Chapter Text
Charles shivered as the cold wind brushed through the trees, messing with his dark brown curls.
"This is going to be horrible, Erik," he complained. "Why? Didn't you practice this week, Charles?," Erik said with a smirk. His strong, warm hand was holding Charles' smaller one while they walked through the small, rather empty park on the way to Charles' piano class.
"No, I've got a new teacher , you know, and I don't know him yet and I think he won't like me".
Charles really was worried. His old piano teacher, Mrs. Kingsley, had died two weeks ago, which had been a bit of a shock for him since he had known her for five years. She had been his teacher since the beginning, and even though he hadn't liked her at first, she had first discovered his musical talent and had prooved to have a lot of patience and understanding for him.
"How can anyone not like you, Charles," Erik said, noticing that Charles was shivering. His leather jacket quickly unzipped itself, flying over to wrap itself around his boyfriend."This wasn't necessary at all, Erik. And besides, should I be impressed by how well you can control metal to unzip jackets?," Charles complained. The shivering had stopped, the jacket feeling smooth and warm against his skin, despite looking more like a blanket than like a leather jacket on him.
While Erik wasn't that tall for a 17-year-old, Charles himself was only 15 and hadn't really grown as much as most boys his age. His height was one of the reasons he had felt quite insecure sometimes, but Erik had often told him he was beautiful in every single way, until Charles had stopped caring about it.
Erik just grinned at him, showing an amount of teeth that most other students were scared of.
"I am not at all impre-"
Charles was cut off when Erik's lips collided with his own, getting pulled closer. He could feel his boyfriend's fingers combing through his curls and pressed himself against Erik's warm body. A warm, tingling sensation shot through him; he wanted this to last longer, didn't want to let go.
But they were late already, and Charles had no other choice than to pull away after a few moments. "Erik, please, we should go now, we're probably late already". Erik was looking at him almost disappoinedly with slightly parted, pinkish lips and a noticable blush on his cheeks, but eventually nodded and grabbed Charles' hand.
"I'm sure you can do this, Charles. Even if he does hate you, your parents pay him a shitload of money. He doesn't want them to be discontent." Charles smiled half-heartedly and squeezed Erik's hand a bit harder. They had crossed a little bridge by now and entered the street where the music school was located.
"Should I come and pick you up afterwards?" Erik asked. He was of course talking about using his motorbike which he had got for his seventeenth birthday a few months ago. His family wasn't really wealthy, but had still somehow managed to buy it for him, and he often used it to drive himself and Charles around. To do Charles a favour, not to show off, of course.
"Naah, I'll walk, it's fine, Erik".
Erik nodded and reached for the door to hold it open for Charles.
"See you tomorrow then. You can tell me everything about this teacher guy".
"Sure," Charles responded, still trying to hide his nervousness behind a little smile.
He gave Erik a quick hug and told him goodbye, then walked through a corridor in the direction to his usual practice room. The absence of Erik's mind near him made it worse. For some reason, Erik's presence never failed to calm him down, and like always, he was starting to miss him within the first minutes of being alone. Charles took a deep breath, then knocked lightly on the door and stepped into the room.