Chapter Fourteen - Little Distractions

"A-Angelique?" he gaped, stunned by the surprise. "What is-?"

"Erik, when was the last time you ever celebrated anything? Your birthday? Christmas? Easter?" she inquired, reaching towards her hair and patting the back lightly, checking to make sure her bun was still intact.

He could only stare, stunned by the situation. "E-Erik does not celebrate…not like this." He could see patches of flour on her arms and cheek, a smudge of chocolate prominent on her chin and sleeve.

"Then it's high time we start," she beamed. "Let's celebrate!"

"Celebrate what?" he asked, still in shock.

"How about…our friendship?" she asked, shrugging innocently.

"Our…friendship?" he echoed, that strange tingly feeling returning to him. "…yes…Erik would like that."

She smiled shyly. "I've made some tea, too. Give me a moment to clean up and bring everything into the parlor, won't you?"

He nodded dumbly, unable to think. Leaving her to it, he went for the drawing room and sat down in his chair, the fire crackling lazily on the hearth. "She made Erik a cake…she wants to celebrate with Erik…" He repeated it in his mind, the words becoming a mantra for him as he processed what she had said and done. He never had a cause to celebrate – his life was bleak, dark, and lonely, and there was no one with him to celebrate anything. How often he prayed for a wife to take out on Sundays, someone to come home to…and now, somehow, this incredible young woman was intertwined with his life.

Angelique popped in with the cake and set it on the coffee table beside them before running back and bringing out a tea tray. She had managed to clean her arms, but the smear of chocolate remained on her chin, her hair still trapped in a bun. Filling their teacups, she prepared it just the way Erik liked it – one cube of sugar and a whole lemon slice's worth of juice. "Shall we have a toast?"

"A toast?" he asked. "Oh! A toast, yes…a toast to…" He glanced at her, his heart warmed by the sight of her smile, her beautiful eyes set upon him. "…to friendship."

"To friendship," she chimed, clinking her cup delicately against his. She sipped her cup, holding it daintily in her palms. "Hmm…I needed that," she murmured, setting her cup down as she finished. "Would you like a piece of cake?"

"…Erik has never had a cake…not one made for him, anyways," he said quietly, stroking the rim of his cup. "…why did you make this?"

"Because you deserve it," she said, reaching for the knife and slicing through the rich pastry. "This was a recipe my mother used on my birthdays. I hope you like it."

"I like anything you make," he thought, watching her hands as she carefully cut the dessert, yelping as it broke in half and tumbled onto the plate.

"Sorry!" she grimaced. "It was so moist-"

He covered his mouth, struggling not to laugh as he watched her. "You are…amusing…and rather adorable when you squeak like that," he confessed, earning a pout out of her.

"I am not," she huffed, though she couldn't help smiling at his words. Adding a spoon to his plate, he offered him the treat and waiting until he scooped a piece of the cake into his mouth. "…did I get it right?"

The moment he placed the morsel in his mouth, his eyes closed in bliss, a delighted moan filling the air. The moist pastry was rich and sweet, balanced with the tartness of the strawberries. A smooth, thin layer of fudge lined the outside of the pastry, completing its perfection. "It is…delicious, Angelique…" His eyes began to water as he looked away, embarrassed. "…you made this all for Erik?"

"Of course I did," she said, cutting a piece for herself. Sitting upon the footstool before Erik, she took a bite and smiled. "Mmh! I got it after all…Mama would be…proud." Her voice drifted off, her eyes dimming.

"Angelique?"

"Yes Erik?" she said, facing him at once, eager for a distraction.

His hand moved towards her, pausing before her face. "You…you have something there," he explained, touching her chin.

"Oh," she blushed. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

He shook his head, gazing tenderly at her. "Non…may I?"

"Thank you," she nodded.

With his shaking hand, he used his thumb to wipe the chocolate from her face, noticing how close it was to her lips. Absentmindedly, he reached for her hair.

"Erik-?"

"It is prettier when it's down," he said, stopping as he realized what he was doing. "Forgive Erik…he was too presumptuous-"

"Will you help me?" she asked, turning so that she faced the hearth, her exposed neck positioned towards him. "There are a few hairpins in there I can't quite reach," she lied, shivering in anticipation.

Swallowing, he let his fingers land lightly on her hair, grasping the pins and gently, slowly pulling them out. He dropped each of them onto the tea tray, their soft "plinks" and the crackle of the hearth the only sounds accompanying their breathing. He curled his fingers in her shining hair, leaning his face forward to inhale her scent – chocolate, rose bath salts, and clean linen. He helped her curled locks slowly tumble down, a cascade of auburn falling from her head and onto her shoulders, into his hands. He ran his fingers through one last time, savoring the feel of her satiny locks between each of his fingers. Letting a single curl fall from his hand, he forced himself to sit back into his seat and grip the armrests. "It is finished."

She turned about once more, facing him at last, her face framed with her beautiful hair. "Thank you," she said softly, tucking one particular strand away from her eyes.

He gave a curt nod, his fingers linked together while his chin rested atop his hands. He appeared to be in deep contemplation, so as not to bother him, Angelique took her cake and continued to silently eat.

"…you know very little of Erik, Angelique."

His voice, low and smooth, sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm not interested in your past, Erik, only your future."

The corner of his mouth twitched up as he shook his head. "Merci, child…however, Erik wishes you to know the truth."

Curious, she set her plate down and sat erect, placing her hands upon her knees as she gave him her full attention. "Very well, Erik. I'm listening."

He nodded, silent for a minute before he sighed deeply. "Erik's life is not pleasant, Angelique. Even Erik's own mother could not bear the sight of him – a mask was the first thing she clothed him with."

"Oh Erik," she whispered, now causing him to shiver.

"He ran away as a child, became part of a band of gypsies for a time…they were most unpleasant." His brows furrowed together as he remembered his time with them. "Erik became an attraction, a very amusing and terrible attraction."

Angelique looked away, biting her lip as she struggled not to cry out. It was no wonder he kept away from humanity, and it pained her, perhaps even more so than when he left her for Christine.

"Erik escaped and traveled the world for many years, going to Asia, Italy, India…and then Persia." His eyes moved to see her face. "Daroga told you of Erik's time in Persia, no?"

"He said you worked for the Shah and his daughter," she said, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

He nodded. "Daroga was the closest thing Erik could call a friend at the time…but even then, he does not trust him wholeheartedly," he smirked. "Rightly so…after a time, Erik escaped Persia and returned to France. He worked as an architect for a time and found his home here at the Opera House. He was quite content…and then, Christine came."

Already her stomach was in a knot, her eyes falling to his shoes. "You became her teacher?"

He nodded, the events flashing through his mind. "Yes…Christine filled a void in Erik's life with her voice…Erik simply had to go to her, but not as…this." He motioned to himself with his hand, a look of disgust growing on his face. Heaving a sigh of despair, he sunk deeper into his seat, covering his eyes with one hand. "…so he became an Angel she so desperately searched for…and for a time, Erik was very happy…until…"

She listened quietly, never saying anything as he spoke and stopped suddenly. Moved with sympathy, though her heart felt as though it had been pierced by a thousand needles, she lightly placed one hand on his knee.

"…and then Erik found you."

Her head shot up at this, taken off guard as he spoke once more, this time including her. He was looking down at her now, his eyes filling with tears while his trembling lips formed a smile. "…you have made Erik's life…so much more than he ever expected it to be. It was darkness…and now it is full of light, of…hope." He covered her hand with his own, pulling it to his lips and kissing each knuckle. "Oh, Angelique…"

Rising from her place, cautiously moved her hand to his face, lifting the mask off. Before he could protest, she bent down and pressed her lips to his cheek, letting them linger there for what he hoped would be forever. A strangled gasp was trapped within his throat as he felt her soft, full lips meet his yellow skin, his heart soaring within his breast. He believed he would died of bliss the moment she took her hand and placed it upon his other cheek, the feel of her hand imprinted upon his skin. All at once, he was alive and dead, his entire being consumed with want and need.

"An-gel-ique," he choked as she pulled away, his hands grabbing her skirt as he burried his face in her stomach, tears falling down his cheeks as he felt her hands on his back and head, soothingly stroking him.

"My poor, poor Erik," he heard her whisper, her hands light as a butterfly upon him.

They remained that way for minutes, the seamstress allowing the deformed man to weep onto her dress as she petted him affectionately. There could not have been a stranger sight, and yet, everything was as it should be.

At last, Erik pulled away from her, forcing himself to face her. "…Angelique-"

"You don't need to apologize for that, Erik," she told him with a loving smile. "You've been long overdue for a bit of sympathy and compassion." Gently setting his hair back in place, she said, "I'll clean up. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Erik barely rests, Angelique, you know that," he shook his head.

"You ought to. Sleep refreshes the soul," she encouraged him.

"I shall help you," he said, determined to assist her. "Then, perhaps, Erik shall try to rest."

Knowing it was useless to argue, she offered her hands and helped him up, taking the tea tray while he took the pastry. They worked silently as they rolled their sleeves and put the food away, washing the dishes and setting them back in their places. When at last they put the last item in place, they faced one another, awkward and silent. "…well…" he said, giving his collar a tug.
"I'll see you in the morning, then?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

He nodded. "Oui…bonsoir, my dear."

"Bonsoir, Erik," she smiled, squeezing his arm before walking past him, leaving him alone.

The stillness around him made Erik realize that what he had said was true…he felt alive when she was with him, and when she left, everything seemed to fall asleep. Reaching for his face, he realized that the mask still remained in the parlor. He shook his head, a wry smile coming to his lips. If only the Daroga knew – if only he could see! – what she did that made Erik so certain that she would never betray him. Walking back, he found the mask lying on the footstool upon which she had sat moments before. Taking it in his hands, he pressed it to his chest, still able to feel her lips and hand on his skin. "If that is what Heaven is like, then surely, I have died and she is my Angel," he murmured, bliss and calm washing over him. Heaving a sigh, he returned to his room, not in the lease bit exhausted or sleepy. He rarely slept, and after the events that had taken place that night, he was certain he would not sleep a wink.

Shutting the door to his room, he placed his mask upon the desk before removing his jacket and vest, his fingers reaching for the buttons on his shirt. "She will be getting undressed now, before slipping into bed-" he thought when he stopped, an image flashing into his mind without warning.

There Angelique was, standing by her bed, unbuttoning the back of her dress until it was loose, slipping her arms through the sleeves and peeling the front of her dress off of her chest, letting the fabric slide down her body until it pooled around her. Then as she stepped out, her pale, soft skin exposed, she would grab her nightgown, light and nearly transparent, and slip it over her head. She would tug her hair out and let it spill around her while the nightdress loosely clung to her body, the fabric just enough to cover her full breasts while she tugged the skirt around her exposed calves until the hem brushed her bare feet…

"Mon Dieu," he gasped for breath, feeling the lower half of his body react to such a thought. Placing his hands on either side of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head viciously. "No…no! Erik cannot think of Angelique in such a manner! It is improper…and, and he wants Christine, after all-!"

"Erik," he heard her whisper, her lips brushing against his ear. Her arms snaked around his chest until she had her hands over his heart, her body pressed against his back. He could feel everything about her, and his body – his soul – yearned for her to be closer still. He yanked her arms gently from him as he turned to face her, her hands instantly yanking his mask off so that her fingers could caress his cheeks. "Erik," she whispered yet again, throwing her arms around him and claiming his mouth with hers-

"Merde!" he choked, grabbing onto the desk for support. Inhaling deeply, he pinched the bridge of his nose, his fighting to clear his mind while his nether regions continued to pester him. "No…no!" Sitting down at the organ, he breathed deeply, letting himself calm down. He'd never had such fantasies about any woman, not even Christine…It was wrong to think that way of Angelique, his dearest friend…

Friend.

She was his friend, wasn't she?

"…why does Erik yearn for more?"

~OG~

"I trust you can handle this simple task?"

There were three of them all together – a woman, a young lady, and a man, all gathered around the hearth of a wealthy home. The man didn't care for how the woman's beady, cold eyes stared at him, nor how the daughter lewdly batted her eyelids and purposely let her shawl slide off of her shoulder to expose her revealing nightdress. He didn't like the situation at all, but he needed the money – poor men like him had to grasp what they could before it got away.

"Oui, Madame," he nodded. "I'll find the girl, and your son."

"Then you shall be handsomely rewarded once you bring them back," she vowed, leaning back into her chair, her face shadowed by darkness. There was a wicked smile on her face when suddenly, she doubled over, her hand placed over her heart.

"Maman?!" the girl gasped, kneeling beside her. "Maman, is it-?"

"No," she coughed, gasping deeply. "I am…well. Very well." Taking a moment to regain her composure, feeling the pain in her chest subdue, she motioned with her hand at the man to leave, waiting until he had gone before gripping her daughter's hand. "I shan't let this kill me…not until I have Angelique, that little wench, in my possession once more!"