Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

6: More of Erik

Christine

I was lonely. Not that I missed the people I'd left behind, but I couldn't help feeling alone among a swirling sea of strange faces and unfamiliar experiences. The food was different, all the people I met thought they knew me when I had no recollection of them, and I wasn't even sure if Erik loved me the way I'd thought he would. True, he had left me a rose, which I took to mean that he would continue our lessons, but the future was still dark with uncertainty. 

At least everyone spoke English. It would have been a disaster if I had landed in a new century and, on top of everything else, didn't understand the language. 

With these thoughts filling my head, I made my way back to my dressing room. When I arrived, I knocked on the mirror sharply and called, "I know I said that I would see you after the performance, but I seem to have a lot of time on my hands, so if you are there, I'd like to talk." I had to wait only a moment before the mirror started to slide open. Bit by bit, Erik appeared, dressed similarly to how I'd seen him before. "Hello," I said softly. 

"Greetings, Christine," he replied.  

I bit my lip. "I'm very sorry for looking at your arm," I said.  

"Christine," he started, but I interrupted him. 

"I shouldn't have done that without your permission. I wasn't thinking. But if you still want me, I would like to have another lesson with you." I finished my speech and stared at the wall off to the side of him. 

"Christine," he said again, "it is all right. You are forgiven. Now please come back with me?" 

I smiled up at him and discretely wiped away a bit of moisture from around my eye, then followed him down through the tunnels to his lair. 

A few of the candles had gone out, and Erik moved around the room, relighting them, before sitting down at the organ and beginning his lesson. After some general instruction, we continued our work on my audition piece for Il Muto. 

I was relieved that he had accepted my apology so easily and wasn't treating me any differently. I ate lunch with him and even persuaded him to take some food. But all too soon I had to return to the opera house for rehearsals. 

Erik walked me back through the tunnels to my dressing room, and I parted with a "goodbye" and a soft touch on the arm that made him flinch. I guessed that he wasn't used to casual contact. When I turned around, he was gone—disappeared into the shadows like a ghost. 

Rehearsal consisted of running through the production and correcting a few errors; then the real performance started. My heart began to race as it always did with nerves and excitement as the curtain rose. Each stunning scene featured me in another exquisite costume, singing songs that stretched my range to the limit. 

When it was through, I went back to my room—back to Erik. 

He waited for me behind the mirror. "Your voice was beautiful, as always," he said and led me back to the lair. 

The compliment made me beam with pride. Since we'd had a lesson that morning,  I wasn't sure what we would be doing in his home, but I didn't question it. I liked spending time with him, as strange as that time was. 

Erik took me to the kitchen and asked if I wanted dinner. 

"Will I be singing again?" I asked. He'd told me in a previous lesson that some foods were bad to eat before singing. 

"No," he said, "rest your voice." He made pasta with chicken and even ate some himself. It was the longest time I had ever seen him in the kitchen, and while he worked, we chatted about music. He told me he played the violin and the piano, my two favorite instruments, as well as some others. We talked about music, which was meaningful to both of us, and all in all, it was a delightful evening. The food he had made was excellent, and I added cooking to my mental list of his accomplishments, as well as awarding him another attractiveness point in my running tally.