If I were a good man, I'd talk with you, more often than I do

‘So… that’s what has been troubling you lately,’ uttered Charles slowly, ‘you fear that Peter might end up going down the same destiny?’

Erik let out a weary sigh, ‘Worse. I fear that I may be the one to push him down to this road.’

He made no bones about telling him what he saw in the dreams, save the last part where he found himself having his own son’s blood on his hands and watched him dying in his arms. Though he had no doubt that Charles might find about this sooner or later — this was what he loved most about being friends with a telepath. On the other hand, however, he hated just as much as he loved it. Being around a telepath meant no secrets and Erik, morally indifferent as he was, nonetheless still drew a line and there were things legally unacceptable even by his standard that he’d rather keep it to himself.

Being his own son’s murderer, for instance, was undoubtedly among them. A mere thought of it was equal to the nastiest sin the world had ever seen, let alone hearing it from his own lips. Erik would rather the secret remain a secret.

He gazed dreamily into the bright flames blazing in the fireplace, half wishing that his dark secret would burn along with those blackened logs, leaving no trace but ashes behind. But he figured there might be a better way to find his inner peace. Harder, it was, but practical, as long as he could work out how to come to terms with his unrelenting thoughts.

Realization kicked in as his eyes roved back to the man sitting opposite him, who struck a pose of thoughtful composure. Charles’ shrewd blue eyes were intently studying him, which sent an onrush of trepidation down to his spine.

‘Have you come up with anything useful?’ Erik muttered evasively, fidgeting a bit in his armchair to mask his uneasiness.

Charles simply shrugged before lowering his eyes to deal with the tedious essay he was working on before. ‘You know,’ he began, his eyes still on the sheet of paper in front him, ‘Raven told me the kids are going to downtown this weekend. I’m thinking, well, maybe you should go along.’ He suggested.

‘I don’t see how this will work.’ Erik said bluntly, ‘A trip to downtown would help me get rid of my nightmares, seriously? You are talking nonsense, Charles.’

‘I’m just saying that you should have more confidence in him.’ Charles explained patiently, ‘Peter’s a grownup. You don’t need to take him under your wing 24 hours day and night. If you have doubt then figure it out yourself. Go along with them, and see how he handles everything. I’m pretty sure it’ll bring a look of surprise to your face at some point.’

Erik lapsed into a thoughtful silence to give himself the required time and peace to ponder over his words. At last he nodded.

He bade Charles goodnight before leaving the study, but he didn’t hasten to go upstairs. The faint light escaped the chink of the kitchen door caught his eyes and made him stop. He didn’t need telepathy to figure out who it was that was busying himself behind that closed door. Erik didn’t think he knew another guy who would drag himself out of bed to cook for himself at 3 in the morning.

He gently pushed the door open and eased himself into the room, although he didn’t actually need to. The heavy rumble of the kitchen hood obscured his footsteps, which allowed him to walk to the far corner and observe his son bustling around without being noticed. Erik’s thin lips tugged into a smile which was even unbeknownst to himself, while the pleasant smell of cooked pasta gave it one more reason for that smile to linger in between his lips longer than he expected.

The kitchen hood stopped roaring as Peter started pouring the contents into a serving dish in a deft move. Pivoting around, he found himself look straight into Erik’s brooding green eyes. A hint of surprise flickered across his face, but only lasted for a split second. Unlike before, when their relationship was yet to disclose, while he was around peter always acted jittery and not himself and ended up escaping with a mess of broken plates, as though Erik were some kind of bloodthirsty animal and peter was running for his dear life.

This time, the plate was held in his secure hands. Nothing broke, not a drop was spilled. Peter found it all amusing. A mischievous grin curved his lips, nevertheless, he shrugged it off and quickly turned around to fetch another plate from the cupboard, poured half of the contents into it and beckoned to Erik to join him at the table.

‘Trust me, it won’t taste as bad as it looks.’ Peter laughed, passing a fork to him.

Erik quirked an eyebrow at this. He quickly scanned the contents, ‘Creamy mushroom pasta?’ asked Erik, stirring it slowly. He was never a fan of anything involving mushroom but he was careful not to lay bare his disliking after he got an affirmative answer from Peter, who now sat down next to him.

‘It never comes to me that you are actually a good cook.’ Erik murmured, swallowing down a mouthful of creamy pasta. At his admiration, whether genuine or not, Peter snorted a laugh.

‘I’m not. I bought it from Aldi, in a freezer with meals ready in 10mins written on it.’ Peter explained in muffled mumbles, while absentmindedly munching on mushrooms, ‘I just turned on the hob and poured everything into the frying pan and ta-da, wonderful meals served.’ He grimaced, ‘I’m bad at cooking, but I excel at following instructions.’ He later added as an afterthought.

Erik’s deadpan face finally gave away, cracking a barely noticeable smile. Sometimes he found it hard to figure out whether Peter actually meant it or just made it in jest when he said something that was obviously the opposite of a known fact. But either way it was quite entertaining, which was exactly what his life was short of.

‘You like it?’ Peter cast an inquiring look at him, giving his plate a gentle tap with his fork. Erik nodded. But it quickly came to him that they might not on the same wavelength which meant he might accidentally agree with something he would disagree in any other case. However, he had no intention to correct himself.

‘Cool.’ He didn’t sound entirely genuine, but the stifled surprise was already swallowed down with the rest of the contents in his mouth before Erik could question it. He quickly finished the remains and cleaned up the table, the dirty dishes and forks neatly stacked in the sink. In the splashing of the running water Peter opened his mouth again,

‘On an unrelated note, why are you up at this wee hour?’

‘Well, aren’t we up for the same reason?’ Erik heaved a sigh, ‘Can’t sleep.’

‘But I have hypermetabolism as an excuse.’ Peter pointed out, ‘What’s yours then? Don’t tell me it’s something runs in our wicked genes.’ said him with a hint of sarcasm, which earned himself a look of disapproval. Peter simply laughed it off as he turned off the faucet and put the clean dishes and cutlery back into the cupboard. Two seconds later he joined Erik once again at the table with two bottles of cola that he just scooped out of the fridge, which were still giving off chills. Peter uncapped both bottles neatly.

‘Nightmares?’ he hazarded a guess, pushing the bottle towards Erik, watching it slowly skid to a halt and safely handed to Erik’s firm grasp before taking a swig from his own bottle.

Silence. Still, cold, deathly. Silence never sat well with Peter, even if it was a pregnant silence where everyone involved was actually quietly screaming.

‘Your neighbor’s snoring?’ Peter asked innocently after gurgling down another mouthful. Erik’s stone-carved face finally gave away as a hint of amusement flickered.

‘Nonsense.’ He snorted, taking a large gulp from his bottle.  

‘Then nightmare it is.’ asserted Peter, leaving no room for him to disagree.

Erik had no intention to retort or argue with him so he shrugged evasively instead.

‘I know that’s a yes.’

It hit Erik totally unexpected. ‘How do you know?’

‘Intuition.’ Peter smiled complacently. He tried to play it cool but decided to elaborate a little on seeing Erik quirk his eyebrow in disagreement, ‘Well, since we are related I guess we act the same under certain circumstances. I also do that funny slight asymmetric shrug when I try to, well, you know—’

‘Agree with something you intend to negate in the first place.’ Erik finished his words with a resigned sigh.

‘Body acts a step ahead of mind.’ concluded Peter at last, draining the remainders of the cola in one gulp, exhaling a lungful of air satisfyingly and adjusting the position a trifle to make himself more comfortable sprawling in the armchair while letting his unhinged thoughts run wild.

‘What did you see in your dreams?’ Peter began moments later.

For a split second the grip on the icy bottle became harder. If it were someone’s neck he would already choke under Erik’s tight clutch. The coldness seeping into the skin brought him back to that blood-curdling scene, where he fell on his trembling knees, vision blurred by tears and stained with blood from head to toe. In his weak arms was his son. Cold, dead, like a clock that stopped ticking. The obverse of everything he displayed in his everyday life.

Erik let loose of the bottle as the coldness started to sting. He didn’t know for how long he had been zoned out but as soon as he recovered the first thing he found out was that Peter was studying him with a meaningful look, attempting to find the answer from the slight changes of his facial expressions, which was a red alert. Erik felt his back instantly coated with a film of cold sweat.

‘It’s none of your business.’ said Erik, faking a stern face while chugging the rest in the bottle to gulp back his panic.

Peter snorted, ‘Right, not my business. It would be if I were a telepath or some dream hunter.’ The sharp sarcasm in his voice couldn’t be more conspicuous. ‘It’s not like I don’t have a way to extract what you are trying to hold back. I also have a telepathic friend, you know.’

‘Peter, don’t—’

‘I’m positive that Jean will gladly lend a hand—’

A heavy thump cut in on him. ‘Don’t do that!’ hissed Erik through gritted teeth.

Peter froze. Looking up, he found Erik twisting his head sideways to avoid his quizzical look. His hand clenched into a fist and the thunderous expression on his face, even though Peter could only make out an obscure profile against the dim light, was clear as day. His trembling lips were a screamingly obvious betrayal. The disquiet was pungent in the air no matter how hard he tried to keep it under skin.

For a long while Peter just stared at him in gloomy silence, as though he was studying an enigma he could in no way crack. Both sides refused to bow down as the tension continued to mount, until Peter quit resisting and chose to surrender when he couldn’t stand this eerie silence anymore, calling it quits with a simple ‘okay’ and later adding ‘if you prefer keeping it to yourself then so be it. I won’t push if you don’t want to talk about it.’

On being promised, Erik’s taut nerves relaxed a slight bit while he slowly found his breathing rhythms back. But he had only enjoyed the ease for the merest fraction of a moment as Peter began once again, still taking on an air of indifference yet he sounded somewhat satirical.

‘It’s weird, you know.’ He snorted nonchalantly, playing with a rubber band he just conjured out of thin air, ‘Cause I remember, the first thing Raven taught us in the training session was the importance of being honest with the teammates. Without honesty there’s no trust and without trust there’s no unity. Just a loose bond that could be easily broken from the inside.’

Following a crispy crack the rubber band was ripped apart from the middle, falling down through his fingers and now lying lifelessly on the table, the similitude to a dead snake. He heaved a sigh and tossed the broken rubber band into the trash bin, inexplicably breaking into a laugh at his throwing accuracy. ‘Didn’t expect myself to have a talent for basketball.’ He murmured under his breath.

‘Don’t take it as something personal against you.’ Erik whispered softly, ‘I lied to many people in my life. Charles, Raven, my parents, comrades of the Brotherhood…’ he gazed vacantly into the distance, ‘You are not the first and certainly won’t be the last.’

‘I’m not here listening to your confession.’ Peter interrupted. He then allowed himself a brief pause to organize his chaotic thoughts before plowing on, ‘Bloodline can be a real asshole, you know. For years I believed that I’m everything you chose not to be and vice versa but hell, if there’s anything I’ve learned from these days of living together it’s that there’s a huge part in us that overlaps. Even a blind idiot like me could see it.’

For once Erik saw Charles’ point of reiterating Peter being a grownup instead of a 5-year-old. The immense charity of a father gave way to the grave solemnity as it started to kindle quietly in his eyes. Erik surveyed him in a brand new way he had never taken before, and asked in a gentle voice, ‘What are you trying to hide?’

‘I’ll certainly not hand out my secret on a silver platter unless you give me yours in exchange.’ Peter fought back without a moment of hesitation.

‘So much for our small talk I assume.’ Erik concluded after silent intervals.

Peter made no retort. He quietly stood up, cleaned up the table and after cleaning it inside out and filling it with water he moved the bottle to the window ledge, where several glass bottles stood in a row. Ororo came up with the idea of using the recycled bottle as a vase to grow flowers and later everyone gladly joined. After a second of contemplation Peter picked up a full-blooming white gardenia, liberating it from the twisted twigs of a bunch of forget-me-not and carefully placing it in this new-joiner.

‘It’s different, you know.’ Peter suddenly blurted, unseeingly stroking the petals that felt silky smooth, ‘I asked Santa for a father, not some kind of pal with whom to sit together drinking cola at night. Not that it’s anything bad. It’s pretty cool, really. I’m not complaining but, well, it’s still different.’

‘I know.’

‘Good. Cause I thought you didn’t.’ he reacted bluntly and instantly regretted it. However, the guilty look didn’t last long on his face. If he had ever thought about apologizing before it certainly would feel like such a surreal whim right now when he found Erik sitting undisturbed, as unmoved as he ever be.

‘I’m going to sleep.’ said Peter briefly, turning around, sparing no more looks on Erik as he made for the door.

‘Sweet dreams.’

Peter came to an abrupt halt by the door at Erik’s soft voice. After several seconds of carefully thinking, he went on,’ I usually plug in earphones when I can’t sleep. Maybe you should try.’

Erik found it hard to suppress a chuckle, ‘You play heavy metal to rock yourself to sleep?’

‘I play heavy metal to rock the thoughts out of my head.’

Erik nodded. A brief moment later he heard the gentle kick as the latch dropped back to its position. Silence once again reigned this place.

Sighing, he slowly sprang to his numb feet, limping to the sink, the empty bottle in his hand. He carefully cleaned it before placing it on the ledge as Peter did. Erik studied it intellectually, thinking about how its emptiness didn’t fit in. He didn’t dwell on it though, while gazing out of the window, thoughts wandering to the vista of vast chunks of green that lay on the plum horizon, his mind sheered to a different course, as it suddenly crossed his mind that he was supposed to ask Peter about their weekend getaway in downtown. He had totally thrown it to the back of his head.

Another golden chance slipping through my fingers. Erik told himself, not surprised at all.

His brooding eyes at last roamed back on the flowers blooming flamboyantly on the window ledge. After a quick surveying look he made no hesitation picking up a hydrangea from an overfilled bottle and stowing it in his own. Now it no longer stood out under the sheltering petals of this new resident.

Five minutes later the mansion crawled back to peace. Not a single kick of heels. Not a shaft of light. The mansion was as soundly asleep as its every dweller.

Save for one, though, who was arguing internally in a rather loud manner.

While lying on the bed twiddling his thumbs, Erik inwardly argued that to coop himself up in his room sitting around for the weekend might not actually be a bad idea. It was, on the contrary, perfectly valid. If the only way to steer his son away from a path of danger is by keeping him away from him, then Erik would by all means spare no effort to push him as faraway as possible.

Bad idea, Erik. A voice busted in his head at this untimely moment. Erik furrowed his eyebrow with much displeasure.

Stop prying, Charles.

I did not. You are projecting your thoughts very loudly.

My apology.

Giving vent to an exhausted sigh, Erik turned over in bed, in hope that his restless thoughts would go easy on him. But they kept chasing after him. After several attempts his head was still crowded with clamoring thoughts.

It was then that Peter’s words rang in his head. Tilting his head, Erik effortlessly singled out the yellow-painted Walkman among the shambles on the nightstand, which Peter, in his own words, gladly lent to him.

Erik had no shred of hope that this would actually work, yet he still plugged it in and put on the earphones. He was too worn-out to choose a preferred song from the playlist so he simply played it from where it ended last time, having no idea where it would lead him.

He slowly relaxed in a soothing voice that repeatedly sang about ‘what if…’, amazed to find out that the soft melody rocked him to a peaceful world where his whole body was light, as though he had been floating in the air. He remained adrift as the singer whispered in his ears.

‘If I were a good man, I’d talk with you, more often than I do.’

‘Unfortunately I’m not’ was his last response to the whisper of the singer before drifting into a dreamless slumber.