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Stars scatter across the sky like white glitter on a dark sheet. The breeze is just a little too chilly on the balcony, but it didn't matter. A drunk Erik was all the warmth Charles needed. He always reverted to German when he had too much. Charles wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. "..Charles.. Hörst du zu?" Erik sipped his whiskey, setting it aside on the thick balcony railing, the stone smooth and cut.
Are you listening?
Light pooled into the balcony from inside behind them, golden lamps filling the halls of a place Charles dreamed to call a mutant school one day. "Yes, Erik." He said, leaned against the balcony railing with him, the cardigan not enough to stop his body tremors. Even the wine didn't do much. Erik crowded closer to him, stepping back and hugging Charles from behind, inhaling deeply against the nape of his neck. The latter giggled, hands traveling to hold his arm and face.
"Ich liebe dich so sehr." Erik muttered, practically laying all his weight on him.
I love you so much.
"Ich.. liebe dich." Charles tried to copy. His German wasn't too strong, but he could handle basic phrases. Erik hummed, laughing quietly and kissing Charles' neck. "Sexy.. when you speak German."
"Oh be quiet." Charles kissed him back. Erik chuckled – a rare, beautiful sound, before turning him around. "Do you have the radio?" His voice slurred a little, eyelids half-open. "Inside our room, yes." Charles held Erik's wrist when he began to leave. "G-get it later.. please?" His voice cracked.
"..Mmmkay." Erik drawled, collapsing right back onto him, a soft breath leaving the other mutant. Charles wrapped his arms around his neck, the warmth of Erik's breath making all the cold disappear. "Ich kann dich nicht verlieren."
I can't lose you.
Charles' vision grew blurry, more so when he smiled into Erik's embrace, their chests pressed against each other. Their drinks were forgotten nearby. "Don't cry. You're happy, don't cry." He mentally chided, blinking away the incoming tears. The sky suddenly looked so much more appealing, Erik watching his head tilt all the way up.
"..Charles?" A gentle grasp of his chin, revealing a tight-lipped, teary-eyed man. "Tch.. why are you crying again? Always so emotional when we're alone.."
"S-sorry." The apology slipped automatically. "I don't know why I'm– s-sad." Charles stammered. Erik clicked his tongue, gaze a little hazy but wiping away the silent, salty tears that fell from those beautiful, icy eyes. "You aren't.. sad. You just love me too much."
Charles barked out a laugh, absolutely contagious. "What will I do without you..?"
Erik could nearly lose himself in that face. Every night like this reminded him why he fell. And why he fell hard. "Mein Schatz, du bist so..." Erik trailed off, hand resting at the back of Charles' head before sweeping him into a kiss, liquor-stained lips pressed to his cherry-chapstick ones. Charles smiled right into it, kissing Erik like his life depended on it. His eyes closed, drifting into the movement of his lips, the curious hands traveling on Charles' body, the shaking, shared breaths.
It was all so still around them, only they mattered in this moment. Kissing Erik felt like time itself had stopped just for them. It was all too much to bear. It was just enough to melt his heart. Charles didn't open his eyes when Erik began to part, yanking him right back in. He kissed until he began losing his breath.
Charles smelled the alcohol before he opened his eyes. It smelled like liquor. Eyelids fluttered open, slow and heavy. It's almost as if, if he opens them slower, maybe the moment will last longer. He groaned in annoyance, eyes hazy when he forced himself to sit up. He nearly slipped his hands against the floor, scooting to rest against the kitchen island wall. The kitchen lights were off, leaving only the harshness of the sun through the windows to fill the space. He rubbed his eyes, acutely aware of all the hair growth on his face and scalp. A shaking hand set down on the floor, a hiss snapping him awake. Immediately looking down, he saw a broken bottle on the tiles, bits of blood from his palm staining the transparent liquid the bottle spilled.
Charles stood (thanks to Hank's serum), joints all sore from falling asleep (or blacking out) in such a terrible spot. He hugged himself weakly with the same cardigan he hadn't taken off for weeks now. It was unbearably hot, but he refused it. He didn't want to see how thin he might've gotten under the clothes. The grime and sweat sticks to his skin. It's not like he showers a lot anymore, only when Hank forces him to.
He lowered his hands into the sink, face scrunching up in pain when he had to take out a small shard or two from his palms, washing it under the cold thrust of water.
Walking out, he made his weak steps to the rec room, one that they all shared once. Raven, Alex, Sean... Erik. Collapsing on the sofa, he reached for the nearby newspaper. He's had this issue for months now, the headlines being Erik responsible for JFK's assassination.
"Bloody hell.." He groaned, throwing it off somewhere and curling up on the sofa. His head felt dizzy, despite how quiet it was now. He hated sleeping. Sleeping meant dreaming about Erik again. Dreaming about Erik meant waking up to have more years taken off of his life.
"Why did you leave..?" Charles croaked out, nobody but himself here to hear his voice. "You told me you'd.."
He took a deep breath, stopping himself before it felt like tears would catch in his throat. He didn't cry anymore, he'd cried his whole heart out already. There's no more tears left to squeeze out. It always feels like he just might. "I'm such a fucking– Haaank!" He called out, dragging out every syllable of his name for as long as he could, coughing into his sleeve.
Nothing. Not a single footstep or callback. "Haaank!" Charles yelled out again, voice echoing throughout the empty, daunting X-Mansion. Charles feels ashamed to call it that, at this point. "Where the fuck is he.." forcing himself on his legs, Charles dragged himself out of the room, steps slow as if ankles were chained to obscenely heavy boulders.
"Professor!" Hank came rushing down from the higher floor, looking as if he'd just left the shower, damp shirt on and towel still around his waist. "Is.. is something wrong?" He inquired with small pants, watching Charles stop by the stairway, the steps keeping them apart. "..I need my cigarettes." Charles stated, hand gripping the railway. Hank looked so clean, so.. put together despite everything. Why can't he be that way?
"No. I'm hiding them for a reason." Hank tucked one layer of the towel over the other, walking downstairs. "For God's sake, you did this with my coke, too! Just give me the cigarettes!" Charles barked, voice hoarse.
"I'm not letting you die quicker than you already are."
Charles stood still when Hank walked past, smelling like soap and.. spirit. Neither of which Charles really had anymore. He watched him enter the kitchen. "What happened here?" Hank said aloud, Charles' shoulders slumping. Right. The bottle. "..I.. blacked out." He replied, taking fatigued steps back to the kitchen. Hank was already grabbing a nearby mop and dust pan. "Be more careful. You could've gotten really injured." Hank warned, Charles leaning on the doorway.
"..What am I doing, Hank?"
"You tell me." He swept the broken glass into the dust pan, some still clinging to the mop, liquor soaking into the fabric. He set the mop straight and turned to look Charles in the eyes, hand on hip. "I'm the one who's been here for you for the past fourteen years. Fourteen years, I've–"
"I know. You're fucking tired, I get it." Charles snapped, rubbing his eyelids. "You're pissed off and you hate having to be a babysitter for a man in his forties."
"Professor‐"
"No no, don't coddle me. Maybe don't save me when I attempt a third time, alright?"
"Don't say stupid things!" Hank grabbed Charles' wrist, who was on his way out of the room. "All of this, for one man?! We've had this conversation time and time again."
"And time and time again I've told you it's not just because I lost Erik! I lost Alex, Sean.. e-even.. even Frost is dead, Hank! I don't even know if Raven's alive at this point, either!" Charles voice shook, but his eyes were dry. "Erik.. Erik left me to pursue violence and war. He even–" Oh, his eyes finally felt wet. "He even took Raven! That m-monster stole all I had! I thought.. I thought I did something good but I just screwed everything over for–"
Charles stopped himself when Hank wrapped his arms around him. It wasn't Erik's warmth, but.. it was somebody. Hank hadn't hugged him in days. No.. he hadn't hugged Hank in days. Tentative arms rose, almost ashamed to touch the other's clean skin and clothes. "..I'm sorry."
He didn't receive a response, just a rub on his back and a kiss on his forehead. Charles nearly dozed off in Hank's arms, the latter realizing the sudden weight. "Do you want to rest?" Charles would nod, face still against his chest, eyes glossed with tears that wouldn't fall.
"Don't do anything stupid."
"..I won't." Charles muttered, before parting from the hug and walking away, bare feet against the wooden floorboards.
...
It felt like hours before he reached his bedroom. Every step felt like he was going to collapse, at this point (or it might've been his sign to take another dose of the serum).
The room felt a lot bigger now that Erik wasn't here. It's always Erik. It's always Erik every fucking time.
Charles collapsed on the bed as soon as he got close enough, writhing to get into a more comfortable position, sheets all crumpled and improperly done. The windows pierced his eyes. The sun grew harsher as days passed, making Charles all the more aware of the humid stickiness all over his skin. He turned over to look at the empty space beside him. It was almost like the sheets still felt indented with Erik, the space reserved for someone who will never sleep there again. A soft depression was on the pillow, made by Charles' palms to copy the kind Erik would leave behind. A dent, a little safety that he's not that far gone.
Hank had already cleaned these sheets over and over again until Erik's scent was entirely gone. Some bullshit about 'moving on' and 'staying clean'. The metallic taste wasn't here anymore. The sandalwood and leather wasn't here anymore. Just soap and detergent, Erik's side of the bed in pristine condition.
Erik's closet was something he never let Hank touch. He'd nearly hit him once over it. Every time Charles opens it, Erik is always right there. His leather jacket, a pair of shoes, underwear and wifebeaters, shirts, pants... almost every clothing he ever owned. Even his sunglasses. He was partly happy Erik didn't pack everything away that day. He definitely took that black turtleneck, the one Charles gave him and he never returned.
Charles extended a hand, floating over the bed, as if about to invite him to lay down after a long day of training and a good game of chess. He retreated, tucking it under his head over the pillow. He remembered the days Erik would fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Charles would talk his ear off on mutations and genetics, and just how special Erik's was. Sometimes Erik would fill his mind with dirty things, just to spur Charles on right before bed.
An involuntary laugh escaped him at the memory, throat tight like barbed wires were wrapped all around. "F-filthy bastard.." It filled him with shame, to still love a cruel monster named Erik Lehnsherr. Charles has lost count of the number of times he's gotten off to dirtier memories of them. To feel anything besides a dull ache, only to worsen it once the arousal died down. He'll still do it every time.
He turned to lay on his back, hands joint at his belly. It's been fourteen years. It still feels like it's only been fourteen days. The clock ticked loudly, Charles' gaze hazing at the ceiling. Every tick echoed, eyelids growing heavier, each blink getting more labored. The stimming of his feet slowed, a soft hum of exhaustion taking over him. A smile quivered at his lips.
A voice in his head always yelled: "Get up! Be Charles Xavier again!"
He always replied with: "Let me dream. Just one more time."
Maybe he could dream. Just one more time. Maybe he could fall asleep forever, and relive all of his memories until death took hold of his dreary, lost soul. Hank wouldn't have to suffer here if he did. He wouldn't have to think about Raven again if he did. Everyone would be happier.
The world seemed to fade again. His smile slowly faded, succumbing to the clutches of sleep.
Charles hoped to see Erik again, before inevitably waking up to sweat and crickets outside.
He wondered which day he'll dream about this time. Hopefully that day of their chess games when Raven spectated them – oh, one of his favorites. Charles hoped it'd last long enough to hear all the jokes she made that evening. Or if he got lucky enough, maybe he'd make it to the point where Erik kissed him senseless.
That'd numb everything for an evening.