I love all reviewers and I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. On with the show!
With the masquerade coming up in about a week, Christine was completely at a loss in regard to costumes. There wasn't enough time to completely start from scratch, so she had to make due with what she had. Making the costumes was going to stretch her creativity to its limit. Erik also had no idea what to go as; he didn't care. The boredom that had been Christine's steady companion for most of her time in the house on the lake and her excitement over the ball made Christine obsess over the costumes more than was was really due.
While she was daydreaming and dusting, the epiphany finally came to her. Nothing had inspired it; it was almost as if it had been looking for her rather than the other way around. She would go as the Phantom of the Opera! It would be simple, she would borrow Erik's clothes and mask for the evening. The more that she thought about it, the more perfect it seemed. All that was left would be Erik's costume. There was no way in the world that Christine would allow him out of the house with the Red Death costume, and there were too many bad memories that it brought to mind. Somewhere, she knew that there was an idea that would be just as perfect as her opera ghost attire. The problem was that she didn't know what it was, except at a deeply buried, subconscious level. It was like remembering a dream or running after a smell. Christine eventually knew that she had to make concessions if she wanted to go at all. There was a ticking clock inside her that was counting down the time with the same girlish, ecstatic joy she'd displayed earlier.
After dyeing Red Death purple and stitching an intricate crown, a beaming Christine presented Erik with a skeleton king costume.
"Thank you," he replied tersely, smiling under his mask. Christine desperately wanted to know what his expression looked like, but she did not want to ask Erik to take his mask off.
"Do you like it?" she asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.
"Of course." Almost like a fond parent, he would treasure anything she made.
The night of the masquerade, the Phantom of the Opera and the King of Death merrily made their way down Rue Scribe hand in hand. Erik was uncomfortable walking down the street like anyone else, and Christine could tell from the way he squeezed her hand a little. Whenever she caught his eye, she made it a point to smile, which wasn't difficult. Even so, Erik couldn't deny that it felt good to look like everyone else. He felt confident; it was intoxicating. That night was almost exactly how he felt life would be if he looked normal, but the only difference was that he was surrounded by masks rather than faces. The stars, the fresh air, the lights in the buildings, they were all so perfect! It was enough to make both of them giddy. She'd only been living with Erik for a few weeks, but Christine remembered all that she'd missed during that time. Her memories were only pale shadows of the real things.
It only took the pair a few minutes to walk to the building where the masked ball was to be held in stead of the opera house. It was easily identified by all of the colorful, costumed people standing around it. Christine rushed up the steps, unable to contain her joy.
"Erik, finally!" she said, conveying her elation in those two words. Christine had always been a child at heart, and that side of her was coming out. Still, Erik couldn't help but feel the current of electricity the masquerade seemed to generate and let himself be pulled along by it.
Once inside, Christine eagerly searched the crowd for people she knew, especially Meg or Madame Giry. Unable to tell because of all the masks, Christine decided to look later. At the moment, she would dance with Erik.
The serious, focused way that he approached dancing made her laugh. He didn't want to do anything wrong and ruin the rapture that possess him. It was easy for Christine moving to the music, natural. During the oddly quiet idyll that separated the songs the small chamber ochestra played a cry pierced the room
"Christine!"
Automatically, Christine turned her head in the direction of the catcall. It was Meg coming towards her. She broke out of Erik's arms and moved toward her friend. At the moment, she didn't consider one important thing; Meg had seen her dancing with Erik. Christine was too busy hugging her friend. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Meg." Looking up, she saw a figure that was clearly Madame Giry behind Meg. The older woman gave her a smile as if to say, "It's good to see you. I'm sorry my daughter is so energetic this evening. Let me go talk to Erik."
"How is you cousin's house?" Christine asked.
"Terrible." Meg pulled a face. "Christine," she said, changing the subject, "Who was that man you were just dancing with? I've never seen him before."
Unsure how to respond, Christine bit her lip and avoided Meg's innocent gaze. She decided the truth would be best, even if it made Erik mad after a moment of deliberation. Eventually, the truth would come out anyway. She took a deep breath and launched into a explanation.