The Sun Will Rise Again
One Month Later
The former ballerina's sunken eyes had become an unspoken testimony to her lack of sleep and tumultuous downfall from the quirky girl the Composer once knew. She was much thinner, much more fragile than the Composer remembered. He recalled that she was brawny, muscular and robust underneath all of her chocolate curls, but as the embers of the roaring fire bounced off of her pale skin, he only saw the reflection of the skeleton he had striven so hard never to become again.
It had been almost another month since the Composer had seen his former lover once more. Il Muto was in full swing with Ms. VaanGuard as the Page Boy. Erik couldn't just abandon his life's work. No, not even for the woman he loved, but he often debated it for the woman he loved. He often debated many things for the woman he loved.
"I've heard nothing, but good things about your opera, Erik." Quietly, Christine sipped on her tea, mewing as the warm liquid spread throughout her body, down to each and every one of her bones. "I think I'd like to go see it."
"Really?" Erik sat up, straightening his posture. The uncovered half of his face showed pure shock. He never thought after what happened with Ms. Vaangaurd and Christine, would his previous English student want to voluntarily go to see his opera.
"Of course." Christine brought the porcelain teacup to her lips once again, never her lips to the cup. "Your work has always interested me."
"I would have thought otherwise." Christine shrugged her tiny shoulders; the chocolate curls falling loosely down her back. "I would have thought you detested my opera."
"Never." With a soft smile, Christine placed the empty teacup on the table in front of her. Leaning on the arm of the couch, she looked intently at the fire beside her. "I detest the fact that you moved on so quickly from me, but maybe I'm just jealous of her. I do wish I had you all to myself." Christine buried her face into her arms as she watched the sparks fly every which way off of the flames and out of the marble fireplace. Adorned on the mantle were Erik's many diplomas. She always liked reading them - reading about all of his successes.
"We have that in common then, Miss Daaé." Tilting her head to face the Composer, Christine scrunched up her nose upward, creating quite the noticeable crease in her forehead.
"What do you mean?" Erik couldn't help, but smile at the expression the former ballerina held. "What do we have in common?"
The composer stood to his feet, adjusting his black waistcoat. Christine enjoyed the fact that Erik believed in always dressing nicely, even if that meant just wearing a tie and waistcoat around the house - or mansion in the Composer's case. As Erik made his way over to Christine, he knelt beside her and captured her tiny hands in his - a feeling he could never quite get used to.
"I want you all to myself and you want me all to yourself." Christine's pale cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she nodded along to the Composer's confession. "I'm exhausted from being separated from you, Christine. I think I have some sort of disorder..." Erik let out a nervous laugh, but he was quite serious underneath the mask. "I know that picking Ms. VaanGuard wasn't a good choice to make without you, but I needed someone to fill in for you, as we were to open very soon after that. She showed potential and I needed someone who could learn very quickly. I know you can understand... At least, I am hoping you can understand, Christine." Erik inhaled a sharp breath of air as he watched Christine part her lips in response.
"I understand, Erik. What happened in that locker room was entirely my fault. I just hope you can-"
"There's nothing to forgive, Angel." Erik stood to his feet and held out his hand towards the young girl. His heart was beating rapidly beneath his gray button-up shirt. This time, he was thankful half of his face was covered by a mask. "I want to show you something. Come with me, Angel." Christine excitedly stood to her feet as she joined hands with the Composer, interlocking their fingers together.
As Erik led his past student through the foyer of his mansion and down the stairs to the lower floor. Christine always thought the lower floor smelled like roses, but Erik swore it didn't smell like anything, but Pine Sol cleaner. Christine looked around at the different rooms, always wondering why a man who often stayed in the secret lair he built, needed all these rooms and such a big house. She dared to ask him, though. Erik continued to lead Christine down a narrow hallway, until coming to an abrupt stop in his footsteps.
"Close your eyes." Christine raised her eyebrow at the Composer, folding her arms over her chest. "Please, close your eyes."
"Why should I close my eyes, huh?" Placing his hands together underneath his chin, Erik sighed loudly. "How do I know you're not leading me to some other type of scary lair? A maze of mirrors or through a trapdoor, Mr. Composer?" Erik smiled widely at Christine's musings. Leaning against the door, Erik reached for the handle. "I mean, it's not every day someone builds a lair in their basement."
"That is true," Erik nodded along to the student's questions. "But I can assure you, Miss Daaé, I am in no way trained to create a maze of mirrors or create any sort of trap door. They have engineers and special technicians for those type of... Fun... Instruments." Erik squinted at his own wording, as he tried to pick a better phrase, but came up short. "I also assure you that though it is true that not everybody has a musical lair in their basement, not everyone's basement is as developed as my musical lair. Many people turn their basement's into a place where they can freely place their music. My basement, is just more... Advanced." The Composer flashed a wide smile at Christine, whose smile was equally as big. Erik never noticed that she had dimples beside her cheeks.
"I see your point." Christine mused softly. "Fine, I'll close my eyes, but if I end up in Persia tied to the back of camel, you're getting a very nasty letter, Mr. Composer." As Christine shut her eyes, she could feel one of Erik's strong hands land at the small of her back and the other, guiding her hands forward. It still amazed her that both of her hands could fit in one of his hands.
"It's a deal then." Erik spoke quietly as he lead Christine carefully through the door.
The room was daft, chilly. Moving Christine to the center of the room, Erik stepped behind Christine and placed his large hands over her eyes. The warmth of his body immediately comforted Christine. Erik's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark room and as he saw that everything was in place, he took a deep breath in, stepped away from the young girl and shut his eyes. This was going to be a surprise for the Composer as much as it was going to be for Christine.
"Can you hear me, Christine?" The young girl jumped in her skin at the sound of his voice. The Composer's voice sounded distance, just as it did in the opera house.
"Yes, I can hear you. It's pitch black in here, Erik! Where are you?" It truly was pitch black. Christine had never been in complete darkness before.
"I'm here, don't worry, Angel. I'm always here." Erik's voice sounded closer, but still not reachable to Christine. "Can you see anything, Christine?"
"No! My eyes are open and it's completely dark in here. Where are you?" Christine held out her arms, but to no avail, there was no Composer reaching back to her. "Erik? Where are you? I'm frightened."
"Don't be scared, Christine. It'll be okay. I'm right here." Christine turned around quickly to meet the voice, but she was only met with darkness. "I need you to do me a favor, Christine."
"Another favor, Erik?" Christine was shaking. It was cold and dark.
"Yes." Erik's voice was smooth, calming. "I promise you are safe. You need to trust me, okay?"
"Is that the other favor? To trust you?" Soon, Erik's familiar laugh could be heard from a distance.
"No, that isn't the favor." Christine just shrugged. Erik saw Christine shrug in the darkness, but he knew that it was time. He took in another breath and stepped forward. "Can you feel m presence near you, now?" Miss Daaé reached out in front of her, only to hit her hand on Erik's chest. He was much closer than she expected him to be.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there..." Erik just hummed. "I didn't see anything there..."
"I know. It's alright." Erik grabbed Christine's hands once again. They were ice cold. "I need you to close your eyes again."
"Would it even make a difference? I can't see a damn thing in here, eyes open or not, Erik." The Composer smiled, knowing that the dancer couldn't see him. Placing a chaste kiss on her cold knuckles, he stepped behind her once again. "Erik?"
"Yes, I'm here." His voice echoed in her ear, sending chills down Christine's spine. "Please close your eyes, Christine, for me." Erik could see Christine's eyelids slowly shut close. As she leaned back into his body, safely, Erik placed his hands over her eyes. "Okay, I hope you're ready."
"Me too." Christine smiled a bit. So did Erik.
"On the count of three, I need you to clap twice, okay? Can you do that for me, Christine?" She only nodded. Erik could see her mouth the word, 'Okay.' Erik smiled again.
"I'm ready when you are." Truth was, Erik was never going to be ready.
"Un." Erik spoke with a perfect French accent. "Deux." Christine could feel just how fast his heart was beating as she leaned back on his chest. "Trois."
Christine, on command, clapped twice and as the lights picked up her motions, the room lit up without missing a beat.
A completely new, refurbished ballet studio.
"Do you like it?" Erik whispered, breaking the elongated silence between them. The only response Christine could come up with was watery eyes and an agape jaw.
Straight ahead, was a wall made of mirrors, complete with a wooden barre running the whole length of the wall. Behind Christine and to the left corner, was shelving. Within the shelves, were brand new pointe shoes, soft ballet shoes, and leotards. Practice gear to wear was also included, further down the shelves. To the right corner, there was a box of fresh Rosin Powder and replacement All Marley floor pieces.
"Those two doors to the right, one is a restroom and the other is a dressing room. There are some costumes in there, not much, but some. Mostly more practice uniforms in there, hair accessories and makeup. I wasn't really sure what to put in there. I had some help from the dancers from the opera..." Erik trailed off into something incoherent as Christine stood overwhelmed in the middle of the studio. "If you don't like it, I can tear it down and make this room into whatever you'd like it be. I just know you loved dancing so much... I just... I thought it would be nice for you to have somewhere to dance... For free... And I can hire you a trainer and everything. It could be very marvelous, if you want it to be..."
"I..." Christine turned to face the Composer who was scratching his neck, awkwardly at the sight of Christine who was clearly speechless at the gift he was giving her. "I... Erik..."
"I know it's a bit much, but I thought it might be nice to get out of that apartment of yours. There's even a little cat castle for André in the dressing room that you can move out here, so he can watch you dance." Christine broke into tears as she fell to her knees. She simply didn't know what to say or do. "No, No... Christine, no!" Immediately, the student was encased in the Composer's arms. "This was supposed to be a good thing, Christine. You aren't anywhere near Persia or a camel."
"I know... I know..." Christine took deep breaths as she buried her face into Erik's chest. "It's just so nice of you... I don't deserve any of it after the way I acted..."
"You deserve every bit of it, Christine." The dancer shook her head. "We all make mistakes. We're all human."
"I don't deserve any of this..." The chocolate curls managed to fall over her face. She didn't bother moving them. "I tried to do my best with everything going on, but I just made it worse..."
"Christine," Erik moved the former student in front of him, moving her face to his. "Sometimes our best is our worst, before we can get better." Erik smiled softly. "Trust me, you deserve everything good in this world, even if you think you don't."
"I don't deserve you." Erik shrugged nonchalantly.
"No one deserves anything, but we accept what we're given and that how we do our best." Erik closed his eyes and inhaled. "I don't want to know what a life without you is like. You may believe that you don't deserve me and vice versa, but nevertheless... I don't want to know what living the rest of my life would be like without you."
"It would be quite horrible." Erik nodded in agreement. With great exhalation, the Composer pulled a black box from his pocket.
"Horrible does not even come close to describing what the world would be like without you."
"Erik... Erik... What are you d-doing?"
Opening the tiny black box with a shaky grip, the Composer took a deep breath and looked up to meet eyes with his Angel.
"Christine, you told me that you wanted me all to yourself. If that is true, then say the word and I'm yours forever..." Placing the box in one hand, the Composer used his free hand to remove the white mask that confined his deformity. The cool air felt quite relieving.
"Erik..."
"I've never loved anyone as I have loved you. My life is insignificant without you right beside me. You give me meaning, reason to wake up the next morning. All I have accomplished in life, does not measure to what I feel for you. I would trade all my degrees and all of my success, just for ten seconds with you. If I had to choose between dying and having five minutes to be immersed in your love, I would make sure that those five minutes were spent counting the seconds I had you in my arms. You make me happy. I've never laughed so much with anybody else, Christine and your talent, oh your talent... I don't care about my operas. Dance in them, set them on fire! I don't care... I just want you to be happy. Oh, my Christine... If you mean it, say the word and I will be yours forever..."
The chocolate curls Erik had come to know so well had fallen in front of Christine's face, as her head hung, her face hidden away from his sight. She was trembling, the sound of her sniffling the only thing being audible through her thick hair. Erik had placed the engagement ring box on his leg. Christine, through the forest of brown hair, sneaked peeks of the diamond ring. It was vintage, antique. She didn't even want to know how much it cost him. She was just trying to think of an answer to a question he hadn't even asked yet. She was only nineteen and he was thirty five. Like he said, he was a whole person who could legally drive older than her. Yet, she felt as though this is where her soul was meant to be, but what she didn't know was if this was the right time. She didn't know a lot of things, actually. She knew nothing about his parents or if he had siblings. She didn't even know if he still talked to Bailey and Bailey's child. Christine also didn't know why the Composer occasionally talked in third person. What about Tiffany? Would she be in future operas? She was confused entirely. Christine didn't know what to say.
"Christine...?" Erik's child-like voice broke her train of thought. "Christine?" As she lifted her head, wiping her tears, she saw that he too was crying. The tears streamed down both sides of his face. He had a new cut on the marred side of his face. Immediately, Christine wondered where that came from and when it happened. It was still red and swollen. The salty tears must be stinging the cut.
"Erik, I..." Christine only managed to get out two words before breaking out into tears again. "I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say..."
"Say you love me!" Erik placed the ring aside on the floor, scooting forward to close the gap between them. Grabbing onto their hands together, Erik took a deep breath. "Oh, Christine... Please... Christine..."
"Oh Erik, I just..." Christine paused again, shaking her head.
"Christine, marry me. Will you marry me?" Erik's mismatched eyes were wide with anticipation as they pleaded for an answer.
"Erik, I don't know what to say, I don't know what to say!" Christine repeated the same phrase ten times before standing to her feet. "I don't know what to say!"
"Where are you going?" Erik demanded. "Why won't you answer me?"
"I can't answer you!" Christine shouted back at the Composer. "I don't know what to say!" As Christine moved towards the door, leaving Erik sat in the middle of the studio, she could hear the closing of the ring box. Christine shut her eyes, as if that would alleviate the pain of leaving him in the middle of proposing. She could hear him fiddling with his mask, while she reached for the door handle.
"Christine..." Almost inaudible, Erik beckoned for the dancer one last time. As she turned around, she saw that he did not put his mask back on and the ring was not in its box. Erik was on his feet and how he managed to move within inches of Christine without making a sound, will forever astound her. Holding out the diamond ring, the Composer blinked profusely, making little droplets of water fall off his eyelashes and onto to the floor.
"Erik, please-" The Composer took in a sharp breath, trying not to cry as he tightened the muscles in his face. With one last try, Erik gently placed the ring onto Christine's ring finger. Silently, he placed another kiss onto her knuckles and stepped away from her. Christine couldn't lie. It was a beautiful ring, fighting for heart breaking cause.
"Christine, I love you."