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It had been a mistake from the very beginning.
He should have kept up the ruse. Should have kept on being the angel. He told himself he could have done it, could have contented himself with just being a mentor and nothing more. But then he felt her hand in his and he knew there was no going back. He was lost to her forever, a simpering dog at her feet. If she asked for his heart he would gladly cut it out of his own chest and hand it to her on a silver platter.
Which made it hurt all the more.
She was a curious thing by nature, he knew. Always asking so many questions after her angel and heaven, so concerned with the way things occurred. Always so many notes with her music, wanting more information. It was incredibly endearing in the beginning, but he didn’t see the true danger of it until it was too late. Too late to turn back, too soon to go forward. He was spinning in a sea of heartbreak as he fought valiantly to keep his head above water, trying and failing to survive.
He never really understood how feelings could affect your physical body. He had always laughed at the guards in Persia who threw up at the sight of a crying family, disgusted by how their bodies betrayed them so easily. But now he knew. Now that he felt so betrayed it hurt, he understood exactly why it was called heartbreak. He truly believed he might be torn in two at any moment; that he might die if only to stop the awful pain in his chest. He was dizzy, everything was spinning, and he feared he might faint if he hadn’t been on the ground already, clutching at his own face. It was a shock he hadn’t already collapsed.
She was a vision, of course, in that white gown which fanned out on the floor like wings and her hair tumbling out of its pins to frame her face with its curls. Her perfectly red lips pursed in shock, and her sapphire eyes wide open as she stared. She, too, was on the floor, though he didn’t remember how she got there. It hardly mattered. She had betrayed him. She had forsaken him, and all he wanted was for her to leave.
It would have been so much easier if she had screamed and ran, then at least he could be righteously angry. But all she did was be silent and stare at him with such terrible pity in her eyes that it was somehow worse. Oh, if only she hadn’t touched it! If only she’d let the ruse stay in place; then she might have learned to love him! But it was all for naught now, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his coffin and wait for death.
The final barrier she had so carelessly flung from him was on the floor somewhere behind her, though he didn’t much care to look. His eyes were so full of tears he couldn’t look even if he wanted to. He focused all his energy on keeping his hand firmly in place on the right side of his face, nearly clawing at the skin in his efforts to do so. It was red and raw from wearing the mask so long, but he ignored the pain in favor of the mortification. And there she still was, staring at him.
Though, perhaps his mind was simply playing tricks on him, but she seemed closer , somehow. There it was again- she had moved. She was shuffling ever so slowly towards him, her eyes still full of that god-awful concern. He cast his eyes down, unwilling to look. And still she crept forward, till they were not even a foot apart.
And then there was a hand reaching out to him, and he was so caught up in all his emotions he barely registered it until it was touching his hand. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t fight back. He could only sit there, frozen, as she pried his hand off his face and settled it in her own, gently holding his stiff fingers.
He did react, however, when her other hand came to touch his face. He jerked away from it, allowing her the lightest brush of fingers before capturing her hand with his free one, a gesture meant to be merely practical in nature. But she immediately intertwined their fingers, and leaned down, and before he knew it she was kissing them. Kissing his hand with such tenderness he could almost believe she loved him.
Almost.
Her fingers crept up from his hand again, up his arm until they neared his face. The good side of his face, this time, and he allowed it because he was still sobbing and felt there was nothing he could do to stop her. He was right, of course. She kept going till she held his face in her hand, and made sure to hold his other hand as tightly as she could as though afraid he would run away.
Then there were feather light touches on his right cheek, and he didn’t properly register that they were kisses, as unused to the sensation as he was. But she kept going, across his mangled cheekbones and nose to the pristine side and then back again, even going so far as to kiss his closed eyelids. He sighed under her touch, slowly calming down as she brought him back to Earth.
“Erik, look at me,” she sang, and like a servant he obeyed immediately. She wiped the tears from his eyes and cupped his face reverently, though he dreaded opening his eyes.
“Please, darling. I need to see you,” she repeated, more insistently. He followed her command tentatively, terrified of what he would find in her eyes. When he did look, however, he was shocked to find… compassion? Kindness, warmth, and love all lived in her eyes; he would have to be a fool to overlook them. But of course every nerve in his body fought back, saying it wasn’t for him, saying it was just another form of pity, saying she was just too naive to understand.
“There we go,” she said kindly when their eyes finally met, smiling at him all the while. “It’s okay; you’re okay. It’s all going to be fine,” she cooed, rubbing slow circles in his temples with her fingers.
He regained enough of his senses to register the feeling of her hands against his face, and was too drained to even begin to protest. He simply enjoyed their softness, and delighted in every expression she found fit to bestow him with, too tired for speech.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” she began, and he fought to find the courage to protest, but failed in favor of listening to her beautiful voice. “Not just your face, but your eyes. Your hands. Your lips. Your heart. Your soul,” she listed. With each body part she named, she moved her hands there, until eventually they were perched directly over his heart. Surely she could feel every rapid beat and was repulsed by it. Surely.
Then her hands moved to his shoulders, and she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. His body revelled in how close she was, and, insensibly, he leaned in closer still to smell her hair.
“I have always loved you, dear, and that will certainly not change now,” she whispered, dragging out each syllable to make the words sound like a song. And with the way his heart soared, they might as well have been.
Then, she was kissing him.
And it was everything and nothing he’d ever wanted, ever dreamed of. It was intoxicating and at the same time freeing from every single care he’d ever had. It made him forget every outside worry and care to focus all his energy on this single act with Christine.
It wasn’t fast. Not at all. He had heard and read about this sort of thing, and it always seemed so very fast; almost like a duel of some sort. But Christine and he had never been very fast-paced people, and their kiss reflected that. It was soft, and slow, and they both drew it out for as long as possible. At first, he had no idea what to do with his hands, while she seemed so sure. One cupped his face, while the other held the back of his neck and stroked the short hairs there. Eventually, however, he regained his senses enough to wrap a hand around her waist and bring one behind her head.
At first, it was she who pushed him, but he learned quickly how this dance went. When she pulled away, he feared he’d done something wrong, but she simply stopped a second to look in his eyes before resuming, consuming him once more. This time, he pushed back; supporting her at the waist as he lowered her down ever so slightly to kiss her deeper. Tongues had been involved at some point, continuing the same languid theme. They had all the time in the world, he reflected, as time didn’t exist below the opera house.
When they ran out of breath, she pulled away, but didn’t run as he expected. She wrapped her arms fully around him and leant her head on his chest in such a manner that her ear was to his heart. He followed suit until they were holding each other, as he had often seen many couples do. He held onto her for dear life, as she was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. And they were still sitting, but she had crawled into his lap and he relished the warmth she gave off.
“I love you,” she whispered against his heart, which responded with every beat. His heart belonged to her, surely she knew that by now?
“I need you to say it too,” she pleaded, turning to look up at him, and he realized he had yet to say a thing.
“ I love you ,” he answered, in so broken a voice that he remembered why he hadn’t spoken yet. “I shall never love any creature again so long as you are in my mind,” he declared, meaning every word.
“I’ll go insane before they can tear you away from my heart,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, and there was that look of love again. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know and more.
She straddled his legs, and he was momentarily overcome by the sensation before she overwhelmed him with another kiss.
This one was faster, yet no less gentle. It was passionate, though he felt their mixed tears running down his cheeks. She was crying, but in love, and wasn’t that just the perfect juxtaposition? She pushed down against him, and he cried out as she did so; so unused to such affection.
“I love you,” she murmured, like a prayer. She leaned down to kiss his neck and he gasped. “I love you.” She captured his lips again, taking him with a force he didn’t know possible from his sweet little soprano. “I love you so much, angel,” she whispered as she leant her forehead against his, then kissed him like her life depended on it.
In the end, they ended up tangled on the floor, with her on top of him as they explored this newfound sensation of togetherness. It didn’t go any further, at least not that night, but it very well could have. Erik simply enjoyed the acceptance and the love and the feel of her body on his, and Christine wept that she was finally with her angel.
And for a moment, just a single moment in time, all was peaceful in the world.