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Erik wasn’t having a good day. But this day has always been the same for him. Since that day when he was fourteen.
It’s strange how his brain always seems to know when this day is coming, even when he’s not around a calendar and hasn’t seen one for months. His unconscious mind knows the day is drawing close and he finds himself struggling. Getting up in the morning is hard, and going about his daily tasks is harder. Thoughts surround him, blaming him, wondering what would have happened if he could have just moved that coin that day.
Would his mother still be alive? Would she have made it out of the camps? Or been killed by someone else on a different day?
Those are questions he tries not to dwell on but he can’t help it. The day comes and, just like every other year, so do the thoughts. And with them, the nightmares.
The decision to hunt out Charles and return to the mansion—school now—wasn’t one he consciously made. He just realized he had made it when he saw it coming into view and knew why he was there.
With his mind scattered and thoughts everywhere, it only made sense to find somewhere he knew he would be safe and wouldn’t have to bother staying alert all the time. Plus the rash decisions he tends to make every year that he’s surprised haven’t gotten him killed yet.
He had thought Charles wouldn’t be happy to see him but knew that there was no way he would send him away or let him get hurt. He would keep him safe from the world. Not that Erik would ever voice that he needed protection. He’s always been perfectly capable of taking care of himself…except when he isn’t.
Either way, that’s how he finds himself waking up in a nice, soft, warm bed, blinking against the sun shining in his eyes. He winces against it and rolls over to keep the sun away. Normally by this time of day, he’d be out of bed, had a morning run, and be in the shower, if not already making breakfast.
Now, instead, he doesn’t have any plans of even getting out of bed. He’ll stay here for as long as he’s able, trying to lose the day and get it over with. Best he can tell, he’ll have until at least lunch, maybe even three or four before he has to get up. By then Charles’s classes for the day will be over and he’ll be searching Erik out.
If he does manage not to notice he’s not there for lunch, that is.
Leaving those thoughts behind, Erik closes his eyes and tries to block out the voice in his head telling him it's his fault that his mother is dead. It sounds suspiciously like Shaw. Probably because of how many times he did tell Erik that. Anything to unlock those powers, that anger inside him. It was one sentence that always seemed to succeed and the one that has stayed with him the longest.
Sometimes it almost sounds like his mama and those are the worst. Alles ist gut, quickly turning to, erschieß mich nicht, bitte Max, töte mich nicht. Don’t shoot me, Max, don’t kill me. The sound of her body hitting the floor moments later as he wants to run for her, put her back together, and bring her back to life.
He closes his eyes tightly against the tears. Part of him feels like this is something that shouldn’t be bothering him still. It’s been years, he’s an adult man, laying in bed, crying for his mama. That doesn’t change that he can’t control it.
The scene plays through his head again and again. Over the last few years, his brain has started comparing the sound of his mama’s death to Charles getting shot.
It doesn’t help.
Sometimes the body that hits the floor in Herr Doktor’s office is Charles’s. Sometimes the body on the sand is his mama’s. Either way, it makes him feel like his heart is being ripped out of his chest, thrown on the floor, and danced on.
He’s always hurting the people he loves and never hurting himself to match the pain he has caused them, no matter how hard he tries. He shouldn’t have come back here. He shouldn’t be imposing on Charles. Charles shouldn’t be so nice to him after everything he’s done to him and Erik shouldn’t be letting him.
The sound of his bedroom door opening doesn’t reach him as he keeps his face hidden in his pillow, trying to calm his breathing down. He doesn’t even realize as the man draws near, not until there’s a hand on his shoulder, a gentle pressure that’s enough to make him jump and turn around.
There are tear tracks going down his face that he doesn’t think about, and doesn’t even consider hiding. There wasn’t enough time. He only thinks about it when he sees Charles watching him from next to the bed.
“You’re thinking very loud, darling,” He whispers softly, then transfers to the bed next to Erik, falling back next to him immediately without something to support him.
“I’ve noticed it before, you know?” He asks, speaking as though he knows Erik isn’t going to. “The way you withdraw around this time every year. I had my suspicions of why but I wasn’t going to ask. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready for me to know. Right now though? It’s almost impossible to block out.” A hand comes up, finger pressed to Erik’s lips, stopping him as he opens his mouth. “It’s not a complaint, love. I just want you to know I heard, but I didn’t go looking.”
Erik nods, sighing softly as he brings a hand up to wipe at his face, trying to remove the tears and any tracks they left behind.
“For all it’s worth, there’s nothing for me to forgive. I don’t blame you for what happened. I did, at first,” He rushes to add, “I won’t deny that, but I was hurt and scared and spoke rashly. It wasn’t your fault, Erik. You were trying to save yourself. And…maybe you’re someone I don’t mind taking a bullet for. I’ve realized over the years that I’m glad it wasn’t you because who knows where that bullet would have hit? Who is Professor X without Magento?” He asks, then in a softer voice, adds, “Who is Charles Xavier without Erik Lehnsherr?”
All of Erik’s work was for nothing, as the tears start to flow down his face again, no matter how hard he tries to stop them.
“Can I hug you, my friend?” Charles asks, head tilting.
Erik considers for a second, then nods. The warmth washes over him immediately as Charles moves in, an arm wrapping around his side and back, holding him close against that broad chest and compact body. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do.
When was the last time he was hugged? He can’t honestly remember. Was it his mama all those years ago? That’s the last one he remembers.
But then the realization hits. It’s Charles hugging him. Charles, who has always been nice to him, who has always been free with his touches, who has never been afraid of Erik. There has never been any anger behind his touches. Punch to the face excluded. Most people in Erik’s life have done worse than that. Charles has done nothing compared to the others who have wanted nothing but to hurt him.
The warmth is gone all too soon and Erik finds himself looking at Charles, feeling lost. “Why did you stop?” He asks and hates the way his voice sounds. Then arms are back around him, the warmth and comfort with it.
This time, slowly, he relaxes into the hold. His hand goes out, wrapping around Charles, and hugs him back, pulling him in tightly and Charles matches the pressure.
“You know your mother wouldn’t blame you for what happened either, right? Isn’t that what she was saying? Alles ist gut?” Charles asks and Erik shakes his head, even though he doesn’t know for certain. Or, rather, he does know. Like the back of his hand, he knows. But he’s not ready or willing to accept that just yet.
“Not now, Charles,” He whispers quietly and the smaller man nods, understanding what Erik is saying.
“When you’re ready then, love. I’ll be here.”