TW: Significant discussion of self-harm.

Chapter 8

Christine woke the next morning with her pillow still wet from the tears she shed the night before. She knew she made the right decision, but the ghost of the ring on her finger reminded her of what she had lost in doing so.

Breakfast with Aunt Alice was a subdued affair. Christine explained that she had broken off her engagement with Raoul. Alice was supportive of Christine's decision and reminded her of the strength it took to make such a choice. It was hard to relive the conversation with Raoul, and the emotions all came flooding back quickly.

"I know you're hurting, love, but are you going to look for Erik today?" Alice asked gently.

Christine sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Yes, I was going to check Saint Sulpice before going to work. I don't know where else he would go besides there. The only other place that matters to him would be the Opera." Christine paused, considering her own words. "You know…. He may have returned to the Opera."

Alice nodded. "Go look for him. I worry about that man."

Christine got up to leave but Aunt Alice reached out to grab her hand. "You are such a strong woman, Christine. I'm so proud of you, and I know your father would be, too."

"Thank you, Auntie," Christine said through fresh tears. "I love you."

With that, Christine left. She called a carriage to take her to Saint Sulpice. It was a bizarre moment of déjà vu, realizing that just a week before she had been there looking for Erik in the first place. A week ago, she had still been engaged to Raoul.

Christine stopped in the sanctuary to pray. There were a few people praying or waiting to give a confession, but Christine went unnoticed as she slipped into the crypt. Even though it was daytime, the crypt was dark as night. With a lantern in hand, she searched the whole crypt, but found nothing. Sighing, she returned to the carriage and asked the driver to take her to the Opera.

When Christine arrived in her dressing room, it was just after one o'clock, so she had a few hours to herself before the other performers would start arriving. Part of Christine longed to spend these hours lounging on the small sofa in her dressing room, but she knew she had one more place to search before she could rest.

Just as she had done a few days before, Christine entered the dark hallway behind the mirror and followed its winding path down to the underground lake. The boat was waiting on the shore for her, which made Christine's heart fall slightly as it was evidence that Erik hadn't been there before her. She knew that there was another entrance to the lair from Rue Scribe, though, so she continued.

Christine stepped into the boat and rowed herself to the other side of the lake. As she stepped onto the shore, she heard the muffled sound of organ music.

Erik, she thought and picked up the pace.

As she opened the front door, the music grew in volume. The tune was heartbreaking, conveying loss, grief, and longing. She followed it to the music room, where she found Erik sitting at the organ, swaying as he played, completely lost in his music. He was wearing his dark wig, the white mask, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The music built and built to an ultimate crescendo that brought tears to Christine's eyes. The silence that followed was chilling.

Christine watched at the doorway as Erik collapsed forward. He buried his face in his hands and slid the white mask off of his face in order to wipe his eyes as he cried. His sobs were the most broken tears that Christine had ever heard, full of utter despair.

Erik reached out to the music stand to pick something up. It wasn't until he raised the object to his left forearm that Christine realized it was a knife.

"Erik, stop!" she cried, rushing towards him.

Erik's gaze jerked up. "Christine?"

Christine grabbed the knife from his hand, threw it aside, and pulled Erik against her chest in a tight embrace.

"Christine," he sobbed into her arms. "Oh, Christine! I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay," she soothed.

Once his sobs quieted, Christine pulled away, settled herself beside Erik on the bench, and gently took Erik's left forearm in her hands. The skin was covered in gashes ranging from scars to fresh-bleeding cuts. To her relief, there were only scars and no fresh wounds over the veins on the wrist.

Christine glanced at his face. Erik looked ashamed, like he wanted to disappear. He sniffed, the remnants of his tears still shining on his cheeks. "Please," he begged, refusing to meet her gaze, "just ignore it."

Christine released his arm then methodically rolled up the left sleeve of her dress. She held out her bare forearm. The pale skin was interrupted by thin, darkened indentations, the scars of some of Christine's worst days. "I understand, Erik."

Erik took in the scars with wide eyes then looked at her. "Why?" he asked.

"You remember the tears I used to shed in my dressing room when we first met?" she asked. Erik nodded. "It was worse before. The grief for my father quickly became a kind of hurt that made each day impossible. I hated myself for not being able to function when my father's final wish for me was to sing and live my life fully. My life became a fog of emptiness. Nothing felt real, and the physical pain helped bring me back to reality." As Christine spoke, she realized she had never told anyone this before, not even Raoul.

Erik stared at her, his dark eyes wide with shock and a long silence fell between them. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Christine replied. "I just want you to know I understand."

"I've been doing this for such a long time," Erik said, his voice far away. "I longed for my mother's love, and she kept refusing to give it to me. When I was young, I would respond with tears, but quickly I learned that pain was the best medicine. I ran away when I was eleven, but I brought the habit with me."

Christine reached up and stroked his deformed cheek. It was rough, as she remembered from their kiss. Erik's eyes fluttered shut and his body trembled at the touch.

"It still breaks my heart to see you in so much pain, Erik."

He opened his eyes and jerked away. "I deserve the pain."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! I've killed people, Christine. You know that! I've killed without feeling any remorse. And then you showed me kindness and all I did was hurt you even more."

"Do you feel remorse for killing now?" Christine asked cautiously.

Erik nodded, his gaze downcast.

"I understand why you were angry with me," Christine said. "Your mask is your freedom. At home, though, you should be able to be fully yourself without fear of being judged."

Erik shook his head. "There's no place where I won't be judged with other people around."

"Yes, there is. At home, with me and Aunt Alice."

Erik looked at her, his lips parted. "I can't believe your kindness is real. I almost want you to be lying. It would be easier."

"Easier doesn't mean better," Christine said softly.

The hint of a smile pulled at Erik's lips.

"Will you come home with me? Aunt Alice misses you, too."

Erik nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. "I've never been missed before."

Christine smiled a watery smile. She looked down at the keys of the organ. She didn't know how to play the organ like Erik did, but she could play one-handed melodies on it. She began to play a familiar tune, that of the Angel of Music. When she finished, she looked up to see Erik staring down at her like she was a miracle.

"What?" she asked.

"I just… may I embrace you?" Erik asked with such embarrassment that Christine's heart cracked open with fondness.

"Of course," she said. Erik pulled Christine against his chest. He held her tight, like she was all that was holding him together. Christine rested her head against his chest, taking in his scent. He smelled fresh, like nighttime and rain. In the warmth of his arms, she felt herself relax for the first time in days. Everything, the good and the bad of the past week, felt okay. She would be okay.

Erik didn't seem to know when to end the embrace. If Christine didn't say anything, they may have stayed that way for hours.

"Erik?" she said into his arms. "Do you want to see the opera tonight? Carlotta is the lead, but I love my role and I want you to hear me sing it."

Erik pulled away to look at her eyes. "I would love to," he said with utter sincerity.

Christine was able to secure Box Five for Erik. Since Don Juan Triumphant, audience members had been very reluctant to buy seats in that box. It seemed to be becoming a superstition of the Opera Populaire to leave the box empty for the Opera Ghost. This evening, it would be occupied by the Phantom himself, at the request of his muse.

Knowing Erik was in the audience gave Christine more nerves than usual. It wasn't just that he was her teacher, she was used to his critiques. More so, she wanted to impress him. She wanted him to feel the depth of emotion she tried to convey with her singing.

Christine stepped forward for her aria and glanced towards Box Five. She could not see Erik, although she knew he was there. We are going to face these emotions together, she thought then started to sing.

Just like the night before, Christine was in tears by the end of her aria. As the audience roared with applause, Christine looked across the theater, her gaze crossing each box. When she looked at Box Five, she could have sworn she saw a silhouette giving her a standing ovation.

After the performance, Christine returned to her dressing room, her chest swelling with pride. It was empty when she arrived, but Christine was sure Erik would make an appearance soon. As she took the pins out of her hair, her mirror slid aside, and Erik emerged. He was dressed as he was when she first met him, tailed suit, mask, and wig.

"Always the Opera Ghost," Christine muttered.

Erik stood awkwardly beside her vanity. "You sang like an angel," he said. "To hear you sing again…" Erik trailed off, as though he could not find the words.

"Thank you," Christine breathed, astounded by his awed expression. She had impressed him. "Now let me change, Erik, and then we can go home."

"Where is your Vicomte?" Erik asked calmly. He didn't spit the word "vicomte" like he usually did.

"Oh," Christine chirped. "I… uh… we broke off our engagement."

Christine watched as the news sunk in. Erik's lips parted, and his eyes widened. Then he rushed to kneel beside her chair, gazing up into her face.

"What happened?" he breathed, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"He wanted me to stop performing," Christine explained. "And I said no."

"Oh," Erik said, his eyes falling. Maybe he had hoped she had left Raoul for him. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"I broke it off with him last night," she explained.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking back up at her.

"No," she said. "But I will be."

She continued to look into his brown eyes. She had seen them as cold as ice before, but today they were warm, full of sorrow and compassion. Though Erik was wearing his mask, there was no façade in his eyes. She knew how deeply he cared about her and the gravity of this feeling was overwhelming.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead on his as tears fell from her eyes. Erik sucked in a breath at the contact but didn't lean away. Instead, he tentatively placed a hand in her brown curls and stroked her head soothingly. Then, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her down into his lap, holding her against his chest. There, she cried for Raoul. Erik held her until the tears subsided.

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has read this so far, and special shoutout to those of you who have reviewed! This chapter was incredibly emotional to write. Please let me know what you think!