Archive of Our Own

Sometimes, the voices just get too loud.

The murmuring, the whispers. Forbidden thoughts and all-consuming secrets.

The cloud storming over his mind; like a sky darkening before the rain. His own thoughts driven slowly into the back, into the shadows, and in their place, the darkness emerges.

Shattering the last bits of his willpower and sanity, finally, it triumphs. Sinking into the furthest depths of his mind, the well-hidden space, the safely-protected, its door opens, and the secrets flow.

All the memories he is desperate to forget. All the thoughts he keeps at arm-length. All flowing out to the surface.

Come home.

The images, the emotions. The hurting.

Let me take care of you.

The girl walking slowly down the corridor of houses.

I’m not afraid of you, Jean.

Eyes glowing with the unyielding power.

Focus on my voice.

It’s growing, she almost loses it.

We’re going to get through this, together.

He can feel it, he can feel the heat of it, the rage snapping out of control.

I’m not giving up on you.

The noise, the hissing, the fear, it wants to get free, and it’s so much, it is too damn much, it is---

This is what family does.

It snaps. It breaks loose.

You are my family---

Jean---

He can’t take it anymore. Glimpses of the past, the weight of the losses, the swelling of pain…

“Charles,”

There is so much hurting, all around him, always.

“Charles!”

*

His eyes snap open.

For a moment, he can’t quite catch his breath. His mind too caught up in the familiar pain, his body overwhelmed with the old hurting.

Slowly, he breathes in. He is well-acquainted with that kind of mornings by now. He breathes out. Somehow, they still hurt.

With a careful intake of breath, he finally manages to grab a hold of reality again. There’s a soft touch on his arm. The moon peeks out from behind the drawn curtains. The images he saw were just a dream.

Finally, his eyes meet the silvery blue that stare at him insistently. The concern clear behind them.

“Charles?”

The familiar voice sounds comforting against his ears. It seems to reach deeper, though, sinking right into his heart, where it melts around it like a blanket pulled over a freezing person. It is enough to bring him back. Enough for him to feel safe again.

“Charles, are you alright?”

Erik still looks just as concerned, hovering above his body on the bed, his eyes worried as ever. Slowly, Charles nods.

“Yeah,” he finally offers, just to ease that overwhelming furrow from between Erik’s brows, but he can’t quite help how rough his own voice sounds. He clears his throat before trying again “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

“You scared the hell out of me,” Erik says quickly, casting his eyes over his face. It is clear Charles’ words did not soothe his worries, as he seems to look for any indications of the exact opposite of his reassurances.

“I couldn’t wake you,” he finally admits, quiet, while his eyes settle on Charles’. For a moment, worry seems to fade, and something more neutral steps in its place. Tenderness. It has been a constant addition to Erik’s features for some time now, and yet, Charles still can’t help the way his heart skips a beat each time it’s aimed at him.

“You lay here, crying in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it,” Erik shakes his head, and for a mere second, his voice wavers. “Just wonder if you were going to wake up.”

“Oh, Erik,” he can’t help it, can’t help the tenderness from creeping into his voice as well. Not when Erik looks at him with so much longing clear in his eyes, and speak to him with his voice so gentle. It soothes the ache in Charles’ heart, the one he has managed to get acquainted with over the last couple of months. “I’m sorry to have scared you. It’s just… Sometimes, my nightmares can get disturbingly… realistic.”

“I know. It’s alright.”

It was meant to bring comfort, the way Erik’s eyes glowed with soothing solace as he spoke the words. But there was something about the tone of his voice, shaky and off-pitch, that caught Charles’ attention. Told him there was more to them than Erik might have meant.

It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots.

“Oh God,” And once he does, it comes back to him again; the ache, the hurting. The fragile pieces of his mind breaking apart into the mess they so often make. “I did it again, didn’t I? I’ve projected my thoughts, my nightmares onto yours. Probably onto other inhabitants as well. Oh God, I’m so, so sorry, Erik, I should’ve had this controlled by now, I should’ve kept my pain to myself, I---”

“Listen to me, Charles.”

There is a hand on his cheek, one that Charles didn’t notice moving. But he did feel it. The warm, familiar touch. It wasn’t quite enough to make him forget about the aching and guilt, but it was enough for him to lean into, and let his hurting heart slow down for a minute.

“I have been fighting my demons for as long as I can remember,” Erik’s voice is soft as he speaks the words, almost painfully so. And yet, it is everything Charles has ever hoped to hear. “Believe me, I don’t mind dealing with yours for a change.”

He’s given a smile, soft and tender and friendly, and oh, it looks almost as startling as Erik’s eyes full of concern. Some things take more time getting used to than others. The passing couple of months have been enough for Charles to grow accustomed to the strong arms encircling him each night or to the steady breath brushing the back of his neck when he wakes up. To sunny mornings, long games of chess at the small table set by the kitchen’s window, and to Erik’s skin glowing in the rising Sun’s soft light.

But the peacefulness of Erik’s expression, the calmness occupying his features, still feel like a wonder. Like one of many, unreachable dreams Charles kept hidden securely in the back of his mind, only daring to reach for in the weakest of moments.

Erik must have noticed his puzzlement, because then his lips curved into a clearly fond smile.

“Come on. It’s long past midnight, you need sleep,” he says, simply, not waiting for Charles to answer. Swiftly, he lies back onto the warm sheets, immediately opening his arms. And if Charles were a stronger man, perhaps he would try and deny the way his heart melted at the gesture. But, the images of his recent nightmare, and the memories it carried were still fresh in his mind, and heavy on his soul, and the prospect of hiding in Erik’s solid body seemed like too much a comfort to try and fight it.

He lets the other man pull him closer in, and cover him with his arms. With the feeling of one hand hooked over his waistline, the other caressing smoothly the back of his head, Charles hides his face in the familiar chest, and despite his better judgment, closes his eyes again.

The vision of what might come after him in his sleep, of pain and sorrow chasing after him in his dreams again, still frightens him, present in the furrow of his brows, as well as the ache in his chest, but at least it lets his mind be for the time being.

And if the demons of the past decide to visit it as well, they will have to face a real threat first.

I don’t mind dealing with yours for a change.

Charles doesn’t really acknowledge smiling, half-asleep already. In his tired mind, there is a half-coherent thought formed. Pitying his demons for even daring to stand against Erik.

With the thought soothing in his mind, he lets his mind wander back to the world of dreams and memories, knowing Erik will be there for him to pull him out if needed.

*

It was all a mistake.

That might just have been the first thought invading his mind right when his wheelchair rolled out of the helicopter’s ramp, already onto Genosha’s green grass. The second thought focused around the Sun, and how high it shone above the island. Instantly, he was forced to cover his eyes against its sharp light.

There was something about it -about the Sun- that Charles found particularly hard to get accustomed to. Perhaps because of the immediate attention it caught – making him regret not wearing a shirt that would cover more of his pale, British skin, utterly unaccustomed to such amounts of sunlight. It felt different than the kind of dimmed light the Sun set above his previous residences. Especially the Westchester, where one had plenty of trees to find relief under. Even on the hottest, most clear-skied types of days, the sunrays hadn’t burnt Charles’ skin like they did in Genosha.

It was a surprising contradiction to the air welcoming him immediately – damp and chilly, smelling of the ocean that surrounded the island. He used all of his willpower not to anyhow express his repulsion when one of the front wheels sank into the muddy ground.

I should’ve stayed in Paris.

The thought felt bitter on his tongue, as regret and resentment were the last things he wished to have on his mind at the moment. Knowing he was in Genosha solely because of the people living there and their goodwill. And, probably in the most part, because of Erik.

Erik who had searched for him.

Erik who had followed him to Paris.

Erik who had offered him the lifetime together.

And Charles was grateful, he really was. Had said so, in fact; had said yes, yes, and please, and finally, the prospect of the two of them being together after so many decades of fighting too blissful in his mind to even consider a different answer.

When he finally did arrive to Genosha, though… Suddenly, doubts found their way to his mind. Just like they usually did.

He looked around the beaten path serving a way to the more residential part of the island. A few buildings already peeking out from behind the trees, all self-arranged metal and wood. Primitive, poor. Hectares of soil transformed into arable land. The only source of most needed nourishment. Humbly dressed inhabitants working meticulously to make the best of it, up to their elbows in dirt. Glancing at Charles with suspicion clear behind their eyes.

He then, regretfully, dared to think back to what he had just recently called normality. To high, elegant walls of the Westchester mansion. To the sleek halls and spacious lounges he used to visit every evening. To the luxurious breakfasts and imaginatively served tea. To perfectly tailored suits, made-to-order jackets, matching, colourful sweaters, and high-material shirts. To the students smiling at him in respect and hope as he wheeled down the school’s corridors.

For a long, terrifying second, he realized just how useless he was going to be in Genosha. Stuck in his wheelchair, unable to help the others on the land, unable to do anything productive for the community.

I should’ve stayed hidden, alone.

The anxious, insistent thoughts clouded over his mind until a familiar figure appeared in his sight. And all at once, they seemed further away than any time before.

He watched Erik approach him in a slow pace, a fond smile adoring his face. It made him look somehow softer, relaxing the lines the age had put around his forehead, and giving his eyes a lovely glow of contentment. It was an amazing thing, truly, how one movement of his mouth’s corners could turn a fearsome persona of Magneto into a peacefully-looking, restful man. It clearly did good to his features. He has always been a handsome man, that much Charles took for granted, but somehow, standing in Genosha, for once dressed in casual clothing rather than Magneto’s ever dramatic costume, and with a smile honest on his lips, Erik looked even more dashing than in Charles’ most insistently hidden dreams.

And if there were any anxious thoughts left in his mind, they dispersed as soon as Erik’s tender voice reached his ears;

“You must forgive the others,” he said, a hint of a playful smile still dancing around the corners of his lips, the tone of his voice muffled slightly as if telling Charles the most precious secret, even though they stood far enough from all the other inhabitants. “We rarely have any new residents arriving.”

Residents. Not visitors.

“Being cautious was all they knew for a longer part of their lives,” Erik continued, and Charles wanted to believe him, tried to believe him, and that other inhabitants’ reluctance was based solely on their difficult pasts and old habit of vigilance. But he couldn’t help thinking, was it really the main reason of the sharp glances they aimed in his direction? Genosha was all about finding a safe haven, after all. Surely, the residents had enough time to get accustomed to yet another misfit arriving among them, seeking shelter.

He was no fool, he knew what reputation enveloped him in the eyes of those like Genoshan people. Living in luxury and safety while they had to fight to make it through a day was just a part of the problem. He had led the X-Men. He had fought for humans, and had faith in them. In the people who had rejected them and made them looking for shelter in Genosha in the first place.

He abandoned them, as Erik had once said. And now, he had found himself stepping into a community made by those people alone. Feeling small and lost, not unlike his students on their first weeks in the Institute. It had looked so easy back them, facing their fears and insecurities, and being the one to chase them away. Now, as Charles was the one in need of solace, he felt resentful by the very idea of seeking it in others. Maybe it was his ego playing games with him, but he supposed the problem was deeper. It was fear. Letting others reach him would mean letting his walls down, and he just recently had a very vivid experience of how dangerous that could be. His pain might have followed him all the way to Genosha, but he was not about to let it fall onto its residents. He had caused enough suffering as it was.

“You’re daydreaming,” He almost jumped in his wheelchair, when a familiar hand found its way to his shoulder. He quickly glanced up at Erik, who, it seemed, had been observing him for a couple of minutes now. His eyes looked fond and worried, and it was all of the sudden much too honest to bear. He had to stay composed, otherwise he felt like he would break.

He shook his head before letting his eyes fall back onto the grass. It was easier than facing the surreal tenderness of Erik’s expression.

“Hey,” And by God, even his voice was gentle. Charles wondered, what happened in between the years, that turned the fearsome persona of Magneto, always at a fight, always at the edge of bursting, into the tender, quiet man that stood before him. Charles has been trying for years, and still he was hopeless when it came to subduing the ghosts of Erik’s past. Yet here he was, just about to kneel beside Charles, on the grass, seemingly impervious to the other residents’ disapproving glances. He let his hand wander higher, to Charles’ pulse point, then brush against his jaw.

“Someone seems far away,” he said, his gaze jumping between Charles’ blue eyes. “Where’s your mind off to?”

Despite his previous reluctance, Charles couldn’t help the way Erik’s soft voice melted his heart. He sighed. “Past.”

“Not the widest destination,” Erik’s hand moved even higher, to finally settle down on his cheek, his thumb drawing small circles on his freckles. “Believe me, I’ve wasted far too many years trying to find my way out of there.”

It was an earnest admission, and as much as Charles yearned for more of Erik’s honesty and soothing touch, it wasn’t what he expected, not when all of the others’ careful glances still hovered above them.

It was either focusing on them, or on Erik’s warm, inviting eyes, and both made him feel just as confused. His mind tried to convince him all of it was too surreal to be true, especially after all that had happened not so long ago, but it was at fight with his heart. His heart has been always helpless when it came to Erik.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Do you think they’ll accept me?” He finally asked, the question occupying his mind ever since his wheelchair stepped onto Genoshan grass. He didn’t even have to spare a glance at others’ direction, their constant stares were enough to make Erik understand. And he has always managed to understand Charles, anyway.

Surprisingly, all he got in response was a shrug, followed by an even fonder-looking smile.

Before Charles knew, Erik was already back on his feet. He let his hand linger against Charles’ cheek for a moment longer, before finally withdrawing it as well.

“I did,” he said, as if that was all Charles needed as an answer.

And, maybe it was.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath through his nose. For the first time prior to his arrival, he actually let the chilly air fill his lungs, and the Sun brush against his cheeks. He felt Erik’s presence beside him, reassuringly solid, and suddenly, the previous image of the island, damp and poor, was gone. Quite the opposite; he found that, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he was in a place his mind felt at peace at.

Once he opened his eyes again, he found Erik observing him with a curious smile, as if understanding perfectly what Charles himself wasn’t sure he did.

Maybe it was because of Erik’s ever fond smile, maybe because of his hand still brushing against Charles’ shoulder, warm and soothing, he suddenly felt at ease -- both with his new environment, and with his thoughts.

It was a surprising revelation, not the one he was prepared to acknowledge. But, he supposed, it only made sense to try and follow it.

A small smile slipped onto his lips even without him noticing. He glanced up at his old friend.

“Show me around, Erik.”

*

Sun shines high on the sky when he wakes up. His pride wouldn’t allow him admit it, but getting up long after Sunrise has become something of a habit he acquired while living on Genosha. There was a time when morning classes and students’ needs hadn’t allowed him the pleasure of lying in bed for too long. But now, with no strict duties to attend, and no schedules to fulfil, it is all too tempting to resist a little laziness. Especially when one lies in a bed so marvellously warm.

He only wishes there was a familiar presence on the other side of the bed instead of a messy pile of sheets. It’s no big surprise, though. In opposite to his own sleepy habits, Erik is known around the Island as an early bird. Just when the first glimpses of Sun appear on the sky, he can already be seen in the common area or around the vast cultivated fields. He performs all sorts of tasks, from rebuilding a damaged house after a particularly nasty storm, to watering the vegetables everyone will share in the noon. Charles isn’t sure whether or not those tasks are really in such desperate need of attention, or is just Erik feeling obliged by his role as a community leader, but he accepts it nonetheless. He couldn’t tell he doesn’t miss waking up in warm, familiar arms encircled around him, but he understands all too well the need to do one’s best for an environment one has helped to create. Also, it’s not that rare for his lover to complete his duties and still manage to return to their shared bed with Charles still sleeping soundly.

After a few glorious minutes of snuggling calmly to the pillow, he deduces it is one of such mornings. Erik’s not in the bed, but he can hear rustles coming from behind the half-closed doors.

With one, final sigh of contentment, as well as a stretch of his arms, he takes on getting up. It’s a learnt process -- manoeuvring his legs to the edge of the bed, and then his weight onto the wheelchair. In a few smooth motions, he’s up and ready for the day ahead.

He doesn’t feel like fighting his way into the dressing gown, so he just puts on the first sweater he can find (Erik’s) and grabs a nearby blanket (beautiful, woollen thing) -- something to smooth over his legs. It’ll do for the morning.

He smiles at the sight that greets him in the kitchen. There’s a lot to put one’s attention around, from the flying metal bowl and its insides being stirred by a flying metal spoon, to the frying pan that keeps dropping pancakes neatly onto the nearby plate. It makes for the most intriguing spectacle, and yet, Charles’ eyes easily focus on the table in the corner, where Erik sits with his nose in a newspaper, as though the things happening in the kitchen don't require any glimpse of his attention.

It makes Charles shake his head fondly. It’s the sight he’s been greeted with many mornings in Genosha, yet something that still makes his chest swell with pure happiness. It is so much like Erik, this nonchalance the sight contains. It really is quite charming, if Charles is being honest.

“I see you’ve got your hands full,” he says, moving his wheelchair closer to the oven to inspect the self-contained process of preparing pancakes. A spoon just flies next to his head to pour new set of dough onto the pan. He raises his brows, still just as intrigued and impressed by this casual display of Erik’s powers as he was at the beginning of their friendship. He hears Erik hum. He has no doubts he saw him coming the minute his wheelchair rolled through the door.

“Yes, the newspapers were brought earlier this morning with the shipments,” Erik says, his face still hidden by the paper in his hands. Charles wouldn’t put it past him to just pretend to be focused on it to let it add to his careless façade. “It’s really quite fascinating, what’s going on in the world.”

“I’m sure it is, almost as much as what’s going on in here.”

Finally, Erik puts the paper down on the table. Charles turns around to get a glimpse of his self-satisfied smile, no doubt caused by Charles finally acknowledging his efforts at making breakfast. He swallows the urge to roll his eyes, though it would have been with fondness.

Slowly, he moves closer to Erik. Like all mornings they got to spend together, he connects their lips in a slow, lazy kiss. Their little good morning ritual.

“Any way I can help?” he murmurs the question, their lips still brushing against each other.

“Hmm, you can get yourself comfortable at the table,” is all Erik says in response, before stealing one more kiss and pulling back to stand up. Smiling, Charles does as he was told, his eyes always following Erik. He watches his lover take over his powers and grab the pan, dropping the last pancakes onto the plate before bringing it on the table in front of Charles. He puts two additional plates on both sides, as well as two sets of cutlery, before moving to the fridge and pulling out a maple syrup. Adding a bowl of raspberries Charles helped pick from the local gardens, the breakfast is ready and making Charles’ mouth water.

“Whatever have I done to deserve such a rich treating?” he can't help but ask, fond smile still present on his lips as he reaches out to put first set of pancakes on his plate.

“It’s been some time since we’ve got the opportunity to spend a morning together,” Erik shrugs. “I thought it’d be nice to celebrate it in the fullest now that we do.”

If Charles’ eyes are shining with the overwhelming love he feels for the man in front of him at the moment, he can't do anything about it. It is true they’ve spent most of the mornings apart, as Erik has a habit of spending the early hours of each day tending to the island’s wellbeing. Still, it spreads warmth through Charles’ chest, knowing that Erik values each of the moments they spend together. Even those as casual as a simple breakfast.

“I’ve always thought you were a romantic,” he chuckles, taking a bite of the syrup-covered pancake. “You just like to cover it with leather boots and muscle.”

His smile widens when he sees Erik roll his eyes in response. “One does not exclude the other.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“Besides,” He looks up, not expecting Erik to continue the matter. “I’ve never taken a time to properly romance you before.”

He wants to deny how suddenly his cheeks start to feel warmer at the words. Still, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t go along with the game.

“Don’t worry, darling, you’re doing quite a fair job at making it up now.”

Casually, he lets his arm stretch across the table. Finally, his fingers brush against the back of Erik’s hand. He looks him in the eye. “Though, I could think of a few other nice things to compensate for the lack of romance. Maybe after breakfast…?”

He knows he is giving puppy eyes, simply by the look of Erik’s fond smirk, but he doesn't care. He can't help but think back to the other evening, when they were intimate. The thought leaving a pleasant shiver running down his body.

“Make it afternoon,” Erik’s voice is low and Charles can do nothing but stare, speechless, as his hand is being lifted gently and his knuckles kissed. He can hear the regret behind his lover’s voice the next time he speaks up; “I have to go to the gardens soon. They’ve had some issues with water system. I have to take a look.”

Charles fights the urge to pout. He knows Erik’s work around the island is important, but, well, it doesn't change what a shame it is not to have him around the house for some time longer. In the bedroom, preferably. He nods.

“I understand,” he sighs. “Maybe I’ll go to the school earlier, then. Find myself something to keep my mind away from all the thoughts about what we could’ve been doing in here instead. The last night left me with some very intriguing ideas, you know. Very, very intriguing ideas.”

He sees Erik fight with himself. He can't help but smirk.

“You’re not making it easy to leave the house, Charles,” Erik says, his hand squeezing Charles’ lightly to emphasize his point. “Afternoon. Then you can tell me all about those intriguing ideas of yours.”

Charles lets out a pitiful sigh, but doesn't push the matter any further, instead returning to his pancakes obediently. He knows one thing -- afternoon won't come soon enough.

*

He wasn’t sure whatever he expected, when he thought about Erik’s house. In all the wonders he had the opportunity to already see on the island, the thought somehow slipped his mind. But then, a perfectly maintained construction of wood and metal, not unlike a cozy bunkhouse, seemed to fit just right.

They had to take a turn from the main path to get to it. Not quite far from the rest of the buildings (it wouldn’t do for a leader of the community to separate himself, after all), but just enough to get a nice touch of privacy Charles had been terrified he would find lacking around the island. Fortunately, Erik’s house ensured just enough of it, with lush trees all around it. At the first glance, it might have seemed crude, but as one has spent more time to really take the surroundings in, it proved quite the opposite was true. The sound of the ocean reached Charles’ ears from afar. Birds sang above his head. The chocolate wood the house was made of looked well-kept and healthy. And then there were small details; the set of flowers in the window, tidy porch inviting him to sit in and relax, the Sun making the wood gleam in its light.

“I know it must look poorly, compared to the type of living you are used to,” Erik’s voice stopped him from appreciating the sight. Charles couldn’t help but frown. Was that a hint of embarrassment he heard in his voice? It might have been endearing, had it not been completely uncalled for.

“It’s lovely,” he hurried to say, and reached a hand to brush against Erik’s wrist in reassurance. When their eyes met once again, he was sure to show Erik a small smile.

Erik didn’t look entirely convinced, but he proceeded to open the door with his power anyway, so that Charles had more room to step in first.

He expected a raw, Spartan type of room, but to his amazement, the space was surprisingly more open than one could assume from the look of the shack. He had no issues rolling in through the door (which, to his relief, had no threshold), and then, as he really took in the sight around him, he was glad to realize there was enough room for him to go wherever he pleased.

It was modest, truthfully to Erik’s words, with a row of kitchen cabinets at one wall, and a set of soft-looking couch and two chairs at the other. Underneath the window opposite the door, stood a small, wooden table with one chair put beside it. He vaguely noticed two doors in the further part of the room, but beside that, they were the only furniture there. All in all, the room should have looked obscure, but somehow all Charles could think of was cozy. Maybe it was the healthy wood that made all the furniture look refined and modern, or the colourful carpets giving the space a touch of fresh air, or the soft light eliminating the floor through the windows -- all the details made the place look like a perfect place to sit down in after a long day, and call it a home.

And there was a different type of detail that caught his eye too.

He wouldn’t dare to say it in his mind, much less admit it out loud, but his stupid, helpless heart made him wonder that, perhaps, the reason why the room appealed to him was because it looked perfectly suitable for a person in his condition. The distance between all the furniture was just enough for him to move comfortably around. The cabinets were low enough to reach them without effort. The table’s legs wide so that his wheelchair would fit in between them. There were no thresholds in his sight. Hell, the path to the house itself was made surprisingly straight, deprived of any bumps whatsoever. For a man who used to tease Charles about a single luxury his house in Westchester had to offer, Erik sure went out of his way to make the one in Genosha both comfortable and pleasing.

Charles didn’t dare to ask about it. Erik seemed uneasy as he was; nervous, even. He gave Charles short, careful glances every couple of seconds, as though he was checking up on him. Charles wondered, was his opinion of the house really so precious to him? The thought made all sorts of funny things to his heart.

“Here’s the bathroom,” Erik said, already standing beside one of the doors Charles had noticed earlier. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised anymore, not after seeing the main room, but still, he couldn’t help but feeling puzzled by the bathroom’s considerable size. There too, Charles could move comfortably; reach the sink or fit into the shower without difficulty. He decided to blame it on his silly old heart as well -- it probably looked just like any other bathroom, it was just him, and his misguided sense of hope, that made him imagine things.

But then, Erik took him to the bedroom. And it just couldn’t be a coincidence, how low the bed was placed, neither how spacy it was, more than enough for two people to still feel comfortable while lying together. His heart was already melting, and when his eyes finally lay on the wall opposite the bed, it felt like about to burst out of his chest. There, on the wall, neatly arranged and clearly self-made, was a pile of shelves, nearly the entire wall long. With hardly five books occupying the highest one, it was almost as if they have been waiting for someone to fill them.

Charles felt tears dancing in the corners of his eyes. Erik really had this all planned out, didn’t he?

“I tried to make it as comfortable as I could,” he said, as if he was the one to read minds. “I know it’s not much, and if you rather live somewhere else, I can take the couch until we build a new shack somewhere in the area--”

“I meant it what I said earlier, Erik, it’s lovely,” he cut in, and if the words sounded harsh, it wasn’t intentional. The emotions have already taken control over him; from the first sweet words to leave Erik’s lips, then his concern for Charles’ opinion over his house, his embarrassment, then finally the low height of each furniture, and the blunt acknowledge -- Erik wanted this place to be for Charles too. He made it so that Charles would find it comfortable.

Perhaps a few months ago Charles would’ve accepted Erik’s feelings for what they were, thrilled by the mere idea of the ill-fated love of his life to finally make up his mind to the right choice. Now, he wasn’t sure what to think.

This is your fault, Charles.

It’s your fault she’s dead.

Hank was the first to say them out loud, but the words have been forming in Charles’ mind ever since that bloody incident. The truth, cold and crude, finally spoken aloud. He didn’t try and pity himself, he knew exactly what his sins were. He was responsible for the death of his little sister, he was responsible for all the suffering Jean had gone through, he was responsible for all the sorrow his children were condemned to. He had lied to the people he loved; had put them through living Hell, and he didn’t even have the courage to care for them properly afterwards. There was no excuse for the sins he had committed; he deserved a punishment, a life in isolation. Instead, he was being offered a chance of growing old alongside the one person he has spent a lifetime yearning for, in a home made strictly for his convenience. He was offered a dream coming true; everything he ever truly wanted, and somehow, after all the pain he had caused, it felt wrong to simply reach out and grab it.

And yet, Erik smiled at him like none of what he did mattered. He talked so sweetly, and looked at Charles with fondness and hope in his gaze. It was all so confusing, and Charles found himself stuck on the verge of what his heart so desperately wanted, and what he thought was right.

His racing hesitations must have reflected on his face, because suddenly, Erik lost his previous smile, replaced by a far less joyful frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at Charles with the same tenderness in his eyes, and Charles thought his heart might just explode.

“What happened, Erik?” he said, bracing himself before moving his eyes up and finally meeting Erik’s face. “The last time I saw you, you were fighting alongside the Apocalypse. So much have happened, you seemed so lost in emotions and feelings. You helped save us, and then you left. And now you’re standing here, looking all calm and rested, and I’m trying to cope with this new reality of you. Excuse me for sounding indelicate, but it’s been decades since I’ve seen you like that. It’s much to take in.”

Charles wasn’t sure if he didn’t just somehow imagine it, not sure it was possible, but it was almost remorseful, the look on Erik’s face.

“Not since before Cuba, huh?” he smiled again, before suddenly turning solemn.

“You are right, I was lost when we fought Apocalypse. I allowed myself to be manipulated by yet another promise of revenge. But after what happened in Poland…”

Charles cringed, involuntarily. Poland was a sensitive matter, even after all those years. He didn’t really hear Erik talk about it before. He wasn’t sure what to expect or how to react.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to your family,” he offered, and for all his insecurities, the words were sincere. No one deserves what was done to Erik’s wife and daughter. Also, now, he could relate to the all-consuming trauma watching one’s closest family die before one’s eyes leaves a person with. He understood how hard it was to have to live with that knowledge.

Erik shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor for a second. “I allowed Apocalypse to take advantage over my grief. With his help, I turned it into anger. As I did many times before.”

Charles listed carefully, silent. Erik was talking about something so personal, something so intimate. They rarely spoke about each other’s feelings like that. Usually, it was accompanied with shouting, difference of opinion and most commonly a fight afterwards. It felt precious to listen to Erik’s calm, controlled voice pouring out all of what his heart contained. It’s been something Charles has been waiting to hear for so long. He felt mesmerized by the words now.

“I need you to understand why I left after the fight with Apocalypse,” He listened as Erik continued. “I need you to know how much I yearned to stay. It’s something I’ve always wanted, yet everything was moving so fast, and the memories of what I had lost in Poland were still so fresh, and… I was afraid it would end up just as badly. Just like it always did. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you or your children were in danger because of me. I needed to let go of the past first. Genosha helped.”

Around here, everyone has gone through their share of fighting. Together, we helped each other to slow down. It gave me an opportunity to acknowledge some things about myself that I have feared to acknowledge.”

It was too much, Charles didn’t even notice the moment his eyes started to water. He closed them, taking all of the words in.

“Look, Charles, I’m not going to call myself a changed man or anything. I’ll leave that for you to decide. But I do believe I’ve managed to come to terms with at least some of the ghosts that had haunted me. And it would mean a great deal to me if you had a chance to get to know a calmer, gentler version of me. I know you’ve been waiting a long time for it.”

He was being honest, overwhelmingly so, and Charles didn’t know what he should do with the truth spoken before him. He blinked a few times, mustering all of his willpower to keep himself from crying right there, in front of Erik. He shook his head, desperate to regain at least some pieces of self-control.

“I’m grateful, Erik, I really am. Please don’t think otherwise. I’ve been dreaming about us being together for what feels like forever now, and you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted it to come true. I just-- I’m not sure I deserve it. Not anymore, not just now, not after-- ” he cleared his throat, the words failing him. “After all that happened, after I--”

Regardless of his tries, his voice broke on its own. A warm hand on his cheek and Erik’s quiet whispers (shh, it’s alright), didn’t help his over-emotional state, breaking the last bits of his willpower and composure, and making him cling to the touch and yearn for the voice that soothed him.

“I’ve done such horrible things,” he finally dared to say, words muttered like a secret, before his voice broke completely. “I don’t think I deserve this kindness you’re offering me.”

Before he knew, strong arms encircled him -- soothingly familiar after all the years being away from them. Erik was cuddling him even closer to his body, and yes, it wasn’t the most comfortable position one could imagine, with Erik suddenly on his knees and the wheelchair in his way, but it was everything Charles has ever dreamt about.

“If you felt the same way about me, I would’ve been dead in the water by now. Literally.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his nose out from Erik’s shoulder to look at him. Again, Erik was smiling at him - a soft, fond type of smile Charles had yet to get accustomed to.

“One of the things you’ve taught me over the years, is how important it is to know how to forgive. I know I’ll need more than one evening to change how you think about everything that’s happened in the last month, but I’m willing to try to make you forgive yourself.

“I love you, Charles. And I want to be there for you when you need me.”

Old memories might be hard to let go, but at least for the time being, Charles found they weren’t that hard to carry anymore. With Erik talking to him so honest and his arms cuddled snuggly around his body, he felt as though a new air filled his lungs.

It’s been a while since they were so close, and yet, once the soft, musky scent of his lover reached his nose, and firm, determined hands laid on the small of his back, Charles felt as though he never left those familiar arms. As though Cuba never happened, him and Erik never fell apart, and all the pain was just part of a nightmare he once dreamt.

He was finally where he belonged, and all of the sudden, any doubts and hesitations disappeared. There was only him and Erik, and the beaming hope that perhaps, this chapter in their lives --the two of them together-- will bring them peace they’ve been yearning for.

And Charles would be damned if he hadn’t at least given it a try.

“I love you too, Erik.”

*

He is worn out. Truly, properly worn out. Haven’t felt that way in quite a time.

He did go to the school earlier. A simple, shack-like building, all wood and metal. Much like his and Erik’s home, it should look crude. But he knows too much about how it was created, too much about how many residents put their hearts into its creation, his included, to ever think of it in such a manner. It makes a token to the community’s determination and growth, something that couldn’t have been done without everyone’s contribution. He feels proud to be a part of it. Besides, it allows him a chance to teach again. Modern estate in Westchester, handmade cabin in Genosha -- it doesn’t make any difference, as long as he gets to give something positive and worthwhile to the young mutants he is teaching.

Today, he took over the youngest of students. Not his usual responsibility, but one of the other teachers got sick, and there were still a little short in terms of the staff, so he had no choice to take over her job.

He loves children, but even he has to admit -- dealing with a bunch of four-to-six-year-olds all day long has a way of tiring a man. They’ve spent a day visiting the greenhouse where Charles got some interactive schoolwork prepared for them, and they didn’t come back till long past afternoon.

He returned home with nothing but joy filling his heart, but nothing but soreness filling his muscles.

It seems like Erik also has some overtime in work, as even before entering the house, Charles knew his lover’s presence wasn’t there. He could easily send him a message, asking telepathically when he was due to come back. But Erik did mention he’d be working on something important, so he doesn’t want to disturb him. Besides, he feels way too tired for what they had planned for the afternoon anyway.

He eats dinner on the terrace Erik had added to the house with, granted, Charles’ initiative. It has the most beautiful view for the ocean, something he and Erik often take use of to cuddle on the couch and watch the Sun set together.

Around the evening sound two knocks to the door.

“We thought we could pay you a little visit,” says Alesha, a lovely gardener Charles has met some time after arriving to the island. Close behind her stands her husband, a broad, tall mutant and their teenage daughter. He can’t help but smile seeing Alesha’s lips also rising up as she shows him a metal tray she is holding. “We brought banana bread!”

They’ve spent the evening on the terrace, eating and drinking the lemonade Charles has made for them. Before he knows, there are about fifteen people in the house and the jazz music playing -- one of the things that welcomed him in an open community such as Genosha, there is always an opportunity to spend time together.

You could’ve told me you were making a party.

He smiles when Erik’s familiar voice spoke soothingly in his head. He excuses the person he was talking to to go grab more snacks.

I didn’t intend to. It started with three people, and, well. You know how it is.

Manoeuvring the wheelchair through the crowd of happy mutants in a space as limited as their wooden home is, is no easy task, but eventually, he manages to reach the kitchen.

Did you finish work? He asks after a small pause, knowing Erik can easily sense how hopeful the thought sounded.

On my way home.

The minute Erik steps through the door, the evening becomes complete. Charles feels joy blooming in his chest as he sits on the couch, his lover by his side, and a crowd of their Genoshan friends and family occupying the seats around them.

Erik’s hand covers his own, and eventually he lets his head drop to his shoulder, free and casual. He can sense Erik’s smile, just as easily as he can sense his beaming love.

There are still many uncertainties left loose in his mind; there are still nights of staying wide awake, wondering about the secrets that the future holds for them. But tonight, Charles feels loved and safe in his friend and lover’s company and the sacred place they have built together.

And for the first time in a long time, he is happy.