Christine could hardly focus on anything for the rest of the day; her thoughts always drifted back to that morning in the practice room. The whole thing was so strange and… exhilarating. The hour that they had allotted for the lesson had gone by in what felt like no time at all. Erik may have started the lesson abruptly, but she'd become absorbed in it just as quickly. His knowledge of music had astounded her, easily surpassing even her best professors, and she could only assume that they'd barely scratched the surface during their brief time together. If not for the fact that she'd had to get to class, she probably would have lost track of time completely, wanting to get in just a little more work with Erik. She'd left motivated but distracted, ready for more work but unable push her thoughts beyond the lesson. It didn't occur to her until later in the day that she hadn't even gotten his last name.

The lesson had been intense and focused, but she hadn't found that off-putting at all—just the opposite, in fact. Erik was an exacting teacher, to be sure. She hadn't made it three bars into the first song before he had stopped her, instructing her to make a slight adjustment to her posture. A few notes later he had stopped her again with another small correction.

"I thought we were just going to run through a few pieces so you could see where I am," she had smiled, though the lightness of her tone had apparently been lost on him.

His only response had been, "Continue, then."

It had left her drained yet energized at the same time. Today was only meant to have been an experiment and Christine hadn't expected much from it—she'd figured that if she could at least see the promise of improvement through the lessons, she'd consider Erik's offer. But the improvement she'd made in just that hour had been greater than what she could accomplish with a week of practice on her own. When it was time for her to leave, she had lingered for a moment, waiting for Erik to bring up the lessons. He didn't say anything, though, and she spoke a little uneasily.

"I'd like to continue this," she'd told him. His golden eyes had flicked to her, and she'd added hastily, "If that's okay with you, of course. I think I would grow a lot with you as a teacher, and I would work hard." She had looked up to read his expression and was again a little taken aback by the blank black mask that met her instead.

Erik had regarded her for a moment before speaking. "I believe that you are remarkably talented and have incredible potential," he'd said, and Christine had blushed a little at the praise. "I would be more than happy to tutor you, and I will adhere to my original offer to give you lessons at no cost. But I do have one condition."

Christine had nodded, though her stomach had been in knots as she'd wondered what the condition might be. This was feeling a little too good to be true.

"Under no circumstance will you attempt to see my face," Erik had said, maintaining his stiff demeanor as he spoke but not quite meeting her eyes. "I will always wear the mask, and you must not question it."

Christine's first reaction had been relief that this condition would not prevent her from being able to accept the lessons. It seemed like a fairly benign request, despite its eccentricity, and she had considered for only a second before replying. "That won't be a problem. I accept."

Erik had nodded, his lips briefly quirking into something like an unpracticed smile. "I am glad to hear that. I look forward to teaching you."

They'd arranged to meet in the mornings in this same practice room, and then Christine had been forced to rush off to class. Her mind was already filling with plans of songs that she wanted to work on and things she wanted to improve now that she had a private teacher. The prospect of learning so much from someone who seemed so knowledgeable was thrilling. Even so, the lesson today didn't quite seem real; or maybe it was her teacher who didn't seem real. The strange combination of awkwardness and imposing grace in his demeanor, the enticing musicality of his voice and his probably endless knowledge, the enigmatic black mask—none of it seemed like it should fit together to make up a real, living person. He seemed so surreal, and Christine couldn't quite tell whether it made her uneasy.

After an uneventful afternoon of swiping cards at the dining hall on campus, she made her way home, grateful that Meg would be working and she'd have the place to herself for a little while; she had a concerningly long list of things to work on given that the semester had only started two weeks ago, and she knew that once Meg came home she'd want to hear all about how the lesson had gone, and that would certainly lead to a longer conversation. As it was, between classes, work, and now lessons, she basically wouldn't have time to sleep for months. A productive evening definitely couldn't hurt.

No sooner had she arranged herself on the couch to start some assigned reading than her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it, smiling when she saw the text from Raoul asking how her day was. She typed a quick reply and turned back to her reading, though her attention kept slipping back to her phone as she waited for the screen to light up with another message. It had been a complete coincidence when she ran into Raoul on the first day of the semester. Her arms had been growing tired as she'd stood in line at the bookstore with her stack of textbooks, and one of them had slipped from her grasp. Suddenly Raoul was beside her, stooping to pick it up. When he'd looked up, her heart had skipped a beat as she recognized the little boy from years ago in his handsome features. After a second she could see his eyes light up with recognition, and he'd straightened and smiled.

"Christine Daae," he'd chuckled warmly.

"Raoul," she had smiled, suddenly shy as she accepted her book. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. It's been a while."

"It has been," she'd agreed.

They were interrupted when Raoul was called up to the register, and Christine had watched him go a little anxiously, wondering if he would wait around to say anything else or if he would simply disappear into the sea of students coming and going. She'd lost sight of him briefly after she was called up to a different register, but her disappointment vanished when she found him waiting for her outside.

"Hey, sorry, I've kinda got to run," he'd said sheepishly when she approached him, "but I really am glad to bump into you. I wanted to see if you'd want to get coffee or something sometime and catch up."

"Sure," she'd replied, her smile growing. "That'd be great."

They had quickly exchanged numbers and agreed to meet the following afternoon. She'd been a little nervous on her way to meet him, but his easy charm had instantly made her feel comfortable. It was the same effect he'd had on her that summer at the beach—she'd been nearly solitary, with only her father for a friend, and then suddenly there was this boy who was all smiles and sunshine and who acted as though they'd been lifelong friends. Now, as they talked, they'd fallen into the same immediate bond. Raoul had told her about his family and about his plans to go to law school the following year, and Christine had talked about the Girys and how she was considering changing her major from vocal performance—she did alright and mostly enjoyed her classes, but she knew she wasn't excelling, and she found it difficult sometimes to pursue something so inextricably linked to her father.

Christine's throat had tightened when she told him that her father had died, and Raoul had reached across the table to cover her hand with his. He'd told her how very sorry he was and how much he'd admired her father, and their conversation had turned to memories of that summer. Christine had been seven and her father had somehow managed to procure them a little cottage right on the coast while he played in a local summer concert series. The few brief months they had spent there had been full of warm sunshine and cold saltwater and long, cool nights sitting on the coarse grass, looking up at the stars while her father made up little tunes on his violin or spun enchanting stories. Later, during the nights that she and her father had spent in cramped, noisy apartments, Christine would close her eyes and imagine that she could hear the crashing of waves, soothing her to sleep. She'd hardly call any of the time she'd had with her father bad, but things never seemed quite as good for them as they had been that summer.

She and Raoul had talked nearly every day after that afternoon. It had been Meg's idea to invite him to come to the Nightingale with them for the open mic night. Christine had cringed at the thought, but Meg had insisted.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, you haven't actually spent any time with him since last week, and I know you want to. And then once he says yes, I could suddenly get sick and not be able to come—"

Christine had rolled her eyes. "I hope your classes pick up soon so you have better things to do than try to match-make."

Meg had laughed. "I'm just saying, it definitely sounds like he's interested, and I know you're into him. Maybe going out together like this would be a good way to ease into things."

"That's not the part that I dislike. You've convinced me to sing at this, so I'll do it—I need to figure out whether or not I want to change my major, and you're right that singing in front of an audience might help me decide. But if Raoul comes, I'll have to sing in front of him."

"You'll be singing in front of a roomful of people," Meg had pointed out. "What's one more?"

"Singing in front of someone you kind of know is a lot different than singing in front of a bunch of strangers. People you kind of know judge you."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're amazing." Christine had given Meg a doubtful look, and Meg had held up her hands in defeat. "At least think about it, okay?"

"Fine."

It wasn't long after that conversation that Raoul had texted to ask if Christine had any plans for Friday. Christine had sighed and typed her reply quickly before she could change her mind: she had promised to do something with Meg, but she would love for Raoul to come if he wanted to. Raoul had agreed, and Christine had dreaded the satisfied smirk she'd receive when she told Meg.

In the end, though, Meg had been right, as she usually was. The three of them had had fun, and it had been nice to spend time with Raoul.

Christine was pulled from her thoughts when her phone buzzed again—another message from Raoul.

Are you doing anything tonight?

She looked regretfully at the stack of books and notes beside her. Buried under homework, she replied.

Already?

Unfortunately.

A few minutes passed without a reply, and Christine became absorbed in her reading. She jumped a little when a knock at the door broke her concentration, and she was surprised to find Raoul outside.

"Hey," he said with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I know you're busy."

"No, it's fine," Christine smiled. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'll only stay a minute, and then I'll let you go. I don't mean to interrupt," Raoul promised as he stepped inside. "I just, um, wanted to talk to you in person."

"Oh," Christine said, a little confused. "Sure. Was there something in particular that you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah, actually." Raoul shifted, glancing at her a little nervously. "I wanted to see if you might want to get dinner sometime. Like a date."

"Oh." Christine felt her cheeks heating, but that didn't stop her smile from growing. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Great," Raoul grinned. "Are you free at all this week?"

"I could make tomorrow night work," she replied.

"Perfect. I'll let you get back to your homework," Raoul said, nodding toward the stack of books and papers on the sofa. "But I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you tomorrow night," Christine repeated, hoping that her smile wasn't too embarrassingly huge but unable to control it.

After Raoul left, she halfheartedly returned to her studying, though she would have much rather allowed her thoughts to wander to the following night. Meeting her childhood friend again all these years later… it almost seemed fated. Like something out of a storybook. She shook her head, laughing at herself a little. They'd only just planned their first date; she shouldn't get ahead of herself.

Christine had just been able to refocus when she was interrupted again by Meg's arrival home.

"Hey," she called over her shoulder when she heard Meg come in. "How was your day?"

Meg collapsed beside her on the couch with a sigh. "Long. I should try not to schedule such long shifts on Mondays. How was your day?"

"It was good." Christine smiled. "Raoul asked me out."

Meg immediately straightened at this, beaming victoriously. "Christine, that's so great!"

"Yeah," Christine laughed. "I'm excited. We're getting dinner tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll have a great time. Didn't I tell you that he's into you?"

"You did," Christine confirmed with a smirk. Meg was almost always right about things like this—a fact she took no small amount of pride in.

"Oh, hey, how did your lesson go?" Meg asked suddenly. "I assume I would have heard earlier if it had been a total disaster."

"It actually went pretty well. This guy obviously knows a lot, and I think working with him could really help me. I could definitely feel a difference after just that hour. He did seem… a little eccentric."

"How so?"

"He, um, wore a mask the whole time?" Meg blinked, and Christine continued quickly. "I mean, he seemed perfectly fine otherwise. A little stiff, but not, like, a bad kind of weird."

"He wore a mask? Like a Halloween mask? Why?"

"Not really like a Halloween mask, just a plain mask. He didn't say why he was wearing it. He just asked me to promise that I'd never mention it."

"Wait, you agreed to keep meeting with him?" Meg asked skeptically.

Christine gave an uncertain shrug. Of course Meg was right to be skeptical, but she didn't quite know how to explain it—despite the oddness, she just didn't get a bad feeling from Erik. It was a gut feeling, to continue the lessons, and she figured that while she might regret making this choice later, she'd never stop wondering what might have been if she turned the offer down without giving it a chance.

"I don't know," she said. "I just felt okay with him. And he clearly knows a ton about music. If I feel like I've gotten better from just this one lesson, imagine what regular lessons might do. And maybe if I'm really working at it and improving… maybe I'll like singing again, like I used to."

Meg gave her a sympathetic smile. They had talked some about Christine changing her major, and Meg knew how conflicted she was. On the one hand, she hadn't exactly been happy the last couple of years. She'd been doing what she needed to do to get by, but the passion that had driven her to apply for the program in the first place had faded with her father's death. It wasn't easy pursuing something that reminded her so poignantly of someone she still grieved for. But on the other hand, music was a passion that she'd shared with her father. And as painful as it could be, Christine wasn't sure she wanted to sever that link, or to give up on what she had wanted to do for her entire life. She'd never wanted to do anything but sing; it had always felt like an essential part of her. Giving up on that now would feel like losing a piece of herself.

Was she really that crazy to want to give this a chance, however strange the situation might be?

"Alright," Meg said. "I hope it works out. But I reserve the right to be suspicious of this guy."

"Of course," Christine smiled.

"Just…" Meg hesitated a little. "Just be careful, okay? You're too trusting of people sometimes, you know. It seems fine now, but what if one day he decides you owe him something for teaching you? I'm glad he doesn't seem threatening or anything, but you don't know him. Just be a little wary."

"I know," Christine said. "And I will be. Promise."

"And as always, my offer to beat someone up for you still stands," Meg added with a smile, and Christine laughed a little.

"I appreciate that."

Meg soon disappeared into her room, and left alone again, Christine tried to turn her attention back to her textbook. Meg had distracted her, though, and when she wasn't able to refocus her thoughts to the pages in front of her, she sighed and pulled out her laptop. It was true that she tended to be a little too trusting, preferring to assume the best about people rather than questioning their motives. Meg's suspicion was perfectly reasonable, and talking about it now had planted that speck of doubt in her—despite the successful encounter today, Erik was a complete stranger, and she had just agreed to spend an hour a day alone with him. She had just opened her browser when she caught herself a laughed a little; her first impulse had been to search his name, but she doubted that just searching "Erik" would be of much help. She searched his phone number instead, and when that provided her with no information, she pulled up the music department website, searching through lists of faculty and donors and anything else she could think of. Still, her sleuthing yielded nothing—not the slightest suggestion that the person she was searching for actually existed. She resolved to learn a little more about him when they met the next morning.

Until then, she would just have to wait and wonder what she had gotten herself into.