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Erik was reading, listening happily to the steady thrum of Charles’ breathing. It was a Sunday night, which meant that tomorrow Charles wouldn’t be allowed to sleepover. Erik thought it was silly that Charles’ Mama only let him sleepover on the weekends, but he was hopeful that, maybe, if they both kept up their studies, Charles’ parents would change their mind.
Because Erik’s parents were the best, Charles would be allowed to sleepover every night. Erik lost track of his reading, thinking for a moment about getting Charles every night, and a soft smile curled across his lips before he returned to his book.
His book was afloat in front of him, held up by two stretched, metal marbles. Papa had gifted him an entire bag when he turned twelve, and months later Erik was still finding new ways to wrap his power around them. Tonight, he was using them as a book stand.
He reached up to turn his page, curling a strand of metal up the length of the book to keep the page open. Once his arm was back by his side, his hand returned to Charles’ hair.
It had dried from his shower in a curling mess, and it tickled his chin with the way Charles was lying on his chest. It was getting longer and longer, though Erik didn’t mind. He thought Charles was always beautiful, and if Charles didn’t want to get his haircut, Erik certainly wouldn’t try to force him. Erik did know that it was causing some fights between Charles and his step-father, though he was doing a really good job at hiding it.
“I love you,” Erik murmured distractedly, thinking the thought and voicing it aloud like Papa told him was important to do.
Erik often turned to his parents when he thought about how to love Charles. He was only twelve, after all, and he wasn’t always sure what to do or how to love Charles like he deserved. Sometimes Charles did things that Erik thought were wrong, but he was always quick to apologize and make sure he didn’t do them again.
He knew Charles couldn’t turn to his parents to look for love, not like Erik could.
Suddenly, Charles’ fingers went iron tight against Erik’s bare hip, and he hummed even as he looked down.
“I... think I hate my mother,” Charles breathed, warm breath ghosting against Erik’s chest.
Something hot and heavy crashed into Erik’s mind. It was sharp, like Charles’ wasn’t trying to share it, and it felt like hidden fears and silent tears in a way that twisted Erik’s tummy. His heart ached so deeply he had to press a long kiss to Charles’ forehead just so that more of them were touching, as if his skin could ease the suffering Charles’ felt.
Erik had no idea what he could say to something like that, so he said nothing. He loved his mama with his whole heart, but he knew Charles’ mama was nothing like his mama. Instead of saying anything, Erik kept running his fingers through Charles’ hair, tugging his curls lose and making sure there weren’t any knots. Charles liked to use Mama’s conditioner, so Mama had bought him his very own which had made Charles so happy Erik had felt it in their mind-space for hours.
Tonight, Erik let his fingers slide up between the thick strands to scratch at Charles’ scalp, and he forced all the love he felt for the boy against his chest into Charles’ mind, making sure he could feel just how true it was. He didn’t know what to say, but he did know he loved Charles with everything he was.
“I love you too,” Charles gasped, his fingers digging into Erik’s skin so hard it hurt, but...
It was okay. Erik would take whatever hurt he needed if it would help Charles feel better.
Erik hummed and bussed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring another vow of love before turning back to his book.
If Charles wanted to talk more he would, and Erik would be there to listen.