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I wake with a scream.
Panting, I brush a mass of curls from my brow and wrack my brain for what about the dream had been so horrifying.
...There had been spiders, I'm sure of it. Hundreds and hundreds of spiders!
They had been chasing me—tainting my skin with their vile, terrible legs (of which they have far too many, by the by. What business have they prancing about with eight?!). And there in the corner of my bedroom, every one of its beady eyes staring into mine, is one the size of my head.
All of this screaming cannot be good for my voice.
“Christine! My precious girl, what is the matter?!”
Erik, evidently having caught my unholy shrieking, is at the door in an instant.
“Oh, it's awful, Erik!” I cry, springing upon him in a manner that is no doubt comical. “Simply awful!”
“What is, darling, what is?” he asks breathlessly, stiffening before returning my hold.
“Just near my bed! An enormous s-s...”
I cannot bring myself to say it!
But he merely looks in the direction of my frantic gestures and laughs, daring to approach the dreadful thing.
"Yes, I’m afraid we get quite a few of these down here,” he chuckles. “I must say, he’s a big fellow, isn’t he?”
Crouching down, he scoops the beast into his hands with care as I will myself not be sick.
“Y-You are putting it out near the lake, are you not?” I am hardly audible through my chattering teeth.
“If it would please you," he says mildly.
“It would!”
Still shivering from head to toe, I watch from afar as he disappears briefly. His footfall is nearly silent, yet I hear the opening and closing of a door as he presumably deposits the creature outside, taking no time at all in returning to my room, nearing as though lost in thought.
“Thank you,” I breathe in relief. “Perhaps I'll finally be able to sleep now!”
“Of course, my dear—think nothing of it. Though...”
I gulp. "Though?”
“I suppose his mate must be somewhere nearby,” he remarks absently. “They’re often found in twos, you know.”
Dear God.
Two of them?!
Erik must see the expression on my face, however, as he is quick to reassure me.
"But you needn’t worry yourself! I’ll search for the remaining one if you wish.”
“Oh, could you?” I quiver, attempting to ignore the hot tears pooling in my eyes. “I wouldn't wish trouble you too much, but...” The words are suddenly trapped in my throat and I swallow them, feeling like a perfect fool.
“...You really are very frightened, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, though it is more of a statement than a question.
I nod.
“Christine,” he sighs, opening his arms with a weary tenderness. "Come to me."
I obey as he embraces me gingerly, shuddering slightly when we meet. His hands are icy yet the rest of him is warm, and I am finally at ease, burying my head deep in his chest. He smells of costly cologne with a hint of must; it is the scent of the earth, the scent of him, and I find it to be strangely comforting.
"I know I am being childish, Erik," I whimper pathetically. "Spiders are very useful, and they're more afraid of me than I am of them, but one bit me when I was younger and I haven't been able to bear them since!"
He hushes me gently, stroking my hair with a wary hand. "I know, darling, I know... Though I feel compelled to mention that you are anything but childish. Fear doesn't make you weak—it merely makes you human."
I have been told so in the past, but the fact that it comes from him means quite a bit more.
We remain as such for what may as well be an eternity, and time loses both shape and meaning against the rapid beating of his heart. My own body mirrors his reactions as my breathing slows to a normal pace.
"I want you to wait for me in the drawing room," he murmurs at length, hesitant as his hard lips graze my forehead. "I daresay finding the other one should prove a fairly simple task. And in the meantime, you must take my seat by the fire—it pains me to see you trembling so."
He guides me to his chair with infinite vigilance where he then provides me with a shawl and a last glimpse of his golden gaze before reentering my room. Ayesha proceeds to glare at me from the couch, so I instead observe the dancing flames in the hearth, my face tingling where Erik's mouth had touched it.
How would it feel against my neck, my jaw? ...Against my own lips?
These thoughts are more than effective in engaging my troubled mind.
The heat from the fire leaves me so cosy that I nearly doze off once or twice, but the distant sound of moving furniture sways me on the fine line of dreams and reality. I must succumb to sleep sooner rather than later, however, for the next thing I know, Erik is speaking my name in an attempt to wake me and the flames have fizzled out and died.
"It is done," he says, eyes soft. "Are you feeling much better, my dear?"
"Decidedly,” I yawn, adjusting my hair so I might look less horrendous. "Oh, I cannot thank you enough, Erik. I'm not sure of what I would do without you!"
He clears his throat once and then again. "Yes, well... It was nothing, truly."
A patchy flush invades his chin, and I briefly wonder if he has ever been thanked before. Smiling, I do my best to let him know I mean every word as he takes a great interest in the carpet.
"...Regardless, it's very late, Christine," he comments in a peculiar tone. It is mellow with a wisp of something that makes my insides flutter pleasantly. "You'll be needing your rest if I am to take you above tomorrow."
"I suppose you are right," I pout, the thought of the Opera growing more unappealing by the second. Though I do have a career to maintain and whatnot!
Oh, bother.
On this sour note, I rise from my seat, straightening the fabric of my nightgown, and am suddenly graced with the most brilliant idea.
Perhaps Erik isn't the only genius here after all...
“But before I go to bed, don't you want your reward?”
“My…” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “My reward?”
“For saving me from the spiders, of course!” I giggle. "You really are very silly sometimes... Now, do come here!”
Erik is still for a moment before approaching guardedly, fiddling with his hands like a frightened schoolboy; the sight is endlessly strange if not wholly and utterly endearing.
“And,” He swallows hard. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
Despite his abnormally timid air, his gaze lingers on my mouth until I am thoroughly convinced we're on the same page.
"Close your eyes,” I request a tad too innocently.
Every fibre of his being reads of wanting to question me, but his trust outweighs his suspicion as he obliges. Thus, scanning him methodically, I lock onto a lone portion of exposed flesh: his lips.
Perfect.
But just as I cup his face in my hands, he inhales sharply, making to pull away.
"It's alright, Erik," I soothe. "I am not removing the mask. For everything you've done for me, that is all you've asked in return."
He nods faintly following a beat of silence. "Forgive me.”
And with this, at the crux of my master plan, I rise up on my toes and press a kiss to the skin just below his mouth. Retreating at the ensuing silence, I note that his eyes have gone wide and he appears to have ceased breathing.
“I- oh.” A hand drifts up to his chin as a rush of red envelops his neck. "Oh..."
It's all very sweet.
But I don't suppose he'll be forming coherent speech anytime soon, so I really should take charge.
"And there is something I've been meaning to tell you."
His eyes are quite dim and I'm not entirely sure he can hear me.
"Erik?"
“…Yes?” he dully inquires.
"I-"
I love you.
But I cannot say it yet. Not now, not tonight. He's already so very overwhelmed... No, it would not do for me to push him further.
Drat.
"It's nothing, dear. Goodnight."
"...Goodnight, Christine," he echoes numbly, looking on whilst I bolt back to my room as though my life depends upon it. Unbeknownst to him, I watch from the doorway as he stumbles back to his chair, his hand still pressed to the spot where I had kissed him.
Once seated, he makes no movement or sound, yet I am almost sure he has begun to cry.