The heavy rain gently tapped at the windows to the left of him, threatening to distract Erik from his train of thought. The wind, too, howled and yelled for attention, rattling at the antique window frames and surrounding his hunched figure in background noise. The lingering scent of Charles’ cologne painted a gentle ghost of the other’s presence in the back corners of his mind, and the soft dark curls that Charles’ fountain pen traced on the paper beneath his grasp almost made Erik feel like he wasn’t completely alone. Charles’ office was too quiet without the other around. Too dull, too, without the telepath’s bright personality to fill it. Instead, Erik’s gloomy countenance did little to soften the intimidating aura of the room.
If anything, it only enforced it.
He shifted in his chair then, drawing in a broken breath as he settled back into the plush chair he’d dragged behind the desk, calloused fingertips gently dragging themselves against the wooden top of the table, focussing on the texture and feel over anything else.
One week. One week, Charles had promised. One week that he would be away, on some important government work which Erik swiftly declined attending. He’d never gotten on with governments, especially not the American one. He decided it would be best for him to stay behind, despite Charles’ disapproving grumble about rebuilding bridges and such. One week had turned into two, then three, and Erik continued to decline invitations to join them late, due to the setbacks.
Perhaps that was a mistake because the sudden chills that would wrack through his body would make for a rather annoying and consistent distraction to the paperwork he’d forced himself into doing. The paperwork was Charles’. Well, The schools, but primarily done by Charles. Though Erik had sat in his office for enough long hours, just watching the other fill out similar paperwork, to be able to do the same himself. And, well, the less Charles had to tackle upon his return the better, he supposed.
Erik’s head pulsed with aching pain, and he gently pulled his hand off of the page in frustration, upon noticing that his handwriting had grown sloppy and practically unreadable with the weak shaking that had overtaken his hand. He dropped the pen to the table and winced as he raised his hand, watching the soft tremors that involuntarily coursed through his limbs. Another striking pain across the front of his head brought a wave of nausea this time, eliciting a pained groan from the metal-bender as he shoved the now ruined paperwork forward off of the table, only watching long enough to see the paper scatter in different directions before his eyes scrunched closed and his stomach began to sink.
It was lucky that most of the school was away, at least, while he was ill. He has a particularly strong loathing towards even the idea of anyone seeing him in such a weakened state and an even more intense hatred of giving off the idea that he’s vulnerable in any way. Being vulnerable would not do. Though Erik rarely gets sick, so it did spark some worry in the back corners of his mind. He caught simple colds, but nothing that made his body feel like it had been set alight one minute, then buried in snow the next. He didn’t exactly know how to deal with such a situation, so in true Erik fashion, he decided not to.
That was quickly proving to be the wrong decision.
A gentle whimper left the German as he circled his arms on the table, gently hiding his face within his arms to block out the light and rest his head, a soft sheen of sweat coating him now. Every one of his muscles ached with a stabbing sort of pain as if he’d just done a full body work-out rather than sit and try complete paperwork, gentle needle-like pricks shuddering through his body. He drew in a shaking breath, parting his chapped lips to dart his tongue across them, trying to provide a little moisture to parched tiers. And in moments, his body had cooled back down, and he found himself shivering in the now freezing atmosphere of the room, rather than the scorching furnace-like heat he’d been in before. He peeked his head up and spotted one of Charles’ coats hanging on the old wooden coat stand by the door. It was a winter coat. Large and lined with soft fleece to provide warmth, and more importantly, it smelt of Charles. Erik had found himself shifting before he could even really think, the desperate outstretch of a trembling hand had the coat drifting towards him by the zippers, pulling the coat stand over in the process. The Metal-bender practically winced back as the thud of it hitting the floor reverberated in his mind and added another wave of nausea and unease. Though the coat eventually grew close enough that he could stretch it out by the zips and gently rest it over his back, hand thudding back onto the table weightlessly, eliciting yet another groan from him.
‘Erik, Is everything alright?’ Erik’s head shot up, a little too fast as he quickly grew dizzy, his surroundings beginning to spin as his vision blurred, causing his hand to clench around the arm of his chair. Though, from what he could see, there was no sign of Charles in the room with him. Had he imagined it?
‘No, no. I’m still in Washington. But, you’re projecting, Erik. You never project. Is everything okay?’ Charles’ voice echoed at the back of his mind, but, surprisingly, it didn’t cause more pain like the other noises had. It was numbing and warm. Charles’ concerned yet comforting aura blooming in his mind.
“I’m projecting?” Erik rasped, aloud rather than thinking it, which was another sign that had Charles’ concern turn to panic.
‘Yes, what’s the matter. Are you in trouble?’ Charles’ face contorted into a frown, catching Hank’s attention in the middle of the meeting, watching as he gently tipped his head to the side to be closer to his fingertips, connecting to his temple. He quietly searched for any other minds around Erik but found the building empty. That was slightly more reassuring.
“N...no. No trouble, no…I’m fine.” Erik sighed and lowered his head back to the table, another wave of nausea washing over him, stronger though, this time, and he had to take a deep, long breath to push back the threat of vomiting all over Charles’ lovely oak desk. Charles had caught that nausea though, having to gently take his fingers from his temple to rid himself of it for a second, before quickly returning them.
‘Are you unwell?’ There came that worried tone again, baby blue orbs raising to meet Hank’s own, conveying his worry.
“No-...I don’t think so...Maybe I ate something, I just feel off, I’m sure it’s nothing-...” Erik whispered, not willing to anger the tempest of his mind any further with any loud noises. He slowly sat up, clutching the coat to his frame as he got to his feet from the chair, stumbling a little before using the desk to support himself.
‘It doesn’t feel like 'nothing', Erik. If you’re sick I suggest you tell me. I can come back-’
“No, No! You don’t need to come back, don’t let me disrupt-...Dis…”
Charles sat up suddenly, his face panicked as his grasp on the other began to slip, eyes darting around the desk in alarm as he tried to secure the connection with Erik once more, but couldn’t seem to grasp on securely. The meeting had ground to an abrupt halt as everyone turned to watch Charles in shock.
“Charles? Charles! What is it, what’s the matter?’ He reached forward to grasp at the other’s wrist gently, gaining his attention as his contact with Erik finally disappeared.
“It’s Erik. I need to leave…” And he was drifting again, trying to connect with Erik desperately as Hank took care of excusing them and apologising for the inconvenience, but all of them seemed too concerned to object as he wheeled Charles out of the building and into their jet.
“What’s going on with Erik, Charles? Do we need to call for anyone?” Hank questioned, settling behind the controls and quickly taking off, glancing occasionally to the telepath to the right of him, who still had his fingertips pressed firmly against his temple. The same panicked expression across his features as he continued to fail at making contact.
“We were talking and he suddenly cut off on me. I lost all connection, I can’t get through to him.” Hank scowled.
“His helmet? Do you think he’s planning something?” That caused a rather distressed and dishevelled look from Charles, as he stared at him with a mix of annoyance and concern as if whatever Hank had suggested was outlandish.
“What? No, I think he’s in danger. He was faint, and nauseous, too. He was projecting, he never projects. He said he was fine and I suggested coming back if something was wrong but he protested and then nothing.” Charles scowled, closing his eyes to try and focus. Hank shifted in his seat but did increase the speed to hurry home as fast as possible.
Half an hour later and the jet was landing outside the mansion, rather than within the hold, Hank following behind Charles and helping him to move faster into the mansion.
“Erik?!” Charles called, wheeling off to the left to search the rooms while Hank took the right. And it wasn’t too long until he spotted Erik collapsed face down on the floor of Charles’s office through the doorway, and called out to Charles as he rushed into the room. He’d knelt by his side when Charles wheeled in, two fingers pressed against his pulse point, feeling for the rhythm and breathing a sigh of relief when he identified it. Steady and calm, luckily. He gently rolled Erik on to his back, resting a hand on his shoulder to try and rouse him from his unconsciousness.
“Erik? Erik, can you hear me?” Hank spoke, watching as his eyelids fluttered, and his eyebrows furrowed in discomfort and confusion. Eventually, his eyelids lifted enough for the teal orbs to peek out from beneath, forcing a sigh of relief from Charles now as his lips parted to respond, the world around him still spinning.
“Hank-...? Charles?” He rasped, skin shining with sweat now. Hank’s hand rose to rest atop his forehead, frowning at the heat that came from it.
“You’re burning up, Erik. Have you been feeling nauseous? Headaches, rapidly changing temperatures?”
“Don’t lie, Erik. We’ll find out one way or another.” Charles grumbled, far too familiar with Erik’s frustrating lack of self-preservation.
Erik winced and simply closed his eyes a little, body trembling again as heat flooded through his nerves, setting him alight. “Yes, just a little. It started this morning, I thought it was just a cold or something?”
“No, it's influenza, Erik. You’ve got the flu. Luckily it’s not life-threatening unless you don’t take care of yourself. You just need to rest.” Hank grumbled, moving to help the other to his feet, wrapping his arm over his shoulders to walk him to his room as Charles leant down to the papers strewn on the floor, looking over Erik’s handwriting curiously. What he had written was pretty much the same as what Charles himself would’ve put...He wondered how much of this Erik had finished? Is this why the idiot had fainted? Exhaustion?
He put the papers back on the desk and made his way to Erik’s bedroom and o h. what a sight to behold.
Erik had been plopped onto his bed with Hank’s assistance and was propped up on a few pillows behind him, eyes lidded and still cloudy. His skin was pale, and the tip of his nose had grown red as his sinuses began to run. His fingers were gently fiddling with the edge of the comforter, hair a scruffy mess. And, to top it all off, he had the biggest, most childish pout Charles thinks he’s ever seen. He had to stifle the laugh, though the grin was too strong for him to hide, as he slowly rolled closer to the other.
“Oh dear, You don’t seem too happy.” Charles teased playfully, lifting himself from his chair and onto the side of the bed as Erik turned his head to the side to watch.
“I told you it was fine...It’s just the flu. You didn’t need to come back…” Erik grumbled quietly, this throat stinging as the words tumbled past his dry lips. Charles felt sorry for him, truly. Erik looked absolutely exhausted and distressed to boot.
“Obviously I did, considering you were face down in the carpet when we found you. Have you even eaten today?” The telepath gave him a gentle nudge, before raising his hand to touch at his forehead again. So warm, he must’ve been feeling horrible for at least the first half of the day.
“I had an apple this morning…I’m surprised I could keep it down.” He mumbled, gently tilting his head forward into the other’s hand, happy for the contact.
“I’m rather annoyed you didn’t do anything. I thought you said you could take care of yourself before I left? Sure, I was a few weeks later than expected but I didn’t expect to have to come back and baby you because you can’t keep yourself alive for more than five minutes alone.” Sure, it was all teasing. Erik was notoriously hard to kill, that much was true. Still, his chastising tone had Erik shrinking back a little childishly, mumbling a quiet apology. Charles gently brushed the other’s hair back then, snaking his fingers through the dark mess atop his head comfortingly, hoping it would ease the other’s discomfort a little. And they remained like that for a long while, Charles just gently massaging the other’s scalp as Erik sat, eyes closed and slightly more relaxed now. They only stopped when Hank came in with painkillers, a bottle of water and a bowl of warm soup, to which Erik refused, and Charles had to sit and spoon feed him like a child, upon realising that the real reason he wouldn’t eat was that his hand was too weak to hold the spoon steady. Soon after, Erik had finished three-quarters of the bowl and had drunk down half of the water in the bottle, sighing weakly as the throbbing of his head subsided and he was left with the uncomfortable heat. Charles shifted up on the bed at this point, moving Erik down so he could rest his head between his legs, and Charles could continue to play with his hair until he eventually drifted off to sleep. To which the telepath did too, eventually, sat up against the headboard, the two of them snoring softly together, leaving it to Hank to quietly tidy the room and turn the light off to allow them to sleep in peace.
Truly tiring, those two were.