The morning of their fifth anniversary dawns with Erik kissing Rahim's neck. His lips are soft, gentle, arms warm and loose around Rahim's waist, good leg thrown over Rahim's own. It is not often that he is so openly affectionate so early in the morning, and Rahim shifts to give him better access, sighing as those lips slip to his collarbone.
That morning is one of the few times that they make love. Erik takes the lead, gentle and slow, breathing soft words of love with every kiss. Rahim, too, is careful, infinitely careful, mindful of Erik's still-healing injuries and how quickly so much sensation can overwhelm him, panic him, and as he nuzzles into him makes certain that he is wholly willing, murmuring softly into his throat to give him time to catch his breath.
Afterwards, they lie together, and doze peacefully, wrapped in each other's arms, for a long time. Rahim does not dream, but what need has he for dreams when Erik is in his arms?
When he drifts awake again, some time later, it is to Erik contemplating their joined hands, the contrast of their twined fingers – Erik's, long and pale and deceptively delicate-looking, and Rahim's, short and dark and tough, ever-ready to catch Erik should he fall.
The thought flickers through Rahim's mind, memories of broken sleep and Erik's whimpers, wild gold-hazel eyes, and he knows that even with all of the pain they have endured he would not give this up for the world.
"I love you," Erik murmurs, pressing his lips to Rahim's hand, "I love you."
"And I love you," Rahim breathes, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips, and Erik smiles, slowly, and gently brushes his lips over Rahim's forehead, and they are not perfect, but what they have is perfect, and that is all they really need, have ever needed, just to be close, like this, and able to breathe.
They lie abed for hours that feel like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once, their soft breaths disturbed only by Darius quietly bringing tea and fresh-baked croissants from the bakery, and they do not speak, not very much because what can mere words do to capture all that they have shared, all that is in their hearts?
At last they rise, and dress carefully, and Erik's leg aches with stiffness, his ribs protesting, and Rahim helps him, and they stand for a long time in their dress suits and simply hold each other. What a portrait they surely must make, their arms wrapped around each other and Erik's face buried in Rahim's hair, Rahim's ear pressed against his chest. Rahim aches to sketch it, sketch them, though he has never been an artist and could never do them justice and he thinks he might spin words to capture it, but words could never be enough either, and he stretches up, and presses a kiss, softly, to Erik's throat, and knows that that must stand for all that he cannot say.
Eventually they disentangle themselves, and Rahim brushes faint tears from Erik's eyes, and they take a light lunch in the drawing room. After, they go to the Luxembourg, Erik's mask firmly in place, and enjoy a short walk, not enough to strain Erik's leg but enough to stretch it, before going on to the Garnier. They have not been since before Erik was attacked, though Rahim has made a handful of jaunts to check up on rehearsals and support Christine. The present production, Gounod's Faust, is due to close in the next couple of weeks to be replaced by Erik's Orpheus opera, and they do not stay to watch it, only wish Christine well. Her face lights up to see Erik out and about, and she hugs him, and Rahim, and holding both of their hands says, in a soft undertone, "Darius told me it's your anniversary today."
Rahim cannot help the smile that spreads across his face, and his heart flutters to see the tips of Erik's ears burn pink. "It is," he says, softly, and Christine grins and kisses their hands.
"Then congratulations."
They return home soon afterwards, and Darius has dinner prepared, and gives them a bottle of fine red Persian wine.
"I contacted a cousin of mine," he says, face impassive as ever bar the twinkling in his eyes, "mentioning only a special occasion, and he was happy to oblige with half-a-dozen bottles."
Rahim cannot help chuckling. "In that case, Darius, please put one away and we'll share it on our twentieth anniversary."
Darius' face splits into a rare grin. "Very well, sir."
They linger over dinner, and when at last they are full retire to the drawing room and settle by the fire, warm and satisfied and close to each other.
"I know we promised no gifts," Rahim murmurs after a long time, turning to Erik, "but I could not resist getting you something. I mean, five years is a long time to be together, and especially after all…all that we've been through. So I got you these." And he reaches into the inside of his jacket pocket, and withdraws a jewellers' box, passing it over to Erik, who takes it with questioning eyes. Carefully, he opens the lid, and his eyes fall on the citrine cufflinks inside.
"Rahim." His voice is hushed as he raises his eyes to meet Rahim's again, and he swallows hard. "They're lovely, Rahim." With trembling fingers he reaches into the box and plucks out on cufflink, cradling it gently in his palm. In the light of the fire it shines as golden as his eyes, and Rahim smiles at him.
"Do you like it?"
Erik closes his fingers over the cufflink, leans in, and presses a kiss to Rahim's cheek. "They're beautiful." He slips the cufflink back into the box, and closes it, sets it on the end table. He cast his mask aside when they arrived home, hours ago, and not he brushes tears from his eyes, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. "As it happens, Rahim, I also got a gift for you. Well, for both of us. Originally I'd intended to give it to you in a slightly more romantic setting—"
More romantic setting? They're literally sitting next to each other by a fire in a room lit only by candles, and this isn't romantic enough by his standards? Rahim does not mean to interrupt, but he cannot help it, unable to fight the chuckle from his voice. "What do you mean, a more romantic setting?"
"I, well," and now Erik blushes, bites his lip, "well I had arranged with Darius that we would take dinner on the roof of the opera house. We had discussed it, and he was making arrangements to manage it, but then I got injured, and I would not be able to manage all of those stairs like this, so we decided to abandon the idea." The bashful look on his face makes Rahim want to kiss him, but instead he restrains the impulse as Erik reaches into his own jacket pocket and withdraws a jewellers' box. "I hope," his voice is strangely tight, and a stab of worry briefly pierces Rahim's heart, "I hope you like it." He presses the box into Rahim's hand, and sits back, folding his hands.
Rahim studies the box a moment. What could possibly be in it, to leave Erik looking so troubled? He takes a breath to steady the beating of his heart, and carefully opens it.
And two gold rings shine back at him.
His breath catches in his throat, and he looks up at Erik, and back to the rings, and back to Erik, and swallows. "What—"
"I mean, we cannot get married, I know that. It's impossible. But Rahim, there is no one else…no one that I could ever see myself with other than you, and I thought, well, seeing as how we can't get married, I thought I could still pledge myself to you with a ring, but if it's too much—" the words tumble from his lips so fast Rahim almost can't catch them, and Erik stands, scrubs a hand through his thin hair. "If you don't want them it's fine. We can forget they exist, forget this ever happened, forget—"
"Erik." Rahim murmurs his name and Erik stops, stares at him with tears sparkling in his eyes, and Rahim's heart aches to see the state he's in, a voice whispering in his mind, how has he ever doubted you? "Erik, I love them. They are wonderful, and so thoughtful. The whole idea is wonderful. Come here." He sets the rings down, and opens his arms wide, and Erik comes into them. "I love them, Erik. I love them, and I love you, and there is no one else in this world that I would rather spend the rest of my life with than you, I swear it. All right?" Erik nods, and sniffs, and Rahim's heart twists, his arms pulling him closer to that Erik's head is resting against his heart. "Now," he murmurs, and picks the ring box up again, presses it into Erik's hand, "Which ring is mine."
And that night, by the fire, each softly murmuring, "With this ring, I thee wed," as they slip a ring onto the other's finger, they pledge themselves to each other, and know that they will never take those rings off again.
A/N: This is the last official chapter. Next up will be an Epilogue which will hint at some of the ideas that I considered including but didn't.