Chapter Text
1947, January
Erik doesn’t belong in America. It’s the only thing he’s very sure of. Most of what he does these days feels fake. His home doesn’t feel real, his friends are superficial, his language holds nothing but bitter memories, his name isn’t even his anymore. But Max who loves playing marbles and calls Berlin home is long gone. He doesn’t really belong there, either, the same way he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t really belong anywhere. It feels quite lovely sometimes.
He shouldn’t complain about anything. By the numbers, he should be dead. Three years ago, he was a Jew living in Poland, and two years ago, he was some lab rat in Auschwitz. Erik knows he should be dead. But he’s also a fourteen year old boy about to begin a new school. Erik doesn’t know a single fourteen year old in the world that isn’t some degree of miserable. Erik just happens to be a fourteen year old with a fair bit of extra baggage to him. New York just isn’t for him. There’s too many people, too many buildings, too many cars and trains. But there was no chance he and his parents were going to stay in Europe after everything and after a great deal of time arguing between Israel and New York. New York had won because of some old work friends Jakob had regained contact with in the city.
It could be worse. Erik just wishes nothing had to change in the first place.
His alarm clock shrieks to wake him far too early on far too cold a January morning. It doesn’t matter much anyway. He’s been awake for a while now. Erik hasn’t slept through a night in a very long time, something which is even worse when he has a big day ahead of him. Starting out at a new school in a snobby upper class neighborhood definitely counts as an eventful day. Erik wishes he could stay home most days, but today in particular, he wants to tug his covers up over his head and hide away for another hour or so. It doesn’t even need to be a wasted day. He’ll gladly go to his father’s shop and lend a hand there. It would probably be a better use of his time.
He tries for a few minutes. He pulls his blanket over his head and though he doesn’t fall back asleep, he does curl in on himself and spend a few minutes doing nothing more than listening to the radiator clanging away. He could probably stay like this for a long while, but his mother comes to put a stop to it before he can get too comfortable. Erik hears her come in, of course, but he makes no attempt to get up. He does, at least, let out a soft grunt to let her know he’s awake. Erik’s in a mood, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be rude to his Mama.
“It’s time to get up, mein Schatz,” she says, pulling his covers back enough to pet his hair gently. “I have breakfast on the table and an ironed uniform for you.”
Erik sighs and turns onto his back to look up at her. There’s no point trying to stay. His mother won’t leave until he’s gotten up. Still, he pleads, “Can’t I go into work with Papa today? My old school doesn’t start until Thursday. I can just go back there and I won’t even miss any classes.”
“You’re far too smart to get swept up in a big place like that. All your teachers think so and your father and I have always known it.” She leans down to kiss his forehead and Erik knows he’s going to end up going whether he wants to or not. He could never bear to disappoint her.
“I’ll be down for breakfast soon,” he promises.
He’d say the same thing if he was just planning on rolling over and going back to sleep, of course, but his mother knows him better than that by now. She tugs his blanket all the way off, but other than that, leaves him to get up on his own. Erik lays there for another minute, wondering if he can shut his eyes tight enough that he might pretend he’s home and this has all been a very long nightmare. But no, Erik’s not quite so good at playing pretend. He stands up, even if it weighs on him heavily, and grabs his uniform from where its laid it out in his desk chair.
He’s gotten a bit lucky in this, if he’s being honest. His new school is some preparatory school for the city’s rich and while it does have some scholarship and financial aid students, Erik is under no impressions that he’s not there as a way for some administrators to pat themselves on the back about all the charity and diversifying they’re doing. He should have been there starting in the fall, but his therapist had convinced everyone involved that he wasn’t quite prepared for change in the ‘recovery of his fragile mental state’. It’s just about the only good thing to come from his trauma. There’ll be no more putting it off now, though, no matter how much Erik might want to. He gets dressed without any more moping, because he might as well make sure he can spend a few minutes with his parents before having to go catch the train. He goes downstairs, fiddling with a quarter as he usually does when he’s nervous. Edie eyes the floating coin warily as she sets a mug of coffee down in front of his father.
“You be careful with those powers of yours, okay?” she insists. “People watch strangers more closely.”
“I know, Ma,” Erik promises. It irks him beyond belief that he’s traded one secret for another now that the war is over, but he knows his mother just worries about him. Being different is dangerous, even if there’s a part of Erik that stubbornly wants to be even prouder of what the world wants him to hide. That would put his parents in danger, though, and he can’t do that to them.
Edie kisses his head when she gets close enough to put Erik’s breakfast down in front of him. “You’re going to settle in here better than the other places. I can feel it.”
Erik’s not quite so optimistic. “It’s going to be just the same. Different faces and a longer commute, but just the same.”
“Maybe with that terrible attitude of yours, sure. Keep your chin up, boy. It makes life easier,” Jakob says, reaching across to give Erik a rough pat on the back. Erik bites back a comment about how keeping their chins up had done nothing to help Ruth or Uncle Erich. It would do nothing but cause hurt and even though sometimes Erik wants to make the whole world hurt with him, it wouldn’t be fair to his parents.
His mother sits at his other side of the table, fussing over his hair while he eats. “Exactly. Besides, you’re more academically suited here. I’m sure being a little challenged in a classroom will help you enjoy it more.”
“We’ll see,” Erik mumbles.
They give up on their pep talk after that, switching instead to useless small talk about the weather and which family from shul is hosting dinner this weekend. Erik is grateful for that, at least, and he nods along whenever it’s appropriate, but mostly stays quiet while he eats his breakfast. He stalls as long as he can justify, as though they might all magically forget he has somewhere to be, but far sooner than he would like, his parents are ushering him out the door and he goes to catch his train. Erik is absolutely not one for optimism, but he does try to keep an open mind as he goes in. For his parents, at least.
-----
His morning goes exactly as Erik assumed it would. Getting all his paperwork in the morning was a bit of a nightmare. The secretaries have a bit of trouble finding him at first and the headmaster refer to him as ‘that Jew’ no less than three times when trying to remind them that they’ve been expecting his arrival. It makes Erik want to snap at all of them. His father says he’s too sensitive. That he cares too much what people think and say, that there’s no danger in a little rudeness and he shouldn’t take it so personally.
The fact Erik doesn’t break anyone’s face throughout his first day is proof enough that he’s not too sensitive.
Every class he goes to, without fail, someone asks him his name, only to look quite obviously disappointed that he doesn’t have a recognizable last name. These children all have politicians and celebrities and socialites for parents. Their family names make regular appearances in the newspapers. Erik can imagine how affronted they must feel to gain a classmate halfway through the year and not even have it be someone that could propel them closer to the spotlight. He doesn’t care all that much. No one here strikes him as the sort of person he wants to spend any time with. He’ll hardly be torn up at not getting invited to any dance halls with them.
At lunch, Erik finds a corner of the cafeteria and sits down with his brown paper bag. His mother hadn’t trusted the school lunch to be kosher. From the looks of it, she’d been right. Erik settles down with his sandwich, keeping up his brooding so no one will come to bother him. Apparently, his brooding isn’t quite successful enough. He’s only just started tearing off the crusts when someone sits down across from him like he’s been invited. Erik looks up to glare at the stranger and meets eyes with an annoyingly floppy haired boy about his age.
“Hello! I’m Charles Xavier,” the mysterious boy says, holding his hand forward towards Erik.
Erik frowns at his hand and makes no move to reach forward and shake it. “I didn’t invite you to sit here.”
“You didn’t,” he agrees, shrugging. “But you’re new, so I figured I’d introduce myself. It’s no fun eating lunch alone.”
“I actually quite prefer it,” Erik says. He rolls his eyes and continues ignoring Charles’ hand while he starts to eat his lunch. He feels a strange sort of satisfaction when Charles finally gives up and puts his hands back on his lap. Unfortunately, that’s as much as Charles moves, giving Erik no sign at all that he’s going to get up and leave.
“Oh. Well, we can eat quietly. If you’d like that,” Charles offers.
Erik sighs. “I’m not some diplomat’s son or socialite or something like that. You know that, don’t you? I’m not your type. Why don’t you go sit with someone of your own kind?”
“I think all that self division kids do around here is a bit silly. Besides, I’d rather sit with you.” He shrugs.
“Be my guest,” Erik mumbles.
There’s not much he can do about getting this kid to leave him alone, not without getting into trouble on his very first day, but nothing says he has to be friendly. So they sit in silence, through that lunch and every lunch for the next week. Erik’s determined to spend the whole semester ignoring him, until Friday morning some brute from the football team stops him on his way out of biology.
“Hey, new kid.” The boy, while more or less the same height as Erik, is far bulkier, and he’s breathing down Erik’s neck in the most obnoxious way possible. “I know you’re from some ghetto in Europe or whatever, so you don’t know how the normal world works, but you’d do well to stay away from that Xavier kid. He acts all queer and not even his family name can make up for that.”
Erik scowls at the hand on his shoulder and shrugs it off. “And that’s just about the only thing worse than being a Jew, right? I think I can get by on my own. Thanks.”
Erik huffs of to the cafeteria and sits in his usual corner. Unsurprisingly, a few minutes after he’s unpacked the lunch his mom sent, Charles comes over and sits across from him. Charles greets him, as he always does, even though Erik never greets him in return. Today is no different, but Erik isn’t quite as quiet as he normally is.
“You never give up, do you?” he asks, looking at Charles oddly. “What’s so exciting about sitting at this table, anyway?”
Charles shrugs. “You haven’t explicitly asked me to leave it yet, so I figure I still have a chance of getting you to warm up to me.”
“Hmm. You know I’m Jewish, right?” Erik pulls out his Magen David necklace out from underneath his shirt and holds it forward towards Charles. The metal chain practically begs him to use his powers to manipulate it, but Erik doesn’t use his powers outside his home. Far too much of a risk.
“Yes. Is that supposed to make a difference? Because I don’t really care,” he says. “Unless you’re implying you don’t want to spend time around a gentile, which I can’t really blame you for.”
“I’m German, too,” he remarks. This is probably more than they’ve talked all week combined. “Who knows? Maybe I’m secretly a Nazi spy. Can’t trust a kraut, right?”
Charles scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Erik. Why would I think that? Goodness, do some people really think you might be a closet Nazi?”
“It’s been known to happen,” he agrees. “All right, Xavier. Sit there whenever you want.”
Charles’ whole face lights up from the way he beams at Erik, blue eyes shining with a sort of joy Erik’s not accustomed to causing in people. It sets off a strange, warm feeling deep in his belly that Erik knows immediately he has to ignore. He starts eating the leftover brisket his mother packed him and is decidedly not looking at Charles Xavier’s eyes, even if he did just extend an official invitation to sit with him. And he certainly won’t be starting to look any time soon.
Over dinner that night, his mother asks him how his first week back has been and Erik lies to say it went fine. When his mother asks if he’s made any new friends, he lies again and says he has. He’s not entirely sure if that one is a lie.
1947, March
His friendship with Charles, if it can even be called that, is reserved strictly for lunch time. They have a few classes together, but they sit apart and never talk. They certainly don’t talk outside of school. Their time together starts when they sit for lunch and ends when the bell rings to send them off to class. Until one day, it isn’t.
Erik doesn’t even want to be in school today. He’d rather stay home or go to shul and reflect or even go help his father out at the shop. He doesn’t want to sit in a classroom and pretend to pay attention to things that don’t matter. Not today. It feels almost disrespectful to be here today. He shuffles in a few minutes before the first bell, scowling at anyone who so much as glances in his direction, so no one will get any ideas about asking him why his eyes are red and swollen. He doesn’t want to be known as the weird Jewish kid who cries in school. He should have known that wouldn’t be enough to keep Charles away.
Charles approaches Erik as he’s opening his locker, timid and slow like Erik’s an injured cat by the side of the road. “Good morning, Erik. I know we don’t really talk outside of our table, but… um, are you okay? You can tell me to fuck off and I will. Won’t even mention it at lunch. You just… don’t look great.”
Erik should tell him to just leave him be. With a little luck, he might not have to talk to anyone who isn’t his family today. But for reasons he can’t quite identify, he can’t bring himself to lie to Charles. Erik sighs as he leans up against his locker. “It’s my sister’s Yahrzeit.”
“Oh.” Charles nods along for a moment before quite shamefully asking, “Sorry, what’s a Yahrzeit?”
“It’s the anniversary of when she died,” Erik answers, not particularly in the mood to teach a Beginner’s Course to Judaism.
“Oh,” he says again. Charles is unusually quiet for a moment before looking up at Erik again. Erik thinks there might be tears forming in his eyes, but surely he must be imagining that. “I’m sorry. Hey, what do you say you and I play hooky today?”
Erik frowns at him. “...what?”
“You know, skip school,” he elaborates. “Go to a museum, walk in the park, I dunno. Whatever you want. Just… seems like a pretty bad day to sit through Mr. Tower’s algebra class.”
It’s a terrible idea and Erik immediately loves it. “Why not? We’ll have to hurry out, though. First bell is any second now.”
Charles turns on his heel and immediately starts heading towards the entrance. Erik has little choice but to follow behind him in a hurry. He would have preferred leaving through one of the side doors, something less obvious, but they don’t have much time to argue about it now. He has no idea how none of their teachers stop and ask where they’re headed, but he’s not going to question a small stroke of luck when they come.
He and Charles are quiet as they walk out. Erik assumes it’s to not attract attention, though Charles looks awfully concentrated on something. He won’t ask any questions, though. He knows a thing or two about wanting privacy, and besides, he’s a fan of the quiet. It’s not until they round the corner that either of them makes any noise, and it’s Erik, from a laugh that breaks out of him without meaning to. It’s horribly unlike him and he feels the urge to apologize for it immediately.
“I don’t know why I’m laughing. This is just… bit silly, isn’t it? Sneaking out of school because one of us is a bit sad?” Erik points out.
Charles shrugs. “I’m a fan of unscheduled days off no matter the circumstances. Do you have a change of clothes in your bag? We’ll stick out if we’re in our uniforms.”
“My place isn’t too far from here. I’ll lend you something to wear.”
That’s how Erik ends up guiding Charles through how to climb the fire escape, keeping his fingers crossed the entire time that Charles won’t end up slipping and falling to his death. That would be… unfortunate for Erik’s future at the school, he’s sure. But they both make it up in one piece and Erik opens his bedroom window. He’d unlocked it when they approached his floor, so he could simply claim he always left in unlocked without Charles finding out about his mutation. They’re barely friends, Erik doesn’t want to ruin it with having his secret come out.
At his window, Erik opens for them both and lets Charles go in before he follows. He should probably be embarrassed about both the mess and how obvious it is that Erk’s family isn’t as well off as all of their classmates. Any other day, Erik might be more self conscious of exposing a weakness like this. Today, Erik’s spending far too much effort simply trying to hold himself together. Erik eyes Charles for a moment, and even though Erik is taller, Charles is far bulkier than him, which Erik hopes will even out and help him fit into Erik’s clothes.
“You can probably leave those same trousers on and I’ll get you another shirt to change into. Leave your blazer on my bed, we can come back for it later or I’ll bring it to you in the morning,” Erik says, going to his closet to find something Charles can wear.
Charles nods. He leaves the blazer at the foot of the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Thank you, Erik. I’ll launder it before bringing it back.”
“Oh, please.” Erik scoffs softly. “That’s really not necessary. Besides, I don’t want to explain to my mother why I came home from school with a clean shirt someday.”
“You think she’d notice? All right.” Charles shrugs and starts to change into the clothes Erik had offered him.
Erik is beginning to think they’ll be out in another minute and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Truly, the perfect crime. Of course, he should have known better than to let himself even think they’ve won before they’re outside. Charles is doing his last button and Erik is about to open the window again when his bedroom door opens and in walks his mother with a basket of laundry at her hip. She’d been whistling to herself while she did chores, but it stops abruptly the second she spots the boys.
“...Erik, shouldn’t you be in school?” she asks, looking between the two of them far too calmly. “And who is your friend?”
“Uh… This isn’t what it looks like, Ma?” Erik had meant for it to sound very confident, so she would hopefully not question it at all. It’s more like a scared question, though, that’s probably more incriminating than saying nothing at all.
Edie looks at him with her far too powerful scowl. “Really? Because it looks like you’re skipping school and snuck into your room with some boy I’ve never met.”
“Okay, well, maybe it’s exactly what it looks like,” Erik relents. “Uh, Ma. This is Charles. He’s… a friend. From school.”
“A friend?” she repeats, looking far less angry than just a few seconds ago.
Erik’s not really sure what he and Charles are. Reluctant table buddies at lunch because neither of them has anyone else to sit with? Acquaintances? A pair of lonely losers who found their way to the other? Who knows. Friends is what his mother will like most, though, so Erik supposes they’re friends now. “Yeah. A friend of mine. Charles, don’t be rude, introduce yourself to my mom.”
“Um… hello, Mrs. Eisenhardt, very nice to meet you,” Charles says. That might be an overstatement. In truth, it’s more of a squeak.
Erik looks over and sees the way Charles is standing so stiffly, eyeing every exit all around them, and takes a bit of mercy on him, deciding he can do the talking for both of them. “I was just… having a rough morning, Ma. Because of Ruth and everything. Charles noticed and decided he wanted to hang out to make me feel better. We’re both top of our class. One day off won’t kill us.”
Edie looks between the pair of them, no longer frowning, but still not entirely pleased. She sighs eventually, though, and puts the laundry basket down on Erik’s bed. “Go enjoy your day, boychik. Charles, it was very nice to meet you. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances. Perhaps you can come over for dinner someday?”
Charles looks over at Erik, who just shrugs. “Um… Yes, Mrs. Eisenhardt, that would be swell. Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, don’t make a habit of this sort of thing, understood? And go out through the front door, I won’t have anyone slipping off the fire escape on my watch,” she insists, throwing Erik’s coat on his shoulders and ushering them out towards the door.
Erik nods and promises her they won’t. He’s probably apologized and thanked her for being calm about it a million times before they’re out the front door. Charles is still quiet, which Erik assumes is probably because Charles is a goody two-shoes who very clearly avoids trouble of all sorts. That’s the impression Erik gets, at least. Erik leads him down the stairs and back out onto the street. As much as he’d normally be happy to spend time with someone without saying a word, he’d first need to know where they actually plan on hanging out.
So Erik asks, “Got any new ideas on how to spend our unscheduled day off?”
“I dunno. It’s a pretty nice day for March… Maybe we can take a walk by the park? Feed the birds and all that.”
“Of course you wanna go feed birds in the park, Charles,” Erik snorts, shaking his head.
Still, it’s not a bad idea. It’s kinda sweet and it’s better than being stuck in class. Much better than being stuck in class while trying not to think about a dead sister. There’s plenty of worse ways to spend a day off. So he starts walking them towards the park, even if he never really agrees. Charles gets the message and follows close behind Erik on the walk. If some of the neighborhood Bubbes recognize Erik while he walks past their window, none of them yell down at him for skipping school like they usually might. Erik’s sure every gossipy woman at shul has already marked down everyone’s Yahrzeits on their calendars.
Erik stops at his Ma’s favorite deli, where a few well placed pouts get the owner to gift them a loaf of stale bread for the birds. He tucks it under his arm and keeps on their walk to the park. It’s only a few blocks away now.
“This is a nice little community you’ve got here,” Charles notes.
“It’s fine, I guess… I miss home sometimes,” he admits. He doesn’t even talk about this much with his parents. He has no idea why he’d say it to Charles. He tells himself that it’s just because Charles doesn’t mean much to him, which makes it easy to not hide behind lies and walls. “I know none of us should be ungrateful. We’re lucky to be alive, but… I don’t think New York will ever be home.”
“Yeah… I get it,” Charles agrees. “Your mother’s really nice, at least. She seems really great.”
“She is. She’s… a lot sometimes and she worries way too much, but she’s a good mom,” Erik says. Knowing how close he was to losing her makes Erik love her that much more, but it’s still difficult to hold back his frustration sometimes. It’s not her fault. Erik’s just angry at the whole wide world and his parents happen to get caught up in it.
“I know it might not be my place to say it, but… you’re very lucky to have a mother like that. My own mother… loves vodka and wine more than anything else, I think,” Charles mumbles.
It takes Erik a second to realize that this is Charles opening up, sharing feelings and trying to bond or whatever. It fills Erik with a dreadful sort of discomfort, but it’s not fair for him to tell Charles about his dead sister at eight in the morning and then completely blow him off now, so he nods and tries to be the right level of sympathetic. “I’m sorry. And your dad?”
“Dead.” Charles shrugs.
Erik winces, wishing he’d asked nothing at all. He can’t think of anything worth saying, so instead, he just hands Charles a piece of bread as they enter the park and settles down in a sunny spot to throw breadcrumbs at the pigeons. Charles sits down next to him and they sit in amicable silence for a while, just watching the birds flock around them. If asked, Erik will still say he thinks the idea of feeding birds at the park while skipping school is stupid, but now that they’re actually here, he’s glad they are. It’s the closest to peaceful Erik’s felt in a long time.
“Ruth was five years older than me,” Erik says. He’s not sure why. The silence was doing them just fine and Charles hadn’t asked. But a part of Erik wants to talk about her, to make sure the memory of her lives on. Sometimes, he reminisces their lost family and friends with his parents, but for once, Erik wants to be selfish with his mourning and not share it with anyone else. That might not be fair on Charles, but… here they are. He continues, “She was five years older than me and every day I get a little closer to getting older than she ever got to be. That… really scares me, you know? No one should get to be older than their big sister.”
“Yeah… You know I have a little sister?” Charles tells him.
“Really? I would have thought a spoiled thing like you was the baby of the family,” Erik teases. Normally, he’d have a good laugh over teasing Charles for being spoiled, but he doesn’t quite have it in him today.
“That would have made sense,” he agrees. “But no. I’m a big brother, somehow. And I’d do anything for her. Anything at all. If anything ever had to happen to one of us, I’d much rather it be me than her. And I’m quite sure your sister felt the same.”
Erik sighs softly and nods. “Yeah… You’re probably right. That sounds like the sort of mushy thing she’d say.”
“I don’t doubt it. Raven, my sister, says I sound like an old man sometimes with the things I say. She’s just all I have, so…” Charles shrugs.
Erik nods his understanding. “Yeah… Ruth always had to act way older than she actually was, too. It wasn’t fair, but… That’s just life, I guess.”
“Did you have any other siblings?” Charles asks gently, sounding almost afraid of how Erik might react.
“No. Had my Uncle Erich, though. My dad’s little brother. He wasn’t that much older than Ruthie. More like a crazy big brother than anything,” Erik explains. He lays back on the grass when the world feels too heavy to sit and smiles as he reminisces, no matter how sadly. “He was always getting in trouble. Chasing after German girls and drinking and picking fights. He joined a resistance movement. It’s where he died eventually.”
Charles shifts closer to him and rests a hand on Erik’s knee. Erik’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be comforting, so he allows it. “He sounds very brave. You’re named after him, I take it?”
“Yes. Well, no. Sort of. Not officially. All my documents still say Magnus. That’s… my real name, I guess. Max.” Erik sighs. “It hurts too much, though. Too many bad memories. So when we moved, I started going by Erik. Keeping my Uncle Erich’s legacy alive, I guess.”
“You make a dashing Erik,” he promises.
“Guess so.” Erik can’t help but feel there’s been some line crossed between them, but it’s too exhausting a day to care about that. Making one friend in America doesn’t have to be the end of the world, doesn’t have to mean he’s giving up. Still, Erik thinks he might break down crying if they keep talking about this and men don’t cry out in public. So he points up at the sky and comments, “Doesn’t that cloud look like one of those frogs we dissected in biology?”
“Hmm… Perhaps after it had been cut open and spread apart. That one to the left, though, looks like a duck,” Charles says. “Or your face. One of the two.”
“Does not!” Erik laughs and swats in Charles’ general direction.
Charles topples over in his attempts to dodge him and ends up sprawled on the grass with his head in Erik’s lap. Neither of them thinks much of it. They’re cloud watching. Might as well be laying down for it.
They spend a few hours in the park, making up fantastical stories about the clouds and throwing pieces of bread at birds. Come lunch time, Erik takes Charles home for lunch. It’s not the grand dinner Edie had hoped for, but she takes to Charles immediately. Erik has a feeling she’d like anyone if it means Erik’s not quite so lonely anymore. They talk about Ruth again, though it doesn’t hold the same dread and melancholy as usual. Erik credits the natural passing of time for it, though having Charles around doesn’t hurt.
Are they friends now? Erik’s not sure, but the idea doesn’t seem as revolting as it once was.
1947, July
Charles is Erik’s best friends. Erik’s not sure how he’d gone from having no friends to a best friend, but Charles had accomplished it somehow. His mother is ecstatic, of course. His father, too, though in much quieter ways. They both worry about him, he knows, as though Erik hadn’t been just as much of a loner back in Germany as well.
It’s nice to have Charles around, though. They talk at lunch now, which Erik has to admit is more fun than sitting in near eternal silence. Charles is also at Erik’s place every chance they get, which is probably weird, but they’re both the only friends the other has, so as long as it doesn’t bother them, it’s fine. And it certainly doesn’t. Sometimes, Erik wishes they could spend more time together. It’s a bit clingy, but Erik decides he doesn’t care all that much. After their first summer as friends, Erik decides not to care at all.
Charles goes off to some obnoxious summer camp, because of course he does. Erik is beginning to suspect that being shipped off to summer camp or touring Europe is a summer requirement for all annoying rich kids. Which Charles definitely is. He’s just Erik’s favorite annoying rich kid. Their time apart had cemented that inside Erik. He’d missed Charles far more than he thought he could. The first few days, he’d assumed that if he’d spent so long alone, going back to it shouldn’t be a big challenge. Well into the fourth week now, Erik’s just about to go mad if he doesn’t see Charles again. He hasn’t received any letters from him in a few days, nor any update on when he’ll be coming home and Erik is, understandably, growing a bit grumpy about it.
“Erik! Come out here for a moment,” his mother calls, because she doesn’t care about his teenage moods.
“Be there in a minute!” he calls. Erik doesn’t even wonder why she’d be speaking English when it’s just them at home. He’s too grumpy for logical thinking. He shuffles out to the living room, dragging his feet the entire time. “Why did you-”
He stops, both speaking and walking, abruptly when he spots Charles sitting on their couch. Erik’s frozen for a moment, just standing there and gaping at Charles, who’s supposed to be in the woods in Vermont or something. His mother looks overjoyed, no doubt ecstatic at her and Charles’ little ruse, while Charles is just grinning insufferably. No doubt, he’ll be bragging about tricking Erik, as though lying about a return date and asking an overeager Jewish mother to open a door really counts as tricking someone. This is exactly the sort of annoying rich kid behavior Erik refers to. He’d missed it terribly.
“Don’t be rude to your mother, Erik,” Charles scolds.
“Oh, shut up.” Erik laughs and dashes over to pull Charles up into a tight hug. He knows boys aren’t really supposed to show this much affection, but Charles welcomes it and his parents, thankfully, don’t really mind it. “What are you doing here? I thought you came back next week?”
“That might have been a slight exaggeration in hopes of surprising you,” he explains.
“Charles wrote me weeks ago to make sure you’d be home today and not working with your father,” Edie adds. She goes over to her purse on the kitchen table and pulls out a few dollars. “Here. It’s such a beautiful day today. Why don’t you boys head down to the beach or something?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Eisenhardt, but I can pay for Erik and myself,” Charles insists, trying to nudge the money away from himself.
His mother, of course, will have none of that. “Nonsense. I should be paying you extra for getting this moping teenage boy out of my life for a few hours.”
“Hey!” Erik complains. “I’m not so bad.”
“You’re quite the handful sometimes, Erik,” Charles confirms. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Eisenhardt. We’ll be back before Erik’s curfew.”
Erik agrees and hurries to his bedroom to change into clothing more suitable for a day out with Charles. They’ll probably go to Coney Island, because it’s where they always go when they have a bit of extra money and a day to spend together. Charles likes to flirt with the girls there and Erik likes to show off a bit with all the carnival games. How anyone ever though Charles was a queer is an absolute mystery to Erik, given the way he’s alway chasing after skirts.
After promising his mother about a million times that they’ll be safe and home at a reasonable hour, Erik heads out for the day with Charles. They take the train there and Erik’s sure no one’s ever been as happy as he is while sitting in a giant metal tube with his best friend next to him. Charles pries a bit about why Erik likes the subway so much, but Erik just always gives him some bad excuse about liking trains. It’s not as though he can explain that he has inexplicable super powers that let him feel and control metal around him, like in some bad comic book. Charles never asks too much, at least, and they get caught up thinking about what they’ll do when they get there. Charles is already all but drooling at the thought of corn dogs, while Erik plans on eating cotton candy until he’s sick. His sweet tooth isn’t very public - it would ruin his reputation and make his mother feel guilty about not being able to afford sweets very often - but he indulges it on his and Charles’ little day trips.
When they get to their stop, Charles is racing off without even bothering to wait for Erik. He doesn’t really need to. Erik’s sure to follow and he’s faster than Charles. Still, Erik yells after him that he’s an ass and runs to catch up. Charles is laughing by the time Erik catches up, which Erik smacks him across the chest for.
“First you run off and abandon me for summer camp and then you abandon me at the train station? It’s almost like you don’t want to hang out after all,” Erik says, bumping his shoulder up against Charles’.
Charles smirks at him. “Abandoned you, huh? You must have really missed me, didn’t you?”
“I missed you only the exact appropriate amount. A little bit less, actually, since you’re an annoying bastard,” Erik reasons.
“Of course, Erik, of course.” Charles laughs.
He’ll be insufferable for a while, going on and on about how Erik had missed him. Erik doesn’t doubt that in the slightest. It’s a small price to pay for having his best friend back, unfortunately. Charles wants to play stupid carnival games first, impress some girls and win them prizes, but Erik’s never been very interested in that sort of thing. He much prefers swimming and goofing off with Charles for a few hours. Despite Charles’ whining about spending a month in the middle of the woods with no girls around, Erik wins in the end and they make their way to the water.
“You owe me for this one, Eisenhardt. If you don’t use your freaky good luck at winning games to find me a nice gift for a girl, I’ll drown you,” Charles threatens light-heartedly.
Erik shrugs. “You’re Ma’s favorite, anyway.”
“I better be!” Charles laughs.
When they find a spot far away enough from everyone for Erik’s preferences, Charles drops his bag down on the sand and strips off his shirt and trousers without a care in the world. They’re both wearing their swimming trunks underneath, but Erik’s always been a bit embarrassed about being exposed like this. Charles, clearly, doesn’t care one bit. Despite how quiet and lonesome Charles is at school sometimes, he’s a confident and cocky as can be when they’re outside. Erik doesn’t understand it, but there’s a lot about Charles that Erik doesn’t understand.
There’s a lot of things, in general, that Erik doesn’t understand. Like why his eyes are drawn to Charles skin as he undresses or why he feels warm and strange and wrong while looking at his best friend. Erik forces himself to look away just in time, busying himself with his own shirt so Charles won’t see him staring when he looks in his direction. Erik doesn’t completely understand what this is, but he knows he shouldn’t be feeling it al all. He knows that much, even if the rest is still a frustrating mystery.
“Race you in?” Charles suggests, once Erik is stripped down to his trunks as well.
Erik just smirks and winks in Charles’ direction before racing off to the water. Behind him, Charles yells something about how running before agreeing is cheating, but Erik just ignores him as he runs in with a splash. Charles catches up easily enough, and by the time the water is up to their thighs, Charles is beside him again. He jumps forward towards Erik, wrapping his arms around Erik’s waist and tackling him down into the water. Erik nearly gets a lungful of water from how his breath hitches to have Charles so close.
It’s a game and they’re goofing off and they’re best friends and they’re both boys and Erik just tries to remind himself of that over and over again until every errant thought goes away. He’s not staring at Charles and he’s not stumbling like a teenage girl because Charles brushed up against him and he’s not staring at how Charles’ hair is a ridiculous mess with salt water all over it and he’s definitely not wondering what Charles has been doing at camp for the last month to fill up the way he has.
“Erik, are you okay?” Charles asks, clapping him on the back. “You look like you swallowed half the ocean.”
Erik laughs weakly and coughs up the last of the water he’d swallowed. Best not to think about it. “I just haven’t gone swimming in a while. Must be out of practice.”
“Don’t go drowning on me. You’re not allowed,” Charles teases.
“Don’t pull me under, then.” Erik slaps the water just hard enough to send a small wave crashing over Charles’ head. “Shouldn’t you be doggy paddling around some girls? Trying to show off the Xavier charm?”
Charles grins deviously and disappears underwater. Erik can just barely see his shadow swimming along underneath the surface, until he pops up again near a group of girls splashing around in shallower water. Entirely by ‘accident’, Erik is sure. He stays put where he is, watching as Charles introduces himself, no doubt using one of those terrible pick up lines of his, and the girls giggle amongst themselves. Charles looks around for him and waves him over when he spots him.
Truthfully, Erik doesn’t want to go over and pretend to flirt with some girls. He’s never seen what’s so interesting about it. No matter how hard he tries or how many girls Charles tries to sell him on, he doesn’t really see the appeal. He’s always assumed he must be a late bloomer of some sort. The way he’s been catching himself looking at Charles and the other boys on his street… it worries him so much he mostly tries not to think about it at all. Today might be different, he thinks, just like he says to himself every day, and swims over to join Charles and the girls.
It’s not terrible. Girls like him well enough for some reason. They laugh at his bad jokes and pretend every wave is pushing them in his direction and Erik plays along, of course, teasing and joking and smiling. No matter that it all seems forced and fake. Charles would probably have been happy to spend all day there with them. Erik’s never been so thankful to have a rude stranger gawk at the numbers on his arm as soon as she spots them. Like a switch has been flicked, Charles stops his incessant flirting and bids the girls farewell for the both of them. Erik’s more than happy to get dragged along to buy hot dogs and cotton candy.
“Sorry those girls wound up being stupid. I bet we could find another two around here somewhere. Especially if you pull out all you’re super powers to win someone a bear or something,” Charles suggests.
Erik finds them a corner in the shade to sit while they eat and shrugs. “We could. Could also just put your quest for a girl on pause for the day and get back to it tomorrow?”
“Getting jealous, Eisenhardt?” he teases.
“Oh, shut up and eat your treyf, Xavier.” Erik snorts and throws a sticky wad of cotton candy in Charles’ direction.
Charles just laughs and eats his lunch without bothering Erik any longer. They wander the boardwalk for a while, catching each other up on everything they’ve missed in their time apart. Erik enjoys this far more than chasing girls along the shore. He has a feeling it would be odd to say so out loud, though, so he just enjoys it whenever it happens, even if the day goes by way too fast. Far sooner than Erik would have preferred, the sun has set and there’s some silly fireworks show for no reason at all. Erik doesn’t understand what’s so fun about watching colorful explosions, but Charles loves them, so they stay to watch it, of course.
Erik sits down on the dock next to Charles, closer than they usually would. He’d blame it on the crowds, if anything. Charles is staring up at the fireworks, as fascinated as ever, as though they don’t all start looking the same after a while. Erik is… well, he’s watching Charles far more than the fireworks, but so long as no one notices, he’ll allow himself this one indulgence. When they’re just about over, Erik stands and offers his hand to help Charles up.
“Better to head out a little early than get caught up in the rush after,” he explains.
Charles sighs, but gets up and follows him back to the train station. “This one day was better than all month long at camp, I think.”
“I had a better time than all of last month, too,” Erik agrees, smiling in his direction.
The subway isn’t as crowded as Erik worried and they’re back in Erik’s apartment soon enough. Erik can never fathom the sort of parents who would happily let their son go off on a sleepover after a month apart, when his own parents would probably be spending as much time with him as they could, but it’s better for Erik in the end, so he won’t complain too much. They eat leftover challah on Erik’s bed, like always, ignoring Edie’s pleas to not get crumbs all over the place, also like always. His parents are a bit more lenient with being kept awake by a pair of boys laughing and rough housing a few walls away, probably because they’d missed Charles almost as much as Erik did. He’s like an addition to their family now, even though Erik can’t always fathom how they got there.
Erik’s long since lost track of time when they finally turn off all of Erik’s lamps and settle down for bed. It’s a tight fit on Erik’s bed for the both of them, but it’s what they’ve always done. Erik doesn’t want to make things strange by asking they switch now. Charles lays on his side, facing Erik, and he can just barely make out his friend’s shadowy grin in the dark.
“At this point, I might just have to move into your house for the rest of summer to make up for lost time. We can be bed buddies,” he suggests teasingly.
Erik laughs half heartedly. “Whatever you say, Charles. Good night.”
He turns onto his other side to sleep, facing away from Charles because he’s afraid of what he might do if he keeps looking at Charles any longer. If Charles notices anything odd about it, he doesn’t mention it. Erik is happy to leave things to stay like that.