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Sat in the corner, back to the wall, knees to his chest, hands in his hair, pulling harshly with his forehead against his knees. Erik has been here before, more times than he can count. At this point, he thinks it's nothing more than an embarrassing secret.
No one needs to know, no one can know. He has these moments, times when he can’t breathe, times when he can deal with the outside world and just has to find a quiet, empty place where he can just exist as he slowly returns to his body.
Never before has it been a problem. He’s always been alone, at least, since this started happening. There’s been no one around to see, no one to really have to hide from because no one cared about him.
The first time it happened, he was terrified. He was convinced he was about to die and, truthfully, the thought was almost a relief, that he would be out of this life, he would be with his family. But that release never came for him. He had to endure it and hope that whatever it was, it would be a one-off thing.
And then, a week later, it happened again.
Those days were the worst, trying to find somewhere to hide and wait it out, the exhaustion that settled over him when it was over, the shaking that seemed to go on for hours afterward. The paranoia that remained, waiting for the time it was going to happen again, but never knowing when it was going to be.
There was always a fear of when it was going to happen again. A worry that it’ll happen again at the worst time, in the middle of a mission, taking on Shaw. He couldn’t have that, showing a sign of weakness in front of the man. He’s no longer a little boy, he’s an adult now, and, to show that weakness would be deadly.
Now though, things are different. With Charles and the students around, he has to actively put in the effort to hide. Charles could still find out with his powers and Erik has that on his mind with everything else, mounting against him. The idea of one of the younger ones finding him wouldn’t end well either, especially for someone like Alex. Or, worse than that, Moira.
He still doesn’t have a name for these attacks, he doesn’t know what causes them or what to do when they happen. He couldn’t explain them to anyone or bring them up. It’s still a weakness he can’t show, even now, years after the first one. He can’t just tell one of the others about it, even if he wanted to.
So, now, he’s in the room he’s been using, in the corner, pressed between the wall and the dresser. He’s sure he’s completely invisible from the door, on the other side of the room. He tries to ensure himself he’s safe where he is. No one will find him, no one knows where he’s hiding.
The creak of the door, the feeling of the metal moving. Any progress he has made is rapidly undone. He hears the sound of footsteps against the floor and tries to push himself further back against the wall, wishing it would swallow him whole. Or maybe that he will die and won’t have to deal with the confrontation.
He doesn’t look up when he feels someone settle in front of him. He knows he needs to. He needs to fight, to run, to scream, find all the metal in the room. He can’t just sit here and let this happen, but he can’t force himself to move.
Shaw is going to get him, he knows it. All there is left to do is wait for the pain, the feeling of punches, and kicks landing on his sides, stomach, and head. He waits for Shaw to grab him, pull him out of his hiding place and hold him down against a bed or metal exam table. Tell him he’ll only stop when Erik can make him. The latch of metal restraints, with the knowledge that the tests will stop when Erik can use his powers and escape.
None of that comes through. Instead, there’s a gentle touch to his hands that are still wrapped in his hair, nails digging into his scalp. A quiet whimper leaves him, one he doesn’t even hear, but feels.
“Erik, darling, can you look at me?” Charles whispers and Erik doesn’t reply other than to shake his head back and forth. He’s vaguely aware of the tears pouring from his eyes into the knees of his pants where his eyes are pressed.
“Everything’s okay, just breath,” Charles continues to talk to him and his hand moves down Erik’s arm.
“Bitte, don’t touch me,” Erik thinks, projecting it and just hoping Charles picks up and does as he's asked. He can’t differentiate the touch of Charles from the touch of Shaw right now and that alone is enough to make him feel sick, gagging against his legs.
Charles moves quickly and, within seconds there’s a bin right next to Erik that he lets go of his hair to latch on to, getting sick immediately.
Following Erik’s request, Charles doesn’t touch him, but sits to the side by him, his back pressed against the wall as well, so he’s not right in front of Erik. He’s thankful that he doesn’t feel trapped in his hiding place.
Slowly, he sits the bin back down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a little disgusted and Charles hands him a damp towel that he wipes his face and hands on.
His breathing is still rough and labored but, now, with his head up and looking around, he can tell where he is. Everything slowly falls back into place. He sees Charles, he hears the kids downstairs talking and laughing. Knowing, logically, where he is and seeing it are different things. Without this, his brain was tricking him and he hates that.
He presses back against the wall again, feeling his spine rubbing over the hard wall. The floor is doing the same where he’s sitting.
Slowly, he looks back over at Charles.
“You’re doing great, my friend,” Charles assures him, “Just breathe, it’s all okay, you’re safe here. It’s just the two of us. Don’t worry about anything else.”
Erik looks away. He has to. Charles has just seen him at his most vulnerable. The man he’s sure he loves has just witnessed him break. He knows now that Erik is weak, that he can’t control himself, he knows about these embarrassing moments where Erik’s mind fools him and he can no longer keep up with where he is. What kind of man does that? Not a strong person, Erik knows.
He’s a fake, and now Charles knows it. He prides himself on his self-control, his discipline, and his strength. All things he doesn’t truly have. Now, he just waits for Charles to leave.
He doesn’t.
“Can I touch you, my friend?” Charles asks softly and Erik hesitates for just a moment, worried that Charles will use that permission to hurt him, but then realizes that it’s Charles they’re talking about and he wouldn’t do that.
He nods, “Yeah,” He whispers, wincing at how rough and painful his voice sounds. His eyes are downcast, looking at his lap as he crosses his legs.
Slowly, Charles moves closer, his hand resting on Erik’s knee. He feels Charles’s thumb rubbing over his knee and over the bottom of his thigh. The slow, gentle movement relaxes him a little, his eyes following its movements.
“I’m not going to leave, Erik. I’m not going anywhere. I still think the same of you as I did before, a panic attack isn’t going to change that. I have them too, they don’t make you weak. I think it’s a sign of how strong you are. I mean, looking at everything you’ve been through, I’m not surprised you have them. I would be more concerned if you didn’t, honestly.”
Erik slowly looks up at Charles. He’s not sure he can believe what he’s saying. Who would still think something like that?
Charles. Of course, Charles would say something like that.
“Panic attacks,” Erik whispers softly. There is a word for them, after all. Maybe it’s not anything he thought. And if Charles really does have them too…
“I do. Granted, mine are typically that severe, but I do have them. Hadn’t had one in years, actually, but I think it’s something about this house that brings them back.” There’s something in Charles’s voice that convinces Erik that he knows what about this house seems to bring them back, but he doesn’t ask. Not right now. When he’s ready to talk about it, Erik will be here.
“Thank you, my friend,” Charles whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Would you like to tell me about yours?”
For a moment Erik considers, then rapidly shakes his head, “No, I-I don’t think I can do that right now. It’s still too…there, too fresh after just having an attack.”
Charles nods, knowingly, “Then when you’re ready as well, we can talk about them.”
Erik nods, grateful. Maybe they should stop keeping secrets from each other. They both have horrors in their pasts, Erik knows that now. From here on, they might be able to help each other deal with that trauma. Maybe they don’t have to shoulder it all by themselves any longer.