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Charles
For once, it was Erik that suggested the date.
I’m typically the one that comes to him with the romantic date ideas. Dinners, hikes, moonlit walks in a park… Erik’s not the romantic one, it’s me who carries that title. But whatever I suggest, Erik always enjoys it. I’d asked him about it one time:
“Are you sure you’re not just saying yes because you don’t want to hurt my feelings? I want you to enjoy whatever we do.”
“I will, don’t worry. I enjoy everything you suggest. What we do doesn’t matter, I just want to be with you.”
This weekend will be the one year anniversary of us getting together. I had already started sifting through my date ideas weeks ago, but Erik had confronted me one night before bed, saying, “Don’t bother making any plans, Charles. I’ve got it covered.” That was one of the few times that I’ve seriously considered taking a peek inside his mind. After all, he–
“You all right?”
I blink a few times, bringing myself back to the present. The dull rumble of the moving car vibrates my body, and I’m reminded that we’re on our way to the secret date location.
Erik squeezes my hand. “Where’s your mind at?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing… I’m just…thinking.”
“About?”
I give him a sidelong glance. “Us. You. How lucky I am.”
Erik smirks. He gives my hand another loving squeeze, then lets go and returns it to the steering wheel. “We’re almost there. You’re gonna love it.” His smile falters a bit. “Or, at least I hope you will. I really want you to like it. I only saw the pictures on the website, and it looked nice, but maybe they dress up the photos. I’ve kept this reservation for two weeks and– .”
“Erik.” Now it’s my turn to reach over and take his hand. “It’s gonna be great. And you know me, I’m easy to please, especially when it comes to romantic endeavors.”
Erik lets out a snort of laughter. “Is that why you let me do anything I want in bed?”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh, please.”
We let silence color the air for the next few minutes as Erik maneuvers through the small town. We pass so many different places, and every time any type of attraction passes us by, I wonder is it that one? That one?
Eventually, Erik slows down and pulls into a grassy field. Cars are parked everywhere, and a short walk away is a giant, transparent dome. In the distance, I can see little points of light everywhere.
Erik parks and he meets me on the other side of the car, taking my hand and leading me in the direction of the dome. Even from here, the shouts of happiness and laughter echo through the night.
I turn to Erik, my mouth agape. “How did you find this place?”
“I looked around online.”
As we near the dome, I see that the cobblestone path leading up to the restaurant is lined on both sides with rustic grey fences. There are two large lanterns flanking the entrance, and from the tops sprout a firework display of honey-colored lights.
The splashes of lantern light transform Erik’s grey eyes into suns, and when he tilts his head toward me to meet my gaze, the look he gives me turns my heart to mush. A smile pulls at my cheeks. I whisper, “God, I love you,” at the tail-end of a sigh and kiss him long and hard, maybe too long for literally being right in front of a public restaurant. We both pull away at the same time.
Erik pats my shoulder. “You ready?”
I nod.
He takes my hand and leads me through the double doors into the dome.
It’s like we’re stepping into a different realm. The dome’s glass ceiling is high above us, and the milky-blue gleam of the moonlight trickles down onto our upturned faces. The windows lower down are lined with white tassels to match the white tablecloths. There are painted pillars scattered about the room wrapped in strings of lights. Everywhere I look, there are lights; hung from the ceiling, hugging the pillars, strung up above the tables in bundles that resemble messy chandeliers… And not big ones, but little ones. Bulbs that give off a dim and yet warm and inviting orange glow. The ones that twinkle on the ceiling make it look like we’re standing under a moonlit sky filled with copper stars. A single orange candle sits in each table’s center, and all of them hold aloft a baby flame. The infinite plethora of shine and decor is accented by spots of greenery.
Off to the side stands a full bar, which is already bustling with couples and friend groups, and beside that is a small venue. On the stage is a piano, a small set of percussions instruments, and a microphone.
An enthusiastic waiter steps out in front of us, holding two menus. “You can follow me.”
I’d been so enamored with the restaurant that I didn’t even notice Erik had been talking to the front desk.
The waiter shows us to our table, which is a few rows away from the bar, and it’s tucked away amid a humble community of plants. Even the chairs are fancy, with plush seats, flowers carved into the backs, and embellished wood that is a deep chestnut red.
The waiter takes our drink orders and leaves us alone with the menus. As soon as he departs, I lean in toward Erik. “How expensive is this dinner going to be?”
“Don’t worry about that. My treat.”
I make an exaggerated gesture toward the restaurant. “I’m the rich one. I mean, come on, this place may as well use dollar bills as confetti.” I scoff. “It screams expensive.”
Erik shrugs and fixes me with another one of his looks, the kind that he knows will shut me up and propel my heartbeat to the moon. “You spend enough money on me as it is. It’s my turn to pamper you.”
We wait for our drinks in silence, and that’s one of the things that I love about our relationship. We don’t feel the need to talk, to fill the silence. We don’t even need to be doing anything. We can simply exist in the presence of one another, and that is enough.
More people have trickled into the restaurant since we arrived, and that’s to be expected on a warm, crisp Friday evening. But what I didn’t expect was to already have the beginnings of a headache this early on in the date.
That sometimes happens in crowded places due to my powers, however, I have so much experience blocking out unwanted mental interference that it rarely gets out of control.
We get our drinks delivered to us. I flavor my water with lemon juice and take a few sips. In the middle of it–
“When is the band gonna come out?”
I lower my glass and address Erik. “What’d you say?”
Erik shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You d…?”
“This cocktail tastes like shit. I wish I got a different one.”
I scan our table. We both only ordered water.
“There’s a seat up front by the stage, we can snag it!”
A woman’s voice this time. I look over my shoulder in time to see two smiling women get up from their table and hurry up front by the stage.
Shit.
One of my warning signs that I’m getting overstimulated is when I begin hearing strangers’ thoughts without purposefully reaching for them. I’m already starting to hear whispers in such a crowded place, and a familiar pang of worry pierces my gut.
This will not ruin our night. I won’t let it.
“Hey.” A rough but gentle hand lands on mine.
I whip around.
Erik’s scanning me with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay?”
I can hear what he’s saying, but the volume of the surrounding chatter now is on par with his normal speaking voice. Shit.
Still, I nod and smile. “I’m fine.”
Erik isn’t convinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m– .”
“Holy shit, it’s crowded! Maybe we should come another time.”
“DAMN that waiter! He didn’t even get his chicken right.”
Pain jabs through my head and I cry out, pressing a hand to my forehead.
Erik touches my arm and his voice rumbles nearby, but the roar of the crowd now drowns him out.
“Definitely gonna be rock music.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be a trivia game soon? It’s almost eight.”
“OH MY GOD, there’s gonna be a band playing. Thank God we decided to come tonight!”
“I’m worried about her, she’s not talking to me. Is she into me?”
“I hope my mother is out of the hospital.”
“CHARLES.” Erik’s voice breaks through the noise.
I blink open my eyes to find Erik watching me. My head still pulses with pain.
“Migraine?”
I wince. “Mmhmm.”
“I have Ibuprofen in my wallet.” Erik shuffles through his wallet and hands me a ziplock bag with a few Ibuprofen pills in it.
I dump three of them into my hand. “Since when did you start having these on you?”
“Since you started getting migraines.”
I pop the pills in my mouth and wash them down with water. My hand shakes as I take them, and based on how Erik’s watching me when I lower my glass, I know he’s noticed it too.
But because I don’t say anything, Erik starts up a conversation. He tells me about his day, and I try to pay attention, I really do. One moment I hear him, and the next moment, I’m gritting my teeth against another wave of pain. The amount of voices barreling through my head only increases with every passing minute. What were at first only whispers or statements at a normal volume have now transitioned into louder, more constant noises, all in my head, all loud and piercing.
“Goddammit, we’re late!”
“I swear to God, if that waitress messes up ONE MORE THING…”
“The band better be playing blues!”
Pain, pain, burning, dizzying pain.
“Where’s the game host?”
“Come on out, you slug, we’re all waiting!”
“The trivia game BETTER HAPPEN! We drove an hour for this! Maybe we should leave his tardy ass behind.”
“Charles!”
I come back to myself. At some point, I’d closed my eyes, put my elbows on the table, and dug my fingers into my hair. Pain prickles where my nails pierce my skin.
“Charles, can you hear me?”
I slowly lift my head to look at him, and the intensity in his gaze grounds me a little, even if it is worry.
Erik repeats his question, “Can you hear me?”
“Barely.”
“Good enough.” He reaches over the table and gently grasps my forearm. “Do you want to leave?”
I shake my head. “No, no, no, it’s fine. We’ve been looking forward to this. And I don’t want to rain on your parade.”
“It’s not just about me. I want you to– .”
“I’m fine, Erik. Really, it’s– .” I break with another grunt of pain.
“Charles.” Erik frowns at me. “You’re not fine.”
I let out a sigh and grimace at the end of it. “I don’t wanna have to leave, Erik… I want to be able to handle this. I’ve– .”
A massive cheer blows up from the nearby crowd and slams into me like a wall of sound, hitting me with so much force that I recoil. The noise sears its burning brand into my brain and a blinding pain like a bolt of lightning stabs straight through my skull. A sob builds in my throat like a parasite.
The microphone turns on, someone’s voice booms through the speakers and bounces around in my brain. Drums pound, an electric guitar strums, the live band starts to play, and the cheering only rises in volume.
I mash my hands over my ears and hide my head. Everywhere, all around me, there are noises, sounds, voices saying all manner of things, and every single one of them is way too loud. Shut up, I don’t care that your mother is in the hospital or that you wanted the band to play something else or that you’re frustrated about your student loans, shut up shut up, stop clapping, stop cheering, stop thinking about your homework and your to-do list for tomorrow and the clothes lying on your bedroom floor that you still have to put away, shut up shut up just shut up, I’m so dizzy and and every word around me and inside me is a knife to my mind, my ears are ringing, no one cares that your dog is home alone, no one wants to hear about your doctor’s appointment or your trip to CVS or your first date with your crush or the show you bought tickets for or what you did over the weekend, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP–
Erik
The cheer from the stage crowd startles even me. The cacophony of voices erupts right beside us and I wince.
A man in a sparkly black blazer steps onto the stage. More cheers. He leans in toward the microphone with an dopey smile on his face. “How’s everybody doing on this beautiful Friday night?”
Another rush of noise from the crowd.
He claps his hands a few times. “We’re gonna be playing some music for you tonight!”
His bandmates rock up onto the stage. One of them plays a short drum riff as his introduction, and the other strums her electric guitar. The music begins and the elation of the crowd only rises.
Over the racket of the crowd, I barely hear Charles whimper. I glance over at him. He’s hunched over, his forehead almost touching the table, with his hands pressed over his ears.
I lean toward him. “Charles.”
No answer.
“Charles!”
The speaker bellows into the microphone. “Y’all ready for some trivia?”
Screams of excitement, screams so loud that even I wince a little. But Charles flinches as if he’s just been punched, and he curls further into himself.
Throwing away all fear of judgement, I get up from my chair and kneel in front of Charles. Now that I’m so close, I can hear his hitched breathing and the sobs catching in his throat. I purse my lips. “Charles, can you hear me?”
No answer. The crowd bursts into applause, Charles tenses up, and I kick myself. What am I thinking? Of course Charles can’t hear me, I can hardly hear myself.
I glance around for an exit. There’s a small break in the line to the bar, and beyond is the dying light of dusk. The window of time is closing.
I wrap an arm around Charles’ shoulders and help him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Charles slumps heavily against me as we maneuver through the horde of people. His hands stay glued to his ears, and my arms stay glued to his shoulders, guiding him like a lost puppy toward the light. We exit the dome and head into the parking lot. The panic of the restaurant fades into the background, but Charles’ doesn’t. Now that we’re outside without the bombs of sound going off around us, I focus all of my attention on Charles.
Hands still over his ears, his face screwed up in pain, he stumbles to a stop in the middle of the field. His ragged breathing forces his chest up and down at an alarming speed, and every breath is punctuated by a sob that breaks my heart a little more each time. “Okay, Charles, come here.” I put one hand on each of his trembling shoulders and lead him over to a random car. “Sit down on the ground. That’s it.”
Charles all but collapses into my arms as I help him to the grass.
Another cheer pierces the air, and although we’re a good distance away from dome, Charles flinches and lets out a muffled cry.
“Okay, Charles? I know it’s loud in your head right now and everything hurts, but if you can, try to focus on my voice.”
No response. I grind my teeth together, trying desperately to remember what I did the last time this happened. It hasn’t been this bad in months. Trembling from my own anxiety, I inch closer to him and place a hand over his chest, pressing down. His chest moves rapidly under my hand as he hyperventilates, but I keep my hand there to help ground him.
I can’t calm him with words, so I keep a gentle hold on him and remain at his side. Seeing him gripped with such suffocating panic is never easy, but when the attack is brought on by overstimulation, there’s only so much I can do in the moment to help him. However much it crushes my heart, waiting it out is the only thing we can do.
I sit across from him, grounding him with touch. Thirty seconds pass, maybe more like a minute. Charles’ ragged breathing persists, but at one point, there’s a slight shift in his strained expression. Nothing happens for a moment, and then I hear his tearful, heartbreaking little voice:
“Erik...?”
I try to hide the dizzying surge of relief that courses through me and give his hand a love-squeeze. “Yeah. Can you hear me?”
Charles nods, shivering.
“Okay, good. That means it’s stopping.”
His face scrunches up in pain again and he lets out a weak sob. “Everything hurts… Erik, help me…”
I move from in front of him to right beside him. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here. We’ll stay here until you feel better, okay?”
Charles whines, “‘Kay…”
It ends up being about four or five minutes of waiting before Charles’ panic attack starts to die down, at least to an extent where we both notice it. His sobs have reduced to occasional hiccups and the rapid bobbing of his chest against my hand has lessened.
I run a hand up and down the tense curve of his spine. “That’s it. Come on back.”
Charles’ eyes flutter open. His gaze is fixed in his lap for a bit before he lifts his head to scan his surroundings.
My tongue is itching with all the words I want to say, but I keep them locked behind my lips. He doesn’t need to hear my worried rambles right now.
He glances over toward the dome, stares for a moment…then he turns back around to face forward. “Oh, God…” Charles covers his face with his hands. “Oh, no…”
My heartbeat quickens. “What?”
“God, I’m…” He lowers his hands, and I realize with a pang that his eyes are swimming with tears. Again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What? No, don’t be.”
“I’m sorry, Erik, I…” He drops his head back against the car behind us. “I ruined it, I ruined the whole night and you spent so much time planning this.”
“Charles, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!”
“We can reschedule!”
He clenches his fists and growls under his breath, “Of course this happens. You take me out on the one date you plan, and everything goes to shit all because my goddamn mind can’t handle a few extra people.”
“It’s not your fault. You– .”
“How are you not angry? I deserve to be ridiculed, Erik!”
I frown. “Hey, don’t– !”
“You do all this sneaky shit, take me to a giant starlit dome, you drive, you offer to pay, you went so far out of your comfort zone for this, and what happens?” The blue sting of moonlight highlights the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I happen. It’s always me and my fucking powers– !”
“Charles, STOP!” I bark firmly but lovingly, and Charles flinches. His eyes snap up to mine, and the blue of his tear-filled eyes matches the blue of the moon. I sigh. “Stop. Listen to me. It’s okay. You hear me? I’m not mad.”
Charles blinks, releasing a few more silver tears that had been clinging to his lashes. His breath shudders. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“But– .”
“Charles, it’s okay.” I migrate a hand over to his jaw and stroke his cheek. “It will always be okay.”
Charles nestles his chin into my palm and gives in to my touch. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Charles offers me a tired smile. “Can I kiss you?”
I chuckle. “Always. Why are you asking?”
Charles cringes. “Well…I’ve been crying. I didn’t know if that would make it…weird.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “You’re not actively crying anymore.”
“But I was. And I don’t know if– .”
“Okay, enough of that.” I lean forward and kiss him.
Charles sighs into it and grips the collar of my jacket with both hands, securing me in place.
We don’t rush it or slow it down. We let our love ascend to the appropriate height, giving just enough of ourselves that we’re both fulfilled, but not so much that we’d start making out on the grass in a public parking lot behind a stranger’s car. Even so, when we pull away, I can tell based on the way Charles still clings to my jacket that he doesn’t want to stop. I reach up and uncurl his fingers from my jacket.
Charles purses his lips and groans.
I scoff. “I know. I don’t want to either. But this is not necessarily the best place to start making out.”
“Who says it’s not?”
“Okay, rephrase: this is not the most appropriate place to start making out.”
“Since when are you this shy? We’ve made out in plenty of weird places. Remember the elevator?”
“First of all, you were drunk, and I’m surprised you even remember that. Second– .”
“In the bread aisle of that supermarket.”
“Not my proudest moment. But– .”
“Oh, and outside the observatory.”
I massage my forehead. “Goddammit… You’re never gonna let me forget any of those, are you?”
“Nope. And remember, you were the one who kissed me in the supermarket. That one was your fault.”
“Okay, yes, I may have initiated, but you were the one who opened your mouth.”
Charles wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I know how to get what I want. It was one in the morning anyway. No one’s shopping for groceries at one in the morning. Except apparently us.”
“You can thank my insomnia for that.”
“We never did make that casserole, did we?”
“No, you wanted to smell every single fucking candle and you wouldn’t let me leave your side.”
Charles glares. “I wanted to get a second opinion!”
“Buying a candle isn’t a science, Charles.”
“It is for me!”
We stare at each other for a while, then our playful frowns dissolve into bouts of deep-bellied laughter that ring out in the darkness. Charles falls into my chest and I hold him against me as our laughter dies down. Eventually, though, all hugs have to end. The coming of night has brought in an autumn chill, and it grips both of us with icy fingers. Before long, we’re both shivering, and as much as I want to keep cuddling Charles and feeding off of each other’s warmth, we can’t stay here forever.
I run my fingers through Charles’ hair. “You ready to go?”
“Mmm. Not really,” Charles mumbles, his voice muffled in my jacket.
“Charles, we’re both cold and shivering, and we never actually had dinner. I still have those steaks defrosting in the fridge. Maybe we can…make those? Put on a movie? Maybe play some chess?”
Charles pulls his face out of my embrace and rubs his eyes. “Or all of the above?”
I grin. “Of course, darling.” I press a kiss to the center of his forehead. Charles shudders, and not from the cold.
I help him to his feet. The exhaustion from his earlier panic attack is starting to weigh on him, and when we get to the car, he collapses into the passenger seat. I start the trip home, and about twenty minutes into the drive, I glance over at him. “So what movie do you wan– ?”
Charles is dead asleep, his head resting back against the chair and lips slightly parted. And I notice in that moment that there are indents on his flushed cheeks from our long embrace.
I can’t stop the ear-splitting smile that creeps onto my face at just how adorable he is. And how lucky I am. I never would’ve guessed that I’d fall for a telepathic genetics professor, but here I am, and here he is, and here we are. Together. In love. As it should be. And how I hope it always will be.
I’ve been fighting my whole life, it’s all I ever known, and I’ve always wondered whether or not I’m even capable of living a normal life. But with Charles, I feel like that’s possible. With Charles, I can picture myself settling down, buying a house, a dog, going on hikes or boat rides, or just exploring the world together.
I honestly don’t care how my life plays out from here. I just know that, through everything, I want Charles Francis Xavier by my side. And based on the way Charles looks at me, the way he holds me and kisses me and loves on me every night…I can tell that he wants it too.
And even though we’re not there yet, and we won’t be for a long time, I find myself repeating two words in my head over and over again:
Erik Xavier.
It just sounds right.
I know we’re not even close to having that kind of conversation, but…it has to start somewhere, right? One of us has to think it first. Then there’s the whole deal of who’s gonna propose, who’s gonna walk down the aisle…then I starting picturing him at the altar, what would he wear, what would I wear…?
Okay. Slow down. We’re not there yet. Not yet.
But…
Erik Xavier.
I like the sound of that.