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Erik was… surprisingly good at braids.
Christine discovered this during another lesson when her golden locks of hair simply wouldn’t stay put. Erik usually asked that she keep it neat and tidy during practice so that it wouldn’t bother them, but today was simply a bad day and the infuriating lesson they were having did nothing but frustrate her to tears.
“Stupid, stupid hair!” She growled immediately after missing her cue. Erik immediately stopped playing the piano to scold her, but paused at how upset she appeared. “I should just chop you off!”
“No,” Erik immediately responded. “Don’t be foolish. Your hair stays the way it is.”
Christine tugged at her hair with a comb she kept in her pocket, but groaned in frustration after a few more futile attempts. She angrily shoved the brush away and flipped her hair, pursing her lips in irritation.
It wasn’t just her hair, really. Her day had been awful. She woke up late to a minimum wage job she despises. She only realized after her boss yelled at her in front of her coworkers that she forgot to bring her lunch or her wallet. Then when her shift ended, it rained so hard that an umbrella wouldn’t protect her from the water.
So she arrived at her lesson freezing and wet with an empty stomach and muddy shoes. Her hair was frizzy and dripping and she could have sworn new knots settled between her curls every five minutes.
Erik had thrown her a towel and lectured her about the importance of keeping warm, especially when you’re an aspiring diva. Christine had silently fumed through it all, clenching her fist and keeping her mouth shut lest she say something she’d regret.
Erik had noticed her foul mood, but that certainly didn’t stop him from being as strict as he always was. The only difference was that he shoved a ridiculously hot cup of tea in her hand before they started. It hurt her fingers the second she touched it. They continued the lesson like normal, but with Christine ready to throw a tantrum at any moment.
“I swear,” she said with her teeth clenched. “I’m getting a pixie cut later. This isn’t worth it.”
“Are we still talking about this?” Erik sighed.
“Yes, we are!” Christine crossed her arms, knowing that she was ridiculous. She was being childish, she knew. She just couldn’t help it. “I hate my hair and I’m getting a haircut. I might even dye it! Or straighten it! Who cares? I might be prettier as a brunette.”
Erik stood abruptly and Christine jumped at the sudden movement. He was much taller than her and the black mask covering his full face intimidated her to no end. Christine swallowed and looked down sheepishly, feeling very much like a child about to be scolded.
Erik tilted his head at her, his gold eyes staring at her with contemplation. Christine was embarrassed at how different they looked. Erik was, despite the mask, very elegant and imbued with a certain grace and poise that Christine often likened to an aristocrat. He was always in a very expensive suit and his whole person was always impeccable.
Christine closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. “Sorry,” she told him quietly. She never liked him when he was angry. A tantrum wasn’t worth his temper. “I’ll focus.”
Her maestro didn’t go back to the piano at her apology, however. He shook his head and lifted his hand to point at the bench. Christine looked at him, confused. “Sit,” he said.
Christine squinted her eyes at him, but followed his instructions regardless. She sat down on the plush red cushion of the piano bench and tried not to question her teacher. Her confusion only rose, however, when Erik left the room without a word.
Christine blinked. He had never left her alone in his underground home. It unsettled her, really. It was too quiet and creepy. Christine shuddered and turned to face the piano, playing a simple tune with her right hand to keep her company.
She didn’t have to wait long, however, because Erik returned in less than a minute. There was a plain wooden box in his hand and Christine’s curiosity was piqued.
“What’s that?” Her earlier tantrum forgotten, she eagerly waited for Erik to answer. She tried to turn towards him, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“Turn away from me,” he said.
“Uh-” weird, but okay. “Sure.” Christine shrugged and faced the piano keys once more. Christine heard him open the box and she took a quick peak.
Her eyes widened when she saw inside. There was a very intricate hair brush, several bobby pins, and hair ties of different types. They all looked pretty and delicate, as if plucked from a princess’ vanity closet.
“If you don’t mind me saying, I’d regret it if you chose to change your hairstyle.” He admitted softly, his beautiful voice possessing a shy quality Christine had never heard before. “I think it’s lovely as it is, although I understand why you’re frustrated today. I think I might be able to help with that, though.” He patted the box pointedly. “May I?”
Christine’s mouth dropped. Erik wanted to do her hair? That felt so… beneath him. He pegged her as the kind of guy who would hire a professional hair stylist to do it. The prospect of him offering and actually accomplishing something as mundane as this was so domestic and sweet, and it made Christine blush just a little.
He was waiting for a verbal response and he was visibly getting uncomfortable from her silence. “Yes! I mean, yes- of course you may.” She squeaked and put all of her hair behind her back, allowing him full access.
Only a very quiet shuddering sigh told her of any hesitation from his part.
Erik was so soft and gentle with her that Christine positively melted at his touch. He combed her hair first, softly undoing whatever pesky knots he found. His hands were light and felt so good. It took Christine all of her willpower to not lean in and purr like a domesticated cat.
It took a while for Erik to be satisfied, but he got there eventually. He separated her long blonde hair into two and let them flow in front of her shoulders, tying one into a simple braid before doing the same with the other.
Christine shuddered as he did so. He conveniently wasn’t wearing gloves today, allowing his long cold hands to brush up against her bare neck every so often. Christine prayed to whatever god was out there that he didn’t notice the goosebumps or the warmth on her skin every time he did so.
Erik’s hands, though Christine didn’t see, were trembling like leaves.
Though the two of them could scarcely breathe, Erik continued and Christine kept her mouth shut.
Erik gathered up one braid and carefully pulled it over her head. He carefully placed several pins in different areas, ensuring that it wouldn’t fall off at the slightest movement. He did the same for the other, putting the braid next to the previous one and redoing his pin placement.
Her maestro had a hard time, it seemed, because her hair was rather long and thick. There wasn’t a whisper of complaint from him however, and Christine found herself relieved. Lord knew she spent much of her time and tears trying to get her hair to obey. It charmed Christine to no end how eager and determined he was to make her feel at least a little bit better.
He finished by letting a few strands loose, letting them artfully fall along her head. Erik stepped away from her quickly, almost frightened. Christine patted her head and brought out her phone camera to see what he had done.
When she saw it, she gasped delightedly. He gave her the loveliest milkmaid braid she had ever seen. It sat on top of her head like a crown, resembling something a princess would adorn. It was elegant and beyond adorable and Christine found herself unable to believe that she had ever spent a second disliking her hair.
Erik stood away from her, the comb and box dutifully in his hands, as he watched her admire herself in the pseudo-mirror. He was quiet, but the faint tapping of his polished shoe against the floor told her how nervous her usually controlled maestro was.
“Erik,” she said with a bright smile. “I love it! I never knew you could braid so well.” She beamed at him and Christine was sure he was blushing beneath that mask.
He coughed, embarrassed. “Yes, well-“ he floundered and Christine hopelessly found it cute. She never thought she’d ever describe her easily angry teacher as cute, but apparently today was a day of new experiences. “I’m glad you don’t find it too horrible. Perhaps you will ask your Erik to style your hair instead of chopping it off?”
Christine laughed. It was flattering how invested he was in her hair’s well-being, going so far as to braid it to prevent her from getting a haircut. She felt warm at the thought of it, and she knew it showed in her face. “Of course, Erik.” She giggled. “Don’t get too generous, though. I might get greedy and ask you to braid it everyday!”
“Christine,” he said seriously. “Never threaten Erik with a good time.”
Christine was sure her heart jumped out of her chest at his words, but she had to recover quickly as Erik took his rightful spot in the piano bench just next to her. He immediately began playing the opening of the aria they were learning and went right back to teacher mode.
Christine smiled to herself and, as subtly as she could, she scooted just a tiny little bit closer to Erik. She watched his beautiful hands glide over the piano and hoped that he wouldn’t scold her and tell her to stand up like she should have in the first place.
Erik, of course, kept his mouth shut. His eyes occasionally strayed to look at her wonderful hair, hoping that his admittedly flimsy pin placements would give away and force him to do it all over again.