Merlin shoves his spell book under his pillow in a panic and relaxes as he sees Summer in the doorway. He nods and gestures for her to come in. Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.
She shakes her head, convulsively. “I can’t. I can’t do that. I sent — I sent to ask if he, if I could see him this morning, and he — there was no answer. Nothing at all. I can’t — maybe … would you — ?”
Do you want me to go talk to him? he half-asks, half-offers. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to do much, but if that’s what Summer is asking of him, he’s willing to try.
“Please?” she says pitifully. “Tell him I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him — I love him, I do, Merlin, I can’t — ” She starts to cry in earnest, muffling sobs into her hands.
Merlin rubs his hand along her spine in an attempt to comfort her. It’s okay, Summer. This can be fixed. You’ll see. He smiles reassuringly. I’ll tell him that, and I’ll make sure to clear this up.
She nods, rubbing at her face. “Oh, Merlin, what am I going to do if I’ve screwed this up? He’s so … and the way he smiles … and his eyes … ” She buries her face in his shoulder and sobs into his green scarf.