Christine felt like she was underwater. Every few hours or so she would have a reprieve of being allowed to surface and coke on the air that her lungs had been burning for, but all too soon it would be taken from her again. She felt like her skin was on fire, but there were times when she thought she were deep in an icy cave. Perpetually damp with a freezing sweat, she blurred in and out of consciousness, following the tearful sound of music so heavenly she worried she had died. Each time she came to, she felt around blindly for that ethereal voice, only to discover it was gone.
She felt, once out of the haze of drowning, like she was trapped in a body that was not her own. She remembered laughing, smiling, singing, but now all she felt like she could do was lay there. Her arms felt heavy and her legs like they were made of cement. She longed to roam free, to see her friends. To see Erik. But every time she woke up, all she managed to do was cough like she wanted to be rid of a lung. It was getting worse until suddenly, it got better.
Opening her eyes, she let the blur wash away and the shadowy world come into focus. She still felt uncomfortably warm, but something at her hand made it seem worth it. Looking down the sallow stick that was now her arm, she felt herself smile faintly. There on the bed was a mess of black-brown hair, creased with a thin tie at the back. Her fingers, now more bones than digits, were delicately encased by longer, but similar appendages.
'Erik,' she managed just above a whisper. She let her tired smile light her voice as it protested against the use.
He looked up instantly at the sound, his eyes red and still watery from the tears that had yet to dry. He gazed at her for just above an instant, trying to determine if she was real or just a dream. She gave his hand the faintest of squeezes to assure him of her existence.
'Christine,' he shuffled quickly to her as he was on his knees beside the bed. He reached up to her pale and thin cheek, but his fingers stopped just a hair's breadth away. Tracing the air over her features, his eyes melted some as he looked about to cry all over again.
'I'm sorry I made you take care of me.' She told him, her brows pinching sadly.
'No, no.' He leant over, brushing a bit of hair over her ear, careful not to touch her skin. He could still feel the intense heat radiating off her. 'No one made me, Christine. I did this on my own. Please don't worry yourself about it.' He soothed, looking over every detail of her still stunningly beautiful face. Even sick, she looked like an angel.
Christine closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his gaze as soft as his touch. She let a small smile crest her paled lips. She looked at him again, feeling his helpless despair at her condition. Glancing next to her, she saw a vase of roses. Her heart dropped a bit when she counted how many were left.
Five.
Such a small number. Half of ten, and yet so small. Ten years meant everything, but five was too short. Five days left to live.
Turning back to him, she sighed. He had followed her gaze sadly.
'Before you know it, it'll just be one.' She said, smiling as she forced the truth into herself.
'Don't say things like that, Christine.' His voice faded a bit as the meaning struck home too hard.
'I'm sorry.' She reached up, letting her weak fingers graze the leather mask. She looked him in the eye, letting all of the weight he carried come into her as she washed it all away. He took her fingers oh so gently in his hand, closing his eyes as he realised what she was doing.
'You look tired. Have you slept?' She asked.
Erik huffed a laugh, though the jest was lost. 'A little. I just did not want to miss it when you woke back up. I didn't want you to feel alone.'
She smiled at his sentiment. 'I'm never alone, Erik. And I never will be. You'll always be with me.'
They stayed in silence as he held her hand. They heard bells off in the distance. One of the missionary church bells. It struck twelve.
'Time to get you fresh roses.' He choked.
She saw his inner war in wishing to make her happy in this simple task, but also fearing leaving her side. 'I'll be here when you get back.' She told him.
'Promise?' He asked, fear shining in his dark eyes.
'I promise.' She smiled sweetly up at him as he fumbled with her hand, not knowing what to do. Eventually he slipped out of her grasp, letting her fingertips trail down his, trying to keep the moment as long as possible.
Erik took the vase and quickly emptied it outside her door, before turning to the fresh flowers he had cut earlier that day. It felt mildly silly of him to be fretting so much, but he knew the cold hand that gripped his heart with dread was not unfounded. Placing the four new, deep red roses into the cool water, he came back in. She had kept her promise, looking at him through partially sleep veiled eyes.
'Are you hungry at all?' He asked, coming back over to her, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. She sucked in a breath at his touch and he instantly recoiled.
'No, no, that felt nice. Your hands are always so cold, and I'm too warm.' She urged him, catching his arm and bringing his hand to her cheek. She smiled as she leaned into it. After a pause where Erik tried to regain his composure, she spoke.
'As to being hungry, I think I could only manage soups.' She told him, coughing as she laughed at her own weakness. He only winced at the sound, nodding.
'I'll see what I can do.' He tried smiling, but the worry was still apparent.
Christine fought a frown. She hated having him do so much for her, but she knew she could not do it herself.
'Wake me if I doze off.' She told him sternly, watching him fight his instinct of not wishing to bother her. He really was far too good to her.
She did indeed doze off because the next thing she knew was Erik's voice beckoning to her to wake. She must not have been asleep long for his tone was not urgent or overly worried. He was still speaking softly, trying to ease her into wakefulness. She could not help but smile at his melodious purring. Had it not been for his words asking for her to open her eyes, she would have fallen right back into a peaceful sleep at his gentle voice. It was like a lullaby.
She mumbled and apology as he sat her up a bit, lifting her to rest against the headboard of her bed.
'How do you feel?' He asked, his eyes disagreeing with her hands' insistence upon holding the bowl of soup herself.
'Erik, I'm dying. It's not like I'm going to get better. I'll do my best, but we'll be lucky if I last until the final rose.' She told him, ignoring his hurt glare. She somehow did not feel in the mood to argue the point of her life at the moment.
He let her have the bowl, and watched her intently as she drank it on her own. She could be so stubborn. He just wanted to help, but she treated every little thing like it was moving a mountain. He would gladly move all of Persia if she asked and think nothing of it.
'How is it?' He asked at length.
'It's good, though, did you use honey?' She looked at the liquid sceptically. She was brightening a bit now that she had something slightly more substantial in her.
Erik felt a bit of fear shoot through him. 'Yes,' he told her, worried that she might notice something else he had added. He had come up with what he hoped to be a cure for her illness the previous day, but had not been given the opportunity to test it until today. He knew it would be somewhat bitter, so he added honey to make it taste better.
She hummed thoughtfully.
'Do you not like it?' He asked, concerned she would not finish, and not wishing to disappoint her.
She laughed, shaking her head. 'When I was about four, I accidentally ate too much honey. It put me off the stuff for quite a while, but this is fine.' She assured, smiling more warmly than she had in some time. It did Erik's heart good to see her coming back to her old self a bit.
'How do you accidentally eat too much honey?' He asked, eyeing her sceptically.
'Same way children eat too much candy or chocolate.' She explained.
Erik laughed at this. 'Fair enough.' He told her. She smiled at his laugh, and something about it made him happier. 'When I was about three or so, I ate a whole box of chocolates with Sasha. We were both sick afterwards. I haven't touched the candy since. Not that I eat much anyways.' He told her without fully realising.
'Sasha. That's a pretty name.' She smiled gently at him.
Erik paled, realising he had just told her about him unknowingly. 'Yes, she was a good dog.'
'What kind?'
'Cocker spaniel. She would let me sleep in her bed and would lick my face. She was the only creature who ever loved me.' He said, looking down.
Christine eyed him curiously. 'What about your parents? Surely they must have loved you.' She offered.
He snorted distastefully, eyeing her with a fire she knew was not truly directed at her. She remembered then that he had mentioned once that his mother had refused to name him after his father because of his face.
'My mother hated me. She locked me up in the attic and constantly reminded me how horrible I was…am.' He corrected, looking away from Christine's soft eyes as she reached out to brush his fingers. 'I don't think she could have loved me if she tried. She kept me alive. She forced food into me so that I would look less like a skeleton, she punished me brutally, and she sent the priest in to try to exorcise me when Sasha died. My poor Sasha, stoned to death by the monsters from the village that were looking for me. That damned priest told me animals don't go to Heaven because they don't have souls. Of course I was upset about it! I loved Sasha!' He started clenching his fists as he rose to pace about the room, growing angrier by the second as his mind continued to dwell upon his old pains.
Christine opened her mouth to stop him, but all that came out was horrible coughing. This did the trick, though not quite in the way she wanted. Erik rushed to her side, arms echoing around her sides as she heaved into the cough. She lean forward as her lungs emptied frightfully with each exhale, never quite filling all the way back up, and leaving her gasping at the end. Erik was there with soothing words mixed in with tearful apologies at upsetting her so.
When she was at last able to lean back and take in more filling breaths, she looked just inches away from death. Erik helped her to lie back down, bringing the blanket comfortingly up to her chin as she smiled sadly up at him. He had prepared to stand and leave for a bit, when she snagged his hand. He looked at her as he crouched beside her.
'I agree with you, if they don't have souls, how can they love?' She whispered. 'Especially when humans can act so cruelly.' She noted, smiling tiredly as sleep began to reclaim her.
Erik watched her fall asleep, drifting off into calm bliss. He felt like someone was jabbing a knife through his heart while also filling it with such warmth he thought he might burst. He had never felt this sort of faint pain before and was not sure why he felt the need to treasure it always.
A/N: I know, I know, really short chapter. I apologise, but the next one's a little too emotional to glom into this one. I hope you enjoyed the feels, nonetheless. Thank you Phantic01 for following this story, and thank you all for your reviews and support!