Erik didn't remember arriving home. He had a vague recollection of throwing the remains of their picnic into the Seine before the rest of Paris woke. But the journey from the Rue Scribe, across the lake and crawling into his bed, it was all a blank. His stomach twisted and his chest burned, he could have been flayed alive and had his heart ripped out, it was all the same to him. Erik could not push from his mind the utter heartbreak in Meg's eyes, the cracking betrayal in her voice.
"Erik has ruined everything." he whispered into the darkened room. "Erik held an angel in his arms again and let her slip away."
He pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his frustrated sob. How could women be so entirely complicated? He was not equipped with the tools to decipher them.
"Erik should escape while he can."
But escape from what? There was no danger here, not yet.
"From the danger of falling in love with her, monster." he threw the pillow across the room. Erik did love her though; the danger had already arrived. Though his love would do him no good if Meg never forgave him. Then where would he be? Still alone and burning with emotions he thought he had left behind.
Unrequited love seemed to be a great talent of his.
"But if Cricket forgave her Maestro.."
If only he could bring himself to beg for that forgiveness. Erik was mulishly stubborn; he was mostly afraid.
Consumed with restlessness, Erik rolled out of bed and wandered the small maze of hallways into the front sitting room. His thoughts were a jumble, like an overturned sewing basket; threads of ideas he usually could follow were a knotted mess with all the others.
"Maybe Erik should not have had so much to drink."
Erik paced the sitting room, going from corner to corner, crunching the detritus of his old life beneath his feet. He should go to her, climb in through her window and crawl to her bedside. He would lay there prone on the floor and wait for her to decide his fate.
"You pathetic worm." he spat. "You still have your dignity."
"Did I ever really have any dignity?" he asked the still room, half expecting the conversation to continue. There was only silence.
Erik sighed and dropped onto the sofa, the anxiety momentarily spent. He grabbed the violin sitting there and tucked it beneath his chin. His mind wandered back to the night before while he absently picked through basic exercises.
The details of the picnic were a bit hazy, if he were being honest. Two bottles of wine may have been a bit much; it had been many years since he had truly imbibed alcohol and the effect on Meg had been rapid. Erik smiled into the instrument at the memory of her so relaxed, rosy with the glow of too much wine.
"Are you courting me? I had hoped to be." Erik kept his expectations low but even he had been hopeful she would be amenable to a courtship. But he never allowed himself to dream that Meg had wished it of her own volition.
"The lady of Erik's choosing is beyond all reach."
That had stung. It was certainly true that he still loved Christine; Erik loved her very much. She had only ever been a distant hope at best, years and years ago. Christine had made her choice and it had not been him. Little Meg was warm, alive; and unless he was a total fool, she seemed to have chosen him. Or at least, she had until he messed everything up.
His bow stilled and silence fell over the room again. "How do people stand this agony?"
The delightful pain of her nails in his skin, her soft sighs, the sensation of utter abandon. People sought out this agony and now Erik would too. He knew he had to make things right between them. Meg had to know that he had made a mistake, one that he deeply regretted. Erik had meant what he said; she was not a stand in for her deceased friend.
"Erik will tell her, right now!" he leapt to his feet. "He will tell his Cricket with no uncertainty that he loves her."
He strode confidently through the entrance, full of determination; convincing himself of her soft and indulgent smile, her generous heart. Even if she were to turn him away, Meg deserved to know.
"Monster, you think there's the hope of an 'if'?" Fear suddenly squeezed his heart and he froze before he could set foot in the boat. With a shaky breath, Erik slumped back against the wall and slid onto the cold floor.
The terror of her rejection crashed over him and it hadn't even happened yet.
Love was so much more terrifying when that love was reciprocated.
"Oh Cricket, your Erik is a fool." he sighed. The dripping of water was his only answer. "A note, Erik will write you a note. Yes, that is where Erik will begin."