Erik had crossed the room and was standing in front of Christine, holding out his hand for the book. She could not bring herself to give it to him, fearing his wrath upon discovering that she had been reading his diary. She just sat there, sobbing and clutching the book to her chest. Erik was growing concerned.
"What is it, Christine?" he asked, looking into her tear filled eyes, "Has Erik done something to upset you? Has he harmed you in some way?" With this, he fell before her on his knees, crying, "Oh Christine, Erik shall never forgive himself if he has caused you pain!"
"No, Erik," Christine said through her tears, "Please, it's not your fault! Just... promise you won't be angry with me?" Erik's eyes grew wide with fear.
"What is it you mean to tell me, Christine? Have you done something Erik should know about? What is the matter?" He was twisting his hands together nervously, looking up at her with his terrified golden eyes. He was afraid of what she would say, afraid of what misery fate had decided to inflict upon him now. With trembling hands and hushed sobs, Christine held out the little black book.
Erik's jaw dropped. "My diary!" he thought, "How the hell did she get her hands on my diary? Now Erik remembers, he was in such a hurry this morning to get to the market before there were too many people there, he must have forgotten to put it away! Oh, woe! Woe to wretched Erik! Christine shall never love him now that she knows what goes on inside his mind!"
With a shuddering sob that seemed to contain all the sorrows the world had ever known, Erik collapsed on the rug. He pounded his fists on the floor and shrieked with rage like a child that did not get its way. He could not comprehend anything outside of his own anger and shame. Finally, he had exhausted himself from crying, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, he was once again covered by a blanket. Christine sat on the floor beside him, reading a book. Acting on impulse, he snatched it from her hands. She gasped and looked at him, putting a hand to her heart. It was at this moment that Erik realized that the book he held was not his diary, but was in fact a collection of poems.
"Forgive me, Christine," he said, handing the book back to her sheepishly, "I'd thought..."
"It's alright, Erik," Christine said, "Your diary is on the table. I'm sorry for reading it, I was just so curious." Erik frowned.
"Yes, Erik knows your curiosity well, Christine," he muttered darkly, tapping his mask. He rose, took the diary from off the table, and retreated to his room. A moment later, Christine could hear muffled sobs coming from behind Erik's closed door.
"What am I to do?" Christine thought, "Do I go to him? Do I stay here? By staying with Erik, I loose everything I've ever known. But could I be gaining something more? Is it worth the risk? Perhaps not, but if I return to the surface world, Erik would be shattered! He needs me. He needs me."
Christine rose, and with newfound determination, made her way towards Erik's bedroom door.
A/N: So, whaddya think? Please review, it means a lot! Ye be warned: the next chapter has a fluff factor of nigh over 100.
