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Charles Xavier, to Erik’s eyes, radiated all things soft and gentle, and everything else he himself wasn’t made to be. It was easy to sink into the feeling of falling in love with Charles, from the moment his arms had wrapped around Erik's chest, Erik knew that for the first time in a while, his heart had something it needed to keep.
It was easy to fall in love with Charles Xavier, yes, but the difficulty comes to the part of trying to understand him. How could someone hold onto so much hope yet reflect so much sorrow in his eyes? How could someone’s touch be so knowingly gentle as if it was too familiar of what could be too harsh?
How could Charles Xavier, someone who claims to know all about Erik, still look at him with so much love in his eyes despite all the truth it has seen?
Erik tries to be gentle for Charles. There was no room for such softness in revenge, but Charles makes him realize that there’s so much space left to spare in Erik’s heart for it and in those spaces, Erik eventually decides, fits Charles perfectly.
A few weeks has passed since they gathered the children, a few weeks since Shaw has taken the life of one of them– a few weeks since Erik started to surround himself with what could be family.
“We’re doing quite well, don’t you think?” Charles says as he sat across from Erik with two glasses and what he guessed to be a fancy brand of scotch. Charles sets glasses down and pours just the right amount for the two of them.
Erik ponders over his answer for a moment, he’s already ought to agree but Charles would want something more than just a yes, we are doing well, or maybe deep inside Erik himself wanted to be more, give more, show more. Either way, he says– “Yes, everything’s going smoother than I expected.”
“That..” Charles takes a sip from his glass, “I can agree with.”
“I didn’t think they’d stay and improve this much.”
“I didn’t think you’d stay at first either, remember?”
“But I did.”
Charles smiles, “You did, and for that, I am glad.”
Erik stares a little too long at the smile that parts on the telepath’s lips, washing his thoughts down with the drink in front of him.
Gentle, gentle, gentle. Erik wants to be gentle, to prove himself to be capable of such, but what else could he say? Erik wants to reach out and touch Charles’ hand, caress his face, find out if his eyes are more beautiful if they’re close enough to feel each other’s breaths on their skin.
“My friend, if you keep looking at me like that, I might think that you’re too lightweight for a glass of scotch.” Charles smiles behind his glass. For a moment, Erik thinks that Charles might be right– maybe it’s the alcohol, but is it really something he can blame? Maybe Charles on his own was some sort of magnet, something metal enough for Erik to feel so drawn to him. “What are your plans after all this? After Shaw?”
Erik then realizes that there has never really been an After Shaw.“What are yours?”
“Well,” Charles sits up straight in his chair, “I’m thinking about starting a school for mutants. After Cerebro I have come to realize that we wouldn’t have felt alone for so long if we simply looked. There are so many of us out there, more than we realize and I want to give them some place to belong. We could give them that.”
Gentle, gentle, gentle.
“Then I plan to be here for it, if you’d allow me.” As much as Erik suppressed his own attachment to everyone else– Hank, Alex, Sean, Raven, seeing them grow into mutants who can finally embrace their abilities does make Erik feel like belonging into something bigger than what he thought he could ever be. For years, he was alone, and Charles Xavier gave him a home.
He wishes to keep that.
“You will always be a part of it, Erik. I told you that there’s so much more to you than you know and– together, I want to find out what’s more to become of you… of all of us.”
Erik manages to keep his eyes off of Charles’ lips for a while, and it wasn’t until they were cleaning up and getting ready for bed when Charles turns to him and says— “If you’re going to think about my lips so much, Erik, you might as well kiss me you know?”
Erik doesn’t waste a second longer and does just that. Gently, just as he intends to for the rest of the time he'll be allowed to have this. He kisses Charles’ lips, his cheeks, his forehead— as if his lips could help Erik decipher the wonder beneath him, making sure that the other knows that this is more than just lust. This was… belonging.
A few days later, surrounded by the white sands of Cuba, Erik discovers himself to be a liar.
On that day in Cuba, Erik proves Charles wrong.
His knees drag on the ground as he slid beside Charles, maneuvering the other onto his lap as apologies slipped out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”
Gentle, gentle, gentle–but now, how must he be gentle? He’s hit Charles, hurt him, put a bullet in his back, mind surrounded by rage and fists tingling in anger and now–
Anguish.
He holds him, for the first time, Erik holds him.
And then he lets go.
Erik Lehnsherr doesn’t get the chance to hold him like that again for a long, long time.