Say You'll Share With Me | Phantom Oneshots

we fit together, you and i

handholding prompt #4 - hands with the perfect ratio to each other for hand-holding

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From the very beginning, holding her hand had just felt right. He would never forget how a holt had run through his entire body the first time their hands had touched. Christine had hesitated at first to take his outstretched hand when he had offered it from beyond the mirror, but when she took it, oh, how good it felt, how right. Her small, dainty hand slotted perfectly in his own, which was so much larger than hers, and strong, albeit thin. He would never forget that feeling, how his breath had hitched when Christine's grip had tightened as they approached the lake, her nerves subconsciously catching up with her. All had seemingly been made right in his life, just like that.

Thinking he had lost her when she had first torn his mask off and he had lashed out had been one of the most truly painful moments in his life, which said a lot. The fear painted on her face had crushed him, and all he had been able to find the wherewithal to do was to crumble in front of her; tears had broken their dam before he had even realized and gotten the chance to try and stop them.

The last thing he had expected was the gentility she had shown him; he had pictured her never wanting to be near him ever again (which he believed he, quite honestly, deserved), but she had expressed quite the contrary. She had reached out for his hand, taken it in her own and slotted them oh, so perfectly together yet again. Everything blurred together after that in a mix of his tears and her gentle embrace, which he had relished in as long as she held him close. Then to lean back, only to be pulled towards her once more, but this time for a kiss? Well, he could have died right there and then and he would have been quite content.

Rather than dying of bliss, however, he had lived to start down the path to a beautiful life that he never could have imagined for himself; the life that had for so long existed only in his wildest dreams. It was no longer just 'Erik Destler' when he introduced himself; no, now it was 'Erik Destler and my wife, Christine.' He no longer had to cross a lake to fetch Nadir when he came to visit his underground hideaway; he had a true home with his wife now, just outside of Paris, that his friend could visit whenever he wished. The changes were big ones, true, that had taken an abundance of adjusting to get used to, but they were welcome ones, without a doubt.

It was true that with marriage came different, more intimate connections and moments with his wife, but the simple act of holding her hand never failed to bring him remarkable amounts of joy. Not that he didn't enjoy the new aspects of their relationship—he most certainly did—but there was something about holding hands with her that was different. It was a separate kind of intimacy in a league of its own, and he cherished it every single time his sweet Christine allowed him to hold her hand in his.

It was always special, no matter what situation they found themselves in. Sometimes they would both be reading on the settee and Christine would reach for his hand, interlock their fingers, and rest their joined hands on her leg without even glancing up from her book. Or sometimes they were out in the city on a walk and he would gently brush his fingers against hers, then feel joy rush through him as she slipped her hand into his. He loved every situation that put her hand in his, but none could ever compare to the most recent occasion of it. It would never be more incredible than having his wife squeezing his hand, her grip seeming to tighten every moment, as she brought their little one into the world.

Erik never could have imagined that anyone's hand could fit better in his than Christine's, but that was before Gustave. Tiny, perfect, beautiful Gustave. If he was being honest, his son's entire body practically fit in his two hands, as large as they were, but there really was something to be said about feeling his baby wrap his little hand around only one of his fingers. Their hands may not have slotted together the way his and Christine's did, but it was his baby's little way of holding him close and he would never complain about that.

It was that night, as he sat in bed with his wife cuddled up to his side and his infant son sleeping soundly in his arms, that Erik realize that he had hands to hold for the rest of his life, and never before had anything felt so sweet. How could anything possibly be better than that? 

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yes, i will take advantage of any and all situations to give erik a baby. it's a mission in life that i have. 

thank you for reading! i certainly hope you all enjoyed this soft little piece; i had lots of fun writing it <3