Prologue
Charles was nine when he found his mother, her taffeta dress stained with red wine and lipstick smeared across her cheeks. She looked up at him and let out a broken sob, screwing her eyes shut because she couldn’t bear the sight of him. Not since the voices started, not since he stopped being cute and started being something alien instead. Charles shook his head, because mama shouldn’t be sad, and especially not about him . Charles leaned in and pressed two fingers against her temples, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing except that he knew she’ll love him more if she forgot he made her sad. His mother’s face went blank for a second, and then she smiled at him like he was her darling boy again and carried him to bed.
Three days later he started hearing voices again and she stopped loving him for good, but for a little while he had his mother back, and that was what mattered.
*****
By the time he was twelve, Charles understood what he’d done and what he was, why his mother was terrified by him. He’d learned to get by on his own, the hallways quiet and his only company the voices in the back of his mind. Then a little blue girl walked into his kitchen and his life changed forever. They tried hiding Raven in different rooms and closets for the first few days, but there were far too many close calls. Charles didn’t want to lose her, because she was like him, she was his friend, and he … he didn’t have any friends. He never had. Raven grabbed his hand and tugged on it when he put his fingers to his temple with a determined look on his face. “Charles, what if it doesn’t work?”
“Don’t worry Raven, I’m quite good.” Charles promised with a grin Erik would later call smug, wiggling his fingers back and forth until she laughed. He didn’t tell her about how he wasn’t, not really, how he couldn’t figure out how to stop Kurt from hurting him or to make his mother love him again. That didn’t matter. He would be good enough to do this, because he had to be. There was no other choice. So, he made his mother and step-father remember taking in a little girl for publicity, one they mostly ignored and Kurt in particular never came near. It was as simple as that, even if he had a headache and a bloody nose for days after. And if sometimes one of them stared at Raven blankly or at Charles in horror, it always passed. It didn’t matter, anyway. Raven was safe and Charles wasn’t alone anymore.
****
Charles was accepted at Oxford shortly before he turned eighteen, and he remembered taking Raven by the hands and dancing down the hallway, spinning her in circles until they’re both dizzy. They collapsed against his mother’s chaise, Raven’s laugh ringing out, warm and contagious. Charles smiled a little too widely, and then he’d felt Kurt’s rage, hot and curdled, enter the house and his laughter stopped.
He remembered Kurt coming upstairs, his entire frame shaking with a disgusted sort of rage, and Charles was too drunk on his mother’s wine to think to stop him. Kurt pulled him to his feet by his collar, and then that same hand was wrapped around his neck and squeezing so Charles couldn’t get any air. Kurt let go just as suddenly, Charles crumpling to the floor so that his wine spilled out across the floor and down his shirt, and he wondered idly if he looked like his mother did nine years ago.
Kurt leaned over and took Charles’ jaw in his hand roughly, gaze glassy and skin flushed red with alcohol. His lips were pursed, and for a second Charles thought he might say something, but instead he backhanded Charles, so sharp and sudden that Charles ended up skidding across the floor. Charles didn’t have time to catch his breath before Kurt hauled him to his feet again, roughly grabbing his shoulders, and Charles suspected every inch of him would be bruised tomorrow. Kurt’s breath smelled like stale beer and vodka, and this time he kneed Charles in the gut, and he wondered idly if he should be thankful for the variety.
Raven lunged at Kurt then, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind and desperately tugging him backwards. Her eyes glowed yellow from the strain, and she managed to knock Kurt off balance long enough for Charles to scramble backwards, one hand wrapping around his rib cage and feeling for damage. Two of them were broken and -
Kurt choked Raven, both his hands grasping her throat and Charles felt like he was moving in slow motion as he watched her struggle, legs kicking out uselessly and skin turning an icy shade of blue. He felt rage and fear surge through him at the same, hands shaking as he tried to stand up, vision blurring slightly and then focusing on Raven and how her bright light in the back of his mind was fading, at the way Kurt looked at her like she was a monster, and then he pressed two fingers to his temple and -
The next thing Charles knew he was sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket, Raven’s arms wrapped around him as she whispered that he hadn’t done anything wrong into his hair. He didn’t remember how they got here or what happened, why Kurt was laid out on the floor in front of them and not breathing. Charles stared over at his body, skin grey and the life gone out of his eyes. He didn’t seem so big like that.
Medical staff came at some point and Charles heard himself tell them that Kurt had come home drunk and upset, that he’d just collapsed suddenly and without warning, that he’d hit his head on the way down. Charles talked and talked and Raven nodded along to everything he said, her own gaze distant and nervous while the police took down their notes. They took the body and Charles suspected he told them they could burn it, but he couldn’t be sure. When they were so far gone Charles couldn’t feel their minds anymore, Raven linked her arms through his, her smile weak and expression nervous. “Are you okay? With what we told them?”
“We told the truth.” Charles murmured as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, smiling crookedly when the strands turned from gold to a fiery red in his fingers. She stared at him for a few seconds, and then her face crumpled, something tortured in her gaze even as she pulled him into a tight hug and murmured “all right” into his hair. They didn’t discuss Kurt again after that.
******
Charles' life changed for a second time about a decade or so later, when he dived into the water and found Erik there. Erik, who was righteous in his anger and braver than any man Charles had ever met, cold and taciturn at times and passionate and overprotective at others, whose mind was so beautiful and overwhelming he thought he might drown in it. Charles suspected he fell in love with Erik the moment he felt him in the water, when he saw all those beautiful contradictions weave together to make the greatest man Charles had ever met. He didn’t remember who made the first move, but he remembered the way Erik felt against him the first time they kissed, lips chapped and hands tugging on his hair insistently. Charles remembered pushing Erik down against the stiff hotel sheets, how his laughter vibrated across the room and through both their minds.
After that night, Charles and Erik spent nearly every night together, Erik sneaking into his room after chess matches and moral debates, sometimes still arguing even as they learned the lines and rhythms of each other’s bodies. Erik always woke up first, pressing a kiss to whatever skin he could reach and leaving before the sun rose. Charles wondered idly what it would be like if he stayed, if he woke up to see sunlight creating shadows across the expanse of Erik’s back. He never voiced those thoughts, never dared look to see if Erik wanted the same thing, even as he let him flip through the rest of his surface thoughts like a picture book.
Charles didn’t want to ruin what they had, not when he’d never felt this way about anyone before, invigorated every time Erik proved him wrong, delighted by the way he tapped his fingers when he read, how he counted the freckles on his shoulders with something akin to reverence. Hell, Charles was even charmed by the way Erik complained, tone sardonic and gaze short as he complained about the latest fight to break out between the children, something to do with Sean’s decision to play Buddy Holly at 5:00 AM in the morning. Charles just laughed it off, smiling softly when Erik grunted and pressed several kisses down his spine. “How can you stay so calm all the time?”
“Benefits of being a telepath. I only feel what I want to feel.” Charles told him with a rather smug grin, stretching out across the bed and humming contentedly. He stopped when Erik’s mouth suddenly left his skin, and he looked over his shoulder to find Erik watching him with an even expression that never meant anything good. Charles flipped around, crossing his legs underneath him so that the sheets pooled around his waist. He met Erik’s gaze and reached a hand out, gently brushing a hand against his shoulder. “Erik? What’s the matter?”
“Feelings matter, Charles.” Erik murmured softly, bringing a hand up to cup Charles’ jaw, thumb brushing against his bottom lip. Erik looked at him with an intensity no one ever had before, with something beautiful and raw and just a little bit painful. Charles took in a sharp intake of breath at the sight, at the way it made his warm bloom deep in his chest and spread through his entire frame, until he was sure it was radiating off of his skin.
“Of course they do.” Charles whispered softly, and then he reached his hands up to lie on Erik’s shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Erik, metallic and with a hint of cinnamon, felt the neat lines of his mind wrap around his own softly. I love you. Charles let the thought spread out through both their minds, warm and affectionate, practically drowning Erik in it. Then he pulled back, looking at Erik with what he hoped was even close to how Erik looked at him before. “I do. I love you, Erik.”
“Of course you do.” Erik said dryly, smirking a bit as he ran a hand down Charles’ chest. Charles just huffed at him and smacked him on the chest with a pillow, and Erik laughed brightly and tugged Charles back down against the sheets. He pressed kisses across his shoulder blades this time and traced sentences into Charles’ skin, that same intensity as before washing over both of them until Charles could barely tell whose emotions were whose.
*****
A few weeks later they were sitting in the study playing chess, arguing about everything and nothing at the same time, the air between them eerily calm in a way that always made Charles think of decay. He knew what Erik wanted, had known it from the moment he’d found him in the water. He’d also known he had to stop him. There was so much good in Erik, kindness and a desire to protect his people, to give them a better future. He was loving in his own way, quiet and almost invisible if someone didn’t know what to look for, but with a force and passion that couldn’t be matched. His desire to kill Shaw came from that love, from his need to avenge his mother.
But Charles knew better. If Erik killed Shaw, he wouldn’t be free from his demons. They would just take a new shape, joined by a kind of bone-deep emptiness that came with getting what one wanted and finding out it meant nothing. Emptiness and a feeling Charles couldn’t explain, not guilt exactly, but an understanding of the self that one wished they didn’t have. Charles knew because -
Erik stared at him, brow furrowed and one hand pressing around Charles’ wrist with a gentleness that surprised him. Charles glanced down to find his hands were shaking and closed his eyes, pushing his emotions down. He knew because he was a telepath and he understood human nature far better than he’d like to. That was all. “Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”
“Peace was never an option.” Erik’s tone left no room for argument, even though Charles had about half a dozen on the top of his tongue. They keep arguing, circling the same points without ever finding a compromise. Charles was too distracted to argue or play well anyway. He has a strange sensation of feeling guilty for not feeling guilty at all, his mind filling with white space every few minutes, like he was trying to seek out something that wasn’t there.
“Whatever choice you make tomorrow, I love you.” Charles told Erik when they finished the match, reaching a hand out to cup his cheeks. He needed Erik to know that, that whatever decision he made, he wouldn’t lose Charles. He might try and stop him from making what he thought was the wrong one, but he wouldn’t leave him. Charles had to believe that love was more powerful than hatred.
“It’s part of what keeps me going.” Erik whispered softly, and then he leaned over and kissed Charles across the board, hands clutching in his hair like Charles was a lifeline. There weren’t any more words after that.
******
It was only when he was lying in the sand that Charles realized Erik never actually said it back.
Charles couldn’t feel his legs. They were still surrounded by people who wanted to kill him, people with weapons who could come to shore any second and wipe them all out, bombs or no bombs. Erik left him there. There was a school to run and he could feel Hank’s and Alex’s and Sean’s fear and confusion, their rage on his behalf but also their own, how lost they were without Erik and it made him want to cry, because it was nothing compared to what he felt about losing him. Moira was terrified for him and cradling him in her arms, tears on her cheek, and he’d have to erase her memory. Erik was right, they couldn’t risk government involvement with the school, not after their allies had tried to bomb them. Erik was right. Erik was gone. If Charles had been right he’d still be here, if Charles were better he and Raven would both be here and -
But they weren’t. They left him to bleed out in the sand. They left and Charles couldn’t feel his legs and he couldn’t get enough air, gasping more and more and still feeling like his chest was empty. Moira murmured something to him, but it didn’t matter because they left and he couldn’t feel his legs and - Erik was right. Erik didn’t love him. Erik was gone. Erik -
And then Charles didn’t remember who Erik was or why he’d thought of the name at all.