Chapter Text
Erik?...
Charles' warm voice drifted into his head, inspiring a very small (but very familiar) smile to appear on his lips. Charles. He greeted back. What may I do for you?
He had been sketching a few designs for work when the telepath had reached out. A quiet evening, certainly; nursing a small glass of scotch, working away in his study while some smooth jazz played further down the hall in the den. Usually on a week-night like this he would have been in Charles' company already. They generally enjoyed a game of chess, perhaps dinner, or a lively debate about their views on topical mutant politics. But a few days ago, Charles had told him he had a few 'appointments' that were coming up – so at this point, it had been nearly four days since he'd seen him.
Needless to say, the metalokinetic was relieved to finally hear from him again.
Come by my flat, Charles' voice eventually answered. Bring champagne, if you have it?
Erik tilted his head, curious by the request, I do have some, yes. Are you free now? Am I to come over this instant? His voice teased.
Yes, come over now. Please... the Brit answered.
He smiled and stood up from his work – disappearing from the study into his bedroom. It was an odd request for Charles to make (after all, Charles usually had quite a bit of alcohol on hand at his posh flat, and champagne wasn't a preferred beverage when other options were available), though he couldn't help but feel a slight flutter in his chest. Champagne meant celebration. Happiness. Excitement. So, that had to bode well for him, didn't it?
He and the telepath were close; no doubt or question about that. And yes, Erik was entirely smitten with Charles.
...Which may have been putting it lightly.
In fact, if his friend were to reach into the deepest, safest recesses of his mind... he would find that Erik was undeniably and desperately in love with him.
They shouldn't work as a pair. They had enough differences, in both their views about the world, their abilities, and their personalities overall. But they fit. And while they had never expressed those feelings to one another in so many words, Erik was sure Charles felt the same. Their bond was too solid; tested true, and held strong from year to year.
Now Charles was inviting him over to his penthouse. With champagne. After four days of no contact.
Knowing Charles, that was a pretty good indication that he'd missed Erik just as much as Erik had missed him. So, he dressed smartly. A simple black v-neck cashmere sweater (actually a gift from Charles last Christmas) that fit perfectly, along with simple dark blue jeans and his dark brown leather jacket with a maroon scarf. It was late fall, so certainly not freezing out, but he figured the extra layers couldn't hurt at this time in the evening. Erik combed his hair quickly, put on a bit of the aftershave he knew Charles favored, and finally grabbed the champagne from the back of his fridge before heading out.
The excitement and anticipation at seeing his friend was coursing through him at full force, though still accented by frustrating whisps of anxiety and nervousness. He shouldn't be nervous. This was Charles. The telepath was arguably the most important person in his life; trusted, respected, a true equal. Everything he had been hoping to find in a companion, really. His life had been a series of ups and downs in the throws of youth, and he'd wondered at one time whether a life of solitude and bitter resentment would forever be in his cards. Him against the world, and the ever-looming stupidity of the human race. Then he'd met Charles while attending a private school in England as a teenager... and everything changed.
As his cab pulled up at the infamous Pierre Hotel (where Charles was residing in the Penthouse), he took a moment upon exiting the car to breathe in and out slowly. Calming himself, and eventually easing his face to relax. Smile.
His patience had paid off. The subtle touches, the affectionate tones, knowing the man's preferences inside and out, keeping track of the grievances and triggers. Those brief, soft stolen kisses in empty hallways or their kitchens late at night. Nothing had ever progressed. Erik (while certainly eager to stake a claim on the adorable professor) respected him too much to simply take a leap into that territory. Charles' experience was largely attributed to women, and he'd seemed almost shy when accepting or bestowing those affections toward Erik; almost as if he was still uncertain. So, he hadn't pressed, and had allowed the telepath to move at his own pace. He took whatever scrap, no matter how small, the other was willing to give.
He was bid a 'good evening' by the familiar doormen as he jogged in, through the lobby and to the elevator. He took out the key Charles had given him months ago, and slotted it into the 'penthouse' spot at the top of the button rows. He turned it, then clicked the 'P' button and away he went. He took another few breaths, chuckling to himself at how absurd he was being. This was Charles, he reminded himself. No need to feel anxious. No need to be worried. No need to... hold up appearances any longer. Even if Charles wasn't willing to make the first move, Erik intended to go for broke tonight.
It was high time he told the brunet exactly what he thought of him, and leave it at that.
So he was a bit surprised to find, when the elevators opened to reveal the lavish flat, that he could hear a number of voices drifting through the gallery, the hall, lingering from the kitchen. He furrowed his brow as he made his way toward that room – appearing in the doorway to see Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean, Moira (a young woman he'd only met three times, at most), and finally, Charles himself. His heart skipped slightly at the sight of him again; doe-like eyes round and blue, soft brown hair, warm persona.
“Erik!” he was pulled out of his thoughts as Charles called his name.
The others turned to face him as he strode into the kitchen, champagne tucked in the crook of his arm as he offered them an uncertain smile, “So, we're celebrating something specific then, are we?” he smiled, moving to stand within the small circle of the group.
It was only then he noticed Charles' arm was draped around Moira's waist. His heart, he could swear, stopped beating briefly as his friend answered,
“Well, I'd say so...” he chuckled, looking at Moira and exchanging a sheepish smile with her. “Moira and I are engaged.”
Raven and Moira did a bit more squealing upon hearing that 'word' again, while Hank, Alex and Charles were laughing and teasing one another about 'what's to come' regarding the horrors of planning a wedding.
But Erik heard none of it. It was muffled and distant and... he blanked.
Engaged.
Charles was engaged to Moira.
He blinked a few times, inhaling suddenly when his brain flashed a sharp warning regarding the lack of oxygen – he hadn't even noticed that he'd forgotten to breathe in those following minutes. His eyes had drifted down to the floor as his mind repeated that phrase over and over in his head; Charles was engaged, Charles was engaged. When he looked back up to the group, everyone was still chattering mindlessly, though Charles was looking at him with what appeared to be... concern?
Erik? He projected.
But before he could offer a reply, Raven cut in vocally, “Erik?” she laughed, “You look more shocked than I was. I know it's hard to believe- Charles being able to stop rambling long enough to get out a proposal -but come on! Crack a smile at least.”
Erik shook his head and cleared his throat, giving a small laugh, “Yes, sorry. Sorry. Just- …that's not what I was expecting to hear.” he admitted, setting the champagne down on the counter as he peeled away at the foil. “It definitely calls for some champagne.” he smiled as he worked to open the bottle, shifting aside when Hank and Raven began to put some flute glasses on the table for him to pour into.
Erik... Charles' voice probed again.
But he ignored it; pulling up what defense he had learned over the years – hoping it would be enough to indicate that he didn't want to discuss it.
He poured the champagne into each glass while his mind raced, going over every detail – every conversation, every encounter and moment shared between them over the last ten years... wondering how and where he went wrong. What signals had he misinterpreted?! Had Charles just been toying with him? Leading him on? The rare kisses they had shared – while shy and sweet in nature – had been Charles' doing. Erik had gone along, showing he was definitely willing-and-waiting to take that next step.
And now... after four days of separation, his best friend was engaged.
“Ok, ok, now that we can do this properly,” Raven interrupted his thoughts again, “A toast... to Charles and Moira. I think it's safe to say the announcement has shocked us all,” she laughed - though her eyes did settle on Erik for a moment - before she continued, “But I can't imagine a woman more perfect for Charles.” she smiled.
There were muttered choruses of 'here here' as the small group lifted their glasses and drank. Erik kept a tight, polite smile plastered onto his lips, which certainly didn't reach his eyes. Everyone was chattering atop one another, though mostly in pairs; Raven and Hank, Moira and Charles, and Alex and Sean. He did notice that Sean looked a bit upset as well, though Erik couldn't imagine why. Perhaps he was simply in a sour mood.
“You look very sharp tonight, Erik.” It was Moira who addressed him this time. Overly sweet, almost to the point of irritating him, though her face looked keen and genuine. There was a chance Charles had told her they were good friends, and she was making the effort. Oddly enough, Erik wished he'd been granted that same courtesy and had been told by Charles about Moira... and her importance in his life.
He nodded, “Yes, well-...” he paused, well aware that admitting he'd expected the night to evolve differently would only amplify the humiliation and betrayal he was feeling. “I've actually got a date.” he blurted, downing the rest of his champagne quickly, “In fact, I only meant to stop by for a moment. I'm running a bit late as it is.” he said, placing the delicate glass aside. Everyone seemed to be eying him a bit warily, but made no noise of protest. “Congratulations, again.” he nodded to Charles and Moira.
Moira... who was smiling politely, happy, warmed. Charles... who was surprisingly stone faced, embarrassed even, perhaps ashamed.
Erik turned and made a quick exit from the kitchen, back down the hall to the front gallery, where he pressed the elevator button a few times – hoping to summon it quicker so he could avoid-...
“Erik.”
Charles' familiar, British voice was behind him now. Erik sighed and clenched his jaw, turning to face the shorter mutant who was looking up at him sheepishly, “I thought it would be polite to see you out.” Charles offered him a small smile. “Since you came all this way, and- … brought the champagne.” he paused, “I'm sorry, by the way. It was a bit of an impromptu celebration at Raven and Moira's request, and- … I knew you had some, so I- … you know... and I know we haven't seen each other in a few days. I've missed you. I'd love to get together soon so w-”
“Stop babbling.” Erik snapped. He wasn't cold, but it was clear he was in no mood to find Charles' chattering endearing. “It's fine. It's an important night, and you- … I was going out anyway. I told you.”
Charles eyed him sadly, “Yes. You said. A date.” he recalled gently. There was a flicker of something in Charles' eyes that Erik couldn't decipher at the moment, before he spoke again, “Who with?”
“Doesn't matter.” The metalokinetic answered, his shoulders sagging with a bit of relief as the elevator pinged, and opened to let him in. He slipped inside, and quickly hit the button for the lobby.
“Erik.” Charles' said again, voice more pleading now than it was before. “I'm sorry.” he said quickly, exhaling a short breath as he looked at Erik regretfully. “I should have said something, but- … it's not- … there are things that I need to-”
With a quick gesture of his hand, Erik helped the metal doors of the elevator close quicker, cutting off Charles' lame attempt at an explanation – before slowly beginning to descend away from the penthouse floor. It was only then that he realized he was close to hyperventilating. His chest was tight; his breathing shallow, quick as he tried to suppress all the emotions threatening to swirl to the front.
Hurt, betrayal, confusion, disappointment, resentment, anger, shock, depression, regret, panic...
He must have been projecting unconsciously, because he heard a soft, familiar British voice drift thorough his head again,
Oh Erik... Charles' gentle pity and sad tone only made Erik barrel his way out of the elevator the moment it was open - through the lobby and onto the street faster than he ever had before. He had to get away. He wanted to scream and curse, he wanted to flip cars or destroy a bridge... he wanted to do something that would help him deal with this unexpected pain. This heartache.
He'd been a fool.
A month went by.
It was agony.
But Erik had always fancied himself to be strong; able to bear any emotional weight with a straight face, always hiding his pain. Of course, avoiding the man you loved was harder when said-man was a telepath. He'd reached out to Erik several times; at least once a week, trying to engage in conversation or make sure he was alright.
When that failed (and nearly another month passed) Charles moved on to attempting to text him, and leave messages at his work via his secretary or through his voicemail. Erik could deal with the messages from his secretary, as they were easy enough to crumple-up and throw away. The voicemails were harder to avoid; rather, the temptation to listen to them, to hear the familiar intones of Charles' sweet voice.
But it would be harder in the long run. He knew that. It was best to make a clean break from Charles while he could. The pain and anger were still fresh. Charles would have his Moira; they would get married, be extremely wealthy and start popping out lots of children because Charles liked children – and because the probability that they would be mutants was high, he might finally open that school of his that he'd been dreaming about. That mansion in Westchester wasn't much good for anything else anyway.
Erik?
That damn voice in his head again. He sighed, and continued typing one of his many proposals up on his laptop. It was pouring rain out, a bleak overcast day, and he'd decided to work from home.
Erik, please answer. I know you're not at work today. I checked, Charles' voice returned, gently chastising, but more teasing than anything, Unlike you, your lovely secretary isn't avoiding me – so she was happy to give up the information as to your whereabouts.
The mutant groaned, Get out of my head, Charles. I'm busy.
Erik! Hello! Good! You've finally answered... he sounded excited. I'm coming over. I need to speak with you. And since you haven't been returning my calls, I figured it would be easier to just drop by.
That made him immediately tense. He straightened up in his chair, I'm just about to head out, actually. Got some errands to run. He lied, hoping to deter the telepath.
Well, it's a good thing I've just arrived. We can have a quick chat before you leave. Charles' bemused voice returned, followed by a quick knock at his front door.
Erik stood up from his desk, and remained frozen in his study. He could feign ignorance. Not answer the door. It was a childish move, but frankly, he was willing to do anything at this point to avoid the dreaded conversation that was about to occur. He waited, holding his breath slightly in the hopes Charles might give up... but instead, he heard (and felt) the tell-tale sign of a key being slotted into the lock, before the door opened.
“Erik?” Charles called happily into the flat.
The mutant growled, and stormed out of his study, fueled by anger now and moving briskly down the hall before emerging into the den. Charles was standing there – dressed cutely in a maroon sweater with corduroy pants; a pleasant smile plastered onto his face. “How did you get in here?” Erik demanded in lieu of a greeting.
“You gave me a key,” Charles quirked a brow, holding up the small item for show, “Remember?”
Erik did remember. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But in light of recent events...
He lifted his hand, and with a flick of his wrist – the key shot out of Charles' fingers, right into Erik's awaiting palm. He clutched it, and shoved it into his pocket while keeping his eyes locked on the telepath.
“Oh, come on. Was that necessary?” Charles pouted, frowning like he was legitimately hurt by having his 'key' privileges stripped.
Erik ignored him, and moved into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee, “I told you, I'm busy Charles,” he steered the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What exactly is so important that you felt the need to both harass me at work, at home, and in my mind?”
Charles followed him into the kitchen, and leaned back against the counter, keeping his eyes fixed on Erik's back.
“I've missed you.” the telepath admitted in a sheepish tone. “It's been about two months since we really spoke, or... saw each other.” Charles reminded him hesitantly. “Have I done something to upset you?”
Erik wanted to scream and curse; to ask Charles how he could possibly be so blind, so obtuse for someone so intelligent. “No.” he ended up saying; his damn fondness for the man still outweighing his hurt. “I told you. I'm just busy.” He turned the coffee machine on after prepping the filter, then turned to face Charles, “As should you be. You've a wedding to plan, after all.”
There was a bit of bite to his tone that certainly didn't go unnoticed by the telepath. Charles, at least, had the decency to blush and look a bit resigned. “You don't like Moira.” he ventured.
“I don't know Moira, Charles.” Erik corrected, heading into the den to straighten up some of his things while the coffee brewed. “I've met her three times and now she's going to be your wife. It's absurd.”
Charles, much to Erik's chagrin, followed him into the den, “She's lovely. Very nice. Long-time family friend of the Xavier's. She teaches elementary school in the city, and... is quite eager to get to know you...” he said, keeping his eyes trained on his friend. “According to Moira, I talk about you entirely too much.” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
“I'm ecstatic that you and she can talk freely about me, while I remain in the dark about the fact you were planning to propose to a woman you only spoke of to me after I met her those few times.” Erik snarled, heading back toward the kitchen.
He was detained, however, when Charles gripped his arm – tugging hard enough to stop him so they were locked within each others space. The telepath was looking up at him with those expressive blue eyes of his, “Erik.” he coaxed gently, “Look, I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry.” he huffed, as if this conversation was draining for him, “This is happening fast, I realize that, but- … I don't want to lose you over something like this. Over a mistake.”
Erik barked out a bitter laugh, shrugging off Charles' grip to head back into the kitchen. “Define 'mistake', Charles,” he growled, grabbing a mug to pour himself a coffee, “Are you referring to how 'close' we were getting? To your upcoming marriage? Or the fact you hid your intentions from me?”
Charles didn't answer, which only seemed to upset him more. Erik took a sip of his black coffee – ignoring the fact it burned the roof of his mouth. “I need to get back to work.” he muttered, “Is that all?”
He chanced a look back to his friend, who looked equal parts devastated and lost. Like a kicked puppy. It was hard to resist, and Erik nearly opened his mouth to apologize for being so hostile... before he remembered he had no reason to apologize. He was the one who'd been hung out to dry.
“I'd like you to be my best man.”
He blanked at the words. Best man. Charles wanted him to be his best man; involved in the wedding, present at the wedding, witness to the wedding. Basically his worst nightmare come true.
“...Erik?” Charles prompted softly.
He pursed his lips together, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything that would make it worse. “I don't think so, Charles.” he managed after an uncomfortable minute of silence.
“Don't-...” the brunet interrupted quickly, before composing himself with a breath, “I just- … think about it. Please. Think about it.” Charles left him with a small smile and a nod, “I'll let you get back to work.” He began to head toward the door while Erik's eyes followed him as he moved. It almost looked as if Charles was reluctant to leave. “Can I ask, though...” the telepath paused, door partially open as he looked back at Erik. “Don't ignore me anymore. Please. I can't- … I... don't like it. I don't like not speaking with you. Or hearing you.”
He wanted to say 'no'. He wanted to make no such promise. But instead, Erik found himself nodding. It wasn't like Charles to manipulate him via his abilities or by emotional means. On the contrary. He seemed surprisingly... sincere in that moment. It was a plea, barely a request. No. Plea was definitely the word. And no matter how hurt he was, Erik was never able to deny Charles something he genuinely asked of him.
“Thank you.” Charles' frown turned into a hopeful smile. He sucked in a deep breath, nodded a silent farewell to Erik once more, before leaving and closing the door with a soft click behind him.
When Erik finally decided to move again, he realized that his coffee had gone cold.