Work Text:
It was a cool spring morning when Erik, during his usual run, was enticed to do something long forgotten.
He’d decided to take a different route than usual, going through the mansion’s garden instead of towards the satellite dish, and with every step further into said garden he was more and more pleased with his choice. It was well kept and full of blooming flowers — roses, late blooming tulips, peonies. All beautifully arranged in intricate flower beds along symmetrical gravel paths, periodically intertwined with ball trees. The whole garden was blanketed in golden, morning sunlight, which coloured the flowers shades of yellow, and the perfume-like smell alone was intoxicating. The scene was like that of a fairy tale, another stark reminder of how different Erik’s and Charles’ childhoods were.
But–
It also reminded him of before the war, of how happy his mother was after receiving little paintings of the lilies she’d displayed on the kitchen table earlier. Erik used to be so proud of himself when he could make her smile, even if he can’t remember what her smile looks like anymore.
A loud bird chirp startled him, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him realize he’d walked even deeper into the garden. The path was now walled in by tall bushes only splitting to allow passage into smaller sections of the garden. He could feel benches and lamps in these sections along with seeing a couple fountains.
Making up his mind, Erik turned to head back to the mansion.
He’s going to paint.
His steps back were lighter than when he left, and inside, the hum of steal beams and Charles’ silver watch was complimented by the hum of different metals from the garden. All together they produced a wonderful symphony.
A quick check for any metal moving proved that everyone in the mansion was still asleep, so Erik could go up to his room and grab the travel sized watercolor set, he’d got while recruiting other mutants, without any questions. It was a spontaneous purchase, something he’d seen in a shop window and just couldn’t stop thinking about, so he’d bought it while Charles was searching for someplace to eat.
The walk back to the gardens was unhurried and he could take in more of the scenery. It looked like the day was going to be pleasant: any remaining clouds from last night had cleared up, and the sun was higher in the sky, warming his back. More birds had gathered around the garden.
He settled down on an ornate bench across from which stood a rose bush and a bird bath, behind them a wall of shrubbery. The bath was made out of marble and covered in designs, matching other fountains in the garden; the roses — a beautiful arrangement of burgundy flowers encompassed by shiny leaves — were unlike any others.
Soft patches of color began to adorn the paper as Erik mapped out where leaves met flowers, and where flowers met the sky behind them. Then, feeling himself get lost in the actions, Erik moved on to defining the shapes more. Darker red separating the flowers into different groups, brighter green stopping the bush from bleeding into the background, dark grey almost outlining the bird bath.
The world around him had almost completely disappeared; his focus solely on what’s in front of him, his mind only in the present moment. He could see only the flowers, he could hear only the birds.
Schmidt would never allow this, Erik doing something he enjoys just for himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about Schmidt now. He let his shoulders relax and breathing slow.
Looking up to see where to place shadows, Erik saw that a wren had landed in the bird bath. He decided to add the little bird into the painting as well, using shades of warm brown. The shadows he added were long, undefined and cold both on the path and on the bush itself.
Then, going in for a warmer, lighter red for highlights, his thoughts filled with something— someone else.
His brush stopped midway, and Erik could feel his face start to heat up.
The red paint, packed onto his brush, matched the blush that spread all over Charles’ face when Erik makes him laugh or when Erik truly shows interest in his ramblings about genetics. Blue paint he wanted to use for the sky only associated with Charles’ eyes. They were really a sky full of possibilities.
The realisation that he couldn’t stop thinking about Charles should’ve frightened him somewhat, but with Charles he felt the closest thing to peace he could feel.
Erik smiled to himself, for the first time in his life thinking about something after Schmidt.
***
Back inside the mansion Charles smiled into his first tea cup of the day, feeling Erik’s love for him and hope for their future all the way from the garden.
END