phantom of the opera oneshots, originally published on AO3, FFN, and Tumblr (under the same username!)
all of my phantom oneshots will now be published here instead of in my oneshots book :)
cover by BrendaDaaeDestler!
The mornings—especially early on, when the sun was just barely beginning to shine its warm, orange light—were the only times when she truly saw her husband at peace. There was always something occupying that endlessly busy mind of his; either a new composition or something related to the new small architecture firm he had started to make a more honest living. Even the night brought him no true rest and peace; the memories and nightmares of the life that Christine knew she would likely never comprehend plagued him viciously. So when the mornings came and he finally fell into some semblance of restful sleep (though it never lasted long enough), she cherished it.
She was an early riser and often had to force herself to stay in bed, though cuddling close to her sleeping husband often did the trick. When she couldn't get her eyes to stay closed, though, she often found herself staring at her husband, admiring how soft his features became as he slept.
The frown lines on his face relaxed and almost appeared non-existent where she could normally see them on his forehead, between his brows, and in the corners of his eyes. She did find them sweet at times, like when they scrunched up when he smiled, but she knew they reflected all he'd been through, all that he'd had to frown about over the course of his life. That thought always saddened her; it had ever since she was just his student and he was merely her Angel.
She would admire his soft eyelashes that rested against his cheek while he slept; surprisingly long, considering the rest of the hair on his body was rather sparse. They were dark in colour as well, which gave her a clue as to what the hair of his head might have looked like if he hadn't been born the way that he was. She had never thought she would envy her husband's eyelashes, but compared to her own, which had always been rather short and sparse, they truly were beautiful in her mind.
Sometimes, she would trace his features with the lightest touch she could manage. Her dainty finger would run along the bridge of his nose, feeling the slight bumps and unevenness along it where the mangled skin of his right side met the smooth, fair skin on his left. Her knuckles would brush against his cheek, a gesture that had always soothed him in the throes of his night terrors. Her thumb would skim along the edge of his top lip, ever-so-gently running over the puffy right side of it.
That morning was no different. The room was bathed in warm orange light as the sun rose, and as Christine's eyes opened, she rolled over to face her husband. She paused, though, when she found him already awake and looking back at her with a sleepy smile.
"You're up early."
Erik hummed sleepily as he shuffled over to be closer to her. "I slept well. I supposed I'm well-rested enough to be up," he whispered.
Christine smiled, leaning into his touch as he set his hand against her cheek and gently brushed his thumb against it. "I'm glad. I've missed your smile," she said softly.
"As I have missed yours," her husband replied, leaning forward to kiss her ever-so-gently. "But good morning, my darling."
"Good morning, my angel," Christine said, a smile on her face as she pressed her lips to his again, welcoming the chance to spend yet another day with the man she cherished most in the world by her side.
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