Part 14:

E-

"Hey, Erik?" Christine asks after a moment of reverent silence.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I don't wanna be a bother, and I don't want to be rude or intrusive or anything, I mean, I certainly don't want to just invite myself into your home after you just got back but, uh.. Can I stay the night?"

"You want to stay with here with me? Tonight?" I ask, pulling myself out of her hair to look at her properly, our hands still bound to each other's forearms. She shakes her head to free her vision of her displaced hair, then nods at me.

"Yeah. I'm, uh.." She hesitates, looking down. I wait patiently for her to finish her sentence, nudging her gently to continue. "It's dumb."

"I sincerely doubt that, Christine." I give her arm a squeeze. "What is it?"

"I just don't want to ride across town and sleep alone and wake up alone and what if I have a dream and I think it's real and something even more dumb happens because I can't tell the difference between dreams and reality and I just don't want to leave you right now and we don't even have to go right to bed or anything-" She pause for a breath, and I take the chance to put my hands on either side of her cheeks, stilling her.

"You are more than welcome to stay for any reason. My home is yours, if you want it. You could even move in, if you wish to. U-unless that's too forward, o-or simply improper, of course! I simply mean that I do not mind at all." Christine cracks half a smile. I feel my cheeks warm. I detest how much and how easily I can fluster myself.

"You mean it?"

"Indeed. I would even prefer it, to have you close, tonight at least. You don't have to decide anything else tonight, or even soon."

"I would like to stay, then. Tonight at least, like you said." She beams again, skin wrinkling under her eyes. "But first, you wanna walk around for a bit? It's a nice night out.." I remember, suddenly, that we are outside, and that, worse, I took my mask off. I look around as calmly as I can, which is not much. No one's here but what if there had been? Why did I- Well of course I did it for her but-

I feel the cool edges of my mask being pressed into my hands and I look down to see Christine's doing the pressing. She looks up at me with compassion, concerned. She says nothing, and I can't seem to think of anything either, so I take the mask and place it back on my face, where it belongs.

"I apologise.." I manage to say as I tie the ribbon, flattening my hair.

"You're fine, Erik. Well, I mean.. I understand. Are you okay, though?"

"I am. I… forgot myself." For a blissful, dangerous moment, I really had forgotten exactly who and what I am, or, I suppose, what I appear to be.

"I'm kinda glad of that. You looked really happy." Christine says, putting a hand on my arm. My heart twists in my chest, feeling guilty though I know not what for. "We can go inside, if you want. There's always tomorrow for walks in the park." Ah, there it is. I crave to hide away again, to disappear into my home, safe and sound and separated, but I know she wants to walk. I want it too, but this time the want is not greater than the fear.

"I.. If you do not mind, I would greatly appreciate that, yes."

"That's fine." I have half a mind to try to power through the knotting anxiety in my stomach, but Christine is already tugging me by the arm, inside, to quiet and safety. I hold myself back from taking in an obvious breath of relief, though I do relish in the relief itself. My heart is pounding, restless and unsure, as though I were fighting for my life, when in reality I was only standing outside. Outside! Who knew this would be the most fearsome thing I could encounter?

Didn't I once roam wherever I pleased? Doing and taking what I needed to survive, careless of rules and boundaries and others' limitations? And now, now that I am absolved and free, I find myself afraid to do so again? How many times did I lust for the open air from behind my windows and fence? How often did I daydream of just stepping beyond the door? Now that I have, now that I can, why am I so afraid?

I ask myself these things as we trudge up the stairs, mirthless. Did I ruin the light mood we'd talked our way to? Damn it, damn me. Things are supposed to be better now. Damn it.

Christine turns as she tops the stairs, offering her hand again, smiling. Perhaps it's not as ruined as I thought.. I smile back, though the edges of the mask on my cheeks remind me that my expressions are once more hidden.

"So, what should we do?" Christine asks as I shut the door.

"Do?" I blink.

"Yeah. I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. And I don't think you are either. I know you probably weren't expecting me, so you don't have any plans to entertain me, but was there anything you were going to do anyway? Anything at all?" She explains.

"I.. I was cleaning when you arrived this morning. Goodness, that was only this morning. Ah, anyway, it- it's rather dusty in here, from my time away. I was trying to remedy that."

"Then let's get to it!" She exclaims, suddenly very perky, and it feels infectious. I cannot help but laugh, thoroughly cheered by her mood.

"Very well. My queen commands.." I head over to the island, ducking down to open up the cabinets. Inside are my cleaning supplies, organized by type and usage. Just in front, however, are the glass cleaner, a couple towels, and the dusters, right where I hastily stuffed them to greet Christine. Reclaiming them now, I hand the cleaner and the towels to Christine. "I'll dust if you'll wipe off all the surfaces you can reach?" She grins, and I wonder if she's taking this too seriously, or if perhaps it's just the ecstasy of being together again that's getting to her, like it's starting to get to me.

"It's a deal." And she takes to the task with gusto. I chuckle at her enthusiasm, and get to my self-assigned task as well, using my considerable height to wipe down the numerous frames and lights and shelves in my studio. It's not a particularly difficult task, but there is much to do, and a heavy layer of dust has accumulated over the months. I'm nearly halfway done with one side of the room when I hear her.

She's singing.

Though she adores music as much as I do, I've only heard her sing a scant couple times, each one so small and timid and half-conscious. Now, she is purposeful, and confident, so sure of herself and her voice rings with it. Those precious glimmers were truly blessings to my ears, but this, now, is infinitely more in a way I can't quite describe. I stand stock still, barely breathing, trying to gauge if this is real. It certainly seems that way.

I force myself to turn away from the shelf to see her, to really know this is real. There she is, cleaner in one hand, towel in another, singing as she works. Singing!

I gasp lightly when I realize I recognize the song. It's one of hers, but one of her favorites, one she played on special occasions before. 'It's a special song,' she'd said, 'and I feel like I have to really feel it when I listen to it.' She's about a fourth or a fifth of the way through, which means she only just started, and only just gotten her confidence up, or perhaps this means she's only now gotten into the song, leading to the confidence. It's hard to say. But I know, as she sings, she does the song a great justice, regardless. I find myself wanting to join her. Her voice is so sweet, not quite smooth, but nowhere close to a husky sound, and the mixture is alluring to the ears. It's tempting in it's own way, drawing me out, asking- no- begging to be joined.

I want to, but do I dare? I know the words, I've even sung them before, though alone, but does she want me to? Would I be an intrusive force in her song, or a welcome partner? Her voice rings through the studio, the acoustics not quite fit for the performance, but somehow flattering anyway, and I feel the need to join in become overpowering.

I raise my voice to hers in the chorus, hers faltering for a second in surprise, but only for a second. Then she raises her own voice again, mixing with mine harmoniously, though I only act as a secondary, supportive sound. Her lead is perfect. We mix well together, I'm unspeakably pleased to say, and the song passes too quickly between us, our tasks completing at the end as well.

Breathless from either the chore or the singing or both, we've met somewhere between where we started, the last words lingering between us. Our eyes are met, our hands are matched, and I can't imagine anything other than the moment we're sharing. I can hear the instrumentals in my mind finally fade away too, until only the sound of our breathing fills the air.

"I didn't know you could sing like that.." Christine says eventually.

"I didn't know you could, either." I reply. "I knew you had talent but that.."

"But you, your voice is, is.. amazing, perfect!" She exclaims, eyes wide and starry. I retreat from that, shrinking from the praise. I know the value of my voice, and I know it's power, but it's nothing compared to her and hers.

"It's nothing like yours, dear. You have quite a gift.. You have so many talents.." I shake my head, lost for a moment in her perfection.

"Oh, you.." She blushes with a quirky grin, looking away. "I guess it got the job done, though. Is there anything left to clean?" She half-jokes, still averting her eyes.

"We could probably scrub the floor, but I haven't the patience for it right now. We should.. probably strip the bed." I think. That's the next thing I can think of, anyway, and it's relevant to Christine's stay here tonight..

"Alright. Do you have a washing machine here?" She asks, setting the cleaner and soiled towels down on the island, fortuitously close-by. I set the duster down as well.

"I do. It's in that door by the stairs, there." I point. It's just before the door to the stairs to the shop, hidden away. The room is small and cramped, but functional. "But we don't have to worry about washing tonight. I have several spares. There's even a couple color choices. Do you have any preferences?"

"Not really." She shrugs, still smiling softly. She feels so.. alright in this moment, simply and utterly fine with everything as it is. "What kind of options do you have?"

"I have black, pink, and gold. And a gray, I think." It's been a while. What's clean and what isn't?

"I'd like pink or gold, I think. I don't really mind." When did she get so close, and when did her hands find themselves in mine? Could it be that we were always this way?

"If it's up to me, I choose gold." I nearly purr, too happy to find myself here, hands tight in hers, eyes locked with hers.

"That's okay with me." She murmurs back. She's so close, practically pressed up against me, face angled up towards mine, which is angled down to face hers. Masked, of course. Could I ever be this confident unmasked? So sure of myself with her? So close? I know that just a few moments ago, outside, we were this close, probably closer, and yes, unmasked, but why, then, does this feel so much more? I suddenly want very much to kiss her, to press my face to hers, lips locked tighter than any gaze could bind us. Can I be that confident, even masked? We're so close; it would not take much to make this impulse so. She's so close, her eyes fixated on mine, full like the moon and sweeter, far, far sweeter. "Hey." She whispers, her breath tangible on my neck and chin, harsh and soft at the same time.

"Yes?" I can only ask, heart spiralling.

"I love you." She says, and it's clear and solid and real and true, more real than anything I've felt before.

"I love you too." I say. And this, too, is more real than anything I've spoken before. I know it will be more and more true every time I say it.

"What next?" She asks. I blink. I don't know how to answer except to act. I remove my hands from the crooks of her elbows, placing my too-wide palms on the curve of her jaw, and close the space between our faces, kissing her. Lost in the feeling of my pounding heart and her soft lips, my eyes close. I'm not sure why this simple act is so important, why it felt so necessary, or why it feels so satisfying, but it is. It feels so right to be here, pressed against her, close and happy and dear.

Although, now here, goal accomplished and desire fulfilled, I'm not sure what to do, so I pull away the slightest bit, our lips just grazing each other. With my eyes still pulled shut, I can feel her smile.

I'm not certain why, but I start to shake, everything alight with nerves and a quaking, racking sense of fear.

"Erik?" Christine breathes, steadying me. "What's wrong?" What, indeed. Everything was- is- perfect, so why is this happening?

"I.. do not know. I didn't think- I wasn't sure-" My thoughts fumble, form, and die before I can identify or address them. "I don't know." I open my eyes and let my hands fall to her shoulders. She searches my eyes, for what I don't know, but this, too, keeps me steady.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm here." I nod.

"You are." I take a deep breath, wishing I had a better way to silence the sick feeling of unease. "I think.. I keep expecting something else to go wrong, and nothing has, and hopefully nothing will, but it's an.. unexpected, unanticipated- I've never had anything as good as this- I don't want to ruin it, but I am very afraid, Christine. And I've never-" Heaven help me, I can't even finish the sentence, only shaking my head.

"That's okay. I mean.. it's understandable. But I'm here for you." She says. She's so worried, I can see, and for me, and I have nothing to be acting like this over. It was such a good moment, and I've gone and ended it, haven't I? I suppose in lieu of an external conflict to address, my mind went and made one for me. Or perhaps I was more nervous about kissing her than I thought. I am so inexperienced with all this. With happiness, with love. My heart aches; was I always this emotionally frail? Have I burdened her with my limited heart and soul?

"I think that was a brave thing to do." Christine's voice breaks through my internal self-interrogation.

"Pardon?" I tilt my head, caught completely off guard.

"Sometimes it's really, really scary to do things like that. And I guess, with all this uncertainty, you being back for the first time in months anyway, I was too afraid to try anything myself, and I didn't want to make it awkward by asking, so.. I don't know. I think that was brave of you. Does that make any sense?" She explains.

"Yes, I think I understand." It weighs on me immeasurably that we were caught in the same quandary, but that I was the one to do something about it. "So, you wanted- with me?"

"Only a lot. But I didn't know what your boundaries are or if it was, uh, appropriate, I guess? I mean, you just got back from a three-ish month involuntary vacation and we hadn't seen or heard from each other in all that time and I guess I still feel kinda nervous about everything but I'm so glad to see you and I want you to know, I mean, I wanna show you how much I missed you and care but I don't want to, like, overwhelm you or something so I'm- I'm really glad you did that, I guess.. I'm not sure I had much of a point there..". She rambles in her typical nervous fashion, sighing at the end. My heart continues to twist under her words, their meaning, how impossible this all still feels. It aches, but how I love it so.. "And, of course with you. You're the one I love, after all. It'd be a little weird to me if I didn't want to kiss you." I chuckle, a bit awkwardly.

"It's still so strange to try to wrap my mind around, to try to comprehend the truth of the situation. I'm me, after all. No one- this is foreign territory, Christine. I am a stranger to this. I am.. I'm trying to understand. I am." I attempt to sound reassuring, but it comes across as pleading to me, and I am ashamed to say that my trembling has not yet stopped, or even slowed. I feel that I must be clinging to Christine, clutching at her existence like mine will crumble away to dust if I stop. I stand hunched over her, a feeble man liable to break at any moment. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. This is- it's normal. It's okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just.. so glad you're here at all. There doesn't have to be anything more than that, tonight, or- or ever, really. We just gotta be true to what we're feeling, alright? So.. so what do you feel like?" She presses forward, stretching up to be closer, our noses, mask or otherwise, bumping.

"I feel.. incredibly lucky to love you. I wish.. I suppose I wish only to hold you, for now, and try to remember that this, and you, are real." I feel so very tired, now, emotionally exhausted. Christine smiles, her cheeks entreating on her eyes.

"Then that's all we've gotta do for now. If you're tired, we could go to bed, or even just sit on the couch. Or just stay here. I don't mind it any way." She says, and I see tiredness in her eyes, too, in the way they've cooled, so to speak.

"If you are tired, bed is not an unwelcome idea to me either. We will have to change the sheets for you, though."

"For us."

"P-pardon?" I pull away a bit, startled.

"Change the sheets for us. I'm not letting you go, you goof. And we both know nothing's gonna happen, so there's no concern for propriety."

"I- you want to share the bed?" My confusion escalates. What on earth does she mean?

"Yeah. Unless you don't want to. But it'd be nice to sleep together, don't you think?"

"I- I apologise if this sounds strange, but I must ask- is this a normal behavior?" She blinks at me, expression souring with her own confusion.

"What, couples sharing a bed?" She clarifies, and I nod, embarrassed to not know. From her expression, I think it is a common, normal behavior, and simply one I never got to observe. "Uh, yeah. Fairly common. Here, I mean. I guess I don't know about other countries..". She shrugs.

"I will assume it is elsewhere, then. I'm sorry- I had never considered- didn't think-" I shrug, at a loss for how I failed to know this thing. I thought two people did not share a bed under any socially acceptable circumstances except to.. procreate. The thought of it as common practice, and only to actually sleep never occurred to me. Ever the graceful one, Christine seems to think nothing of it.

"You wanna try it?" It takes a moment to apply the new concept to the reality of our situation, which is, by itself, already confusing and strange. Still, the thought..

"I.. yes. Yes, I think I would." I give a nod. I am rather tired, and the idea of holding her even in sleep is a powerful one. To fall asleep with my arms around her..

"Then let's change those sheets." Christine starts to pull away and for a moment, I panic. Why would she ever pull away? Does she want to leave after all? Have I done something? I am ashamed to admit that I seize her by the shoulders, afraid to lose her. I can only stare nearly blindly at her, eyes wide with fear as shadows flood my vision. I hear all my doubts echoed back to me, mockingly, shoving all rational thought away from my mind. I'm shaken from the moment after Christine says my name several times, the lines of her eyes heavy with concern. I release her shoulders in a panic, deeply worried that I might have hurt her.

"I- I'm sorry-" I start, but that fear still constricts my throat.

"Hey, hey." Christine pulls me closer again, arms around my back. "Don't be sorry. Or, uh, I guess you can be sorry, but I already forgive you, okay? This is- This has been a weird goddamn day. We don't have to do anything. I won't let go if you won't, okay?"

".. I do not want to." I admit. "But how can we fix the bed if we can't move? I'm being irrational- this is- I'm not-"

"Hey. I'm gonna keep saying 'hey' until you relax. So.. hey." She gives me a pointed look, and I take a moment to breathe, releasing some of my tension. It does feel better than holding it in.. "You can feel things. That's great! I'm.. I'm actually really glad for it. Even if we get stuck sometimes, I'd rather we got stuck because we're feeling a lot things rather than stuck on nothing."

"I think you are being exceptionally considerate, but I do agree with you on that point.. It does little to solve the issue of the bed, however." I say, my voice dripping with tiredness, but Christine just shrugs.

"We could just not change the sheets." I give a tiny gasp.

"It's been months!"

"So? No one's been sleeping in it."

"Regardless, you are meant to change them every week. How- how often do you change them?" I would squirm, if I were not so drained.

"Uh.. every few months? When I remember to?" She gives an awkward grin, shrugging. "Aha.." I'm not sure how to react but to sigh and shake my head.

"If you do not mind it, then my fastidious nature will survive a night, I think." I try to smile, compromising. I'm getting too tired to care or do anything about it anymore anyway.

"Alright. If you're sure." Christine says, giving me a moment to rescind the statement, but I nod. I'm certain. "Alright then. You take the lead?" Again, I only nod, unsure what to say. I find her hands behind my back and hold them dearly, taking her arms from around me. Then, as she lead me earlier, I guide her to my dark corner of the studio, pulling back the black curtains for us, remembering to hit the lights. Christine kicks off her shoes, and she takes the initiative then, climbing in under the covers without hesitation, but I do.

I've never shared this sort of space with anyone before, and though I trust Christine with my life, and am more than comfortable being close to her at any other time, the new element throws me off. Not to mention some of the associations of 'the bedroom' that neither of us are comfortable with. Then again, as she said, nothing like that would happen between us, for that very reason. I trust her. I want this.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, and regretfully freeing my hands of Christine's, I untie my own shoes and remove my socks, placing them next to hers. Then, with one last moment of hesitation, I left my legs over the edge, and turn to face her.

In the dark, I'm not sure she can see me, but I can see her. I don't know why, but my vision is nearly as good in the dark as it is in the light, something many but not most people can claim. I watch her eyes search through the dark, landing on nothing. She reaches out, and I put my hands in hers' path, fingers quickly intertwining. But she doesn't stop there, wiggling closer to me, until we're face to face again, just inches apart.

"How's this feeling? Not too much?" She whispers.

"No, this is.. perfect." I whisper back. In truth, I would very much like to remove my mask, but I do not want to untangle from her again. I'm also uncomfortable with the idea of her seeing my face again today, just in case she can see. But otherwise, yes, it's perfect.

"Okay." She says, and nestles a little closer. "And this?"

"Somehow more perfect." I chuckle. She hmms thoughtfully, and then reaches up, pulling my hands with hers partway, to put hers on my mask. I stiffen, but do not otherwise react.

"And if I were to do this?" She whispers, indicating her intent to remove it, and I can see her eyes searching for mine in the heavy darkness.

"It would be better yet." I admit, though fearful. "But I would not want to startle you.. come morning."

"I don't care." She reminds me. "Unless it bothers you, I don't care."

"I.. I would like it, yes. If- if you are certain." Not for the first time tonight, I put it in her hands. The decision is hers. For now, it must be.

Christine hums a positive note, a sound of confirmation. Slowly, she moves her hands from around the curved edge of the mask to the back of my head, where the ribbon is tightly knotted. She fiddles with it for only a moment before it comes loose, the porcelain sliding from my face the tiniest bit. I take in a short but deep breath as Christine then pulls the mask away entirely. I stop breathing, however, as she squirms her way even closer, her cheek flush with mine.

"And this?" She asks, the air from her lungs once more spilling across my face and neck.

"Utter perfection." I murmur, and wrap my arms around her, both over and under her, and I would pull her closer to me, if any closer she could be. She tucks her hands in between us, softly running her fingertips over my cheeks along the way. How gracious she is, so careful and tender and kind, always kind.

I feel safe, now, wrapped up in her like this. In the dark, in the quiet, only the sounds of our breathing like distant wind, and our pulses beating like rolling drums. I know I would do anything for her, and she, I. I know there's nothing we can't get through if we do it together, and I fully intend on being with her until the world tears us apart, one way or another.

Her breathing pans out into that of restful sleeping very quickly. I am envious of her ability to sleep so easily, even if it's not one she can necessarily control. Still, I am grateful to even be here to witness her sleeping. And how beautiful she is when she is at rest. Relaxed and unafraid and so unrestrainedly happy. The look is much more scarce when she is awake,, though I am determined to make that statement false in time. If her every moment could be so simple and easy as this.. Ah, a good life I would live.

I watch her rest, trying to join her in dreams, letting that soft, untamed music play for me.