He didn't stay long after that. Erik stood up without a word and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned slightly to look at Meg, still on her knees, and his handsome side glowed warmly in the candlelight. He didn't smile or nod at her; he merely gave her a last glance and began to walk away.
Meg wanted to reach for him, to cry out words that would make him turn around or come back, but she found that she could do nothing. He had left her; he didn't want to be with her at all! She didn't know where to go or what to do from here; her mind could only picture that half of his face, turning towards her before he disappeared into the darkness.
Erik stalked down the hallways of Notre Dame, already comfortable with its hollow corridors and dank walls. It reminded him of the Opera House, except that this place had a different atmosphere to it, he felt more exposed, but also more safe, however he still remained in the shadows; old habits. His trained ears could hear her still inside the room. He should not have left her there, all alone, but this was the way it had to be. No longer would he try to reach for something as beautiful as love, it was not for him. The pain that came with it wasn't worth it, after all.
Overdramatic. That was the way he lived his life. Everything was always so pompous and extravagant, all the niceties of life to make up for the hideousness he held within, not just his physical deformity, but that of his tainted soul. As Erik walked down the shadowy hallway he suddenly realized something about himself. Something inborn and parasitic, a drudgery that had been lurking in his very being since his life had began. He realized that he was exhausted. Tired of this life with its ups and downs. Sometimes he found joy in the simplest things, a rare beauty in a moment, but these moments would always pass, it was inevitable. And just as always, there were moments of dread and fear, of pain and sadness that followed every smile. What a mockery it all was, what strife everything held. His hand clenched unconsciously beneath his cape. What kind of a life was this? Did he wish to be carefree? No. That would only be monotonous. To continuously feel joy and freedom, that was no way of life. True living was struggle; happiness could only be found after knowing anguish.
These thoughts circled around and around in his head, his busy mind completely focused on them that he had not noticed her until he almost emerged from the shadows into her viewpoint. She smelled the same and looked the same; it had only been a couple of days after all. Though her back was turned to him, Erik knew who it was, those heavy brown locks draping across her shoulders and the fragile figure hidden beneath. She was the main event after the curtain call, the one who always held center stage in his eye, and still, even now, his emotions were being boiled up inside of him. All thoughts of life and living, and joy and sadness and reason, all of it left him as soon as he saw her again.
Christine...
He was a dog, a puddle, a nuisance to her now. How the very sight of her could melt him so, turn him obedient and old and worn at the same time. And no, she was not alone, of course not. She would never be again, not now, not ever. There was her trusted knight in shining armor, he whom this girl had chosen to protect her, to be with her forever. Erik was not jealous of him, seeing them together now, smiling sweetly, arms entwined, it was all too thick and coated. What pleasure would there be in this union? Did they make each other cry? Did they sooth each other's wounds afterwards? No, everything was joy and freedom with those two, they would always be happy together, but that was not true living at all. They would always be in the sunshine, never again in darkness, but what would light be without a shadow? Erik gritted his teeth as he watched them. He would have given her sweet darkness, the beautiful nighttime. The excitement and seduction of the world behind the sunlight, his domain and his life. They would not have been happy together, they would have suffered and relished and lived!
She was almost gone now, like a vision, a dream. She and Raoul were probably preparing their wedding, asking for a blessing. She was clad in a sunny yellow dress and white gloves, her rosy cheeks smiling at the priest.
What fate had led him here, to this moment, to witness the beginning of their life together? What mocking presence had guided him for this? Was he to stop them? Was this his chance to win back the woman he loved and take her away into darkness once again? He could easily overpower Raoul in this state; the man still held injuries from the previous few nights ago, and their arms being locked together was only Christine supporting him from collapsing.
Erik reached out his hand, it emerged from the shadows slowly, methodically inching towards her, his angel. But something in her expression made him stop. Christine had turned her head now to walk out the door with Raoul and her back was not to Erik, so he could see. In her eyes she held delight and innocence of a carefree nature, but that was only a twinkle, only an instant in her frame. This was a mask to hide something deep within her true self, much like the mask that Erik himself always wore. However, her mask was not to hide an ugliness, it was to hide a truth that she had found. From her deep brown eyes Erik could see a sadness, a guilt and regret in her expression, and it hit his heart, crushing it gently. So she was not carefree after all.
It was like an emblem for her, this deep pain she held inside, it was the guilt at having left her phantom in his catacombs, sailing away as if to nirvana, never again to return. Forever, Christine would be plagued by his presence in her mind, his soft, melodic voice whispering in her ears at night, every night, haunting her dreams, the touch of his seamless glove. Yet with time, she would not be so tortured, she would stop dreaming about him and he would be left only as a memory for her, but never would she forget. This, she knew, as she held Raoul's hand and looked into his face, smiling her fake, sad smile. She loved Raoul like no other, and he loved her, this was true, but she would always remember her phantom and what he had offered to her, she would always feel the guilt of leaving him behind and choosing another, and she would always have a doubt, a regret about her decision.
Erik enclosed his fingers around nothing as he failed to grasp her. All this, he had seen in her eyes, he had read it like an open diary to her heart, and he smiled. So, this was his gift to her. He had granted her this anguish in her life, this struggle for her to bear, and always she would carry it. She would not be at peace or wholly content, which was wonderful, because this meant that she could live. Again, he felt that being blithe and untroubled was not the way people were meant to live, and so he had given Christine the ultimate parting gift, his haunting memory.
Shying back into the shadows Erik realized why he had been led to this moment. It was so he could reach out his hand to grasp nothing, it was so that he could finally let her go.
Meg was frozen on the floor, her legs refusing to budge. She began thinking back to when she had first glimpsed him in the shadows. She had been but a child then, yet still obedient and dutiful. She had seen her mother speaking to someone behind the curtain, though there were no rehearsals at the time and the stage crew was off duty. When she had begun walking towards her mother, she suddenly turned to Meg and said, "Come, let's go now ma fille," and she pushed her along, but Meg had turned her head to look behind them. There, through the curtain she had glimpsed a white mask floating in the air, or so it seemed, for everything else was enshrouded in black and only the white mask could be seen.
Since then, the girl had always believed that the Phantom of the Opera truly was a real ghost who haunted the place and that her mother was the only person who could control him. For this reason, she had always wanted to meet him, because he couldn't be too bad if her mother could talk to him so easily. It wasn't until Christine had told her about the Phantom being her "angel of music" and voice teacher that Meg really began to understand that the phantom was more of a man than anything else, and this only heightened her curiosity. She wanted to meet him and become his friend. Her mother had told her about the phantom who was lonely, living in the opera house.
However, Christine had gotten to him first, she was the one who he loved, who he wished to share his world with, and all that time, Meg worried over her, she also wished that she could take her place.
Now Erik was slipping away again, she could not hold onto him, her feelings were not enough for him. She was torn, a thunderstorm raged inside her, the torrents of instability and confusion rushing in her mind. What should she do? Should she go after the man whom she loved? It was all so fast, too fast. When had she begun loving him? When had her youthful curiosity turned to infatuation? Didn't these things take time? Yes, time. She needed time to sort out her feelings for him. She would wait and then decide what to do.
If she still cared for him in this way, she would pursue him. But was this what she should do? This was her chance to be with him, but he was still so raw from a previous love, he wasn't ready for her yet, and she needed to leave him to his own devices before offering her love to him. Wasn't that what she needed to do?
Meg's decision was to get up and start walking. She was conscious of her feet taking steps, but she had no idea where they were leading her, after all, she had not known which direction Erik had taken, or if he were still within her reach. What if he had gone away already? How long had it been since she had sat there, reminiscing? And most of all, what would she do, if she saw him?