Say You'll Share With Me | Phantom Oneshots

a touch so soft

the first in a series of oneshots based on a list of hand-holding prompts put together by creativepromptsforwriting on tumblr! me and BrendaDaaeDestler are working through this list together and this is the first of my pieces! enjoy :) 

#2 - calloused hands in soft hands 

~

The sound of a violin being played quickly caught Christine's attention as she stepped out of the small gondola outside the home that she had grown so fond of. The notes that flowed together into such a beautiful song that both warmed her heart and gave her chills echoed in the underground grotto, the sound bouncing off of the stone walls and completely engulfing her in the melody, drawing her in for more.

Her feet carried her through the front door, and she found herself humming along to the parts she knew as she set down her paper bags stocked with groceries in the kitchen. The composition was a new one of her husband's, and so much had changed since she had last heard it; she found that she only recognized one or two bars when before. She had known almost the entire song with only those couple of bars. Now, she could sit back and take in the additions that were new to her; the way the notes soared into a brilliant crescendo, then took a sharp dive into low, richer-sounding notes that gave her goosebumps along her arms exposed to the chilly, damp air. Only her husband's music resonated so profoundly within her, and it astounded her every time.

Following the song, Christine stepped into her husband's music room and simply admired him as he played, not wanting to say a word and disturb him. He had stripped down to only his shirtsleeves with even his mask sitting off to the side; he was relaxed and enjoying himself. Christine was always amazed at how much Erik's appearance while he was composing could tell her about his mood; he was relaxed if he looked the way he did right then and there, but if his waistcoat, tails, and mask stayed on, she knew he was doing more serious work, slaving away on a tune that needed to get down on paper quickly before it escaped him. If his ornately detailed robe and that godforsaken hat that he insisted on wearing came out, though...well, she knew to leave him be for some time; he would have some steam to work off for one reason or another.

This was her favourite way to find him, though. She would happily sit back and watch his long musician's fingers dance along the neck of the violin, the muscles in his shoulders flexing and tensing as his bow moved back and forth, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of the same instrument that she remembered so well from her childhood. Papa had always played beautifully, but Erik's music truly was like no other.

She only made her presence known as he finished playing, breaths coming quickly after his fervent playing and deep focus, and she applauded the performance. As he turned to look at her, his slightly crooked smile crossing his face, she couldn't stop herself from hurrying over to wrap her arms around his midsection. His smiles that had become such a frequent sight—a stark difference from the serious, cold man he had once been—were one of her favourite things about him. Anything she could do to inspire that sweet lopsided grin, she would do.

"Welcome home, my dear," Erik said, and she watched him set his violin and bow down so he could hug her properly. "Was your outing a successful one?"

"It was, yes. I got us a nice roast for tonight," Christine replied. "Your favourite."

"Oh, you spoil me, my love," Erik said, his deep chuckle making her smile as she felt it reverberate through his chest. "I look forward to it."

Christine looked up at her husband, leaning into his touch as he gently stroked her cheek with his knuckle, then ran the calloused pad of his finger along her jawline. The rough feeling of his skin had always been something that intrigued her, drew her towards him. It spoke to all that he had seen and been through, had created and produced with those very same hands throughout his life; those same callouses and the way they brushed against her skin with the slightest roughness, the odd place where the skin had peeled up ever so slightly, carried the promise of so many stories to be told, and she wanted to hear every single one of them.

"Good." She reached up to take his hand, holding it gently in her own and locking their fingers. She could feel the callouses on the back of her hand, brushing against her skin as Erik gave her hand a squeeze and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think we need to give your hands a break, anyhow. You're going to end up with callouses on your callouses."

He laughed again. "Well, we wouldn't want that," he said. "Though I do think that you'll be able to deal with those, hm? Your touch is a healing one, my love."

"As much as I would like for just my touch to be able to deal with this, I think a warm soak for your hands is a better idea," Christine said with a quiet laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"No, I like my idea a bit more," Erik replied. He smiled warmly at her then and rushed up to brush a stray chestnut curl behind her ear. "I certainly think it's a possibility. You healed my heart with just your love and your gentle touch, after all; a few callouses ought to be a much simpler project."