The Friend Shop (Phantom of the Opera)

▪ Chapter 11 ▪

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

You owe this chapter to casuallllfollower. She is the one who picked the plot of this from the three possible plots in my head. As you can probably tell, I rely on her a lot. She is awesome.

Enjoy and don't forget to comment what you think!

sarahlet2999

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CHAPTER 11

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"Erik!" Christine gasped, hopping off the cold counter and dropping down beside the fallen man. His chest rose and fell faintly but he didn't stir from his sprawled position on the kitchen floor. Surprisingly enough, the memory of her tenth-grade health class returned and she fetched several pillows from the living room to prop his feet up above his head. The next step her mind reminded her of made her nervous.

I've never touched men's clothing before, let alone had to loosen it while someone wore it.

But, he needed to be able to breathe freely so she carefully unbuttoned his suit jacket and, being very careful not to touch anything other than the metal and leather, unbuckled his buckle to free his stomach. The top buttons of shirt soon followed, revealing gray skin that concerned Christine.

He isn't healthy.

As the clock slowly ticked towards a minute of unconsciousness, she began to wonder if calling 911 would be a wise move. When she finally decided she would call them and had stood up to dial the number, a muffled groan escaped Erik as his eyes blinked blearily.

"Oh! Thank all that is holy!" She exclaimed, sliding down beside and hovering over him. "How do you feel? I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I'm so sorry!"

"Why are there two of you?" He whispered, reaching up towards empty air beside her face.

"You probably have a mild concussion. Let me call an ambulance and get you to the hospital to make sure you're going to be okay." She moved to stand but his hand grappled for her wrist, holding her tightly despite his weakness.

"No!" He attempted to shout, ending up merely releasing a large amount of air with the gasp. "Don't call them. Please don't. I hate the hospital."

"But I have to make sure you didn't do any serious damage." She insisted, trying to gently peal his fingers off her wrist so she could reach the phone.

"Just help me to my bed. I'll be fine." He tried to stand but his head spun and he felt backward a little ways, connecting with the floor again.

"Okay." She responded, exceptionally reluctant to move him in his state but aware he wouldn't relent. "But, if anything changes, I will call 911. You won't be able to stop me." She bent down over him and hooked her elbows under his arms, dragging him upward and using her slim body to hold his while he swayed on his feet, dizzy.

"Go up the stairs, two doors down on your left." He instructed her, unhappy with leaning against her but knowing if he tried to stand on his own feet he would hit the ground again before he could take a step. As his head lulled against her shoulder, the heat from her skin burned his skin and he realized his suit jacket hung unbuttoned.

"What did you do?" He gasped, tempted to clutch the edges of his shirt closed to keep his awful gray skin concealed from her.

"I had to loosen your clothing so you could breathe." She remarked, realizing that he had never showed her any part of his body, even the usual parts such as hands or neck and his face always carried that mask. "You don't have to be ashamed of how your skin looks. It doesn't bother me." The pallor reminds me of a corpse but I can live with that. It's just a peculiarity of his and I don't want to lose him over something so trivial.