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Christine anxiously pressed her nose against the windowpane as she watched the dark clouds rolling in from the sea. She didn't like thunderstorms, but that wasn't what was bothering her today; even in the attic, she could hear her father coughing downstairs. He had started coughing a few weeks ago, and when she had asked him what was wrong, he had said it was only a cold. He was still coughing, though, and Christine thought that it might even be getting worse. That morning at breakfast he had coughed into his napkin, and although he had tried to refold it quickly, Christine had seen the blood on it.
"Christine?"
The sound of Raoul's voice jolted Christine from her reverie; he had been so quiet that she had nearly forgotten he was there. Raoul had been her constant companion ever since he had rescued her scarf from the sea, usually preferring to spend their time out of doors, but today the weather had threatened to turn bad, and so they had stayed inside. He had discovered an illustrated book about ships that had captured his interest, and while Raoul had studied the pages, Christine had wandered towards the window to watch the gathering clouds on the horizon.
"What's the matter?"
She could hear him carefully setting the book down on the floor, and she furiously blinked back the tears that had formed in her eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of him. He wasn't like the other boys who teased her or pulled her hair; Raoul was different, and she'd miss him terribly if he suddenly decided that he'd rather play with boys his own age instead of being here with a crying girl. Already she knew that a few of the boys taunted Raoul for spending so much time with her; they called Christine his girlfriend, and though Raoul glowered at them, he didn't deny it either.
Raoul padded across the attic until he was standing behind her, and Christine wiped her nose with the back of her hand before turning to face him. She hoped that the attic was dark enough so he couldn't see her tears.
"Are you scared?" Raoul asked softly, leaning closer so he could better see her face.
Christine mutely nodded as the wind whipped against the old house, rattling the window behind her. They stared at one another for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word, until Raoul awkwardly held open his arms; after a moment's hesitation, Christine stepped forward and rested her cheek against his chest. She could feel his heart beating loudly against her ear, and its steady rhythm comforted her. It reminded her of when she had suffered from nightmares as a little girl, and how her father had held her tight and whispered gentle words into her hair.
"It's all right," Raoul murmured softly, "I used to be scared of storms too."
It wasn't the storm outside that frightened her, but she didn't tell him that. Christine was afraid that if she spoke it aloud, even to Raoul, it would somehow make her worst fears come true. Her father was all that she had in the world, and if she lost him, she didn't know what would become of her; the possibilities were too terrifying to consider.
She was crying again after all; she hoped that the thunder and rain pouring against the roof would drown out her quiet sobs, but Raoul tightened his arms around her and she buried her face against his shoulder, no longer trying to hide her tears. He murmured that he would protect her and that she had no reason to be afraid, and Christine wanted to believe him.
When the thunderstorm was over Christine pulled away, embarrassed by her outburst, and Raoul pressed something into her hand. It was a wrinkled handkerchief with his initials stitched on it – RdC – and Christine stared at it for a moment before gazing up at him. He appeared concerned as he stared back at her, and without much thought, Christine stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. She had never kissed him before; she'd never kissed anyone before, except her father.
Christine stepped away from him and looked up at him breathlessly, watching Raoul's cheeks flush red. She wondered briefly if she had made a mistake, but before she could doubt herself too much, Raoul leaned closer until their lips met. She could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest, and for one blissful moment, Christine forgot everything except the warmth of Raoul's lips against her own.
Ten years later, Christine anxiously peered out the window of the de Chagny carriage as the Opera Populaire disappeared behind them. Her heart was racing as she recalled all of the things that had happened – Carlotta's unexplainable croaking, her own debut performance as the Countess, Raoul's declaration of love, and her teacher's very visible display of anger – and she was terrified that the man she had once called her angel would swoop down from the sky and carry her away in his claws, as if he was a bird of prey and she his latest meal.
"Christine?"
Raoul's voice startled her; she was so lost in her thoughts that she had nearly forgotten that he was in the carriage with her. She turned towards him and clutched his gloved hand as if it were her only lifeline to the world.
"Oh Raoul," she whispered brokenly, her voice shaking so badly that she barely recognized it as belonging to her. "Raoul…"
She couldn't manage any other words at the moment, and he leaned forward to take both of her hands in his own. "I don't know what just happened," he confessed shakily, his alarm clearly written across his boyish features as he squeezed her fingers.
You saved my life, Christine wanted to say, but she couldn't force the words past her numb lips. If you hadn't pulled me out of the way, he would have killed me. He knows Raoul, he knows about you, and I'm afraid that he might kill both of us because of it.
The last thing she wanted to do, however, was frighten Raoul away; he had just admitted that he loved her, and she didn't want to lose him. She didn't want to cry either – she knew that it would do neither of them any good – but she couldn't stop the tears from trailing down her cheeks. Raoul slid from his seat and knelt before her, opening his arms in silent invitation. Christine hesitated only for a moment – they had been in such a hurry to leave the Opera that she hadn't removed her stage makeup, and it would probably ruin his jacket – but she leaned into his embrace anyway and sobbed against his shoulder.
"I was so scared," she managed to choke out. "I was so scared…"
"So was I," he admitted in a hoarse whisper. "My god, Christine, to think that you could have…"
She didn't want to dwell too much on that though, and apparently neither did Raoul. Instead, he pressed his lips against her forehead and murmured that he would protect her, that she didn't have anything to fear because he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, and Christine wanted to believe him.
When the carriage arrived at her flat, Christine pulled away from Raoul and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. He pressed something against her palm, and when she looked down at it she realized that it was a neatly folded handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it. She smiled in spite of everything that had happened – it reminded her of the time that they had first kissed, back in the attic of a house along the seashore – and she gazed into his earnest blue eyes.
"I need you Raoul," she whispered simply. "Please don't leave me."
"I won't," he swore as she leaned closer to him, their lips meeting hesitantly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and for one blissful moment, Christine forgot everything except the warmth of Raoul's lips against her own.