Hand-holding prompt #7 ~ dancing with their hands holding on to each other

This one shot was inspired by a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald: "You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement."

* * *

Christine ran up the stairs as fast as she could, beginning to pant slightly at the effort she was putting forth to meet Erik on time. She had promised him that she would be in their little practice room promptly at the prearranged time, and she didn't want to be late, for this would be no ordinary vocal lesson. Erik had told her that he had a special plan for the two of them after they finished, and Christine couldn't wait to see what the surprise was that awaited her.

She arrived in the practice room within moments, and immediately, she felt a difference in the room. It was warmer—although not uncomfortably so—and smelt of fresh flowers, which she quickly realized was a result of the multitude of candles and roses in the room. Erik was sitting at the piano bench and looked up at his student as soon as he'd heard the door creak.

"Good evening," he said, his tone soft.

Christine smiled over at him as she approached. "Good evening, Maestro. I hope I am not too late," she replied. "I know you prefer things to be prompt."

"You are right on time, my Christine. Don't worry," Erik replied, still smiling gently at her. "Shall we begin with your lesson?"

Nodding, Christine took a step closer to the piano and gently smoothed back her hair with one hand. She was beginning to wish that she had done up her hair in something a little nicer than the simple updo she always wore, that she had put on something a little more formal than her usual beige dress. After all, he had clearly intended for this to be a special night, and she couldn't help feeling that she was already ruining things for him.

What she didn't know, though, was that she could have worn anything, and Erik would have thought her the most beautiful woman in the world. He was far too enraptured by her very presence in the room, standing so close to him, that he could, in all honesty, barely process anything else. Hardly was he able to tear his gaze away from her hazel eyes and pull himself back into reality enough to set his fingers on the piano keys and force them to play a simple scale.

Reflexively, a small smile spread beneath his mask as he listened to her voice warm up with the scale he played. He could have listened to this for hours.

After a few different vocal warm-ups, Erik reached up to thumb through his sheet music, deciding which piece to have her sing first. Of course, he had no need for the actual sheet music,—he'd played every one of these arias enough times to know them by heart—but it gave his hands something to do and his mind something to focus on other than the woman standing not three feet away.

He normally had an agenda for their lessons, but today, he had been too mentally preoccupied with his plans for after the lesson that he had forgotten to plan for the lesson itself. He silently cursed himself for such a blunder as he pulled out an aria for her to sing. It was an aria from one of Mozart's operas—he didn't precisely pay attention to which one, as it didn't matter much to him. He only read the first few notes before his fingers instinctually picked up the rest.

Christine recognized the piece immediately, it being somewhat of a practice song they often started out with in their lessons, and she began to sing along. All the while, though, she couldn't help noticing just how off her teacher seemed. While he was still his usually pleasant self, he seemed a little quieter than normal,—which was saying something of him, because Erik was already a man of few words—and on top of this, his hands appeared to be shaking, though it was nearly imperceptible.

Christine just couldn't help being worried. Was something wrong? Was he ill?

Maestro never shook when he was at the piano. He seemed a shy person by nature, but he always exuded a sort of confidence when he played, unequivocally in his element, as though everything in the world was right as long as his fingers touched the keys. But now? He seemed so nervous, so unsure, and she couldn't exactly place why.

* * *

The lesson lasted only around forty-five minutes, which was only half their normal length, but Erik had planned the evening out meticulously, and everything was going according to his plan. Well, everything except for his bloody hands, which he just couldn't seem to stop from shaking as he slowly stood up from his piano bench. "Shall we move on to my surprise?" he asked, offering her a small, warm smile.

"Yes," Christine replied with a smile, taking his arm when he offered it. It was only now that she was beginning to piece together that the reason for his apparent anxiety must have been due to whatever he had planned for the evening.

Erik settled his hand atop hers as he led her over to the wall and slid aside a book case before they stepped into a passage. "Do you remember my dreamery?" he asked softly.

"Yes, I do," Christine replied, nodding. "Is that where we're going?"

"Perhaps," Erik said, a small smirk dancing across his lips briefly.

Without another word spoken between them, he led her down the staircase that brought them to his lake. In another few minutes, they had made it to the room where she often found him playing the violin in quiet solitude, and they approached the opposite wall. As they did so, a doorway opened, through a means by which Christine had yet to discover, to reveal Erik's underground forest—his "dreamery," as he had taken to calling it.

"Do you still yet insist on telling me nothing of this surprise?" Christine asked with a small smile.

"I do." Erik felt his stomach flutter a bit at the soft laugh his statement produced from his companion. "You will know soon, my dear." He brought her further into his forest, following along the dirt path.

They pressed deeper and deeper into the forest until they came to an open area, which had been previously hidden from view by a thick line of trees. As the pathway turned into the area, she could now see the clearing in full, the beauty of the greenery nearly stealing the breath from her lungs. The area was mostly open with only a couple of small trees scattered about toward the edges. Near them was a small, babbling brook that ran between the trees and disappeared somewhere off into the forest.

Not very far off from the brook was a small, round table and two chairs seated with it. Candles had been arranged on top beside a vase with a few flowers, and two plates sat in front of the chairs, both of which had been covered, whatever delicious-smelling food being concealed from Christine's sight.

Leaning against the tree nearest the table, Christine couldn't help noticing, was the opera's former manager, Gerard, with a violin in hand. His attention turned to the couple as they approached.

"Monsieur Carriere! What are you doing here?" Christine asked in surprise.

"I'm doing my son a favor," Gerard replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You're late."

"We're on time," Erik countered, rolling his eyes playfully. "Whatever has happened to your patience?"

"I must have lost it. I'll try to find it again while the two of you dance," Gerard replied with a chuckle as he lifted the instrument to rest on his shoulder, shooing the couple with the bow. "Go on, ask her."

Erik sighed as though annoyed, but his expression immediately softened as he turned to his date. "Would you like to?" he asked softly.

"I would love to," Christine replied with a smile, following him into the grass and looking around as she did so. She could tell how much work he had put into this evening, and her heart warmed at the thought. After all, it had been so long since he had initially asked her if she would have dinner with him that she had begun to think he had forgotten the matter entirely. Tonight, he had truly surprised her. "Erik, this is all so lovely."

"There is only more to come." Erik smiled as he spoke the words and took her hand, settling the other on the small of her back and gently pulling her closer.

"You didn't have to do all of this for me," Christine replied with a smile, placing her free hand on his shoulder.

"I wanted to," Erik said softly, gracing her with another smile. He quickly nodded to Gerard, who began to play a soft melody, before he turned his attention to his companion. "This is our first date. I wanted to make it special."

"It is made special simply by having you here with me." Christine moved a bit closer then, leaning her head against his shoulder as they danced.

Erik felt his chest fill with warmth at having her so near, the fluttering of his heart beginning to dissipate as he relaxed into the situation. "That is kind of you to say, my Christine," he whispered, leaning his masked cheek against her forehead. "Thank you."

"You should not thank me for showing you the love that you so greatly deserve, " Christine replied, taking in a deep breath of his cologne.

"How could I not when such love has been denied me so long?" Erik muttered against her hair, letting his thumb move rhythmically back and forth over the fabric of her dress. "I must thank you, my dear. I am the most fortunate man alive to have you as the one to love me."

"No, Erik, it is I who is fortunate to have you," Christine argued, letting out a soft laugh. "Sometimes, I think I do not deserve you."

"Nonsense, my darling. Utter nonsense," Erik said, his tone warm as he spoke. "You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement."