"But I don't want to hear something I have already heard before." she started, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "I want to hear something that you have written yourself! Surely you must have more compositions other than your Don Juan Triumphant..." her arguing concluded.
Erik let out a deep sigh and dropped his shoulders. He had no wish to argue with the lovely woman he'd managed to be civil with for most of that day.
"Yes, of course." was his dull reply as he sat on the piano bench, rooting through the wicker basket of loose papers beside the instrument.
He settled with one of his more cheerful works that lay discarded in the unruly stack of paper, its last few measures unfinished. Sighing once again, he spread its sheets on the piano's music stand and straightened his posture before his fingers spanned the starting keys.
Christine's eyes widened as the notes started their dance into a sort of calm melancholy tune which carried on for a number of sweet measures. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as the melody crescendoed into an extravagant chorus. The transitions were unlike that of dynamics, chords, and notes, she admired, but that of varying emotions and moods. The song faltered between an unusual, sorrowful bliss, to a hopeful gaiety that seemed to tell her a textless story.
"I..." she had meant to praise him, though her words were lost, leaving her staring dumbly. Erik looked back at her, his skillful fingers never once missing a note as his eyes scanned her in question. He returned wordlessly to his playing.
At last, she could contain her curiosity no longer, and her fingers started their stretch toward his face. Slowly, hesitantly, her trembling digits reached. That is, until... Her eyes caught sight of the sheets Erik concentrated on. On the wrinkled papers, scribbled clumsily in red, the title of the piece.
'Christine'
She was unsure of how her mind managed to contain the two stunning revelations that came to her at the same moment.
That handwriting! The chorus girls had made such repetitive chatter about the threatening letters written in red ink by a childish hand. It was the description of the letters left by the Opera Ghost. Her hands recoiled and she stood very still. How could she not have realized it sooner? Erik was the Opera Ghost. Yes, there was no doubt about it. In a sudden bout of relief, her arms lowered to rest at her sides. How lucky she was to have come to such a conclusion not a moment before she'd have snatched the mask off of his face! Now, more than ever, she remembered the staff's descriptions of the ghost. So many different interpretations of the horrors that were said to lie beneath the mask.
Poor man.
She understood now why he'd so frantically refused to remove it when she demanded. It was a strange thing to her, indeed. To hear such a divine melody being made by someone rumored to be so hideous.
The music decrescendoed into its final improvised notes. Erik turned to her, his eyes shifting.
"It's not like anything I've ever written before, I assure you. My works aren't hardly ever so...happy. Perhaps...perhaps it's because it was you who inspired it." he glanced downward.
Christine's eyebrows lifted into a bright smile and she made her way over to the piano stool, sitting beside him with only a slight air of hesitance.
He shifted to the other side of the bench nervously, making room for her.
"I feel honored to have inspired something so amazing." eyes wide and excited, she turned her body to face him.
"Please...take off your mask?" her voice softened to a whisper. Erik's fists clenched immediately upon her request.
"I have told you before, Christine. You shall never see Erik's face." he answered in an irritated tone.
"But why?" how she hoped he wouldn't snap at her for her prying. From his covered lips, issued one of his signature sighs.
"Erik does not look like a normal man does, Christine. And for that, he must hide behind a mask. His ugliness is something that a virtuous woman such as yourself should never be made to endure. That is all I will tell you. Now please; never ask that of me again." he explained, hoping his firm tone would dismiss the conversation.
Much to his disliking, Christine was quite the stubborn girl.
"That can't possibly be true!" she paused, searching for a way to put her thoughts into words. "Someone who makes such beautiful music...can't possibly be ugly!" she placed a tender hand atop his, though he tensed and pulled away at the unfamiliar touch.
"Please?" the soft sound of her final plead drifted pleasantly through the air. There was a long pause between the two.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Erik nodded solemnly. Christine's eyes lit up and her hands clasped together, watching eagerly as his hands reached with trembling fingers to the tie at the back of the black mask. She held her breath during the few moments it took him to undo the secure little strings. When finally they were loose, he held the mask in place for a moment.
"I will remove it slowly, and if the sight of Erik's face becomes too horrible to bear, he will spare you." a downcast tone covered his words.
Christine simply nodded anxiously. Just as he said, he removed the mask hesitantly, sliding it upward. Slowly but surely, his face was revealed to her.
His chin, slim and squared...his lips, thin and creased...At last, Christine took pity on him and reached out to lay her hands on his. In one gentle sweep, she took his hands, lowering the mask completely to reveal all of him at once. Erik stiffened violently. Though, the young woman's reaction was not one he'd expected.
A small gasp passed through her parted lips and for a moment, she simply gazed at him. Her heart increased its pace in her chest, not from fear, but shock as her eyes scanned over his face. Her lips closed together and after another moment, she gave a sympathetic grimace, her eyebrows knitting together. After another moment, her head tilted and she smiled. He made a move almost to jump back as she once again reached out to him. Her warm little fingers lightly held his jaw and her thumbs rested atop his sunken cheeks. That odd smile of hers grew wider.
"See? I told you..." she stared up into his eyes for a few beats before sliding her fingertips up to rest on his temples. "You're beautiful." she concluded.
Erik gave her a look that seemed to question her sanity. She let out a silent chuckle and tilted her head.
"It's true. You have the loveliest eyes." she merely sat there, tilting her head this way and that as if she could somehow comprehend some mystery that had apparently presented itself to her if only she succeeded in rotating her head into an upside down position.
It was no lie. She found herself captivated by the two yellow orbs that gazed anxiously back at her. Their intensity contrasted deeply with the rest of his unfortunate looking face. They shone different shades of gold and amber in the uneven lighting of the room, and were sunken into a ring of dark circles.
Erik failed to contain the beaming smile that her statement provoked. He felt as if his cheeks would explode from his giddy expression.
"W-what?" he stuttered.
Another sigh sounded from him, this time brought forth by the light caress of Christine's fingertips curiously trailing across his marred flesh. A pleasant tingling lingered where her hands touched, and he soon closed his eyes in bliss. Bit by bit, his shoulders relaxed and he cautiously leaned into her touch. Eyes remaining fixated on him, she explored every inch of his face, her fingers placing tender caresses along his skin. She soon finished with his face and moved her hands upward to stroke at his thinning hair. The dazed expression he held convinced her that he had never experienced physical contact that carried such care before, and she assumed he enjoyed it. Her assumption was proven correct when his head lulled forward and he gave an elated hum. A bright blush spread suddenly over his cheeks at his swooning, and he pulled back with a look of embarrassment.
"Forgive me. Erik has never had a woman touch him in such a way before. I suppose I got carried away. Foolish of me..." he explained, his flush growing brighter still as he struggled for an explanation.
Christine let out a small giggle. His deep chuckle replied to hers and he brought the mask up to replace it. Though, a small touch of her hand against his stopped his action.
"You no longer need to cover your face in my presence if you do not wish to. It does seem awfully uncomfortable for you to wear the mask all day." she suggested.
"I...you-" the words struggled to form on his lips.
The corners of his thin mouth upturned into a shy smile that he unsuccessfully tried to hide from her. Straightening his posture, he stood and offered her his arm.
"Well then...would you like me to show you the rest of my home?" she laughed lightly once again at his suddenly serious tone.
"Of course." her hand rested on his arm as she stood.
Without a word, the two of them stepped out of the room, leaving the black mask lying on the piano bench.