Friend, Foe, Lover

The wind was freezing when Erik arrived at the street he had been looking for for the past ten minutes. Alex´ description of the fastest way from the college to his parent´s house had been so wrong and confusing Erik had seriously considered not showing up at all. But it was Thanksgiving, he was invited to a party with – hopefully! - plenty of food and beer, and he didn´t feel like spending the evening alone.

He double-checked the street name, rubbed his freezing hands together, and made his way down the street. It was unusually cold for November. Last night he had watched the first snowfall of the season from the warmth and security of his dorm room. By this morning, most of the snow was gone but the cold and the wind lingered.

The streetlights were so dim that Erik missed the house the first time he passed it. Once he realized his mistake, he turned around, promptly walking into someone behind him.

“Sorry,” he said instinctively while still trying to regain his balance before he realized the person he had bumped into was not a stranger.

“Hey, Erik,” Charles greeted him. He was wearing a scarf that covered half his face, together with a cap that looked a number or two too large for Charles. His fingerless gloves matched the scarf. He looked like an adorable little hobbit.

“Hey,” Erik grunted. “You´re late as usual.”

“And so are you,” Charles shot back at him without a second of hesitancy. “Alex´ description was too confusing, I got lost on the way here.”

They still bickered while making their way through the driveway. Charles rang the doorbell. It only took a few seconds for Alex Summers, the host of this little Thanksgiving party, to open the door. He looked surprised for a second and Erik briefly wondered whether or not he had misunderstood being invited but only a moment later Alex hurried them to come inside.

The sudden heat made his freezing fingers burn. Half a dozen people were chatting or clumsily dancing to some club music in the living room. They left their coats at the entrance and made their way to the Thanksgiving-themed buffet table with turkey, mashed potatoes, pie, hot dogs, and an assortment of alcoholic beverages.

Erik, who was slow to warm up to new people, opened himself a beer and watched the little party from a safe distance. Charles on the other hand immediately went to introduce himself to Alex´ younger brother Scott and his girlfriend Jean. A small smile reached Erik´s lips; Charles was only about a year or so older than Alex´ brother but he was dressed like an old man with a sweater over a dress shirt.

The food turned out to be good and the music was acceptable. After two additional drinks, Erik was starting to have fun. He watched Charles dance with Raven, followed by a dramatic duet of the two siblings singing “Carry On My Wayward Son”. Erik found himself chatting with Alex quite a bit before Raven, visibly tipsy already, interrupted them.

“Erik,” she flirted, pressing herself not so subtly against him. “Dance with me?”

“No, I don´t dance,” Erik replied calmly which was a lie but in this small circle, he felt too self-conscious to risk making a fool out of himself.

“Come on, don´t be a party pooper,” she begged, tugging on his arm.

“I told you no,” he repeated, a little less calmly this time.

Raven pouted. She looked exactly like her brother when she did that, Erik thought to himself. But finally, she went on her way, mumbling something about wanting to dance with Charles instead.

“That must have hurt,” Alex commented, giving Erik a weird side-eyed glance. “She is really into you.”

“I know.” Erik shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “But Charles wouldn´t like that.”

“Charles, eh?” Alex was still glancing at him in this way Erik did not understand. Maybe Alex was suspecting that their friendship was fake. Erik certainly hadn´t done his best to keep up the appearance. “You two have a weird relationship going on.”

“What do you mean?” Erik was about to ask but at the very same second, a tipsy Charles appeared next to him.

“Raven told me you are ruining the party.” His speech slurred just a tiny bit. Erik wondered if Charles always got so drunk that he started harassing other people or if Erik was the exception.

“I just didn´t want to dance with her,” Erik replied and stepped away from Charles who at the same time had tried to lean on Erik. This resulted in Charles losing his balance and stumbling right into Erik who in return spilled his beer all over himself and his white shirt.

“Charles!” Erik hissed, feeling the usual annoyance flare up that he felt whenever Charles was around him.

“I´m sorry,” Charles mumbled but didn´t look sorry at all.

“Bathroom´s over there,” Alex intervened before the situation would have escalated.

Erik let out a groan and quickly made his way toward the hallway. The beer had reached his jeans so he quickly took out his papers and his phone before they could get wet. He absentmindedly placed both on a dresser and entered the bathroom to clean himself.

Charles was feeling dizzy. It took him about twice as long as he had expected to make his way into the hallway. Bumping into Erik so the other man had spilled his drink upon himself had been an accident but Charles doubted Erik would believe him that.

He had finally reached the bathroom door, judging by the sound of running water to be heard inside. The door was slightly ajar and Charles peaked through only to find Erik shirtless. For a few seconds, Charles stood there dumbfounded, admiring the surprisingly muscled back of his arch-enemy before Erik noticed him.

“What?” he growled. “Do you want to spill more beer unto me?”

“No, I....” Charles swallowed, he was feeling off-balance in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Leave me alone!” Erik closed the bathroom door into Charles´ face. The next moment, the running water could be heard again.

Charles stood in the hallway, listening to the music from the living room, and Erik cursing inside the bathroom. His head was starting to spin again, he really needed to cut down on the alcohol.

While Charles was still contemplating whether to wait for Erik or to go back to the other party guests, his phone rang. He automatically reached out to grab it from the dresser right next to him. Before conscious thought had the chance to kick in and remind him that his own phone was inside his pocket and could therefore not lay on the dresser, he had already picked up.

“Hey, it´s Magda,” said a young woman. Charles didn´t get the chance to correct the mistake as the woman already continued. “I know you have been avoiding me the last few months, don´t deny it, I get it, Erik, I really do. But I really think we should talk.”

She sounded so troubled and serious that Charles, probably drunker than he´d like to admit, did not dare to interrupt her.

“Not right now, of course. I will be in the area soon if you want to meet up. I think we should. Meet up, I mean.” The woman – Magda – sounded like she was about to cry. “You don´t have to play strong and unfazed for me, Erik. I know I´m not the only one who lost her children. They were your children, too, and I know you are suffering as well.”

This was getting entirely too personal. Charles swallowed hard, his brain, usually faster and smarter than any other in the room, seemed to have shut down so he did the first thing that came to mind.

“Sorry, wrong number,” he blurted out and hung up before the woman got a chance to reply.

He felt his heartbeat in his ears, the weight of guilt was settling inside his stomach. This call was meant for Erik, this conversation about children Magda and Erik had apparently lost... Charles knew he was never meant to hear that.

The sound of the running water had stopped, so Charles dared to open the door and slip inside the bathroom. Erik was busy getting dressed again. Charles noticed Alex entering the hallway. He probably wanted to check in on his guests but Charles gestured for him to go away and closed the door behind himself.

“You again,” Erik growled, a little less unfriendly than before which only made Charles´ heart sink faster.

“I need to apologize,” he said.

“For the beer?” Erik scoffed. “You should really stop drinking so much. I don´t think you can stomach it.”

Charles really, really tried to force a smile but failed. The guilt was burning a hole into his stomach.

“No, I... I accidentally took a call that was meant for you while you were in the bathroom,” he whispered, avoiding Erik´s gaze. “From a woman named Magda. I know I should have hung up but she just kept talking about how you two needed to talk about... about your dead childre-”

Before Charles could even finish the sentence Erik had grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the door.

“Erik!”, Charles squealed but one look at the other man´s face quickly shut him up. There was an anger and sadness in Erik´s eyes Charles had never seen before. It scared him more than he´d like to admit. For an entire minute, none of them moved. Charles didn´t dare to and Erik looked like he still tried to contain his fury.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Xavier?” he finally growled, his hands still painfully digging into Charles´ shoulders.

“Erik, stop, you are hurting me!” Charles might have shrieked, fear mixed with pain.

Erik finally let go of him, sighed deeply, and hid his face in his hands.

“I can´t keep doing that. I can´t keep playing your friend just because you don´t want to tell your sister the truth.” He shook his head again, then he simply pushed Charles to the side and walked out the door.

“Erik!” Charles shouted but the other man didn´t turn around. He marched on towards the door, passing Alex who apparently had waited in the hallway for them and now gave Charles a confused look. Erik was already out of the door by the time Charles caught his breath.

“I´m so sorry, Alex,” he said to the host, “but I have to leave now. Tell Raven I will call her tomorrow.”

As Charles hurried to put on his coat, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the hallway. His face was red and a little puffy from the alcohol and the stress. He looked sweaty like he had just been sprinting. His hair was a mess like usual. No wonder Erik got so angry with him; Charles looked like the least trustworthy person on the entire block.

The freezing cold wind hit him as soon as he stepped outside. Charles glanced down the street. Erik with his long legs was already out of sight. Luckily, Charles knew how to get to the dormitory from here.

On the way, he thought about what he might say to soothe the other man but by the time he arrived at the dormitory, his mind was still blank. His hands were so cold he could barely feel his fingers and knocking on the door to Erik´s dorm room hurt.

“Go away, Charles!” Erik´s shout was heard from the other side.

“Erik, please.” Yes, Charles was begging his arch-nemesis to let him in. What a day. “I´m sorry, Erik. I promise it was an accident; I didn´t want to spy on you and your private matters.”

“Fine. Leave me alone.”

“Are you sure?” Charles pushed his luck again but he had always been naturally lucky. “You sound like you could need a friend right now.”

“We aren´t real friends, remember?”

Charles leaned his forehead against the door, trying to collect his thoughts. Erik sounded so hurt it made Charles ache from guilt and shame. He had ruined Thanksgiving for Erik, comforting him was the least he could do now.

“Can´t we pretend to be real friends just for this one night, then?” he asked. For a few seconds, everything was silent, then he heard muffled footsteps. Finally, the door was opened.

“Fine,” Erik said. “Just for tonight.” He was still wearing his coat. He took it off and hung it up next to Charles´ own coat in the small entrance.

They entered Erik´s small dorm room, equipped only with a bed, a sink, a microwave oven, and a couch with a table that served the purpose of both a dining table and a working desk. The walls were covered with bookshelves, all filled to the brim with books in at least four languages. Charles would have liked to study them further but Erik already hurried him to the couch. Half a minute later the two men were drinking cheap but strong alcohol, both staring at the wall in silence.

“Is Magda your ex-girlfriend?” Charles tentatively asked once the silence grew too uncomfortable.

“Ex-fiancée,” Erik corrected, taking another sip. He had curled up into himself on the couch like a wounded animal. “We broke up over a year ago.”

“And you two had children?” Charles saw Erik flinch at this question.

“No, not exactly.” He rolled unto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Magda was pregnant with twins. They weren´t planned but after the initial shock, we were overjoyed to have them. I used to work as a carpenter, you know, before I went to college. We moved to a bigger flat and I....” His voice broke.

Charles, heart heavy with guilt, stayed silent and motionless as to not disturb Erik and his painful memories.

“I built two cribs for them. Painted their bedroom. Child-proofed the entire household. We had already picked names for them. Pietro and Wanda.” He smiled a little at those names. “A few weeks before the due-date Magda suffered from terrible cramping, so I drove her to the hospital. The doctor told us our children were dead. That they have probably been dead for a few days already.”

Silence fell once again. Charles waited it out.

“They had to surgically remove the dead fetuses. I trashed the cribs and built to little coffins instead so we could bury them probably.” It was dark inside the dorm room since none of them had bothered to turn on the lights. But Charles would have sworn that Erik was crying. “It was strange, you know? I was mourning two people I had never met but still had loved more than anyone else already.”

“Oh Erik,” Charles whispered, feeling the tears in his own eyes. “I´m so sorry. I didn´t know.”

Erik ignored his words completely.

“After the miscarriage, everything fell apart. I went back to work and tried to go on as usual but Magda... Magda was suffering. She just stopped eating, no matter how much I cooked for her, screamed at her, begged her to eat. She had to be admitted to hospital and the last time I have seen her – over a year ago – she was undergoing intensive therapy. We barely have talked since.”

“But she called you tonight,” Charles said, only now realizing the magnitude of the problem he had caused by not hanging up immediately.

“She texts me often. I tell her again and again that there´s nothing to talk about. She won´t give up, though, giving up is just not her style.” Erik sounded bitter and at the same time full of gentle affection. Charles had never heard him talk in this way before. It was strangely endearing.

“Do you think there is nothing to talk about?” Charles asked as he refilled his glass. He needed the extra alcohol, though not as much as Erik who has drinking the stuff like water.

“I can´t talk about it, yet.” He downed another glass and frowned at the burning sensation.

“You talked about it with me,” Charles tipsily reminded him.

Erik gave him a strange look, half amused, half annoyed.

“Well, we are friends for tonight, aren´t we?” he finally said.

“Yes,” Charles replied eagerly, trying to hide his hiccup. “We are.”

Erik was drunk. He could not deny it, neither was he ashamed of the fact, since Charles was at least as drunk as himself. They had emptied the first bottle of cheap scotch but Erik managed to retrieve an unopened bottle of whiskey from somewhere in the kitchen. The alcohol burned in his throat but it was still a more pleasant sensation than the grief over his children he had never met.

“You have so many books,” Charles slurred, gesturing around. “So many languages. Why?”

“I speak a lot of languages,” Erik replied with a shrug. “German, English, Polish, Russian, Hebrew, French, Italian and Spanish to be exact. But I don´t think the last two count. Italian and Spanish are basically the same language.”

Charles giggled at that. A flush had crept on his face, lighting up his freckled cheeks. He was adorably cute how he sat there, trying to regain his composure while still giggling frantically.

“Impressive, my dear friend,” he said with the most horrible Scottish accent Erik had ever heard in his life. It was hard for him to even understand the younger man. Still better than being alone and sulking, he supposed. “So, you are a carpenter who likes – hicc – likes math and langua – hicc – languages?”

“Yes, I have been told I´m one in a million.” Erik smiled a little at Charles who for some reason was trying to take out his sweater but failed miserably.

“More like – hicc – more like one in a billion.” Charles giggled again. He had not yet managed to get out of his sweater. Erik bemusedly watched him struggle.

“You are from Europe as well. Not to mention the private boarding schools you attended. Shouldn´t you speak another language as well?”

Charles froze, one of his hands still in the air. He made a face as if it was very hard for him to concentrate.

“No, not – hicc – really,” he finally said. “Unless you count Latin as a language, I guess.”

He picked up his fight against his sweater again and this time Erik leaned over to help him. Charles started to giggle again but managed to get rid of his stubborn clothing. He proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt.

“You could – hicc – at least buy me dinner first, Erik, before you take off my – hicc – clothes.”

Erik groaned and returned to his spot on the couch. Luckily, Charles abandoned his quest to undress in front of Erik, but he continued giggling. Still cute.

“You are one in a million as well, Charles,” he shot back but there was no fire behind his words. Right now, and God knew he wouldn´t admit it, Erik was happy to have Charles here. He didn´t want to get drunk all on his own again.

“Hmmm, where have I heard that before?” Charles said. “You – hicc – you know, if I had a penny for every time a bloke – hicc – told me – hicc – he would date if I were a woman I´d have two pennies. This – hicc – is not a lot of pennies but it is weird it has happened twice. Hicc.”

Erik rolled his eyes.

“I would date you if you weren´t so godawfully annoying, Xavier!”

Charles laughed at that but Erik meant it. Charles was cute, pretty even, with his blue eyes, soft, beardless face, pink lips, and small stature. With his wit and his smile and his brains and his charisma. And with his ability to see right through everyone while still retaining his ability to find something good, something likable.

“I´m – hicc – I´m sorry, Erik.” Now he looked at Erik with said blue eyes like a little cat. “I was unfair towards you. You just – hicc – wanted to play chess and I came and ruined everything for you. I´m sorry. I´d date you, too.”

They might have both been drunk out of their minds but even through the fog of alcohol, Erik realized the apology was genuine. It was unsettling after their months-long feud.

“I think it´s time to go to bed,” he replied, turning his gaze away. “You can sleep on the couch.”

Luckily, Charles didn´t object. He took off his pants (and his socks for some reason), grabbed a blanket, and went to sleep within 45 seconds. Erik on the other hand laid awake for quite some time, rehearsing those words again and again in his mind.

Impressive, my dear friend.

More like one in a billion.

I´m sorry. I´d date you, too.