Chapter 5
Erik was just some crazy idea, Charles knew that. Like daydreaming about the pizza delivery guy or romanticizing the way that one specific waiter at the local diner looked at him – both things he had indulged in in the past. There was no way anything would ever actually happen between them. And Charles had no way of even knowing if Erik would be his type; all he knew was his handwriting and his voice.
That voice.
That low voice with a hint of an accent – a little rough but still somehow warm, it’s effect lingering like the smell of coffee or the taste of a really good glass of wine.
He buried his head in his hands. “Do you ever listen to yourself?” He thought. How far gone could one be after as much as two hours on the phone? He entirely blamed this on Moira and Raven for planting this … this obsession in his mind with their ideas about … getting to know people or – or Erik being hot.
Yes. That was it. Had Moira not thrown that word around like that the thought would have never occurred to him.
Period.
He was sure once they spoke again – or if Charles saw a picture of the man – all magical attraction would fade in an instant. He would really need to call Moira out on putting him in this position.
Besides… how long had it been that he had gotten laid? The girls were right, he hadn’t gone out in ages and his last relationship had ended years ago. Of course his first conversation with a man who at least sounded his age and had an attractive voice would have him fantasize… and Erik’s voice was indeed… attractive.
The best Charles could do was to just text Erik as he had asked him to and soon all inappropriate thoughts would be gone for good. Yes, that’s what he would do.
He got up from where he had been sitting at his desk and strolled over to the living room, Wanda fast asleep in the soft cushions.
He kneeled down and took a picture of her – one that he thought was absolutely adorable – and sent it to the contact named “Lehnsherr”. He should really change that some time, he wouldn’t want Erik to call him “Xavier”, either.
“Wanda really likes my couch.”
He sent. Before he could even put his phone down, there was a response.
“Looks cozy.”
“You could come over and test it sometime”
Dear god, did he ever think about anything before rambling on? He couldn’t just invite random strangers to test his couch – in whatever way – “Shut up, Charles, just shut your mouth for once in your life” he thought to himself. He was certain Erik wasn’t even that –
His phone buzzed.
It was a picture.
“Wanda’s rival.” it said beneath it.
He opened the picture. It was a cat – a tabby – but Charles barely took notice of her.
He was too distracted by … the rest of the picture. By the lap she was sitting in, to be exact. By the white V-neck that stretched across broad shoulders and well defined pectoral muscles in a way that left just enough to imagination. By an impossibly narrow waist. By the slim, long fingered hand resting on the animal’s back.
No, Charles couldn’t say he blamed Lorna for claiming her spot to sit in that lap.
That’s not fair, Charles thought, that’s simply not fair.
“What a beauty.”
He replied, hoping Erik saw it as a comment on the cat.
“She’s well aware.”
“A diva?”
“Spoiled rotten.”
Oh I could imagine worse things than to be spoiled by you, Charles thought and immediately cursed himself for the thought.
“Wanda is a sweetheart. All she requires is two meals and the occasional cuddle.”
“She’s always been that way. Peter was way more of a piece of work.”
Charles was glad that they were back to talking about cats – there was less potential for him to say something inappropriate until his weird crush wore off.
Only it didn’t.
It really, really didn’t.
Charles hadn’t expected his random cat picture to turn into a never ending conversation but apparently that’s where they were at now.
Three days passed and – save for when they were both sleeping – neither of them ever had to wait longer than maybe an hour and a half for a reply. They began to discuss all sorts of things, got to know each other more and more, and cat-talk – though a constant theme in their conversations – took up less and less of their messages.
“What are you doing?”
It was 1pm on the fourth day after the phone call. Apparently Erik had decided that they didn’t even have to pretend to initiate contact via cat related content anymore.
Charles was sitting on the patio, Wanda in his lap, absently playing with the locket around her neck while working on his lesson plan for the coming semester.
“Just preparing something for work.”
“Is Wanda with you?”
“I thought you could sense her locket”
“I can”
Charles’ eyes wandered from the screen of his laptop to the cat in his lap, the little metal container on her collar gently between his thumb and index finger.
Why would Erik ask then? The locket was right here. He could sense every atom of it, every part of it right underneath Charles’ fingerti – Oh.
Charles gasped.
“I’m sorry, did my fidgeting bother you.”
“Sort of.”
“But don’t worry about it. It was just a little ‘distracting’”
“That might be the right word.”
“Are you alright?”
“Me? Sure. Why do you ask?
So you’re preparing something for work? What do you do for a living anyway?”
A little puzzled by the sudden change in topic, Charles closed his laptop and put it aside – he was unable to focus anyway.
“I’m a professor at NYU.
Genetics.
Thought I told you before.”
“A professor? You have a young voice.”
“I am young!”
”Well… I’m not a teenager“
”But for a man holding three PhDs and the head of a faculty I suppose I am indeed kind of young.”
“How old are you, if I may ask?”
“...26…”
“And you?”
The moment of truth.
“30.”
Charles released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 30… what a fine age. Not to say that that meant anything. It was … just a nice age to have… he assumed.
“Are you some kind of genius or something?”
“I suppose I do have certain mental abilities that others lack, I’d say.”
“Does it have to do with your mutation?”
“I suppose some of it. But I would never actively use my gift to get ahead of others.
Hardly seems fair.”
“Doesn’t it? Why would you actively hold back on your natural gift just to fit into this human-normative society? Would you ask an academically gifted student to play dumb so the average ones don’t feel disadvantaged?”
Oh dear, this conversation had taken an unexpected turn and Charles didn’t know if he liked where it was going… at least he could be certain wouldn’t say anything dumb or sexually charged as long as they were discussing mutant-human relationships.
“I wouldn’t, but an academically gifted student wouldn’t pose a threat to anyone just by being academically gifted.”
“So you agree with the mutantphobic government that all mutants are dangerous killing machines that should be locked away?”
“That’s not at all what I said.”
“Then what exactly did you say?”
Charles hadn’t realized before that Erik had such an infuriating side to him. He rolled his eyes and looked at Wanda in his lap. “Is this why you left?” The cat yawned and turned to face the other way. She wouldn’t let her naptime be disrupted by such minor things as two mutants disagreeing. Clever girl.
“All I’m saying is that certain abilities hold dangerous potential. And those with those abilities have the responsibility to restrain themselves in order to live respectfully among others.”
“And your mutation making you exceptionally smart is disrespectful towards stupid people?”
“Intelligence is not my mutation.”
“Then what exactly is your mutation?”
Charles took a deep, shaky breath. He hated having to tell others about his telepathy. It tended to frighten people – humans and mutants alike – because despite all conflict between the two groups there was one thing they could agree on: nobody liked the thought of not being alone in their head. And the feeling of losing Erik’s trust was not something Charles was keen on experiencing.
Whatever.
He barely knew the man. Life would go on.
“I’m a telepath.”
Like ripping off a bandaid. Over the years Charles had worked hard on learning to be proud of his gift. No matter what his stepfather and -brother had told him, no matter what terrible rumors his classmates at Oxford had spread about him based on it, no matter the distrust lingering in the air, giving him the feeling of suffocating, like walking through some kind of toxic gas.
And typically, he mastered the charade.
Still, the wait for Erik’s reply was pure torture.
“What class?”
That was a new one. He hadn’t had that reaction yet.
“... omega.”
“YOU ARE AN OMEGA CLASS TELEPATH?!!”
“... yes :)”
He regretted adding the smiley face the moment he hit send. That was it. Whatever it was that the two of them had built up throughout the past days – Erik would distance himself. They always did. Charles wanted to cry.
“So let me get this straight.”
”You are 26 years old.
You have 3 PhDs.
You’re the head of the genetics faculty at the University of New York.
And you also happen to be the world’s most powerful (recorded) telepath.”
”And you spent the first ten minutes on the phone with me stammering like some teenager at their first job interview?”
Charles felt the blood rush into his face. This conversation was full of unexpected twists and turns. This is why he preferred face to face conversation – he would be able to sense a change in tone rather than being struck by it like that.
“I suppose so…?”
“What are your vices, Professor? What is it that makes you so modest?”
“Modest? Dear friend, if Raven heard you say this she would declare you insane.”
For some reason, Erik mockingly addressing him by his title had a strange effect on Charles. He barely dared to breathe.
“Raven? Your girlfriend?”
“God, no”
“That bad?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Explains why she can’t see you’re being criminally overmodest.”
“And…”
They appeared to have hit “send” at the exact same time.
“And?”
Screw it, all or nothing. He was in too deep to pull back now. If Erik turned out to be a homophobe the heartbreak would come one way or the other.
“I’m not exactly a ladies’ guy.”
“Good.”
Good? GOOD?! What on earth was he supposed to do with that?!
“Good?”
“That explains why you wouldn’t have a girlfriend.”
“There’s plenty of reasons why I’m single … trust me.”
“That’s what I meant when I said you were overly modest.”
“Which brings us back to my original question.”
”What are your vices? What makes you doubt yourself like that? Is it your looks? That’s the one thing that comes to my mind that I didn’t get a glimpse of yet.”
Charles didn’t know if he was supposed to be offended by the assumption that he was ugly or flattered by the assumption that the rest of him was impressive enough for Erik to fail to understand his insecurities.
“But I guess you could change that.”
“What?”
“I'd like to know what you look like.”
“If you don’t mind.”
Charles sighed. He hated taking pictures of himself … but Erik wanted to see his face, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
Stop – why was it a good thing? What even was going on? Where was this conversation going?
“You could google me.”
Charles really didn’t feel like taking a picture right now. Not one that he would feel comfortable sending to Erik.
“That’s true.”
”Hold up a minute.”
What else was he supposed to do?
“Of course.”
“Is that you?”
Erik sent a screenshot of the university’s homepage. Charles didn’t mind that picture too much – maybe a little businesslike, but at least he was wearing his best suit in it, and the color brought out his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Are you catfishing me?”
Charles couldn’t help but notice the – probably entirely unintended – pun.
“Wouldn’t it rather be the other way around?”
Silly jokes had always been his emergency escape from flattery.
“How so?”
“I’m not the one using my cat as bait to lure in unsuspecting genetics professors.”
“So… Bad puns are your only flaw?”
“I wouldn’t call it a flaw exactly.”
“Then you must be entirely flawless.”
“You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It’s an invitation.”
What even was going on anymore? Charles’ mind was spinning and he felt lightheaded. They were flirting, right? He wasn’t imagining this, was he? It had been so long since he had actively flirted with anyone – even longer since he had actually been interested in a man… was he doing alright? Was he misreading anything?
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
“What?”
“Your hand.”
Charles let his eyes wander to the hand that was not holding his phone. It was only then that he noticed it had wrapped around the locket on Wanda’s collar.
He let go of it in an instant.
“My apologies, I don’t know why that keeps happening.”
“It’s alright. Like I said… just slightly distracting.”
Charles swallowed hard. It hadn’t occurred to him that perhaps Erik and him were thinking of two entirely different definitions of ‘distracting’.
“What does it feel like?”
“A little bit like someone running their hand across bare skin.”
“That’s fascinating – truly. Does this work with any type of metal?”
“If I’m focused on it enough… I shaped the locket myself and have felt out for it for days so one could say I have a rather firm grip on it.”
“I see.”
Charles caught himself thinking about what else Erik could possibly have a firm grip on and what that might feel like but of course he didn’t utter anything the like. Instead he decided to shoot his shot:
“I don’t know about you but my eyes are getting kind of sore from staring at the screen all day. Would you like to come over and keep talking in person?”
I’m sure Wanda would like to see you, too.”
All this buildup just for him to extend the lamest invitation of all times? Charles shook his head at himself.
“Sure thing. Let me just feed Lorna and I’ll be on my way.”
Charles’ breath hitched as the realization set in.
He wasn’t even remotely prepared for this. What was he supposed to do? Why did he always speak – or text – before he thought?
Did he really though?
Hadn’t he thought about inviting Erik over way before the text?
To his own horror he realized he was wearing shorts and his old Oxford hoodie. This was not how he wanted to face Erik.
He could do better than this. For sure.
He jumped up, startling Wanda who had been sleeping next to him by now, and rushed inside.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of him running around in various states of undress and new-dress, picking up things that were out of place, changing into navy slacks and a light blue dress shirt, hurriedly attempting to bring himself and his place into a state that he felt was appropriate for Erik to see.
All for a man whose face he hadn’t laid his eyes on once. But he forbade himself to think about that just yet. He was a grown man meeting another grown man and there was nothing wrong with being spontaneous like that.
Still, he didn’t even feel remotely ready when the doorbell rang shortly after. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at himself in the mirror one last time before rushing towards the door to let his guest – to let Erik – come in.