Erik is NOT Dead (Phantom of the Opera one-shots)

Societal Beauty

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

Okay, so, this is a bit of a rambling one-shot when Erik is holding his wife and considers her figure. I am a large woman myself and struggle with my weight. And, with this experience, I have often wondered what Erik might think of someone who is overweight. My personal opinion is that he wouldn't mind and, if anything, he and she would be far more comfortable together. And, it is from this opinion, that I wrote this one-shot.

I mean no offense to those who are slender. I have written this for those who because of their appearance, feel they can't fit in Christine's shoes as it pertains to looks. I know I could not with my figure or lack thereof. Please enjoy!

sarahlet2999

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I will not say that my wife is the eptiomy of societal beauty.

She is not part of the gaggle of slender women with flat stomachs and the prized hour-glass figure. But, she is beautiful. Do not think for a moment that I do not worship the ground she walks on, that I do not see in her the most lovely woman I have ever laid eyes on.

No, though, admittedly, part of my fondness for her plump figure is rather material.

I have been denied affection and touch all my life. My mother never gave it to me and when I ran away, no one even considered it for me. Abuse was preferred by those around me to a kind hand. When she came into my life, I was starved for affectionate, for kindness.

And, being the angel that she is, she gave it to me. She held me daily, and, after we married, nightly as well. I have never been more happy or at peace then with her front pressed against mine, our arms clucking each other close.

But, this touch was only made comfortable by her plump figure.

I am, as far as appearances and feel goes, a skeleton. If I were to stand in front of a mirror, not that I would ever consider it, I would see bone everywhere. A sunken stomach clinging to the backbone, narrow hips stuck to hipbones, a gaunt chest revealing every rib bone in careful detail - these all made me most unappealing to anyone who might wanted to cuddle with me.

And, if I had married a societal beauty who's own bones were just beneath the skin, such close embraces would have resulted in bruised skin and sore bones. But, my darling wife, in all her beauty, is perfect. Sleep is my favorite time because we fit together perfectly, she all soft flesh, no bones to be felt.

I do not worry that I am hurting her by holding her close.

Not only am I not hurting her but, she often seeks my gaunt form out, curling against my chest like a cat during the hotter summer months, declaring my frozen skin perfect for keeping cool.

If there had to be any other part of my body that I despised, after my ruined face, I would have declared it to be my cold, repulsive skin. But, she has changed even that as now, I am almost glad of it because it makes her happy. I can give her something a normal man could not while she can give me something a socially perfect woman could not.

Society would shame her for not being like them but there is nothing wrong with her. She is perfect, without flaw.

She lays in my arms now, her head tucked against my collar bone and plump body pressed and tangled with mine, her breath playing against my skin. She shifts against me and her eyes open blearily.

"Somethin' wrong?" She whispers, her voice heavy with sleep.

"No, nothing is wrong. Sleep, my darling." I lightly pressed my bony lips to her forehead, bringing a smile to her face.

"'love you." She mumbles, drifting back into dream land.

"I love you too." I reply, quickly following her.