"I'll do it for you." (Erik)
( ways to say ‘i love you’ ;; accepting. )
occasionally charles looks frail. it doesn’t happen often – he’s good enough at letting what calm he can manage resonate through him ( a beacon ) and project it outwards but when things matter he gets scared. everyone does. the hotel, awful as it is, is pushing him back towards darker times when there was no light at the end of the tunnel. no child should have to think their mind, their soul, is unraveling and erik will understand. he’s positive that erik will understand that pain isn’t glamorous or tragic – it just is. he needs to share. charles needs to share the burden with someone he believes strong enough to help him carry it.
“look at me,” charles says and it comes out like a sigh as he crosses the room ( he’s half a vision, not quite, even pretty as he is red eyes and the bags beneath them do not a supermodel make ) and sits at the edge of erik’s bed in front of him. “it isn’t the same as going in your mind, it’s going in mine,” and there’s an edge to his voice, a chance to back out as he puts his hands to the side of erik’s head ( palms at his temples ) and presses gently.
phsyical contact always helps a psychic link, and it helps charles to remind himself that erik is here, and even if that shouldn’t matter it does and it will. “and my mind might not be as pretty as you think it’ll be. i’m trusting you too. veer off the course i’m setting for you and you’ll find the things people think, things i think. and that’s not good,” he offers. because it’s never good to know what someone thinks of you. praise is always spoken aloud, always offered earnestly, it’s the dark things people think.
and then the world seems to fade away and charles’ is half to letting his head lull before he remembers that he’s meant to guiding erik.
an internal labyrinth, a network of tunnels ( from his home as a child in england, winding and dark that eventually lead to bomb shelters ) and then winding halls with doors and tapestries all designed and furnished and put in place by charles’ mind. when things snap back into focus he’s standing with erik. one hand in the other man’s and his eyes darker than they had been before, subtle frown lines made more severe by the lighting.
visualization. it’s a useful tool for a telepath. while they sit safely inside of a crappy motel in the real world, the xavier home ( or charles’ variation if it ) lays sprawled before them in his mind. it means the shadows are darker though – cobwebs hang where charles doesn’t want to look. associated memories dance like ghonsts in candle light across the hall. raven and charles run from one room to another, children in mist.
they have to walk for a little. the the doors are labelled. people and places and books, memories are behind each one there’s a clear pattern, the longer the walk the further back they’re going. adult years ( a door named ‘erik’ ) and then college right besides it, teenage years are filled with names of boys and then names of girls and confusion and question marks, the general atmosphere growing more tense as they walk further down – the walkways grow less winding, more linear, there’s a sharp turn here or there but charles knows exactly where he’s going.
just a few more turns, down braching paths that grow more singual. names of books have been compressed into doors named after grades, past that is a door named ‘school’ and another ( the third or fourth in all ) marked ‘raven darkholme’. but eventually they have to stop and when do in front of them is a door that charles’ been eyeing wearily since they’d rounded the corner. if he wants – erik is free to go but there’s a level of trust charles is employing right now that erik won’t leave him here alone. he motions with his head to the door before he takes a step forward, his hand in erik’s a step behind. on the door is a placard.
