Christiana looked through her closet, rummaging around through clothes she and Erik had picked out. She could clearly tell who had picked out what, given the fact her choices were simple, pale in color, and generally made of cotton, whereas his picks were elegant, shaded with dark hues, and extremely expensive. She never found a reason to wear any of his suggestions before, but tonight, she decided was the perfect occasion time wear something fancy.

  She selected a deep red dress with a v neckline, and lace sleeves. It fit perfectly and actually presented her figure. Christiana let her blonde curls fall loosely around her shoulders, and applied a touch of make-up.

    A few minutes later, Erik knocked at her door.

    He looked dashing in his usual black - except now he wore a sports jacket and a more glamorous version of his normal slacks and button down. He'd put on a tie, too. The only thing of color was his white mask, which stood out like a red apple in a basket of bananas.

   They both stared at each a moment, having had their breath stolen by the other's beauty.

  "Hi," Christiana said at last.

   "Hi," Erik echoed. He regained himself. "You look stunning."

   "Thank you. You have good taste in clothes."

   "Yes, I do. But only when you where the clothes do they look beautiful. It is you who are mesmerising, my dear."

   Christiana blushed. "Thank you."

  "Shall we?" He offered her his arm, and Christiana felt her heart crumble for him. It was so romantic, as if he were a gentleman come straight out of a classic novel. Jane Austen could have written him.

                             🌹

       The restaurant was dimly lit, and three candles illuminated each table, offering enough darkness to give each party privacy, and enough light to spend a romantic evening.

    Erik and Christiana were one of five couples strewn on opposite sides of the restaurant, and Christiana adored the privacy, the quality time she would spend with Erik.

     He was enchanted by her. He adored her so much, she was all he wanted. His angel was the most surreal creature in existence. He couldn't remove his awed eyes from her.

   She repeatedly turned pink under his constant gaze, yet she would give anything to forever remain at the center of his attention.

   If their waitress thought his mask an oddity, she showed no sign of it, however, she was friendlier to him than to Christiana. But that was no surprise, he was undeniably an attractive man.

   "I shouldn't ask, but what are your thoughts, those whims that have taken you so far away from me?" Erik purred softly.

    Well, she wasn't about to tell him she was thinking about his attractiveness. His pride was already quite large.

   "I'm just thinking. I am sorry about the kitchen. And this is... a really romantic, lovely place."

      "I don't give a damn about the kitchen - you could set fire to it and I'd not bat an eye," he said, his tone no longer a purr, but an exasperated, annoyed monotone.

       "Oh."

    "I love you."

     "O-oh?" She stared at him a moment, open mouthed. They hadn't discussed their affections since that first day they confessed to each other. "I love you too."

   He reached across for her hand, which she gave, shivering as his cool fingers enveloped hers, enjoying the texture of his skin, callused, bony, with a swollen joint here and there - musician's hands.

    He's certainly feeling bold today.

   He rarely held her hand. His displays of affection always consisted of a kiss on the top of her head, or the brush of his hand on her back or shoulder.

      Their dinner came, and he missed her warm hand in his, but remained silent and distant as they ate, not showing any sign of discomfort.

    "Now you're the one who is wandering away from the table."

   "Keep eating, stop talking. You are much too thin."

   "I'm not a child and stop changing the subject."

   "I'm just thinking."

    "Then let's play the game again. You tell me what you're thinking and I'll do the same. Except this time you can go first," Christiana countered. She was apparently feeling brave as well. It must be the fact both of them had the shadows of the night to shield them.

     "I am thinking about how beautiful you are, how much I love you, and how lucky I am to have you for however long I shall have you."

   "You can have me forever."

   "I could, yes. But one day curiosity will get the better of you. I'd do anything for you. One day you will ask to see what lies beneath the mask, and then... I won't be able to deny you."

    "I don't care what you look like. I love you, not your face."

      "You won't love my past and you'll hate my face."

     "Lies. Falsities."

    Erik frowned. "Your turn, my love."

    "I was thinking about how attractive you are actually. And how I never want this night to end."

   "It doesn't have to. I could pay this restaurant to stay open until we die. Or until you run away from me."

   She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But it didn't matter because he began asking norr questions.

   "So you find me to be attractive?" He was amused, and a small piece of his former self came back. He once would have severely scolded her for believing something so far from the truth. He once, had it been any other woman, would have torn his mask from his face right then and there and showed her the ugly horror underneath. But this was his beloved Christiana, and he was greedy when it came to her; he never would willingly drive her from his side.

       "Er... well... you're a handsome man? In general?"

    "Really?"

    Christiana wanted to slam.her face into her bowl of soup and drown if she could.

   But Erik decided he'd teased her enough for one night.

     They chatted and finished their dinner, happy, content with each other's company.

   When it was time to leave, Erik threw a hundred at the waitress and wrapped an arm around Christiana.

    The drive home was pleasant, as Erik opened the sun roof and pulled over every so often to look at the stars with Christiana. She fell more and more in love with him with every nanosecond that passed, with every beat of his heart against her ear when he pulled her close and told her legends concerning the constellations.

    When they arrived home - Christiana was thrilled to be able to honestly consider their living space a home, and further more felt it was her first true home, and a home just because Erik was there with her - they slowly walked up the stairs. He was escorting her to her room.

   Except she was not ready to say goodnight. She pulled him, confused, into her room, and out onto her balcony, where the night sky blanketed the world.

   Smiling, he promptly tucked her into his arms, and gently rested his head over hers. She leaned back against him, sighing with delight.

   How long they stayed that way, neither one knew. But only after the clock struck midnight, did Erik move.

     "It's late. I don't want to keep you from your sleep."

   "Are you tired?"

   "No."

   "Then I am not tired either."

   "But you need sleep. I rarely sleep, Christiana, and I don't want to get you into the habit."

   "But one night can't hurt." She turned in his arms, surprised by how close together they were, pleased he did not pull away.

    "No. It can't," he whispered, eyes dropping from hers to her pink, soft lips.

    "Erik..." she uttered his name sweetly. As if she were giving him permission to do what was on the subconscious of both of their minds.

   Yet he hesitated. She didn't really want to be loved by a monster, did she? She didn't really know what it meant to be adored, cherished, and loved by death. To have her on the mind of darkness every night, every day, hour, minute, second. If she knew she were the obsession and love of a cruel, twisted, heart, she would run.

   Christiana was annoyed with his hesitations and leaned closer.

   He brushed his lips - what she could feel of them - against hers. Yes, it was awkward, considering his mask touched her face, slightly digging next to her flesh, and it hid part of his lips, but the kiss, as far as kisses went, was marvelous. Spectacular. His lips were tender, and warmer than she would ever have thought, given how the rest of him was rather cool. If music had a taste, if longing and love and wistfulness had a taste or feeling, he would be it.

    As for his side of it, he felt her warmth spread through him, felt his dark soul crack, allowing small slivers of light to break through and brighten his eternal night. She was so soft, so sweet. Her kindness echoed within her lips.

   His hand tenderly slipped up her neck, to touch her cheek, to feel her skin, to acertain that she was really here, kissing him, that this was not just a dream.

    Her hands found his flat, firm chest. However, one continued it's journey upwards, wishing to wrap her arm around his neck as he deepened their kiss. Unfortunately, he felt it, and while it drove him mad, mad that she should ever want to cling to him, to further tie him to her, it also scared him. Suppose she accidentally - or purposefully moved his mask?

   He gently pulled away.

     "I love you."

A/N

     "O-oh?" Same response I would have, again. "I love you." "What? Wait, it's me. You know who I am right?"

   Anyway. Who wants to give Erik a hug? I do. Poor dear. Anywho... yes. Just kissing as of now. Never wrote a... more intimate scene before, not really sure if any readers want that either. However, mask reveal does come soon, as does a certain stab-happy female psychopath and jilted librarian who has sincerely deluded himself, the sad, stupid fop. Ah, bien. La vie est belle et longue vie le deux amours. I seriously hope I said that right. Three years of french and I can't remember most of it.

   Thank you to all of my readers!

     Alexa

   I just read a fanfiction where Christine dies and I am still crying my eyes out and breathing with great difficulty. Anyone else ever get that problem or am I just a phancase?