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No one ever asks why the Professor can be found sometimes in the musty room across from his own bedroom, and it has become an ongoing mystery amongst the student population. There are two rooms left untouched in the Professor’s wing with wheelchair tracks in the thick layer of dust that is the only indicator of time passing by.
Kitty had accidentally walked through the wall early one morning, on her way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, only to pause in the closet where she sees the Professor’s profile and a soft leather jacket in his lap. Bobby had passed by the room at another time to hear the sound of silence even though the lights were on and a shadow remained unmoving by the door. Piotr had once heard broken sobs when he went to look for the Professor, wondering why the man was strangely absent from class.
Some say the jacket belonged to the Professor’s father, other’s say it is the jacket of someone the Professor once knew. And then there is Jean, who had accidentally learnt the truth during one of her lessons with the Professor.
She learnt of a sister who had chosen her own way outside of Westchester, and a man who had once been the Professor's friend, a person who her teacher used to be as close as lovers, before an accident that happened in Cuba tore them about. The very same man that they were fighting against. And just as accidentally as she had entered, she had been forcefully ejected from his mind that she was knocked out cold. And when she awoke hours later the Professor had apologised and then asked her not to reveal this to anyone.
And so the soft leather jacket stays in the room, where a man named Erik had left all of his belongings, kept in a room preserved to look like days of the past, and awaiting the day when Magneto returns to be by the Professor’s side.
* * *
He slinks down the quiet halls and makes a beeline towards Charles’ bedroom downstairs, frowning when he finds it curiously empty. The study’s lights were off and he had walked past the kitchen, both locations devoid of anyone. Magneto hates having to rely on his powers to locate Charles in this game of hide and seek. Rather, he likes to believe he knows Charles better than anyone else, so searching for him should not be this difficult.
It is a surprise to him when he finds Charles’ wheelchair locked in place inside the room that used to be his own. Magneto finds himself levitating towards the second floor and floating through the easily unlockable window. Charles is asleep. His hands are tucked underneath a leather jacket thrown over his lap, and wearing one of his ratty cardigans that may as well be tissue paper against the chill.
He walks through the dust, ignoring the way his cape may be acting as a broom, and kneels down onto one knee in front of Charles. This up close, he can see dark circles underneath Charles’ eyes, hidden behind the floppy bangs that fall over his face. He unclasps his cape, very warm on nights like this, and tucks it tenderly around Charles. A much better alternative to the leather jacket at the very least.
Charles stirs, bright blue eyes blinking open and slightly out of focus. “Erik… What-? Am I dreaming?” He will never be Magneto in Charles’ eyes. No matter how often he tries to correct it, he will always be Erik to this ridiculous man.
“No, Charles.”
Charles furrows his eyebrows before his expression smooths out. “Oh. Is it that time of the year again? So soon. Where are you taking me this year? I don’t think I want to go to Alaska again. Although, I did enjoy myself immensely in Stuttgart, despite the small kerfuffle with the man in the funny helmet.”
Magneto shakes his head as he tugs on the leather jacket, the lining inside warm from Charles’ body heat. “No, Charles. This year, I thought we might stay in.”
“You mean staying here in Westchester?”
He gives a curt nod. He is exactly where he wants to be. What Magneto doesn’t tell Charles is he’s getting bored of running around from place to place, always on the move. He most certainly doesn’t tell Charles that the Brotherhood has had several leadership challenges (thankfully unsuccessful), and he’s tired of it all, a sort of weariness that seeps down into the core of his bones. Now, the only joy he has in life is seeing Charles on an annual basis.
“If that is alright with you?”
Charles nods, always agreeing so easily to his plans. Some things will never change.
“Good,” Magneto says as he brings his hands up to the edges of his helmet. He ignores Charles’ soft gasp and pulls the heavy thing over his head, and it feels like he has broken the surface of the water and was no longer drowning. Without the helmet, he’s no longer Magneto - just Erik. and for the first time in so many years he can finally just be.