.
Her voice cracked on a high note and he stopped, cursing his own selfishness in keeping her here so long, in pushing her voice so much in one day simply because he wanted to extend their time together. He turned to look at her, concerned.
She had a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
"That's enough for today, Christine."
"Are you sure? I can keep going-"
She didn't want him to leave. She had missed him so over the past four days.
"I am certain, you've had enough. We can't risk straining your voice. Please, sit down," he motioned to the couch, and she sat.
There was a moment of quiet, of hesitation, as the weight of everything they had each said to Raoul - and had left unsaid to each other - hung heavy in the air.
He dearly regretted what he was about to do. She didn't deserve it, but he knew of no other way to ensure she'd have the future she needed. It was easy to love something when you didn't see the whole of it, wasn't it? Loving the actual fact was much more difficult.
"The Vicomte came to talk to me the other day, I'm sure you're aware," he kept his tone even.
She swallowed hard and gave a single nod, willing herself to continue eye contact.
His resolve faltered and he looked away. When he spoke again there was a tremble to his voice that he couldn't quite hide.
"You know that I'm very proud of you, don't you, my dear? You've worked so hard over the years, I know you'll go quite far if you put your mind to it. Working with you has been- it's been an unparalleled delight."
He smiled wanly at her when he finally managed to look at her again.
"Thank you, Erik," she smiled back at him, but she had never seen him like this before and was beginning to worry.
He studied her for a moment, that look in her eyes only confirming what the Vicomte had told him.
Erik had given her his promise that he would listen to her. Well, he was listening now. He should have noticed it sooner.
"I have quite enjoyed our lessons together, as well," she blushed. "And I- I have missed you these past few days."
His throat constricted with emotion. He had promised to listen to her, but that didn't mean he had to agree with her. It was time to get it over with.
"Christine, do you know why I wear a mask?"
She hesitated, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.
"I mean, not exactly, but that is your business, of course - I do not wish to pry. I had assumed- well, I had assumed you were... disfigured."
She was terribly embarrassed to have to say it.
"You are correct. We- we should not have secrets from each other, do you not agree? If two people love each other, they should not keep secrets."
She nodded, beginning to see where he was going with this.
He rose to his feet, realizing that he was blocking the only door in or out of the room - if she wanted to bolt out the door (and he was willing to bet she would) she would first have run towards him to get out. That wouldn't do.
"Trade places with me, Christine," he told her softly.
She was confused but she complied, and made her way over to the piano bench while he stood near the couch.
This was better, he thought. Now she could flee much easier. He only hoped she wouldn't faint, because if she did that would complicate matters entirely. She might hit her head if she fell, and afterwards he'd probably have to carry her into her dormitory and place her into bed. She probably wouldn't be pleased if he had to have his arms around her like that, had to go into her private room, not after how he was about to frighten her.
His heart twisted painfully for his poor, innocent angel who was unknowingly about to gaze upon the face of a monster. But it was the only way to break her of this spell, this naive feeling that she had mistaken for true love. She would see his face, and she would realize that she didn't - couldn't - really love him, and she'd put all this - and him - behind her. She'd go on to have a lovely career, she'd meet some other nice young man, and her life would be everything it should be.
So he looked at those perfect blue eyes one last time, then looked away and raised his hand to his mask and pulled it from his face in one swift motion. There was no other way around it.
She sat still as stone on the bench.
For added measure he reached up and pulled his wig off.
There was a short intake of breath, but no screams, no terrified scrabbling to get away. She didn't bolt for the door as he had expected.
For a moment she was so silent, so still, that he was afraid she truly was about to faint. That worry overpowered his shame at his appearance, and he dared to glance up at her.
She hadn't lost any color from those angelic cheeks, nor did she seem scared out of her wits. She simply sat there and looked at him.
She hadn't realized he wore a wig. She also noticed his hair - what was left of it, at least - was a much lighter brown than she would have expected, considering the black of the wig. She pressed her lips together.
He distantly realized she had asked him something, but he hadn't caught what the exact words were.
"What?"
"I said, does it hurt? Your- your face."
He stared at her dumbly. That was not the reaction he had anticipated in the least. He gave a small shrug.
"No... Sometimes. The mask can irritate it."
He sagged against the wall, suddenly unsure.
She bit her lip, realization hitting her as she took in the weary, defeated look on his face.
He hadn't shown his face because he expected her to stay. Quite the opposite. He had expected her to run, to abandon him. He didn't believe she truly loved him.
It now made sense, him placing her closer to the door, the way he couldn't meet her eye when he took his mask off. The daze that he seemed to be in now, as though he didn't think he'd get this far. The stiffness of his shoulders spoke not of a man revealing a secret to his lover, but of a man preparing for rejection and insults.
She must admit, his face was... Not pleasant, but this was Erik! Erik, who had worked so tirelessly to form her voice. Erik, who had listened to all of her little gripes and worries and comforted her when she was upset and celebrated with her when she was happy. She loved Erik. His face couldn't change that, even if it was rather awful.
She rose from her seat on the bench and willed her hands to stop shaking as she made her way to where he leaned on the wall.
She noted the confusion that passed through his eyes as she drew closer, and he straightened up as she stopped close to him.
She hesitated only a moment out of concern that she might hurt him, but she kept her touch delicate as she placed both hands on either side of his face. He flinched at the contact, but did not pull away. There was no hesitation as she pulled him down to kiss him.
He reached his own hands up to grasp at her wrists as though to pull her hands away, but he simply left them there instead.
"Christine," he whimpered softly when she pulled back.
He had agonized over showing her his face ever since his conversation with Raoul, picturing every single possible outcome - and this had never been one of them. He had never imagined or dared to hope that she might not be repelled by him, that her affection might be unconditional. He was entirely at a loss of what to do.
She leaned up to kiss him again, and where the first kiss had been soft and shy, the second was deeper and lingering and this time he reciprocated.
The small, logical part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to push her away and demand she leave. It bemoaned the loss of all the splendid futures she could have had with someone else, it railed against what was surely a terrible mistake. But despite what so many at the Opera House thought of him, he was merely a very human man, and his will was only so strong.
Christine truly did love him, truly wasn't bothered by the reality of his face, and he wanted that so badly that he simply couldn't turn her away now. How could he turn down her down after this? What Raoul had said was burningly clear to him now - this wasn't a mere crush to her, and she would never have anyone else. He couldn't condemn her to a life of spinsterhood out of his misplaced sense of right and noble. It was a terrible thing to be alone, after all...
With those two kisses she had reduced him from a man who thought he knew what was best for her to a dog at her feet who would anything she asked of him, consequences be damned.
She broke the kiss to catch her breath and he rested his forehead on her shoulder as he silently wept, his arms going around her torso and pulling her tightly to himself. He knew that the shoulder of her dress was going to be soaked through with tears, but surely after everything else she would forgive him that.
She put her arms around his neck, pulling herself even closer. She rubbed one hand up and down his back, hoping to soothe him, and let her other hand wander through his patchy hair, fingers moving in small circles against his scalp.
"I love you, Erik," she whispered, but it seemed to be entirely the wrong thing to say as he only started to cry harder after that.
"Oh, Christine," he sighed when he was finally able to speak again. "You truly are an angel."
She squirmed in his embrace, suddenly shy.
"Was Raoul correct, then?" he pulled back slightly and brushed a stray curl away from her face. "Do you wish- do you wish to marry me?"
What an odd way to propose, Christine thought to herself. She buried her face in his chest.
"Yes, I do."
He made no reply, only gave her a little squeeze.
It was only a few moments later that he suddenly released her.
"It is getting late, Christine. You should return to your dormitory, you've had a very long day. I want you to drink two cups of hot tea tonight before bed - don't think I've forgotten how your voice cracked earlier. The show opens in two days and you need your rest so you can be in top condition."
She raised an eyebrow at this but made no complaint, and let him lead her to the door. Once there he paused, reluctant to let go of her hand. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles before letting her hand slide out of his grip.
"I will see you tomorrow, my dear."
There was a tenderness in his voice that Christine had never heard before, but that she knew she could easily get used to.
Erik didn't know how he was going to sleep a wink that night, plots and plans already forming in his mind. An unknown future suddenly sprawled before him, one he never could have anticipated, but one he was looking forward to very much.
Christine sat on her bed and smiled as she breathed in the steam wafting off of her cup of herbal tea. She closed her eyes. She could still feel the press of his lips against hers. It had all gone so perfectly, except-
Except she still felt a little funny over how he had asked her if she wanted to marry him. Were they engaged now? Or was he merely attempting to ascertain her feelings on the matter? She wasn't certain about either one, and she thought it would be terribly awkward to have to ask him which was the case.
But that was surely a worry for another day. Tonight, tonight everything was lovely, and she wanted to remember it forever.