Actions

Work Header

Hiraeth

Summary:

Sometimes Erik would write, but most times his attention was focused on Charles. Today, he thought, would be a mix of both.

Notes:

hiraeth (n.) - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
(via the dictionaryofobscuresorrows on tumblr)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Being here is so surreal. Charles and I – I’ll never get tired of saying that – on our own, in this little house by the sea. Some nights, when I’m dreaming, I forget where we are entirely. Waking up every morning is something I look forward to now, and I never thought I’d be able to admit that.

If it’s even possible, I think I’m in love with Charles more now than I ever was before. He’s a whole different person here. We’re both happier, and that’s all that matters.

I wouldn’t dare to change a thing. This is a freedom I’ve never known, and a love I’ve never felt. There’s no chance in hell I’d trade a single day here for anything else.

Erik set aside his pen, looking at his own slanted handwriting for a moment, then glancing over at Charles, still asleep in bed next to him. It was much too early to be awake – exhaustion was still working its way out of his system, and that lovely pale light was just beginning to poke through the crack in the curtains.

He closed his notebook, setting it on the nightstand to his right, and pulled the covers closer around them. Reality could wait for a few minutes.

In the meantime, Erik coursed his fingers idly through Charles’ lengthy, wavy hair. He liked when it fell around Charles’ face; liked watching him subconsciously brush it out of his eyes or run his hands through it when he was tired.

It was a while before Charles woke up. Erik’s dangling fingers traced absent patterns on his arm, his gaze switching between admiring Charles and watching the rain pitter-patter on the window.

Charles opened his eyes, saw Erik, and offered a sleepy smile. As he lifted one hand to rub sleep away, Erik tried to memorize the perfect moment: Charles, illuminated by a ghostly light, their legs intertwined, and the rage of a storm making itself quietly known.

“Can we go to the beach today?” Was the first thing Charles said, in that barely-awake voice of his. Erik very nearly felt his heart melt.

“It’ll be cold,” he pointed out, “now that we’re in November.”

Charles merely shifted closer to Erik, who turned to face him, a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t mind.”

“I thought you didn’t like the cold.”

“Well,” Charles laughed, “I don’t mind when I’m with you.”

 

Notes:

i can't stop thinking about this one. i wish i could experience a degree of tranquility similar to the one i oft write about.

Series this work belongs to: