Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is God, Gaston Leroux is God, Gaston Leroux is
God. Read the original!
~ Chapter three ~
She took his hand this time, for the first time ever, without any hesitation. His eyes seamed to burn deep down into her soul, but she didn't turn away. She swallowed and looked calmly into his eyes while she rose. He seamed to be judging her, and she was hoping to pass the test.
The music filled her up inside and she didn't want to spoil the mood. Nothing in the whole world could have felt more right during that particular moment than to take Erik's cold, bony hand, and feel how he with timidity placed his other hand gently around her waist. As if he was afraid that she would break, or disappear if he held her too hard.
It was like a dream.
Everything felt so unreal. Maybe it was the wine, the music; maybe it was the soft candlelight, but she had never been this relaxed with Erik since the day she found out he wasn't the Angel of music. But in a way he still was. Maybe not the Angel of music, but he was her Angel of music. She had never heard anyone sing like he did, or play. And she probably never would again. And no one had ever taught her as much as he had. So maybe he wasn't an angel, but he truly was music for her. He had taught her to use her voice in a way she never dreamed she could do. They had sung with more emotion than she ever thought possible. And he had made her a star. She would always be grateful for that.
Erik led her easy in the music, for one that was unused to touch and therefor probably never had danced with anyone before in his life, he sure knew how to move, and act. He felt each and every differentiates in the tune, and used it all to its full capacity without overdoing it.
It felt like a magical moment. The scent from the flowers in the room seamed to become stronger and stronger, as time passed and it was as if their smell filled Christine's lungs with contentment.
Erik had closed his eyes, as if he could feel his other senses if he kept them closed. If Christine felt fear or something like that, he could understand, but he didn't want to see it in her eyes, not now. They danced slowly to the music and after a while she leaned her head against his shoulder. She heard him gasp for air as she did so. And she felt his muscles tighten under his black dinner jacket. Did her action surprise him so? This man. This fearless, strong, and unscrupulous murderer got so weak under her touch. How could it be? She still couldn't figure him out the least, and it felt as a sad disadvantage. What kind of life had he lived?
After a while she felt him relaxing again. She closed her eyes and they danced the night away. The music was intoxicating, and very relaxing, soon she found that she liked dancing with her eyes closed. She knew Erik held his eyes closed also, and it did intensify the other senses. She now felt the music in her veins, making her warm and she became more attentive. The scent of the flowers and candles, Erik's cool body, and his hand around her waist. Firm, but still soft somehow. It all felt right. The music united them.
She didn't want to open her eyes again. She would much rather stay just like this to keep the calm moment forever, so when the music died out she at first didn't notice it.
Erik gently whispered her name. Not until then did she first realise that they had stopped moving. No, she didn't want it to stop! She didn't want reality to break into the sweet dream she had made, with the help of the beautiful music by Schubert. In her dream Erik wasn't a murderer, in her dream he was just a special man, with special gifts, nothing more. She refused to move she held her eyes closed hard, so as to fight the unavoidable.
"Christine. my dear." he said, reluctantly.
She opened her eyes at last and met his yellow, questioning ones. He was standing so close to her!
"Aren't you tired? It has been a long day for you, you know." He had slowly raised her hand and now boldly, but very gently caressed her blond hair.
"No!" Christine interrupted him. The fact was that she was more tired than she had ever been, but like a stubborn child she refused to admit it, not wanting the night to end, ever. She knew that with the raising morning sun, reality would strike, and Erik would be turned back into the feared murder she deep, deep down still knew he was, but she refused to think about that now. And when the morning came Raoul would be there wanting her to marry him. Wanting her to be his bride. And she would say yes. For she loved him. But tonight. tonight belonged to Erik and her. Tonight she was his bride. Tonight it was the least she could give him.
~ Chapter three ~
She took his hand this time, for the first time ever, without any hesitation. His eyes seamed to burn deep down into her soul, but she didn't turn away. She swallowed and looked calmly into his eyes while she rose. He seamed to be judging her, and she was hoping to pass the test.
The music filled her up inside and she didn't want to spoil the mood. Nothing in the whole world could have felt more right during that particular moment than to take Erik's cold, bony hand, and feel how he with timidity placed his other hand gently around her waist. As if he was afraid that she would break, or disappear if he held her too hard.
It was like a dream.
Everything felt so unreal. Maybe it was the wine, the music; maybe it was the soft candlelight, but she had never been this relaxed with Erik since the day she found out he wasn't the Angel of music. But in a way he still was. Maybe not the Angel of music, but he was her Angel of music. She had never heard anyone sing like he did, or play. And she probably never would again. And no one had ever taught her as much as he had. So maybe he wasn't an angel, but he truly was music for her. He had taught her to use her voice in a way she never dreamed she could do. They had sung with more emotion than she ever thought possible. And he had made her a star. She would always be grateful for that.
Erik led her easy in the music, for one that was unused to touch and therefor probably never had danced with anyone before in his life, he sure knew how to move, and act. He felt each and every differentiates in the tune, and used it all to its full capacity without overdoing it.
It felt like a magical moment. The scent from the flowers in the room seamed to become stronger and stronger, as time passed and it was as if their smell filled Christine's lungs with contentment.
Erik had closed his eyes, as if he could feel his other senses if he kept them closed. If Christine felt fear or something like that, he could understand, but he didn't want to see it in her eyes, not now. They danced slowly to the music and after a while she leaned her head against his shoulder. She heard him gasp for air as she did so. And she felt his muscles tighten under his black dinner jacket. Did her action surprise him so? This man. This fearless, strong, and unscrupulous murderer got so weak under her touch. How could it be? She still couldn't figure him out the least, and it felt as a sad disadvantage. What kind of life had he lived?
After a while she felt him relaxing again. She closed her eyes and they danced the night away. The music was intoxicating, and very relaxing, soon she found that she liked dancing with her eyes closed. She knew Erik held his eyes closed also, and it did intensify the other senses. She now felt the music in her veins, making her warm and she became more attentive. The scent of the flowers and candles, Erik's cool body, and his hand around her waist. Firm, but still soft somehow. It all felt right. The music united them.
She didn't want to open her eyes again. She would much rather stay just like this to keep the calm moment forever, so when the music died out she at first didn't notice it.
Erik gently whispered her name. Not until then did she first realise that they had stopped moving. No, she didn't want it to stop! She didn't want reality to break into the sweet dream she had made, with the help of the beautiful music by Schubert. In her dream Erik wasn't a murderer, in her dream he was just a special man, with special gifts, nothing more. She refused to move she held her eyes closed hard, so as to fight the unavoidable.
"Christine. my dear." he said, reluctantly.
She opened her eyes at last and met his yellow, questioning ones. He was standing so close to her!
"Aren't you tired? It has been a long day for you, you know." He had slowly raised her hand and now boldly, but very gently caressed her blond hair.
"No!" Christine interrupted him. The fact was that she was more tired than she had ever been, but like a stubborn child she refused to admit it, not wanting the night to end, ever. She knew that with the raising morning sun, reality would strike, and Erik would be turned back into the feared murder she deep, deep down still knew he was, but she refused to think about that now. And when the morning came Raoul would be there wanting her to marry him. Wanting her to be his bride. And she would say yes. For she loved him. But tonight. tonight belonged to Erik and her. Tonight she was his bride. Tonight it was the least she could give him.