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A chilly draft moved throughout the mansion, which was common nowadays with how very little visitors there were as of late. Golden rays from the evening sun leaked through the windows. Hank in his most bluest and fuzziest form was nowhere to be seen, possibly pittering about in his new lab Charles granted him a little over a month ago.
It has been almost a year since Logan disappeared and Erik went undercover. He has not heard anything from either of them. The only consistent thing being Hank’s instance that Charles should do something with himself and Raven’s rare monthly appearance. Oh and of course that Peter kid appearing every now and then.
Charles was seemingly frozen in the very room he and Erik discussed the plans for Cuba before they left the very next day. The whisky cup in Charles’ hand is three quarters empty and a faint flush dusted across his cheeks. He hasn’t transferred himself over into a chair, just paused in the middle of the room, focused on the golden rays casting through the window in front of him. As if remembering how the sun’s glow lit up Erik’s stormy eyes.
He hated himself for still thinking about him, even after everything Erik put him through his mind still lingers on him and his unruly mind. Erik’s mind was like no other, Charles couldn’t mask out his thoughts and emotions as easily as he could with others. It’s as if every thought Erik had shouted itself directly at Charles. Testing his walls and seeing if Charles would hold true to his promise of “not snooping around.”
Charles always relied on the push and pull of other’s emotions to read the situation and intention of their words. Without it, it is almost like shoving him into a blindfold and telling him to say how many fingers someone is holding up. It’s not like Charles was reading Erik’s thoughts because he was not. He just could not block out Erik’s strong emotions. At times Charles would be in the other room and feel Erik’s angst roll off in waves, as if something triggered a memory.
Erik was like Pandora's box and Charles never said he was not a curious man.
And yet, like many other things in his life, it all seemed to slip away and bury him back into the wooden panels of this very mansion he grew up in. He couldn’t seem to escape it and its dark mahogany walls, and everything that made it brighter always ran away.
When Logan said he would have to team up with Erik, of all people, to save his sister. He hadn’t believed him. The whole future thing still made his brain hurt and he wishes he could get more answers from Logan, which is impossible now. He had disappeared after Erik practically threw him out of the stadium.
Not to mention that fucking plane. The way Erik looked at him as he basically laid his heart out raw in that plane. As if begging Charles to understand. But Charles wasn’t ready for that, and he still isn’t.
He thought Erik leaving for a second time wouldn’t hurt as bad as it did the first, but it honestly feels worse.
He started drinking not too long ago, after having lower back spams that brought on terrible memories of sand and stormy eyes. Already being a glass in and this one in his hand being his second. Although he quit the tranquilizer Hank made after saving his sister, the substance abuse didn’t stop.
Hank tries to stop him, but Charles always manages to find a bottle that his father hid away decades ago. Not caring if it is good for his health or not.
So, that is why he’s seemingly frozen in this nook, nursing his cup every five minutes. His gaze unfocused and somewhere else. As if recounting all the moments he shared with Erik, the good and the bad.
It’s slightly windy outside, fall is upon Westchester. Orange and red leaves mixed in with the golden cast from the sun. Somewhere in Charles' head, he was not consciously aware of the washed out figure that seemed to appear on the window seal. He didn’t notice until he heard the faint jiggle and clang of the lock on the window.
As his eyes refocused, he did a double take whilst clenching his cup. There he stood, Erik Lehnsherr, gently swinging his window open with his powers and making his way in. Like he didn’t disappear for months on end, like he hadn’t listened to Charles once again and left him high and in the dust.
Charles didn’t move, he knew he was hallucinating, he knew he did whenever he drank too much.
But Erik seemed to ignore his bewildered look and slowly walked towards Charles. Closing the window behind him without even looking. A solemn look seemed to cross his face as he planted himself in front of Charles.
Charles just looked up at him from his wheelchair, eyes misty and confused. Erik simply sighed and gently took Charles’ whisky from him and set it off to the side.
“Charles.” is all he said, eyes wandering across his face, lingering on his slanted lip and still lengthy unkempted hair.
Charles swallowed, thinking that maybe he had too much to drink tonight.
Erik’s eyes linger on him once again before leaving Charles to stare at the empty spot he had just stood in.
Some time passed before Erik reappeared, handing Charles a clear glass of water, softly forcing it into his hands. Charles took it without a second thought and began taking a sip as Erik drifted towards the chair next to Charles.
Silence stretched between them while Charles worked on drinking the water handed to him. Erik didn’t seem to mind, every once and awhile he looked in his direction, seemingly to check on him.
With the water almost fully gone, Charles takes a pause and looks at Erik. Who wasn’t paying attention to him that time, seemingly engrossed in the scenery outside the window.
He swallowed and said his thoughts, “Erik, what are you doing here?”
That seemed to capture his attention, his eyes immediately snapped towards Charles, searching for whatever he would find in his gaze.
“I had not heard anything so I was curious.” he said simply, like that was all it took.
But Charles didn’t believe him.
“That’s a lie and you know it!” He bit out, anger surging through him and boiling in his sternum.
Erik’s faced steeled and his eyebrow twitched but Charles kept going.
“I haven’t heard a single thing from you for months! You just disappeared.” Charles heaved, the glass of water quivering in his hands.
“How was I supposed to know where you went Erik?!”
Anger and dismay contorted his face.
“Charles, I’m still wanted by the US government. I can’t just show up whenever I please.” Erik’s right hand grips the arm rest, just barely out of Charles’s line of sight. “I thought you would have had the school running again by now. That’s why I am here. I had not heard anything of it.”
At that, all the anger leaves Charles' body, deflating with his sternum. He curls into himself, and if he could have moved his damn legs he would have curled into an even more pitiful position.
Erik just sighs, his own irritation leaving him with Charles’. He quietly stands and takes the glass of water from the deflated man, sitting it down beside the glass of liquor.
“Charles, mutant children need you.” Erik whispers in the quiet air, far more gentle than he has been in years.
The other man just makes a pitiful sound in retaliation, refusing to look at Erik as fresh tears well in his eyes. Was he crying earlier? He didn’t even know.
Erik just hums in response and rests his right hand on Charle’s shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth against his clavicle.
Too many emotions bubble up Charles’ throat and he chokes on his own tears. Unable to prevent the swell of sadness, grief, anger, and yes— happiness too. Which all combine in a confusing tangle of emotions.
Despite this, Erik catches the source of Charles’ despair, he squeezes his shoulder. Uttering the words Charles has longed for.
“I’ll stay for a while.”
And suddenly it was as if all the pent up longing came tumbling out of Charles. All he could do was Clasp the man’s clothes pathetically and cling on for dear life. Who knows when there will be a next time.