Prolog

Himmelblau

The sun burned mercilessly, on the scorching asphalt, down. In front of the ice cream parlor, next to the City Theater, crowds of people are gathered to enjoy a sweet refreshment. On the Place of the Old Synagogue, the children of stressed and overheated parents, dances and splashes in the water of the fountain. Some trees are spending cooling shadow. The Place of the Old Synagogue and the opposite located City Theater are nearby at a tram crossing. The College Building II of the Albert Ludwig University is right next to the Place. Bicycles and streetcars as well as various crowds of people passed by in regular waves.

On the edge of the Place, not far away from the hustle and bustle, the shouting of the children and the cooing of the pigeons, sat a group of punks. The outcasts, the renegades of society, those who stand at the end of the line, all time ready with a big middle finger. Once cast out by their families, banished by society, these rotted together like rats in the last corners of the city, to take money from the "rich" to their begging bags.
The students crossed the grounds by bicycle or on foot. Here and there they made it comfortable in the shade of the trees, and a tobacco pouch pulled out.
Christine, Meg and Raoul had grabbed the perfect spot under one of the shadowy trees, as they do every sunny day after class.
"I'll tell you one thing, if Mr. Döhler calls me Fräulein one more time, I'll tell the old fart where this term comes from and what it actually does to us women in these days!" Meg rolling a cigarette as she chatted. "I think he knows exactly what he's doing" Raoul teased, reaching for his water bottle. "I mean, what is he, a hundred?"
"At least!"; Meg interjected, "So he must have lived through WWII, that's the time which men called the female sex. But I have to agree with you, we don't live in 1900 anymore, get over it dude." Raoul agreed, when he saw Meg's eyebrows disappear under her bangs.
Christine sat next to the two of them, smiling. Knotted cross-legged, arms propped on the ground, she let her eyes wander over the wide Place of the Old Synagogue. She really enjoyed spending her lunch break with her two best friends. Under this old tree, on this historical place, surrounded by people, doves and trees, what could be more beautiful?

Like every sunny day, the musician was also there, sitting with his dog a bit away from the other punks. Christine glanced at that punk. He hadn't started playing yet. His guitar was lying next to him. A spaniel mix lay curled up on his lap. The punk pressed his face firmly into the dog's body, just as if he wanted to disappear. A sad smile flattered Christine's lips. She had seen and heard the punk here many times before. He strummed the guitar, as she had never saw, and she knew how great musicians played. How great musicians lived and felt the music.
Her father was a great violinist himself and regularly accompanied the Scandinavian Philharmonic Orchestra. The last time she saw her father was more than 6 months ago. She missed him very much. Growing up without a father, who lived only for music, left her a dull ache in her chest over the years. This pain pushed her into art. Even though, in the end she knew, that studying art wouldn't satisfied her. At least she could aim for a professorship. A mild relief for someone who craved so much more.

The first chords flew across the place. The punk was now standing at its full height. Christine was always impressed by how tall and thin he was. A line in the landscape with a present, which took up the whole space. And then, came the voice. Delicate at first, then louder and swelling, it pierced the ears of the people.
Christine closed her eyes and hummed along. Meg turned around, took a firm puff on her cigarette and exhaled "Hey, that's the guy from last time, right?" she nudged Raoul's side with her elbow, so that he now turned around as well. "Ah... again." he turned back to his book, business studies. Who studied business studies, please? Someone who doesn't know what else to take, Christine thought. Poor Raoul.
"Whoa Chrissy, isn't that Florence And The Machine?" exclaimed Meg finally, "I... I think it is" Christine listened to the lyrics ~And I never wanted anything from you~

"Yes!" she exclaimed and finally stood up.
Meg looked after her, "What the... CHRISSY!" she was still shouting, Raoul saw her backpack slowly fall over. She was already at the young man with the guitar and she got into the song ~Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back~ for a tiny moment the chord stumbled, but the punk found himself again and looked down at her. His yellow eyes stared out relentlessly, from a white mask with no facial features, catching her sky blue eyes. Shortly, she gasped for air and continued singing.
His voice lost volume, he merely escorted her. The dog's ears twitched gently, she stood up to sniff Christine's foot with her wet nose. Christine smiled, bent down and stroked the female dog, singing steadily on. She was grateful not to have to look anymore into the punk's face.
Because there was simply no face. She never quite knew where to look when she looked at him. The song ebbed away. A few people who stopped, threw some coins into his guitar case. Some whispered and some moved away without a word.
The young man bent down, slowly and gently, to Christine and his dog, "Her name is Sasha" he murmured almost soundlessly. "A female then? Ohhhh you're so cute!" Christine's voice rise an octave, the way humans did when talking to cute animals. Sasha rolled onto her back and presented her fuzzy belly, grumbling with pleasure. "She doesn't have fleas or anything, feel free to pet her properly," the voice murmured gently through the mask. Christine finally looked up at him. He avoided her gaze, seeming to fall apart, retuning his guitar. Her gaze wandered to his hands. Long. Thin. Strong. Only now, did she notice how terribly thin he really was. She felt herself staring at him. He fingernails were nibbled of. Band-aids everywhere. Was there a fingertip missing? Christine's eyes widened. "If you keep staring, I'm going to have to charge you." he spoke calmly and stood up. "Oh Gosh, I'm sorry. It's just" she brushed her wild curls behind both ears "I haven't seen a guitar player this good in a long time"
"Ah..."
"You're tuning by ear?" she desperately tried to steer the conversation in another direction, "If you can't afford a tuner, then you try this way." he muttered. Sasha's growling grew louder and louder, turning into a demanding yelp. "Well..." he looked at Christine, "her belly. You're petting too gently." his voice brightened. "Look" he went down again, to Christine and Sasha, reaching into the dog's thick fur and started petting. "That's the way to do it," he muttered seriously. Christine started laughing, "I didn't know that was like a rocket science" and that's when she saw it, the eyes behind the mask stared at her for a few seconds and then, a smile. He was smiling. The corners of his eyes smacked tiny wrinkles. "I'm Christine Daaé," she finally said, relieving the punk of his petting "Erik" he replied soundless, standing up again.
"Christine Daaé, how do you feel about Nirvana?" he finally asked, strumming the first chord of Smells Like Teen Spirit.

The heat was rising. The asphalt shimmered. Money jingled in the guitar case. Christine's voice grew scratchy. Erik broke off and looked at her. "You don't sing?"
"Wha-"
"Usually. You don't sing for usually, but you sound like a pro" he turned away and collected the money. "Gotcha. I usually sing a song or two in the shower"
"Wasted talent" he growled in her direction. She backed away. "Says the right one, busker!" She countered. Erik fell silent and gathered his things. "Yeah. Sure. Sorry." he muttered, seeming rushed. "I have to go now, come Sasha," the dog jumped up from her sleeping position and trotted to her master.
Their eyes met for the last time that day. Then their paths separated.
The punk, who wasn't even sitting with the punks, get away. Christine sat back down under the shady tree. "Woah Chrissy, he stole your share" Meg giggled,
"Don't talk nonsense" Christine smiled invaded and reached for the water bottle.

Songs to listen to:

Die Ärzte – Himmelblau

Florence + The Machine – Dog Days Are Over

Nirvana – Smells Like Teen Spirit