Love me...

Do You Like Children?

Christine padded into his room, somewhere she knew instinctually not to enter.

He never expressly forbade it, of course. But, then again, he never had to. Christine never knew what mood she would find him in if she were to surprise him—if he was not expecting her presence near him. More often than not, his mood was dark, deep, and he seemed never to be able to switch out of it. Christine had caught the end of a temper fit once too many times to be careless when it came to her 'Dead Husband' as he liked to call himself.

She knew better than to make him cross with her; for then he would become angered, and then feel terrible about it and fall to his knees, begging for her forgiveness.

But she had to do this. She had to encroach on his solitude, had to speak with him. It was a matter of urgent, pressing, concern. She needed to have his opinion.

"Erik?" The blonde called, making sure she was four feet away from him so her touch did not startle him. She knew he did not enjoy being startled. Quick as lightning he was facing her, eyes gleaming in the dimness. "Christine."

Why did that single word send tremors through her entire form? Why did he have the power to do that to her?

Did she have such an ability concerning him?

If she did, he did not openly show it...

"Erik..." She paused, taking a large breath. He cocked his head at her, the dim candlelight flashing briefly off of his black mask. "What is the matter, Christine? Is there something you wish to discuss with Erik?"

Christine inhaled again, trying to gain confidence.

When Christine did not immediately reply, Erik's eyes became more confused, and tinged with worry. He stood up, slowly walking towards her, as if trying not to alarm her by coming closer. Christine shook as he came closer—but not from fear. Never from fear.

Erik's eyes zeroed in on her tremor, and stopped a foot away from her. His hands hung loosely at his sides—but she could see them twitching, as if he wanted to put them around her.

Why did she want that so very much?

Christine pulled her eyes away from Erik's hands, making them rest on his masked face, inhaling again. She tucked her left foot behind her right, the toe of her shoe moving in little circles on the floor. She raised a hand to her mouth, biting nervously on the knuckle of her fist finger. Slowly, she raised her eyes to Erik again. His golden orbs were wide and liquid with concern, and she found that he had advanced a few steps while she had been staring at her finger.

"Is there something the matter, Christine?" Erik asked again, his hands reaching out to—but not touching—her.

Finally, Christine had gathered enough nerve to try and talk to him. "Erik...............Do you like children?" She wouldn't look him in the eye, though she felt his probing gaze, how much he wanted her to look at him. "Of course I like children....." he trailed, sounding confused. "That is an absurd question, Christine......" She looked down at her nightdress and fluffy rosé robe, blush staining her cheeks.

He made a vague humming noise, "Why do you ask, anyway? Why are you not in your bed?"

Christine sighed, a memory flash coming to her.

She was sitting on the bathroom floor; her knees drawn up to her chest, arms around them, her chin resting on her knees. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she wondered how on earth to tell him, to make him accept the truth. Would he even want what she had to tell him about?

Her cheeks burned, as she let her legs splay out in front of her, and she placed her hand on her stomach, willing life to give her strength.