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Charles smiled at him, slow and sweet and sleepy. He radiated a contentedness so complete that Erik himself had never felt anything like it in his life. He brushed a hand through Charles’ bangs, ruffling the already unruly strands and sweeping them away from his eyes.
“Tell me a story, Erik,” Charles said softly.
The curtains of Charles’ bed were drawn back to let the dying fire cast the smallest glow on their entwined bodies. They were wrapped in each other, their legs tangled under high thread count sheets. Hips and knees and chests all slotted together. It was the most intimate Erik had ever been with someone. It was comfortable. It was terrifying. Charles’s head was pillowed on his shoulder, his hair silky against his bare skin. If he concentrated, he could just feel the warm ghosting of the other man’s breath.
Erik didn’t know many stories. He hadn’t much access to books in his life, until now. He doubted Charles would want to hear the contents of his own lush library parroted back at him.
He had picked up a copy of Frankenstein at an airport in Brussels, where someone had left it on a seat in the terminal. If he believed in it— if he believed in much of anything anymore— he might have called it fate. But the story was far too long to tell in one night.
He had the stories of his people, of course. Cain and Abel, Samson and Delilah, Esther— though they felt so different now than when he was a boy, and if he was to try to speak them aloud he feared he’d choke on the words.
He stiffened. Charles brought his hand up to gently rest on his chest. Erik did know a few stories.
Folktales. Not in Hebrew, or Yiddish.
He’d only heard them in German.
“Once upon a time, there was a scorpion. He was on a long journey—“
Charles shifted in his arms, looking up at him.
“Why was he on a journey? He’s a scorpion. Don’t they just sit in their little desert burrows and skitter around?”
“I don’t know, Charles," he tried not to sound too exasperated. He’d requested a story at bed and was now interrupting like a petulant child. Honestly. ”He just was. Let me continue.”
Charles sniffed and fell silent, but his fingers began to swirl a pattern onto his chest. It soothed him. It itched him.
“His journey was long and took him to many new and unfamiliar places. He traveled over vast mountains, through towering forests, over great plains. Each one he traversed alone, powerful despite his small size, his vulnerability.
Then, one day, he came across an obstacle he’d never encountered before. A large river, deep and impassable. If he tried to cross, he’d surely drown. But he’d made it this far, to go back was unthinkable.
Just when all became bleak for the scorpion, he heard croaking from a nearby patch of reeds. A frog. He’d never asked for help before, but his journey was impossible now without it.”
Charles turned further into their embrace, and Erik felt his grin pressing into his neck. A wordless, playful affection nudged against his psyche, but he understood the message.
Oh, Charles. Erik had to close his eyes. He let out a slow breath. Maybe it was best not to continue—
“And then?”
He swallowed. When he opened his eyes again he stared up at the canopy above them.
“And then the scorpion asked for help.”
He paused again, purposefully now, coming to a decision.
“‘I’d gladly swim anyone across,’ replied the frog, as he liked to be helpful. However, there was a hesitancy in his voice. ‘But scorpion, how do I know you won’t sting me?’
‘Because if I sting you, we’d both die, as I cannot swim and would drown without you.’
The frog considered this a moment and thought it very reasonable, so he allowed the scorpion to climb on his back. The scorpion’s sharp feet prickled at his skin, but it wasn’t too unpleasant, and soon the pair were off.
The scorpion had never felt anything like this before. The frog’s body underneath him cut through the water smoothly. He’d never spent much time thinking about other animals, but suddenly he wondered if this was how birds felt when they flew. He was very grateful to his new friend, and he seemed very kind, so he asked.
The frog didn’t know. ‘I’ve never known much but this river, the bank and its waters. But how about you? You’re a long way from home.’
The scorpion began to talk about the mountains he’d climbed, the trees he’d crawled between, the grasslands he’d walked through. Somehow, sharing his adventures with someone was almost as exciting as experiencing them the first time.
The frog was very impressed, and he was glad he’d met his new friend. He admired the scorpion’s bravery. He wouldn’t have been able to hop over mountains, or bounce between trees, or even jump through a grassland. He wondered then if he could find that strength. Maybe he could, with a friend at his side.”
The fire was all but dead now, the embers glowing like stars in the now dark room. The darkness cocooned them. The darkness suffocated him.
Erik sat up, dislodging Charles, who now only stared up at him from the pillows. In the darkness, his eyes looked like deep pools of inky water.
“They were nearly at the other side when the frog felt it. A sharp pain in his back. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, like fire in his veins. When he looked back, he saw the scorpion removing his stinger.
‘I’m sorry,’ the scorpion said.
The frog felt his limbs grow heavy and stop moving. Each breath became labored. They were only a few more kicks to the other bank, but they were a few more kicks too many. ‘Why did you do that, my friend,’ cried the frog, ‘You’ve killed us both!’
‘I’m sorry,’ the scorpion repeated, ‘I couldn’t help myself. As brave as you think me, as kind as you are, at the end of the day, I am still just a scorpion. Scorpions sting, it is just in my nature.’
And with that, the both of them sank below the water.”
“Erik—“ Charles’ worry was palpable. Erik turned away, refusing to look at him. He swung his legs out from under the covers, the chill of the night air raising goosebumps against his naked flesh. He wanted to crawl back into Charles’ arms. He wanted to leave and never look back.
The sheets rustled behind him. Charles put a tentative hand on his back, the muscles under it tensed and ready to run if need be.
Charles brushed against his mind, looking for something to say. His arms slowly circled Erik again, pressing himself to Erik’s back as he searched. He was quiet for a long time.
Finally, he dropped his forehead against Erik’s shoulder, sighing against it. Erik felt a slow, deliberate kiss placed there.
“I love you,” Charles said.
Erik closed his eyes.
“I love you, too.”