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Charles padded down the halls of the mansion, trying to keep as silent as possible as not to disturb any of the kids or Erik in their sleep.
Nights like these, he was grateful for having the ability to know every single floorboard by heart, skipping the noisy ones and shuffling over those that only creaked silently. It was a hard earned ability, taught by too many fights and too loud voices that made being invisible mandatory.
The cup of tea in his hands was almost scalding and he regretted the decision to take it upstairs with him but now he couldn't exactly go back. He was almost there. Just a few more doors he had to walk by and then he reach his -
A strangled cry ripped Charles out of his thoughts and he turned to where it came from.
Erik's door.
Charles refused to use his powers on any of the other mutants without permission but he didn't even need to to feel the distress coming from the other room press down on his mind.
Another cry from the other side made Charles finally spring into action and he abandoned his cup on the nearest shelf lining the walls before opening the door.
Erik was lying in bed, thrashing and turning, legs caught up in the blanket.
Charles barely spared a thought to the varying metal items throughout the room had were hovering about a foot above any given surface.
"Erik!", Charles tried as he kneeled down next to the bed, a frown settling on his face.
Erik abruptly turned over in his sleep, grunting as he did so.
"Erik, wake up!", Charles didn't want to touch Erik when he was like this, fearing it would do more harm than good.
Another desperate sound tore from Erik's throat and Charles shook his head in determination. He wouldn't just watch his friend suffer without doing anything.
Charles put two fingers against his temple and concentrated on Erik.
Wake up, Erik, please. It's just a dream.
With a gasp, Erik shot up in bed as all the hovering things around them crashed back down.
Charles gave Erik a moment to mentally arrive where they were before speaking up, "Are you alright, Erik?"
Erik startled slightly at that, his eyes flicking over to Charles nervously.
"I'm fine," he croaked out, voice tight with sleep and emotion.
Charles didn't buy it for one minute, tilting his head sideways and crossing his arms.
"I'm fine, really," Erik repeated, not sounding any more convincing than before.
"You can tell me, Erik," Charles simply offered, "I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind. You know I won't judge you."
Erik seemed to consider him for a moment before shifting over on the bed and waving a hand at the empty space next to him.
Charles nodded and stood, moving to sit cross-legged next to Erik on the bed.
It was silent for a minute or two and Charles missed the warm tea in his hands.
"I had a bad dream," Erik finally spoke up, "Shaw was there and my parents and -"
Charles didn't rush him when Erik's voice gave out on him. Just kept listening and silently fiddling with the blanket he half-draped over his knees.
"He shot my mother."
It was jarring to hear Erik say it with so little emotion in his voice. Like he was trying to distance himself from it.
"He shot my mother and there was nothing I could do about it," Erik said.
"No there wasn't. You were a child. You should have never been forced to see that," Charles agreed, trying and failing to shield his own mind from the grief that was washing over Erik in waves.
"Shaw has to pay for what he did," Erik insisted.
"He does, but killing him is not the right way," Charles countered, swiping at his eyes when tears started to blur his vision.
There was so much rage and sadness in Erik.
"Maybe not for you."
Charles sighed. He was fighting a loosing battle in this discussion.
"I'd like to go back to sleep now," Erik said and Charles nodded.
"Good night, old friend. I hope you sleep well."