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Erik didn’t know how many nights it had been that he had stood there, watching her prepare for a performance, all he knew was that it had been many. By now he had memorised her routine: she would arrive slightly late, her usually pale cheeks flushed from rushing to the Opera. She would greet Janine, her dresser and chatter about her day as she threw off her coat. Then Janine would start help her out of her dress, at which point Erik would turn away until he was certain she was wearing her dressing gown.
Once he turned around again, Janine was usually working on Christine's hair and he watched mesmerised as the brush worked it's way through thick chestnut curls. Erik always preferred it of Janine made an intricate hairdo out of Christine's own gorgeous glowing locks, it seemed such a waste to hide hair as pretty as hers underneath a wig. But of course some operas asked for a different look, no matter how wrong they were.
Then make-up began and it was this, intense, intimate moment that had Erik spellbound each night. Watching Christine transform was like magic at work: the coloured pallet of the eye shadow: each colour doing something different to her eyes, something called mascara and eye-liner that made her sparkling eyes even bigger and brighter. A powdery substance that brought out her cheekbones ever so subtly. Erik knew her routine by heart by now.
And then the lipstick … almost always a light pink one, it was clearly her favourite. Sometimes, when the performance asked for it there would be other, darker or brighter colours. But when she could just be Christine, be it for a recital or going out, or any performance that did not specify the look it was always the glossy pink lipstick that was allowed to touch the lips he so adored. The lips she used to talk to him, the flower petals that carried her song out of her mouth to the world.
Ever since he had seen Christine, saw how generous and kind she was to all those strange people who lived at the Opera he had felt something stir within him: could the kindness of such a sweet gentle being perhaps extend to him? And that was before he had heard her sing. The moment she had he was certain: this was an angel sent to earth!!
How ironic that he had become her angel instead. It had felt wrong when she had asked him if perhaps he was the angel of music she had been promised after they had spoken for a while. But he could hardly have said no, anything other than an angel might have scared her away.
The lessons were the highlight of his day … his life!! But he longed for the moments after even more: to be able to talk to someone freely about music and art as well as mundane earthly things, it was a joy that he had never known before her. The conversations were a delight, Christine was funny and clever, never cruel or judging.
How he missed her when she was gone. Being even more keenly aware of the darkness and painful loneliness of his life without her was the price he had to pay for his deception, he was certain.
Sleep had become hard to come by these last few months: the loneliness ached and burned in his mind and body. The endless cold nights with nothing but his terrible bullying mind for company. The terrifying thoughts only dulled by endless composing and playing. Erik didn't know how long it had been since he had slept for more than an hour and was beginning to feel the exhaustion in every part of his being. The only times he had slept were when he'd collapsed after the lessons and had fallen into a deep sleep on the hard, freezing floor next to the mirror waking up more cold than he could have ever imagined possible.
Today Erik felt more lonely than ever: if such a thing were even possible. It was Valentine's day and Christine had received a bouquet from the boy. How dare he!! Why did he keep trying!! Why did he seem insistent to take away the only happiness he had ever known. How he longed for it to be his flowers she smiled at. How he longed to kiss her, just once, and wish her a happy Valentine. He would buy her a diamond necklace and get to fasten it round her swan-like neck and take her out to a romantic dinner near a park …
With a hard shake he pushed the thoughts away: they were not meant for someone like him. All he could do was watch, from a distance. Gaze into a world of happiness he'd never know: never would he touch, hold or be touched, be held. Silent tears ran down his face as he wrapped his arms around himself.
Behind the mirror Christine smiled up at her dresser after she had touched up her lipstick.
"Could you throw this one out Janine? And ask the management for a replacement?"
"Of course Madame."
For a moment more both women laughed and talked about their Valentines plans. The boy would visit for a chaperoned dinner at mother Valerius, apparently and Christine hoped the angel would be al-right with this. Erik wasn't, but it was hard to begrudge her when she looked so happy about it.
After a while both women left the room in delight of the joys to come and Erik was left standing in darkness.
Feeling lost Erik pondered on what to do: his entire body was aching from exhaustion and sleep was all he longed for. Sleep meant forgetting and on this day that was all he wanted. But the floor seemed too cold and his mood was too low even after seeing Christine. To know where she was going, who would be there to share the day with her.
Why was a useless rich boy allowed to have everything: wealth, respect, freedom and now Christine without having to lift a finger to earn these privileges just because of a pretty face. While he ... he could offer the world art, music and magic. He could give Christine his entire heart but wasn't allowed to even talk to her like another human being all because of ... a face he couldn't help having.
Too tired to do anything, Erik just remained staring into the darkened room: could he go in? Just to feel the essence of her, to feel something other than pain. Perhaps touch her coat? Oh no, that would be wicked, deviant. But perhaps if he had something ... just a tiny trinket. To have something that belonged to her in his house would perhaps bring in the light, the peace he so longed for.
But stealing from his Christine? That deserved punishment worse than death!!
With a sigh he decided to leave and drag his weary body back below earth, where he belonged. But just then his eye fell onto something left forgotten on her vanity: her lipstick!! Christine's lipstick, laying there on her dressing-room table, just waiting for him!! Yes, it was wrong to steal but he was so lonely, so tired and broken. Did he not deserve something that brought him rest? And being close to something that was so connected to Christine was the only thing he knew that could help bring him some peace. And was it truly stealing if Christine had asked for it to be thrown out?! If he took that ... she would not miss it!! Oh what joy!!
Before Erik knew it he had opened the mirror and stood inside the dressing room. Her dressing room. The first thing Erik noticed was that he could ... breath .. for the first time in a long while it was as if there was air in his lungs. He was breathing, breathing in the air Christine breathed every day. There were her things, actually near him: her little shoes and slippers, her costumes, her coat. Oh, her little hat!!! Tears flowed freely down his face again as Erik walked around, making certain not to touch a thing. Oh, this was the happiest Valentine's day he'd ever had!!
Then, swiftly, certain his presence would taint the room if he stayed too long, Erik stepped to the little vanity and picked up the lipstick. A shuddering jolt went through him as he did: he was touching ... touching something that was hers!! His fingerprints were merging with the ones of a true angel!!
How he longed to trace his finger over the glossy tube inside and bring the taste of Christine to his lips. But he could not, that would be wrong. Besides would that not remove her essence and replace it with his horridness? No, he would never do that, could never do that, the lipstick had to stay as it was.
For a few moments more Erik remained in the room to breath in his Christine, knowing, just for a little while what it was to feel safe and calm. But all too soon he knew he had to leave.
The moment he stepped back into the mirror he felt some of the weight and darkness return, but somehow it wasn't as heavy and stifling as it had been before. Not now he had something: a token of his angel to keep him safe.
Trembling with proud reference Erik carried his valuable little object into his bedroom the moment he returned home. How he longed for rest, sleep. And now, for the first time in months, he was certain that he would have it.
Taking the utmost care not to damage his treasure, Erik briefly placed the lipstick on the table as he dressed into his nightclothes. Then he swiftly retrieved it again and stepped into the hard coffin that functioned as his bed. The only resting place he had been told he deserved.
Shaking with joy, or perhaps exhaustion, Erik carefully hugged the lipstick against him, then brought his little treasure to his lips as tears rolled down his cheeks again. Even though the lipstick was closed he could still taste something of its essence. He could taste what Christine’s lips, the lips he’d never be allowed to claim, tasted like!!
“Happy Valentines Day my angel ...” He whispered softly, as he lay the lipstick next to his pillow.
Then he lay down his aching body, closed his eyes and for the first time in a long while ... fell asleep.
As the world around him revelled in the joy of Valentine in all its many ways, a lonely man slept peacefully for the first time in years, dreaming of an angel of music that held him and kissed his tears away.