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Erik was walking down the street minding his own business, mind you. He had no intention of even looking at other people. It would take too much effort today. He just wanted to get to the store for his apricots and he would be happy. Shoving his way through the crowd he once again contemplated how smart it was to live in a big city.
He hated crowds. If one needed evidence his near-permanent scowl as he pushed yet another person out of the way should have given a huge clue. Rolling his eyes he stepped out of the massive stream of people and waited for his bus stop. He shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced lightly on his feet as he waited.
A man walked up beside Erik he glanced his way and nearly snorted. The man was shorter than him and was dressed really, well, the word spiffy came to mind. He had on a nice vest, complete with a pocket square or handkerchief, and a lilac dress shirt on beneath it. A nice pair of black slacks lead to an equally nice pair of oxfords. In short, even if you didn’t include the satchel he was carrying or the ornate container of, something. It was cooking vessel, that much Erik knew. All Erik saw beyond that was his baby blue eyes.
Whatever, he thought, rolling his eyes, it was none of his business. He pulled out his phone and settled in for the next few minutes before his bus was due to arrive. He hoped the man next to him wasn’t on the same one because that would be hell to sit next to.
As his luck would have it though, someone bumped into Blue Eyes and he stumbled. The vessel fell and on instinct Erik’s hand stretched out to catch it. Alas, it was not made of metal but given that Erik had bent down to catch it, it crashed against the pavement and sho into a million pieces.
A few pieces shot up and embedded themselves in Erik’s hand. He hissed and stood up, staring at the mess at his and Blue’s feet. Spaghetti covered the sharp porcelain pieces but somehow Erik had still got pieces in his hand. Blue was staring at Erik’s, now bleeding, hand. Erik looked at his hand and sighed.
“I don’t even like spaghetti,” Erik muttered as he brought his hands close to his face.
This seemed to snap Blue out of his silent reverie and he exclaimed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is your hand okay?”
Erik leveled a flat look at Blue and he waved his bleeding hand.
“Okay, so can I take you to the ER and pay for everything? Unless you don’t need me to pay for everything or prefer not the ER?” Blue babbled.
Erik rolled his eyes and said, “Follow me. Name’s Erik. We’re heading to my place where you’re bandaging me up.”
“I’m Charles,” they introduced themselves as they followed him, “I’m really, really, sorry about it it’s my sister, Raven, had this idea for me to take spaghetti to her friend but she took the car so I had to take the bus but she baked this huge pot of spaghetti and, oh my god I’m sorry I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“Little bit,” Erik allowed, as he held out his hand so as not to get blood on his favorite maroon sweater.
Charles pulled out his handkerchief and carefully wrapped Erik’s hand while they walked. It seemed he was used to multitasking. Erik filed this away for further notice. However, it seemed he had no sense of other people or, maybe, he just didn’t care. Thankfully he had a metal belt buckle that allowed Erik to subtly guide him away from the worst of the crowds.
Satisfied with how he had tied the handkerchief, Charles turned around and allowed himself to be lead back to Erik’s apartment. Erik, at some point, rolled his sleeve up to his elbow on his bleeding hand, just in case. They made it to the complex okay though and that was what was important. Walking up the stairs to his apartment Erik handed Charles his keys to get the door open.
After Charles opened the door Erik stepped inside with him. Walking to his bathroom, which was just off the main room they had walked into. Sitting down on the toilet after shutting the lid he told Charles, “Well, Doctor, my first-aid kit is under the sink.”
Charles blushed but pulled out the massive first-aid kit. Erik could never be underprepared in his life so his first-aid kit was roughly the size of poor Charles’ chest. Giving Erik a smile, he opened it up and pulled out a pair of tweezers with some gauze and a wrap. He also pulled out some antiseptic.
“This might hurt some,” Charles fretted as he unwrapped Erik’s hand and held the tweezers near the larger of the two shards.
“Get on with it then,” Erik groused.
With a quick pull the larger piece came out. Erik clenched his jaw and took a deep breath through his nose. In the background he could see the metal implements in his living starting to float. The second, and final, piece came out in the same fashion. This time Erik grunted in pain. That one had been right in the middle of his palm.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Charles apologized.
“You’re fine, Charles. You warned me it would hurt and it did. Now spray that antiseptic and wrap my hand,” Erik said.
Charles himself flinched when he sprayed the antiseptic. It took all of Erik’s control not to yank his hand away but he didn’t. It also took some of Erik’s control not to just fling his living room to pieces. Thankfully Charles was facing away from the living room or he would have seen all the metal objects floating and somersaulting in the air. In his pain he had focused on something else and nothing helped him focus like floating objects. It was an old habit that would die hard. Once the wrapping of his hand began, Erik focused on sitting everything down as gently as he could.
The pinches were al minor after that point allowing Erik to relax somewhat. Charles finished tying the bandage and turned around to see a floating vase. Erik internally cursed his luck. It was the last thing to be set down. Naturally, Charles would see that. This was where Charles probably freaked out and ran. That’s what most did.
Charles said, “Oh, so you have metallokinesis? I’d prefer that over mine.”
Erik dropped the vase in shock. He stared at Charles expectantly. He was waiting for Charles to explain. What would his powers be? Erik was curious now.
Hello, Erik, Charles’ voice said in his head. He was looking Charles dead in the face and he hadn’t seen the man lips move so that was the only way he could possibly be speaking.
“Telepathy?” Erik asked aloud, not quite certain in his ability to respond in his mind.
“Among some much less powerful things, yes; I am a telepath,” Charles said, indulging him.
Erik smirked and flicked Charles’ head lightly with his uninjured hand and said, “Come along then, boy genius, we’re having dinner, my treat.”
Charles looked doubtful but upon walking into the living room and seeing the pots and pans already starting to cook by themselves resigned himself to it with a sigh. Rolling his eyes he moved to sit at the small counter looking into the kitchen.
“Entertain me, Erik,” He teased.
“Oh, I intend to,” Erik purred in response.