Chapter Text
“I have something to show you!” Erik says excitedly, barging into the living room. It is quite late at night, which is confusing in and of itself, but the vigor in which he is proclaiming himself is far more so.
“What is it?” you ask, putting your book down.
Erik strides over to you and grabs your hand, “Let me show you.”
He pulls you through the corridors you have long gotten used to. Though you have only been living with him for a week you’ve already memorized a few paths, mainly the ones that lead to the stage for your midnight painting sessions. You quite enjoy painting without the set manager yelling down your throat every five seconds, and Erik has taken a liking to sitting next to you as you paint. You usually do not talk much during that time, but he likes to sing as he watches you, sometimes opera songs, sometimes things he made up. It makes the whole scene surreal, and more and more you’ve found yourself dreaming of his voice. You think about joining him sometimes, but you get wrapped up in his singing you completely forget to, even to the point where you put your brush down just to sway along. Erik turns a sharp corner and there is a flight of spiral stairs leading upwards which distracts you from your thoughts.
He lets go of your hand and points upwards, “You’ll have to do a bit of climbing.”
“Is this really that important?”
He smiles, “I promise you’ll love it.”
You sigh and follow him up the stairs. You stay a few steps behind him so that his cape does not whack you in the face as he races up the steps, and by the time you reach the top you are panting heavily. He is also out of breath, and the two of you sit there for a moment to take a break. While you’re there, you think about how nice his hands felt in yours. It’s happened a few times now, most of which have been when he was helping you paint and handed you a paintbrush. You always find his hands lingering in yours for longer than is expected, and you know that you enjoy every second of it. Just now however, he didn’t let go for a long time, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you wished you could do this forever. You won’t lie, it’s probably the first time you’ve held hands with someone like that which might be why you find yourself so flustered over it every time. Even now, as you finish panting and stand up, you can feel your cheeks red at the thought.
“It’s not far now,” he says happily.
A few more doorways, one set of stairs, and a secret mirror later you find yourself on top of the opera house. The statues are much larger than you thought, but you’ve only ever seen them from the ground so you shouldn’t be so surprised. It is a clear night, and the slight chill in the air makes you wish you had taken the blanket on your lap with you when you left. You look to Erik, who is currently straining his neck upwards, looking for something.
“What is it?” you question.
“Shh, let me look,” he replies quickly. You stare at him with slight annoyance, but can’t help how happy he is making you feel just by being this excited. He finally takes a sharp breath in and points to the sky somewhere over the dome of the opera house.
“Look!”
You cannot seem to find what he is looking at, “Where?”
He rolls his eyes and grabs your face in his hands, turning it to look at what he is talking about. You are so distracted by his hands on your face you don’t notice what he is making you look at until you do. What you see is a comet, streaking bright white across the sky. It weaves between stars and blots others out, and you are in awe of it all. It’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve seen in your life. You reach to your side where you usually have a sketchbook strapped, but find it not there and become upset.
“Looking for this?” Erik says. You turn to face him and he has your book in his hands with your pencil still attached to it. You take it excitedly and sit on the floor with a quick ‘thank you’ as you start to sketch this for a painting later. He laughs, “I knew you’d need it. I came up here earlier for a quick walk before bed, and I knew you’d want to see such a lovely sight.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” you reply, happily continuing your sketching.
Erik however is not staring at the comet, but the sight in front of him instead. Seeing you smile, seeing his work pay off is making his heart throb harder than it ever has. He’s spent endless nights now thinking about you by now. You’ve seen his face many times, and yet you still look at him with such adoration. He doesn’t know what you see in him, but he is glad for every moment he spends in your presence. In all of his life he has never felt this happy with another person, this infatuated. You don’t even know how much it hurts him to even think of a second away from you, you are simply happy drawing the comet and oblivious to his pounding heart. Eventually, the comet disappears behind the sprawling buildings, and you stand up, still staring at your drawing. Erik smiles widely at you, and you mirror his action.
“What a gorgeous comet, and an even prettier drawing!” He gushes as he looks over your shoulder. You can feel his breath on your neck, and you take a step away from him to look him in the eyes so that he won’t make you start blushing anymore than he already has.
“You flatter,” you laugh.
Erik looks so elated that you wouldn’t even believe it was the same man ready to jump at you for shining a candle at him. He doesn’t even realize what you said until a few seconds afterwards, “I am honest. There is such a beauty in everything you touch, I couldn’t mimic it with a lifetime’s worth of practice.”
You look to him wide-eyed, and taking a step back won’t save you from the rising heat in your cheeks this time, which are so red that even on this moonlit night it would be clearly visible. You cannot think of a reply worthy of such a compliment, but you don’t need to, because a thought pops into your head. A mischievous thought. You close the distance between the two of you enough that you can reach your hands out and put them on either side of his face.
You smile at him, one that screams faux-innocence, as you say proudly, “There, you are beautiful. Now you cannot tell me otherwise lest you want to rescind your compliment.”
He says nothing, and though most of his face is obscured his wide eyes portray the flustered shock you had hoped to make him feel. He just watches you for a long while, flicking his eyes back and forth over your face trying to decipher the situation. All at once he starts crying, heaving sobs that rattle his chest as he falls onto you. He is grasping you desperately as he blubbers into your shoulder, saying something you cannot decipher through his wailing. You are reasonably taken off guard but you still hug him back, rubbing a comforting hand on his back to tell him it is ok.
It takes a long time before you think of something to say, and when you do speak it softly, “What a life you’ve led, that your beauty is something you’d doubt. I’m so sorry, Erik.”
The crying continues for a long time, and you feel your own eyes starting to well up with tears that gently fall down your cheeks. You bring him to the sitting position to let him finish his sniveling without hurting his back. He is a large bit taller than you which makes leaning into your shoulder quite the chiropractic conundrum. Eventually his sobs become silent, and he lifts his head weakly from your shoulder. He stares into your eyes, and you are suddenly aware of your closeness to him. You don’t hide the crimson in your cheeks now, instead you lift your hands to his face again and slowly lift his mask.
He raises his hands to stop you, but you gently speak, “I want to see you, Erik.”
“Be careful with my heart…it’s been hurt too many times,” he replies with sadness that makes you want to start crying all over again.
You smile, “I will be soft with you. A heart such as yours deserves protecting.”
The mask is placed by his side with care, and you look into his eyes with such gentleness that Erik for a moment considers that you might actually be an angel. His face is red and puffy from crying, and you wipe your thumb along his cheek to wipe off the stray tears that populate his pale skin.
“You are truly an angel,” he whispers.
“No, just a human with care in their heart,” you giggle.
“Humble as always.”
You smile, “It’s a good trait to have.”
He grins back, “You have quite a few of those.”
You relax your shoulders and lean back to look at the sky again, “Of all the stars here, I think you’re the brightest.”
He blushes, “What an overused line, would you like me to ask if you are truly an angel that fell from heaven next?”
You tilt your head back down to look at him and roll your eyes, “Must you always have a snarky retort?”
“Perhaps,” he chuckles.
You stand, grabbing your sketchbook, and extend your hand to lift him up. He graciously takes it, but doesn’t let go as he stands. Neither do you. You stand there, hand in hand, and stare. He holds his mask in his other hand, and you your sketchbook, both items currently being held with a tenseness that floods the air between the two of you. You wonder who will let go first, but after a long breath you finally give in to the voice that's been screaming at you these past few weeks.
You give Erik a loving glance as you pull him by his hand closer to you. You part your lips and ask, “Is your heart…beating like mine is?”
He is surprised by the question, but soon his eyelids lower and he nods, “Feel.” He removes his hand from yours to put it on his chest. “It is more wild than I have ever known it to be.”
Sure enough, it is in fact beating in time with your own, and a nervous laugh escapes you, “Wow I…Erik I don’t know if I can keep this from you any longer.”
He raises an eyebrow, but realizes what you mean and becomes quiet, “I feel similarly.”
Your eyes drift to his, then to his lips, then his eyes again, and you say nothing. He gets the hint, and starts to move his face lower so that you can reach it. His hands are shaking, as are yours.
You stop your face a centimeter from his to whisper a worried, “Are you sure?”
“More than I am sure I am alive.”
You laugh, then slowly close the gap. His lips are unlike anything you’ve experienced, they are warm and though you do not kiss him for long, you still feel that warmth lingering as you pull away. His mouth tastes vaguely like the tea he had earlier, and you suppose your own must be of the coffee you were sipping before he brought you to the roof. His face is red beyond belief, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his face other than to stare.
It’s a long time before either one of you speaks, and he is the first to do so, “Thank you.”
“What for?” you ask curiously.
“I finally know what it is like to kiss an angel,” he says, voice lovestruck and sweet.
You sigh, amused, “You’ve got such a way with words.”
He smiles, and you do too. Weeks of waiting, hoping, dreaming, come to an end. You secretly thank the comet for its fine work, and the two of you start to make your way back home.