Chapter Text
Erik hates the first week of September. He fucking hates it.
If it were up to him the summer holidays would go on forever, and there would be no going back to this hellhole of a school. But although Erik is 18 and therefore he doesn’t technically have to go to school anymore, it would be rude of him, considering everything his mother went through regarding his behaviour, if he left school now without finishing his A-levels . And there’s also one other thing that keeps him going and stops him from locking himself in his room and refusing to leave, and that is the fact that this is his last year.
Only one more year of enduring all those shallow idiots and fucking dickheads whose entire self-esteem seems to be based solely on their own and everyone else’s perception of their masculinity. One more year, and he’ll finally be free.
Erik’s mother knows he’s not happy, and he knows this makes her feel terrible, which in turn makes everything ten times worse for him. He doesn’t blame her either. She didn’t have any other options after he’d been expelled from three schools in their area and all the others refused to take him. He’s been out of control and he knows it. His father’s death and all the injustice following it made him do it. If he could turn back time now and control himself back then he’d do it, but obviously he can’t. And so, his mother had no choice but to accept when her employer offered to try and get Erik a place at the school headed by his British wife’s brother.
Boarding school. In England. When Erik first heard about it he couldn’t believe his ears. He was going to leave his little German home town and head for the countryside around Bournemouth. Him. In boarding school. Surrounded by pampered posh boys.
It’s no longer unbelievable to him. Erik has been at the school for three years. He got his GCSEs there, and his AS levels the previous year. He got used to all the traditions and idiotic customs, to their school uniform with the blue and red tie, to sporting events where attendance is compulsory even if one loathes any kind of sport, like Erik. But that doesn’t mean he likes it. Or them.
Erik sometimes feels so out of place, he thinks about just running away. He’s just different, in almost every way possible. He’s German, for one—a foreigner. When he first arrived three years ago his English was diabolical, so obviously that made him an easy target, and the idiots at his school have amused themselves more than once by calling him ‘Nazi’—completely ignoring the fact that his whole family is Jewish, and that half of his great-grandparents were murdered during the Holocaust. But why should he even assume they have any idea what they’re talking about? It’s actually quite ironic too, considering these boys feel so at home in an all-white, all-male environment, boast loudly about the fact they don’t think women exist for any other reason than sex and housework, and have a huge problem with anyone who doesn’t fit their elitist idea of a worthy person. Fucking ironic.
Erik’s also far from rich, and can only attend a school that costs £25,000 annually because his mother’s employer felt charitable for a moment when he’d heard about his fate. The other boys all appear to live in mansions, playing golf all day, while their butlers offer them a glass of cold lemonade and then wipe their arses for them. Fucking snobs.
Erik’s worst crime, however, is not being into football. Football is everything . Any boy at his school is defined by what club he supports, how long he’s been playing, and what kind of cups he’s won with his team. If you don’t even know any teams by name, well...you’re pretty much fucked. Erik learnt as much the first day he arrived at St. John’s.
He was still surprised though that apparently any boy who doesn’t like football is automatically gay in their eyes. Erik himself would have never made the connection between the two, but he’s been a ‘homo’, a ‘queer fucker’ and a ‘poof’ ever since his first day.
Erik doesn’t even bother to contradict them, even though he isn’t actually gay. True, apart from all the girls he’s had a crush on and the filthy magazine of naked girls under his mattress, he once felt attracted to a boy in his class in Germany, when he was about 14. Nothing came out of it though, and only shortly afterwards his father died. Consequently Erik hasn’t really had a big crush on anyone since then. Erik’s not too bothered by the whole ‘gay’ thing—he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay, he knows what it’s like to be different, and he loathes those people who try to be someone else constantly in order to conform to standards society has thought up for no reason.
The only thing that annoys Erik about the whole affair is the fact that everyone at his school seems to care so much about it. It’s as though being gay is the ultimate crime, or maybe like an extremely contagious disease that all the boys are terrified of catching. And once you’re marked as gay there’s no way of getting away from it—nobody dares touch you anymore as though spending time with a gay boy could automatically make you gay too. It’s so bad that even the small group of geeks are terrified of being seen with him. Being a geek at Erik’s school is bad enough, but you can do your best to be invisible and not become a target, being mates with the school’s poof (that’s Erik— yay! ), however, would definitely change that. So even those guys who are considered to be the most unpopular people in the school have told Erik in a whisper that they don’t want him to join their chess and discussion group. It’s a shame. They’re people that Erik, with his love for chess and technical stuff, could have easily become friends with.
The previous year, during the first half of sixth form, Erik had his own room for the first time. When the number of students turned out to be odd that year, nobody wanted to share a room with Erik, and that was how he ended up alone. It vastly improved his life quality at St. John’s to be able to spend time in his own room for once, and not be forced to hide away all day until it was safe to sneak into bed. He half expects it to be the same this year —he doesn’t really think that anyone has left the school, so there should still be the same number of students. And there’s no way the other students’ attitudes towards him will have changed. However, when he arrives at the school after an exhausting ten-hour journey of travelling by train, plane, and then coach, he checks the room list, and sees at once that there are no single rooms at all for the students in his year. Well, fuck.
It takes him a moment to find his own name on the list. He’s in the same room as last year, and he’s sharing with...Charles Xavier. Who the fuck is Charles Xavier?
It sucks. Erik hates having a roommate, and he wasn’t counting on this, but he’s never heard the name before. This Xavier boy must be new, which would explain why the number of students is suddenly even and also why they paired him with Erik, because if Xavier is new he doesn’t know anything about Erik, so therefore he’ll be the least likely to complain about the arrangement. At lease to begin with.... Then again, if he’s completely new then there’s the tiniest chance that he won’t be as bad as everyone else.
Erik quickly checks the student list displaying the courses everyone takes as well as the clubs or teams they’ve signed up for. Of course Charles Xavier is almost at the very bottom of the list. Erik traces his finger along the line. Xavier takes Applied Science, Biology, Statistics and— for fuck’s sake —Sport and P.E.
A fucking athlete then. The very worst kind. He could be the embodiment of Erik’s worst nightmare of a roommate if he also, on top of everything... shit. Of course he’s signed up for the fucking football team.
Erik groans internally. What has he done to deserve this?
He has half a mind to run to Mr. Hughes, their headmaster, and insist upon getting his own room again. Insist that Xavier be placed in an empty room as well, or be paired with someone else. Anyone. Anything. But he knows it’s no good. There’s no way he’ll get a single room if there’s an even number of students there—that would be favouritism after all—and that isn’t something that happens in this school. Of course not. Well, at least they won’t be in any courses together.
Students begin to sweep past Erik. No doubt all the posh parents in their posh cars are dropping off their precious sons right now. Erik picks up his bag and makes for the stairs. If he stays in his room until dinner maybe he can avoid meeting any of the worst idiots and bullies. Hell, if he can avoid crossing paths with Shaw before dinner, he’ll even put up with his fucking football player roommate until then.
However, when Erik gets to his room it’s still completely empty. There are two beds, two desks, and two wardrobes—each on opposite sides of the room. Erik hesitates for a moment, then turns to the left side, choosing the bed below the window. If Xavier has a problem he’ll just have to fight Erik for it when he arrives.
Erik takes his time sorting his clothes into his wardrobe and making his bed, waiting for the newcomer to arrive. Next he hangs up his posters, arranges the photographs of his parents, and then texts his mother to tell her he arrived safely. He doesn’t exactly fancy being surprised in his underwear, so he puts off changing into his school uniform until the very last moment. But when the bell rings for dinner, his bloody roommate still hasn’t arrived.
Cursing under his breath, Erik changes quickly, struggling, as usual, with his idiotic looking blue-and-red striped tie. When he gets out into the corridor he watches out for an unknown face, a new boy with a bag, but there are none. With a sigh, Erik proceeds to the dining hall.
He spots Shaw at a table on the left side of the room, deep in discussion with the rest of the idiots from the football team, so he turns right, choosing a seat at the very edge of a table, not too close to anyone. Nobody takes any notice of him, which is a far better outcome than expected. They’re all eating already, the tables laden with food, and Erik only notices now how hungry he is. He hasn’t had more than a sandwich since he left home earlier that morning. And it smells good. That’s one of the few good things to be said about St. John’s—the food is really good.
Erik scoffs three helpings of chicken, green beans, and roast potatoes with gravy until he’s full to the brim and unsure whether he may not have overextended himself a little bit. He gets up to leave, but before he can take the first step he spots Shaw standing right at the door. Well, no fucking way is Erik walking past that dick if he can avoid it. He sits back down again, stealing half-hidden glances at the door, wanting to make sure his number one tormenter has left before he deems it safe to leave.
Shaw isn’t alone. A number of boys, all from the football team, are standing behind him. He’s talking to Mr. Hughes who’s basically standing in the door frame, blocking the way for everyone. That’s unusual. Mr. Hughes rarely enters the dining hall at all. There are two other adults too. A haughty-looking middle-aged blonde woman and a broad guy with a red face and a neck like a bull’s. Mr. Hughes gestures another boy forward who’d been half-hidden behind the broad man. Shaw and the boy shake hands. Then the new boy shakes hands with all the other football players. He’s carrying a large duffle bag. Well fuck. If that’s not Charles Xavier.
After a few more minutes they all leave together, Mr. Hughes gesticulating wildly, probably in an effort to impress the new kids’ parents. Erik waits another few minutes before he gets up and makes his way back to his room too.
He can hear their voices from afar. These fuckers are all in his room, talking, laughing, and bellowing like gorillas. It looks as though Xavier won’t be the only one he’ll have to put up with from now on. And he can hear fucking Sebastian Shaw’s voice over all the others. Well, of course—he’s the football team’s captain, and he thinks he owns the whole fucking team for it.
Erik waits, uncertain, for a moment outside the door, but then he takes a deep breath and enters. Fuck them—it’s his room, and he’s got a bloody right to be inside it.
The boys pay no attention to Erik at first, and so he walks, unchallenged, to his bed and sits down on it, picking up a book and pretending to read, hiding his face.
“We’re so gonna win that cup this year,” says one of Shaw’s cronies (Erik doesn’t even know his name) gleefully. “The others haven’t got a pig in hell’s chance.”
“Yes!” bellows Andy Roberts. He’s one of the dumbest of them all, and one of the most likely to get violent. “If you’re as good as they say, we’ve got it.”
Erik can see Shaw raising his hand out of the corner of his eye, and the rabble all fall quiet at once. Shaw leans low and fixes them all with his stare. “Yeah, we’ve got a good team this year, but we’ve still got to train hard. We’ve got to all stay committed. No distractions. This has to be of the highest priority this year for everyone on this team. Understood?”
They all murmur their agreement. Erik rolls his eyes.
Shaw stands up straight again. “Charles, welcome on our team,” he says pompously, and all the other apes maffick loudly. Erik hasn’t heard the new boy say a single thing yet.
They all get up and make their way towards the door. Erik holds his book higher, trying to hide his face completely, hoping against hope—
WAMM.
Someone slaps the book out of his hand, and it hits him in the face. Erik scrambles quickly to his feet, backing against the wall.
Shaw laughs. He turns to Xavier, a sneering look on his face. “Don’t tell me they set you up with this sad fucker.”
Xavier just sits there, still not saying anything.
Shaw turns back to Erik. He takes a step towards him, a vicious smile on his lips. There’s no way for Erik to back away any further. “Listen to me, homo,” he says quietly, but clearly enough for all the boys in the room to hear him, and jeer... “You keep your filthy little queer hands to yourself, understood? Charles is one of us. If I ever hear you’re getting too close to him...I’m gonna end you.” Still smiling his evil little smile, he smacks Erik across the face. It stings, but Erik’s had worse.
Shaw turns to Xavier. “Seriously though. Watch this one. You don’t want to end up being fucked in the arse by him in the middle of the night.” Roaring laughter. “I hear that’s what he likes to do. Careful, or you’ll catch some kind of disease.” He turns around and raises his hand. “See you at training tomorrow.” And he leaves the room, the boys all following behind like eager little lemmings, slamming the door shut behind them.
There’s an awful silence in the room after they’ve gone. Erik’s face is burning, and not just from the slap. He just hates keeping still and not doing anything to defend himself, but he knows too well that if he ever fought back he’d be expelled quicker than he could say “Shaw started it.” They all pay to attend this school, Christ—Shaw’s rich father donates to the school regularly. Erik’s just here because Mr. Hughes is doing his brother-in-law a favour, fuck knows why. If anyone would be blamed it would be Erik, and seeing him thrown out of another school would break his mother’s heart. No. Erik just has to take it, no striking back. But he hates it. He hates it so much.
Xavier has gotten up from his bed and is putting all his stuff away in his wardrobe, and Erik shoots a first proper glance at him. He’s only really seen him from afar yet. Xavier’s shorter than the other boys but sturdy. He’s definitely got an athlete’s body—more like a rugby player than a footballer—but unlike Erik’s lanky form. He’ll fit right in then. His brown hair is a little longer than the really short haircuts most of the other boys sport. Erik hasn’t even seen his roommate’s face yet, but he doesn’t really feel like looking at it anyway. There’ll probably be nothing but apprehension written in his expression, maybe even disgust, and Erik doesn’t need any more of that.
Without further hesitation, Erik slips out of the room, leaving Xavier behind to unpack his things in peace. Carefully, trying to avoid crossing the path of anyone who’s likely to attack him again, Erik wanders through the dark corridors of the ancient building. He can hear laughter coming from almost every room he passes, and there are also boys in the corridors. They all seem happy to be back with their friends. It makes Erik homesick, or just even more sick of the situation.
Erik walks on, and soon he leaves the lively corridors filled with students’ voices behind him. It’s all dark here and Erik doesn’t turn on the light. He checks whether there’s anyone around, then opens the hidden door that nobody but himself knows about—the one that leads to his refuge in the attic. He climbs up two ladders until he reaches the dusty landing at the top, the one behind the large clock you can see from outside. He can tell by the new layer of dust that nobody’s been here since he left before the summer holidays. Good. So it’s still his secret.
Erik fishes two candles and a pocket lighter out of a wooden box and lights them before he carefully places them on an old plate he stole from the dining room about two years ago. He leans back against the old sofa covered in a dust sheet and sighs.
At least he’s still got this.