Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters.
Chapter Three:
The dazzling sun expanded across the small lavish room of young Christine, settling on her face. She cringed, the intense rays warming her face. She sat up lazily, smacking her puffy lips and looking about her room. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she jumped out of her soft bed, stretching her limber body. She felt exuberant compared to the night before.
"Oh I feel as if today will be a good day," she moaned, arching her back. "Nothing to do, oh I could relax all day."
"Christine! Are you up yet? We need to get going, our dresses aren't going to fit themselves!" came the muffled shouts of Meg on the other side of her door.
"What? What dresses? Meg I think you're tired, go back and rest, you're losing your pretty little head," she yawned.
"Oh Christine have you forgotten already? Our dresses for the Masquerade! It's six months away, and you know how long it takes Madame Frome to piece the material together!" Instantly, Christine's eyes widened, and she shrieked, scurrying about her room trying to find something suitable to wear for her outing.
"Meg I'll have to meet you there, I'm not yet ready! I'm so sorry!"
"Oh Christine, calm down. I'll see you there in a moment, I hope." she said, her voice fading as she left.
"Oh Christine, what to wear, what to wear! Foolish girl, not having remembered, how stupid I am!"
"You are not stupid, Christine. You merely need guidance." Erik walked carefully over to her frantic form, smiling at her panic. She jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Oh God, Erik you frightened me!" she said, partially out of breath. She placed her hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Once her breathing settled, she glanced at her masked angel. He was smiling. The expression looked alien to his usually somber face. Hoping it was much more than just a facial expression of the moment, she smiled back.
"I take it you are not mad at me anymore, Erik?" she took a step towards him. Hopefully, a night's rest was enough to calm his nerves, and renew his feelings for her. He sighed, removing a glove.
"I'm still rather upset with you, but I thought about it in my sleep, and figured I wouldn't want to go through the remaining years of my pathetic life filled with more anger than usual." He paused, staring into her eyes, making her blush. Breaking eye contact, she spoke softly.
"How can you think in your sleep, I can barely think clearly when I am awake," she stated.
He strode to her, closing the gap between them, and gently took her hand.
"You should know the answer Christine. I am an Angel, I can do anything. Now come, you need to eat something. Obviously not even a rich man like the Vicomte can satisfy your hunger. Come along," he said, gently tugging her arm.
"But I need to attend my fitting Angel-"
"Erik."
"I mean Erik, I still need to go to my fitting, and I don't even have an outfit to wear to go out." He pulled the glass aside, allowing her to go in before him.
"Don't fret. Goodness look at you, you're a wreck at the moment. Simply calm down, it has been taken care of." She turned to him, puzzled. He pretended not to notice.
"Pardon me?" They turned at a corner, descending further into the composer's lair. He ignored her, and they walked the remainder of the way in comfortable silence. Several minutes later, he helped her up from the swaying boat. She stood, taking in everything her eyes could reach. Memories of her previous visit flooded her cramped mind, and she grinned.
"You are not going to sing for me this time, Monsieur Phantom?" she teased. He chuckled.
"Silly girl, if you want an encore, you can have it. You can have it for the rest of your life if you desire." He glanced at her, his face serious, yet a glimmer of hope quickly flashed through his eyes. She felt nervous, knowing he was probably expecting her to pack her belongings right then and there, and turned away, observing her surroundings once again. She looked back at him to ask him a question, but he'd disappeared. Biting her lip, she walked up the rocky stairs. As she continued her short journey, she saw something that made her stomach churn. Erik's words were sharp, rusted daggers to her heart in his efforts to make her feel guilty, but as if words just weren't enough, he'd provided a visual to make her want to die on the spot.
Weeks ago, when he'd whisked her away for the first time to his underground domain, she'd spotted a miniature stage of the Opera House's very own. He'd taken his time to carve intricate little figurines representing herself, Carlotta, Piangi, himself, and an extra ballet rat here and there. That wasn't what was agitating her though: he'd recently carved a new little man, and a new scenery set. Perched on top of a golden angel sat a little man, cloaked completely in Ebony robes, with a striking, infamous white half mask. He was facing a man, newly carved, with wavy, honey colored hair, and a small woman with thick curls, both apparently immersed in each other as they exchanged a kiss. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and the angry, bitter feelings she'd felt the day before returned with a powerful force.
Erik returned with a tray laden with fresh fruits, plump, juicy ham, and an array of freshly brewed teas. He walked briskly, confident that he wouldn't drop anything, and placed the handsome display on a table near the entrance he'd just come from.
"I hope you're hungry Christine, for I slaved away early in the morning to provide you with a bountiful breakfast, and considering you didn't eat well last night, well, yes, here it is." He looked up after having set the table, and was shocked to see her lips trembling, and her body slightly shaking. His eyes roamed over to the small people next to her. He cursed himself under his breath. But not wanting to mistake her tears for the wrong reason, he asked.
"What is it? What's wrong? You're not hungry?" he asked striding over to her sad form. She held her hand up.
"Don't come any closer Erik, please." She choked on her words, hardly able to breathe.
"What is it girl?"
"How can you continue to be so kind to me, when all I've done is cause you so much sorrow and pain? You should just leave me and let me face the world on my own, because I don't deserve anyone as good as you. You deserve the world Erik, the world should be kissing your feet, and I should be the girl outcast for being such a fool." she whispered. He walked closer to her, ignoring her pleas to stay away.
"How can you say that? You are the very foundation of my life, if not for you, I'd have ended my life already. You are the missing note in my music; you have completed unfinished operas and countless scores of once sorrowful music." He unexpectedly took her in his arms, holding on tight as she tried to break free. Finding it useless to struggle in his strong embrace, she gave up, breathing hard. Once she'd settled down and was able digest his sound, his words finally took meaning to her.
"Are you saying you love me then? You still have not admitted that you love me, Erik. I'm waiting, and I don't think it's fair considering I've admitted it." He let her go, walking away. She almost whimpered as the warmth of his clasp left her.
"No you haven't. I don't recall you saying I love you at all-"
"I love you, Erik." She said boldly. He froze in his track, his heart racing. Had all his years of waiting and hoping and praying to an unseen God finally paid off? Would he finally be able to see the light of day that only she could provide? His eyes closed, and a ghost of a smile passed through his face.
"Well? Do you have anything to tell me, sir?" she asked expectantly. His eyes snapped open, and he frowned. He could kill a man, threaten to get what he wanted, but he simply couldn't bring it upon himself to say three little words.
"In time, Christine. Come and eat something. He turned around, and saw the disappointment in her eyes.
"I fear I'm not very hungry anymore."
"Christine, please, I put forth much effort into this meal to satisfy the hunger I know you have." She didn't budge. He sighed, knowing what he had to say, but hated to.
"If you wish to make me happy, you could at least do this one thing for me and dine with me." She looked down, and slowly made her way to the table.
"Thank you, Christine." She nodded, and looked up, figuring she'd might as well enjoy the meal he'd assembled for her. Eyeing the fresh strawberries, cherries, grapes, and small kiwis, an idea made it's way into her desperate mind. She abruptly stood up, flying down the stairs to retrieve something, then returned.
"What are you doing?" Erik asked, worried as she came to stand behind him.
"Trust me Monsieur." Erik began to panic as the world before him turned black. She'd tied a blindfold over his eyes, shaking with happiness as she continued her impromptu plan.
"I simply want to play a game, Erik. I will give you something to eat, and you must tell me what it is."
"And if I get it wrong?" he drawled.
"You shan't be penalized for getting it wrong, no matter how many times you punished me for faltering on a note," she said, smirking. She leaned over pulling her chair and the fruits towards them, and sitting before him. She plucked a cherry from it's bowl, and placed it delicately on his lips. Desperately wanting this silly little game to end, Erik tried to bite it, but was let down as she pulled it back, tantalizing him. Tracing his lips with the small red fruit, she daringly placed her other hand in his, biting her lip in anticipation of his reaction. But, he simply sat there apparently oblivious to her hand, trying to eat the fruit. At last, after having tortured him enough, she allowed him to bite it.
"That is, my dear, a cherry. And do not tell me I'm wrong, because I know I'm right." She giggled.
"Yes sir, you are right." Next, she picked up a grape, and stuck it in his mouth, half of her finger along with it. He closed his mouth, and she stared in awe as his soft lips touched her pale skin as she pulled her finger out.
"Grape, with human flesh. Now I know you lot think of me as a monster, but there is no need to assume that I am also a cannibal." She laughed, snatching a strawberry. She teased him for a short moment, then allowed him to eat it, adoring the way his jaw moved.
"A strawberry, Mademoiselle."
"Yes," she breathed. What Christine did next shocked them both. Watching him innocently eat the small fruits had focused all her attention on his surprisingly pink lips. She'd never noticed how soft they looked. Completely submerged in her observation, she was unaware that she'd leaned in a little too close to his face, and was shocked as she discovered that her lips were almost touching his own. She made a bold decision then. Gathering all her will power and sucking in a large amount of air, she courageously leaned forward those last few inches, placing her lips on his. She felt his entire body stiffen, and for a minute she feared he would push her off. But surprisingly, he just sat there. She pulled back frightened, and he slowly, with a shaking hand, pulled off the barrier of his vision. His eyes were on fire, glowing with some unknown emotion that Christine had never seen before. Her stomach twisted into a squirming knot.
"I'm sorry, Erik. I know you must think me foolish now-" he pulled her back, kissing her again, this time allowing her to kiss him properly. A dam inside Christine broke, and a wave of relief settled over her body. Butterflies flew all along her tummy, and she loved every second of this man claiming her mouth.
Erik, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck despite the confident picture he was painting for Christine. He'd never, in his entire life of roaming the opera house, or the streets of Paris, kissed a woman. Christine on the other hand had (although he hated reminding himself of it), and considering she hadn't pushed him away, he thought he might be doing a fairly good job.
He couldn't believe this was actually happening. She was years younger and she knew what she was doing, while he just mimicked everything she did. She pulled away momentarily, nibbling his lower lip.
"Oh, Erik," she sighed. Two small words were all it took for him to melt in his chair. A smug little thought ran through his mind. 'She never once spoke in that tone to the impudent Vicomte.' She crushed her lips to his once more, possessing him, drugging his senses. But no matter how much he was enjoying himself, he detested the fact that she was doing all the work. Realizing for the first time that her hand was in his, he resolved to turn the situation around. Using all his might, he pulled her out of her chair, and sat her delicately on his lap. She broke the kiss, gasping, eyes wide as he gazed at her grinning. She continued to merely sit there, doing absolutely nothing but staring at his face. Growling in his frustration for more, he roughly pulled her back, forcefully taking advantage of her mouth. He'd waited far too long to stall any longer
He wrapped his arms around her, and she followed suit, beaming with uncontainable jubilance. There was not a single thought in her mind, and she was finally able to forget all her troubles and the dreadful Vicomte. Erik, though, was always thinking. And the more he let himself think, the less he would enjoy any activity.
This, it seemed, was too good to be true. He sat thinking, as the little temptress explored his mouth with her small tongue. He'd taught himself through his harsh life, never to get his lingering hopes up, for everything he'd ever had had been ripped away from him, leaving him there to bleed. His eyes snapped open, and a sense of remorse overtook him. All of it seemed too much for him at the moment, and he abruptly pushed her off, setting her away from him.
"We can't do this," he breathed.
"What?" she asked in a haze. He left her, flying into the other room, and returning with a package.
"You must leave. I cannot deal with this right now, Christine. You must leave, now. Open the package, and then proceed with your fitting."
"But I thought-"
"Well whatever it was you were thinking was wrong. You must go now. Now!" she ran after him as he sprinted to the small boat.
Moments later, they were back in her small room, Erik in a rush, and Christine terribly confused. He hesitantly placed a swift kiss on her cheek, and made for the exit.
"Erik, wait. Will I…will I be seeing you soon?" she asked, though she feared she already knew the answer. He ran his hand through his hair, exhaling.
"I don't know, Christine. I have something extremely important that must be taken care of, and it will most likely take all of my attention away from everything else. I will see you in time, though. I bid you a well remainder of this year, and please, stay out of mischief. I-I…Farewell for now." The words he still couldn't say stayed lodged in his throat as she shut the mirror, and fled down.
"Until the end of this year," she whispered, tears streaming down her pink cheeks. The weight of the words he'd thrown at her brought her down to her knees, and she sobbed uncontrollably for what seemed like hours. Wiping away the salty droplets, she began unwrapping the package she held. Inside, was the most beautiful dress Christine had ever laid eyes on. A beautiful, sky-blue dress, laced with white, and stitched with intricate sea-green patterns. She looked around the room, knowing he was everywhere, and smiled, a sad yet thankful smile.
"Thank you Erik."
Managing to find someone to help her into the gorgeous, and dodge pesky ballet rats' comments about who'd she'd given into to acquire the stunning outfit, she entered Madame Frome's place at around noon.
"Christine, that dress!" Meg exclaimed, rushing over to her friend. She sighed in awe as Christine twirled about for her, causing quite a commotion from the other women in the small store.
"Oh what a lovely dress!"
"You simply must tell me where, or who got it for you dear, I must have one for my own. Oh Herbert would simply die seeing me in that!"
"Oh I saw material like that in Persia when I was vacationing with my darling fiancé. Oh you lucky girl, material like that is hard to come by, and very expensive. You have quite a man, young lady," a woman said as she brushed by her, smirking.
'Oh if only you knew,' Christine thought. These women could brag about Erik for ages, but would stop dead if they found out he was the infamous, disfigured Phantom. She sighed sadly, rustling over to where Madame Giry stood waiting for her. As Christine passed her coat to the young apprentice, Madame Giry caught her by her wrist, keeping a firm, but gentle grasp.
"You are playing with fire, child. I am warning you now: what you intend to do with Erik is your business, but if it should lead to his harm, you will not only suffer his wrath, but mine as well. That man has endured too much to have everything crushed again. You as well should watch yourself. The Vicomte might look a bit soft, but I know there is more than meets the eye. Take care, child." Christine weakened under the strong gaze the older woman held with her. She didn't know such soft spoken words could stir such chilling feelings.
Meg pretended to observe herself in the mirror next to them, as she listened to everything. Eyeing the two suspiciously, she said nothing, and left.
"What a day, don't you agree?" Christine asked exasperated that night. Meg glanced at her as she stretched.
"Quite tiring, yes. And full of interesting things. You know, things you should tell your best friend…"
Christine looked up, curious. Meg was staring at her strangely.
"What is it?"
"I overheard you and my mother talking. Would you like to tell me as well? Although, I know you're seeing the Phantom, I'd just like to know why."
"You know? How?"
"Erik. I know of only one man named Erik, and mother once told me that the Phantom's name was Erik. Now why have you chosen him over Raoul?"
"I don't know how to explain it, Meg. If you knew him the way I did, you'd know why I fancy him over Raoul. He's so much more dangerous, and we both are interested in similar things. He makes me feel things that Raoul can never come close to. When I kiss Raoul, I want to heave, and I have, as I'm sure your mother has told you by now. But when I kiss Erik, there's this small fire in the core of my stomach and my heart, and I want more. I see him, and my heart swells with love, and it races until it's fit to burst. I see Raoul, and it races, but in a way where I want desperately to fall off the roof of the opera house. I love Erik, Meg. I really do." Christine wiped the small tears that had begun to form in her eyes, and Meg wrapped her in a comforting embrace.
"Marry him, Christine. I am with you with all my soul, and I shall support you on everything you do. Marry him, and let me be your child's favorite auntie." They giggled, rocking each other.
"Oh I wish for that with all that is in me, Meg. But I fear I won't be seeing him soon. See, I kissed him, and he became suddenly startled, and bid me a well remainder of the year, saying he'd be busy with something. What do you suppose that means?"
"Well, with what my mother has told me, he's probably shocked that someone is actually in love with him, the way he's in love with that person. Give him time Christine, he will come around. I promise." She kissed her best friend on the cheek, and bid her goodnight as Christine left for her room.
"I pray that you are right, Meg," she whispered.