Thank you everyone for your support and kind messages! I’ve been teaching a course for a few days so I’ll reply to everyone as soon as I can <3 Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer!
Charles pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, took a deep breath and paced. He had to get his anger under control. Anger was never the answer.
Erik’s sneering face came back to him with a jolt and he slumped, tears prickling behind his eyes. He’d always secretly known he was pathetic and weak. He’d fooled himself so well for the past few years, acting like he’d been strong enough to break away from his hateful family, when in reality he’d just waited for freedom to come to him.
“Charles?” said Raven softly.
Charles spun around, boxing up his anger and embarrassment and covering it up with a smile. Raven stood in the doorway, little Arthur on her hip. He had his face pressed into her shoulder, one little hand up to his eye, ad Charles winced, feeling Arthur’s pounding headache.
“Sean gave him a quarter of an asprin when he found him this morning, but it looks like his headache has flared up again,” she said.
Charles stroked Arthur’s back and brushed his fingers through his hair. “Poor boy,” Charles said. “Would you like me to help build your shields back up? Father and Kurt were testing them this morning, weren’t they?”
Arthur nodded. Raven’s eyes widened. “Your father?”
Charles just took Arthur from Raven, carrying him over to the bed. “You lie down here, snuggle up in my blankets, that’s right.” He brushed Arthur’s hair back and touched his temple, grimacing to see the mess they’d made of this little boy’s mental landscape.
His own mental landscape. Because this was him, twenty years ago.
He stroked Arthur’s curls over and over as he drifted off to sleep. It was strange, seeing him in that huge four poster bed. Like looking at an optical illusion - ‘this is a child to care for’, and at the same time, ‘this is me.’
Raven leaned on the footboard of the bed. “Why didn’t you ever say?” she asked.
“Say what?”
She nodded towards Arthur. “That your dad was experimenting on you like that.”
Charles smiled tiredly. “I honestly wanted to forget about it by then. Father had just died when I met you. I didn’t want to think of the bad times.”
Raven nodded, crossing her arms. “And… the beatings?” she said, her voice breaking.
Charles looked down. Raven’s breath shuddered. “When I saw Francis all bruised up like that, I thought for sure he couldn’t be the same Charles Xavier. Because I was living with you at that age and I never… were you hiding it from me?”
Charles swallowed. “I didn’t want to… I knew it would upset you.”
She nodded. “Yeah, damn right it upsets me. Did you ever trust me? With anything?”
“Raven,” he said, but she was already out of the door, wiping her cheeks as she flickered blue.
Charles woke up with a jolt when he felt the outline of Erik’s mind approach. Erik leaned over the arm of the chair, and Charles reeled his telepathy back quickly.
“You really shouldn’t fall asleep like that, Charles,” Erik said, looking down at him with an impassive face.
Charles sighed and sat up. “What time is it?”
“Coming up to 1am. You should go to bed.” He sat in the chair opposite him and leaned back, a panther in repose as always.
Charles gestured over to his bed. “Arthur needed somewhere to sleep.”
“And that monstrosity of a bed can’t fit both of you? I imagine your child self wouldn’t mind some human contact.”
Charles grimaced and turned away. “Yes, I know. I’ve always been clingy and touch-starved.”
“Charles,” Erik said, sitting forward to catch his eye. “I didn’t mean…” he sighed. “I was out of line earlier. Cruel. I’m sorry.”
Charles breathed very carefully, hoping it would somehow push his tears back. “But not,” he said to his own clasped hands, “exactly untrue.”
Erik shook his head with a frown. “No, it was disrespectful. Your morals are your own, no matter why you have them, and I shouldn’t have insulted your experiences either.”
Charles swallowed again and again, trying to force down the treacherous tears. But of course Erik had to look at him, see him losing this battle yet again. So weak and weepy, so pathetic. Charles couldn’t handle the compassion and worry in his gaze. He stood suddenly and turned away, bowing his shoulders. Maybe Erik would leave now, awkward from having to witness Charles’ pathetic emotions first-hand.
He jumped when he felt Erik’s hand on his shoulder, but his body leaned towards Erik like a flower to the sun. “Charles,” said Erik softly.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I’ve always been like this, I’m afraid,” Charles admitted, his voice forcibly light.
Erik didn’t say anything. Instead he slowly, uncertainly, drew Charles into an embrace, long arms wrapping around Charles’ back, pressing his face into Erik’s firm chest. Charles’ breath shuddered out of him and he leaned into it, desperate, expecting every moment to be pushed away in disgust. Erik smelled of lemon soap and leather jackets and warm skin, and Charles wanted to stay in his arms forever, close and known and loved.
Loved. If only.
He forced himself to pull away from Erik, disentangling himself gently before Erik got fed up of him. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath before looking up with a careful smile. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
“Don’t apologise, Charles,” said Erik.
Charles smiled at him and tried not to project his absolute, unwavering devotion for Erik further than his own mind.
