Erik gasped. This wasn't real, none of this was real. It wasn't real, the way that Charles lay dead beside him on the floor. How he lay crippled and bloody, chest carved open with a metal pipe. It wasn't real, the way Raven and Hank, Jean, Scott, Peter - his own son, dead around him. And all killed by his hand, his bloody hand. Metal scrapes that were lodged deep into their flesh.
He choked back a sob, looking at all these people he cared about, that he loved. He looked from Jean to Peter to Charles to Scott to Charles to Peter to Charles and Charles. Until that's all he stared at. He weakly struggled to his feet. Wet hot tears burning down his face, pained gasps escaping him.
"You're a monster." The horrid voice came, an evil chuckle edging it. "Just look at what you did, to your friends, to your Charles." It sneered.
And Erik turned, broken sobs escaping his lips as he was met with Shaw. That disgusting face that stared at him. That laughed at him. That mocked him. He looked happy, over joyed that all these people were dead, that Erik was broken and bloody. That Erik was the murderer.
"N-no, I-"
Shaw cut his weak attempt of speaking off, "I told you, from the moment I met you, you were a weapon. A monster." He grinned, "You even killed your own mother. And now," He looked past Erik to a dead body behind him, "You've killed your Charles."
Erik sniffled, trembling. "I- I didn't kill my m-mother-"
"Yes, you did. Erik you're a murderer."
"S-stop-"
Erik didn't know how he got to trembling feet and weakened knees, but all at once he was on his knees again, crying like a child. He never felt more broken and helpless and scared. Shaw walked closer, and Erik caught scent of that disgusting cologne he wore. But he couldn't even fight it as Shaw lifted his chin to force him to look up. How could Erik become this?
Some bloody murderer on his knees, infront of this mad man that controlled him. Like he was an animal. He couldn't even fight it, his heart hurt too much, he could only cry.
“Charles was wrong,” Shaw said lowly, chuckling. “Humans never could understand us mutants. And now you’re weak.” He seethed.
Erik whimpered, a tear falling down his face.
“You listened to him, you’ve lost your opportunity and the humans have used you to kill all your friends.” Shaw grabbed Erik’s jaw roughly, forcing the other to turn and see all the bodies.
And Erik knew, he knew he was weak now. He was liquid smooth, he had softened for his friends…for Charles. He choked out a sob.
His friends, family, love, dead dead dead dead.
Shaw was right, Erik thought. He was right, Erik was a murderer. He had softened for the X-Men and now they lay dead. They were the weak ones, that had tricked him, that had-
“-Charles was always a fool. Finally he gets the death he deserves.”
Silence.
Suddenly Eriks jaw tightened, his head went quiet. His heart stopped. His tears stopped and all the sadness all washed away. It was replaced by something all to recognizable.
Rage.
“Excuse me?”
Shaws eyebrow raised, and he turned Erik’s jaw to look back at him. “Hm-“
“Don’t.” Erik growled lowly, his gaze down. He could feel it, that animistic rage burning through his chest. It clawed out his insides.
How dare he mention Charles. How dare he call him foolish. That was his breaking point.
“Don’t,” Erik seethed, “Ever mention Charles.” He looked up, eyes disgustingly watering. “You’re a tool, Cause you'd let anybody with a body control you. You got me feeling like I been too mean.” He spat.
And slowly he rose from his knees, Shaws eyes slightly widening as Erik grabbed the others wrist, iron steel grip as he cracked it off his face.
He spoke through gritted teeth, “Every day I choose to be kind.” He pushed Shaw down to his knees now, roles reversed. And barely restraining himself from violence. “I choose to have compassion.” He was tempting down all the vicious bloodlust in him. “I choose to care and to be kind and to love.”
His eyes watered, hot wet tears and seething raged,. It mixed with his burning passion, and as Shaws eyes were wide in disbelief, his head snapped in two as Erik took it.
And the exact moment he cracked that vile man’s head, his eyes shot open.
“Erik.” Charles’s voice came bitter soft. “Hey, breath, its just a dream.”
Erik blinked. He was in his bed, in his and Charles bed. He was not dead. He was not bloody nor crying. He was safe and warm.
He turned, breath shaky as he looked at the beautiful boy next to him. “Charles…” he mumbled in slight disbelief. And then he exhaled in great relief.
“I love you.”