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The light was different. That was the thing she first noticed, when she entered the house on the lake. The usual glow of candlelight and gas light and fireplace were replaced with something of a different timbre, so yellow it was almost green.
As Christine walked into the dining room, she saw what it was: fireflies. Jars of fireflies by the dozen, their tops covered with cloth, placed about the room on every available surface.
Dinner was already on the table; Erik stood by his usual chair, a slender black shadow haloed in unearthly light.
“Erik,” said Christine, “Why is…”
He was hesitant in his reply. “You… complained that sometimes I blow the candles out on purpose. I thought that maybe… if we had a source of light that didn’t go out.”
He tugged at his waistcoat in a gesture she had begun to associate with nervousness.
He pulled back Christine’s chair for her, then once she was seated, pulled off his black mask in a single motion, and sat down in his own seat.
The greenish light of the fireflies made his eyes seem more than their usual gold by comparison.
As usual, it took a few moments of nervousness before Erik could adjust to having his face bare in front of her, but once dinner properly started, he settled a little, even taking her hand over the table at one point.
Christine knew how difficult it was for him, to not have the option of quickly blowing out a candle to conceal his face. The darkness had been his cloak and his shield for so long.
Erik talked more than he ate – picking at his food, a few small bites at a time, leaving most of it. No wonder he was so thin.
Later, Christine stroked her thumb over Erik’s prominent cheekbone, stealing his breath away, and kissed him in the twinkling glow.
*
The next evening, Erik hired a barouche and drove out of Paris and into the country, Christine sat comfortably in the carriage. He’d have liked to have someone else drive them so that he could sit beside her, but he wanted the night to be for the two of them alone.
He drew the carriage to a stop at a slight hill just as the sun began to properly set, then climbed down, and got into the carriage proper, sitting next to Christine. He was all in black as usual: black suit, black mask, black cloak. He wanted to move closer and bask in the warmth of her presence, but he did not feel he had the right, even after all the kisses she’d granted him these past few months.
Christine reached out to his mask and Erik hesitated, until she said, “There’s no-one to see,” and then he let her take it off. She kissed him by way of thanks, quickly, on the mouth.
Then they opened the boxes that crowded the rest of the carriage, reaching in and taking out a jar each. Then they undid the string holding the cloth over the top of the jar, and took the cloth away as well.
Some of the fireflies flew away immediately, others required coaxing, but soon enough, they were all fluttering about the carriage and away into the hedgerows. Then Erik and Christine reached for the next two jars.
They continued until every jar was empty, and the air around them was filled with the darting glow of fireflies, dancing in the night’s breeze, mingling with the stars far above.