It was a bad night, as so many nights seemed to be as of late.
Erik wasn’t sure what had started it all. For so many years, he had been able to beat down his nightmares, suffocate them in the depths of his mind so that they couldn’t hurt him. But for the past few weeks, it was almost every night that he was torn from sleep, the horrors of his past fresh in his mind as his chest heaved in the dark of his room. He’d wait hours until the sun rose to fall back asleep, the light helping to ease his mind back to sleep.
But tonight was different.
He’d bolted upright with a shout, strained huffs falling from his mouth as he tried to regain his bearings in the pitch black. The terrors from his subconscious flashed against the black surrounding him, memories that he had tried so hard to snuff out terrorizing his mind.
It had taken him what felt like an eternity to finally slow his breathing-not necessarily to normal pace, but definitely slower- but the visions refused to fade, and so his tears refused to cease, salty dampness accumulating on the hem of his shirt.They fell numbly as Erik stared at nothing, gripping the covers in his fists tightly as he tried to ground himself.
He did what he did every other night this happened: Deep breaths, in through the nose out through the mouth, blinking forcefully, pinching his skin, but it had agonizingly little effect.
And then an idea popped into his head, one that he was too rattled to immediately dismiss.
Cursing his own weakness, he kicked off his covers and stood up, feeling blindly on the ground for a pair of pants. Eventually, his foot kicked a soft fabric, something Erik recognized as his black sweats. Pulling them on over his boxers, he stumbled to his bedroom door, wincing at every creak of the old wood floors beneath him.
The school-house was terribly confusing to navigate in the dark, Erik found, especially when the happenings of his nightmare haunted him so closely. Every few strides a certain image would flash in his mind and he’d have to stop to keep himself from breaking down right in the corridor. He managed his way through the halls, swearing whenever he bumped into the various furniture placed around the vast estate.
In time, his muscle memory told him to slow, and he then spent a few moments squinting in the now moonlit hall, trying to read the numbers on each door he passed.
Finally, he found the one he was looking for.
He hesitated, his breath halting as his hand hovered over the old metal handle. The journey to the room itself had calmed him down considerably, would it really be necessary to wake someone else up just because he couldn’t deal? But, before he could decide whether to back out or continue, the door before him swung open with a subtle creak.
“You’re not as stealthy as you think yourself to be, Erik,” Charles’ voice was groggy, and his eyes were barely open as he peered at Erik. A pang of regret coursed through him, but he swallowed it and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to wake you I just…” He trailed off, unsure of how to put his question into words.
“Well don’t just stand there, come in before you wake the rest of the house,” Charles said firmly, the concern in his voice well hidden beneath the tease. Erik walked in awkwardly, closing the door softly behind him as Charles clicked on the lamp next to his bed. He looked back at Erik, gesturing to the chair to the side of his nightstand when Erik didn’t move.
Erik sat gingerly, his fists clenched in a mixture of embarrassment and lingering fear. Charles regarded him as he sat smoothly down on his bed, his posture relaxed as weariness surely clung to his limbs. They sat in silence for a moment, each waiting for the other to speak, until Erik broke the quiet.
“I had a nightmare,” He said quickly, cringing at how weak he sounded.
“Well I figured it was something of the like,” Charles confirmed. “You don’t seem the type for midnight chat-ups.” Though lighthearted, Erik couldn’t quite muster a smile for the quip. He averted his gaze as he took a few more calming breaths, the hammering of his heart nearly reaching his throat, worsened by the vulnerability of the moment.
“I was wondering if you could um, y’know,” He gestured vaguely to his head, his eyes still on anything but Charles.
“You want me to force the memories down? Or bring something calming to the surface? The finger to head motion isn’t a very direct way of telling me what you need, Erik,” Charles said, his voice humorous.
“I just want to be able to sleep,” Erik said brokenly, startling himself with how exhausted his tone was. “I can’t- nothing I do stops the nightmares anymore, nothing I do gets the memories to go away and I’m just- I’m tired Charles.” He looked up, his eyes meeting with Charles’. Whatever humor he had held before was gone, his face now drawn in a surprisingly distressed expression.
Erik dropped his head, holding it in his hands as a few tears slipped from his eyes. He felt disgusted with himself. Decades had passed and he still couldn’t let go of the things that happened to him. How weak. How stupid-
There was a pressure on his shoulder.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block the tears, holding his breath so that his shoulders wouldn’t heave. Charles must think him so pitiable, sitting in his room in the dead of night, unable to get his own mind under control.
“Stop that,” Charles’ voice chided from above him, his hand gripping tighter on his shoulder. “You’re not weak, Erik, you’re not broken. I don’t think any less of you for coming to me.” The words washed over him, and Erik hesitantly allowed them to soothe his worries.
“I thought you weren’t going to read my mind anymore,” Erik rasped, a breathy laugh escaping him as he relaxed.
“I didn’t need to read your mind for that observation,” Charles said plainly, squatting down to be on his level. His lips were pursed as he scanned Erik’s face. “What can I do, Erik, what do you need from me?” He asked, and Erik took a moment to think. Charles didn’t rush him, didn’t fill the silence with suggestions, he let Erik consider the question for as long as he needed.
“Maybe just something sweet for tonight?” Erik eventually decided. He didn’t want to push anything down and just be left feeling empty, he wanted something positive to overpower what he was feeling now. Charles nodded, reaching up to place his fingers on Erik’s temples. He pushed with a very gentle pressure, and they both closed their eyes.
At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the pain clutching him seemed to fade as if it was being washed away with a gentle purity that came into focus as the seconds stretched on.
It was his 8th birthday. His family surrounded him as he giddily tore into the small present in his lap. His mothers hand rested on his head as he beamed at what was produced from the faded blue wrapping. A small silver watch. And it looked to be brand new, as it glowed brighter than anything else in their living room, even with the shiny haze surrounding the memory. He looked up at his mother, ecstatic. Her face was warm, and her hand slipped down under his chin.
“So you can always count the seconds since you’ve last kissed your mother, my leibling,” She said cheekily, pinching his chin affectionately. He jumped from the chair, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and she caught him with a hearty laugh. He planted a firm kiss on her cheek, and pulled back to see her smiling wide.
“One, two, three, four…”
The memory faded, but the pure joy it elicited remained, all pain from before merely a dim echo. He opened his eyes, unsurprised to find a new wetness to his cheeks. This one he savored, though, feeling his chin where his mother had pinched him.
Charles’ eyes opened slowly before him, a few tears collected in the corner of his eyes as well.
“What a beautiful memory, Erik,” He whispered, and Erik nodded, dropping his hand heavily down onto his lap, suddenly overcome with the tiredness that his adrenaline from before had masked. He went to stand, but stumbled, almost careening straight into Charles’ as the man stood with him. Two firm hands steadied him.
“Woah there,” Charles’ laugh was as sweet as his memory. “Now you’ll really wake the whole house if you try to leave.” Erik furrowed his brows in confusion.
“Well, the chair is nice, but I don’t know if I could comfortably sleep there…” He trailed off as further humor lit in Charles’ eyes.
“Not the chair you dolt,” He gestured with his head to the bed, and even in his weary state, Erik didn’t miss the pink that deepened in Charles’ cheeks. “It’s really much too big for me, if you haven’t noticed I’m a tad vertically challenged, so you’d have plenty of room” He said sheepishly. They stood there for a moment, Charles gazing at Erik, waiting, and Erik gazing at the bed, wanting nothing more than to fall onto the soft mattress, wrap himself in the patterned duvet, and fall unconscious.
So that’s what he did. He grunted at Charles, walked two feet over to the bed, and then promptly fell onto it, pulling the covers over him sluggishly. Charles laughed once more, leaning to turn off his lamp before gingerly following Erik onto the bed, carefully keeping a respectable distance between them.
Erik spent a moment contemplating, then decided that the consequence of what he was about to do was Morning Erik’s problem.
He reached for Charles’ arm, giving a pleased hum when he found it, and then drew it up to his chest slowly, giving Charles plenty of time to pull away. He didn’t.
A sleepy grin spread across his face, the pressure of Charles’ hand grounding him to the bed, so even if his nightmares tried to come for him again, he would wake and find someone there who cared about him, holding him tight.