Charles had moved on. Or, was in the process of doing so at least.
Starting up the school had taken it out of him, and most days he was almost falling asleep at his desk. He tried to hold it together, for Hank, for the students, for his friends, and for himself, but honestly, when the whole thing fell to pieces it was a relief.
It was only a few weeks afterwards when the loneliness really set in. Losing Raven and Erik, Angel, Darwin, Sean… the list goes on, was hard, but he found it difficult to really grieve when he was surrounded by so many bright minds and positive thoughts. Erik had helped him so much when he was still here, but after Cuba, and then after the School failed… Charles had nobody.
He had Hank, of course, thank god for Hank. He was working on a version of the serum he took to stop all the cacophonous voices in his head, constantly whispering and reminding him of all he had lost… and hopefully help him get his legs back. After everything that had happened, he was sort of glad to be possibly losing his powers. Its not like they did him any good anyways.
He picked up the picture frame from his desk, filled with a picture of the team before Cuba. Raven and himself were in the middle, beaming with a sort of nervous excitement, while Alex, Sean, Darwin, and Angel had their arms around each other's shoulders, mid argument over what pose they should do. Hank was at the one end, mid glance at Raven, and Erik was standing slightly off to the side, staring down the camera with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Charles often found himself looking at the picture, searching for long lost comfort, and this time, like many other nights, ended up staring at Erik.
He hadn't cried over the picture in a while, and he was proud of that. But sometimes Erik's haunted face, his gorgeous eyes and pointed nose, brought him back to a time when he felt genuinely okay, and it felt like a sword through his chest.
Erik, though Charles would deny it over and over, left a universe sized hole in Charles’ life when he left. Charles would often think back to the last moments they were together, feeling slowly draining from his legs, and Erik's strong arms wrapped around his torso, holding him softly as if he might break if he squeezed too hard.
A light knock pulled Charles back from his thoughts. He could sense someone at the front door of the mansion.
It was late. Too late… who could be there at this hour?
Whoever it was knocked again a few times, before noticing the doorbell, and the short jingle rang throughout the empty house. Eventually the noise stopped, and Charles, remembering the rain that was pounding against his window, realised that he should probably let the stranger inside.
He wheeled his way down the hall and opened the large doors, immediately met with the harsh wind and splintering rain against his face. A tall figure loomed a few steps away, standing in the storm, hesitant to come undercover. They looked mildly familiar, but Charles couldn't quite put his finger on it.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “You are welcome to come inside,”
The figure, obviously startled by Charles’ voice, slowly turned around and stepped into the light.
Surely not.
Charles’ gasp ripped through the air like a bullet. The same eyes that had haunted his dreams for the past nine months stared at him, piercing him like a knife.
“…Come in, Erik,” Charles said eventually, turning around and leaving him to follow him through the doors.
Erik Lehnsherr was the last person that Charles expected to ever show his face here again. He was half tempted to slam the door in his face, but the way his wet shirt clung to him and his golden hair drooped in his eyes made him pause, a pang of sympathy shooting through him.
Charles supposed that he should be wary of Erik, especially showing up out of nowhere. It had been months. But if Erik was looking for anything, information, people, he wouldn't find it here.
Erik had sat himself down on the couch, folding in on himself as if to make himself smaller. His head rolled upwards, and he stared up at the ceiling. He was ruffled, and shivering, and… drunk?
He looked thinner, paler, and he had an air of guilt hanging around him. Charles could smell his cologne, and remembered the nights he had spent sleeping in Erik’s empty room after he had left just so he could smell it again.
“Charles, I wanted to see you.” Erik’s voice sounded just like before. Charles realised there was no reason for it to have changed. He supposed he just expected it, as the Erik in his mind after the incident in Cuba had twisted into something else entirely.
“Well obviously, who else would you be seeing here?”
“I-I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I’m here, I just-” he paused, looking down. “I was somewhere near here, a bar, maybe, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Erik, let me be straight with you. I'm already debating whether letting you inside was a wise choice, and I know that you certainly aren't here for a late night chess match, old friend, so why are you really here? Whatever you are looking for, you can look for elsewhere,” Charles said sternly, and he watched attentively as Erik's brow furrowed and a sad frown spread across his heavenly face.
“I missed you, Charles,” he muttered, flinching slightly as he did so. Erik’s smooth voice echoed through the room, and Charles had to stop himself from gravitating towards him. The edge of desperation in his voice took him slightly off guard. God, his name sounded so good in Erik's voice. But not even a charming devil like Erik and his stunning face could erase what he did.
“Missed me? Missed me?” Charles asked incredulously. “You, you, ask me to go with you and recruit mutants to fight against Shaw, tell me that you love me, hold me while I cry and make me laugh and smile for the first time really in years, play chess with me every goddamn night, put up a charade that you actually care about me, make me think that everything will all be okay, and then you decide to betray be, turn my own sister against me, paralyse me from the waist down and disappear from my life forever, and now you say that you miss me?!”
“Charles, I'm sorry, I'm-”
“No, Erik, you don't get to come back after a lifetime and think you can waltz right back into my life! I have grieved, for everyone that we lost, that I lost, because of you, and I hoped for months that you would come back, and now here you are, expecting that all is forgiven because you missed me?”
Everything, all the pent up emotion from almost a year without Erik, was coming back. Charles opened his mouth to tear into him again before spying a solemn tear making its way down Erik's cheek.
He doesn't get to cry.
“You don't get to cry. Get out,” he almost yelled. “I am not going to let you ruin everything again.”
Erik, instead of moving up from the couch, just brought his knees to his chest and started sobbing heavily, eyes pressed against his knees.
“Charles, I don't know what you want me to say. No matter how many apologies I make, I know you won't accept them.” Erik's broken voice breaking Charles’ heart a little bit more.
“Well I don't have to. Erik, stop playing the victim and get up and get out. You staying well out of my life, my house, staying in my memories, is what's best.”
Erik just sobbed harder, tumbling onto the floor and crawling over to Charles. Kneeling, he grabbed Charles’ arm and rested his forehead on his wrist, tears spilling onto the floor.
“I love you, Charles. I always have and I always will,” he mumbled in between tears, the soft words just barely reaching Charles’ ears.
Erik's mind was always messy, but tonight it felt utterly shattered. He was clearly drunk. Erik would never cry in front of Charles, even when they were closest, he would always sneak off to the bathroom and cry quietly in the shower, or wipe his tears away and carry on as if nothing was happening. Except for that one time in the garden, Charles delicate fingers pressed against his temple as he found his spot ‘between rage and serenity’, Erik had refused to let Charles know just how broken he really was.
But now, alcohol had torn down the shields Erik had kept up in his mind, and Charles could see everything. Flashes of the recruitment trip, of the pair of them sharing a glass of wine, waking up next to each other in hotel bedrooms, late night chess matches and nightmares and panic attacks and hidden kisses, soft against his neck and harsh against his lips. Split second memories of the camp - his mother, crumpling to the floor, Shaw's wicked face, images of scars and experiments and needles and pure pain, torture beyond anything Charles could imagine. The time at the beach in Cuba, Erik deflecting a bullet, realisation blooming in his eyes at what he had done, his eyes meeting Charles’ own as he held him on the sand, never wanting to let go ever again. Even flashes of Raven, leaving, and Sean being approached by a strange man, and of Erik, crying alone in the same hotel that he and Charles stayed in.
Charles withdrew his soft fingertips from Erik's temple and slowly exhaled, overwhelmed with emotion. Erik slumped against his chair, back against the wheel, and the back of his head grazing Charles’ hand.
“Erik, we can't ever exist again. This can't happen, I won't let myself do that again. The ending isn't going to change. We can't be lovers, let alone friends. I'm sorry,” Charles trailed off. “But you can stay here tonight.”
Erik lifted his head slightly. He didn't even think Charles would want to see him, let alone let him stay the night.
“Your room is as you left it. I didn't let anybody touch it. I trust you remember where it is, you are welcome to stay tonight but please, don't put me through this again and be gone by the morning.” Charles barely whispered.
Erik slowly stood up, and paused. He leaned down, pressing his lips against Charles’ forehead, just holding them there like he used to do. Charles froze, and looked up at Erik, his hair still dangling in front of his eyes. “Thank you, Charles. I'm sorry.”
Erik slowly walked away and disappeared down the hall, the smell of his cologne hanging in the air, and left him alone in the middle of the empty house.