Chapter Text
There ain't no room for things to change
When we are both so deeply stuck in our ways
You can't deny how hard I've tried
I changed who I was to put you both first
But now I give up
-Adele, Easy On Me
“I’ll go easy on you.” Erik said amiably and Charles could feel the smile splitting across his face, despite everything
“No you won’t.” He shook his head and delighted in the answering smile on Erik’s face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was beautiful, he was beautiful. To think they’d made it far enough to develop laugh lines when he was sure they’d both be dead four times over by now. Or worse, all the times he thought he’d lost Erik without ever naming what lay in the space between them. In the soft smiles and warm eye contact that made his veins sing. Charles could feel the warmth radiating off of Erik’s mind without even attempting to read it. Erik set up the chessboard while Charles openly admired him, basking in the warmth of the Paris sun and Erik’s content presence.
Erik was more at peace than Charles had sensed in decades, like he’d finally accepted everything about the world and didn’t want to fight with Charles over every little thing any more. In fact, Charles hadn’t felt this emotion off of Erik since those quiet mornings on their road trip in 1962. Back when they’d been so young that Charles’ naivety still clouded his view of Erik. Clouded over the stormy undercurrent that Erik faced from all his trauma. Meanwhile, Charles was so afraid of being anything other than normal. Sure, he was a mutant, but if he wasn’t the perfect example of a mutant then they’d never accept him. He certainly couldn’t be a queer mutant.
Like he said, naive. Painfully so. He wasn't even a perfect example of a mutant amongst his kind since most of them still rejected his mutation.
The pieces clinked gently as Erik set them up. A light breeze caught his auburn hair and tousled it just so. Charles' throat felt tight with emotion, he reached over and grabbed Erik’s hand. Those grey eyes snapped up to his and he could feel the question on the air mixed with want. An indescribable flavour that Charles didn’t know how to swallow. It infused his thoughts- some of which had to be shared with Erik- which meant Charles wasn’t doing as good of a job at shielding as he could be. But he couldn’t bring himself to reign it in. Erik squeezed his hand and Charles ran his thumb over Erik’s knuckles.
“Charles?” Erik asked softly, like he still cared. Like he’d never been able to let this go and it hovered just on the other side of Charles’ answer. Erik’s brow furrowed and Charles knew he was reading the turmoil that sang from the lines of Charles’ posture. Erik gave him a half smile and pulled their joined hands to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss there. “It’s just one game, it doesn’t have to be anything more.” Erik whispered to the skin of Charles' hand, an olive branch and a promise. Charles gathered his courage.
“What if I want it to be more?” Charles said in a choked voice, he could feel his eyes watering and he knew he was squeezing Erik’s hand with a terrible pressure but the other man didn’t flinch.
“Moje kochanie.” Erik said and swallowed thickly, eyes hopeful on Charles’. “We’ve never talked about this. I never thought you would.”
“I’ve never been good at accepting all the parts of myself. It’s time to be brave after thirty years.” Charles told him definitively, but inside him felt like an earthquake. He knew Erik could feel how his arm shook. “Maybe I’m ready, maybe I’m not. But I don’t want to mess things up-” Erik chuckled, cutting Charles off.
“I don’t think we could mess this up more if we tried.” Erik said and Charles smiled as a bit of the pressure on him loosened.
“Don’t give us a challenge, we always rise to it.” Charles bantered back and Erik fully laughed.
“Then this is just the next challenge, kochanie.” Erik said softly, giving his hand another squeeze before letting go and resuming setting up the pieces. “Tell me your worries as we play. You’re better at expressing yourself when you have a distraction.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Erik. You’re enough of a distraction.” Charles raised an eyebrow in an attempt to be coy, the way he only ever managed with his oldest friend. It wasn’t even toeing the line when they were always standing on it. It was more like a balancing beam. Like the point was to be here, playing this game. Erik raised an eyebrow back, and Charles felt his chair roll closer so the table pressed into his stomach. The metal in his chair hummed just enough for Charles to hear the message for what it was. The second move in an entirely different game. Charles smirked and reached for his first piece to start the match.
They were a few moves in before Charles’ head was clear enough to start the actual conversation they needed to have. The one that was three decades overdue. The one that lived in late night drives across endless miles where Charles sang along to the music and Erik’s hand was a comfort on his thigh. The one that haunted their late night sessions at local bars when Charles would realise just how happy he was at the same moment he panicked over how close they were standing. The one that lingered in sunlight filtered through moth-eaten motel curtains lighting up golden patterns on Erik’s white sleep shirt. Charles' hands barely daring to rest on Erik’s chest above the warm beat of his heart, even as Charles’ cheek was cradled into Erik’s shoulder like it belonged there.
In truth, he had left part of himself there. Had buried those stolen moments under bloodied sand. Sometimes they’d surfaced in dreams while deep in his drug riddled state. By the 80’s, when he was sober and mostly at peace with the trauma and grief, they came back to him in startling clarity. In the way a student gave him a mischievous smile, in the smells that came from the kitchen at two in the morning, and always in the way the sun dappled his duvet on slow weekend mornings. These memories spoke of a peace he’d never earned, and of words he couldn’t take back. Now they were here, making a new moment in the lilting breeze which carried the scent of baking bread and cappuccino. Maybe one day everything they are wouldn’t be so wrapped up in everything they were. Maybe one day they could just be them.
Maybe this one was the first moment of that.
“How have you always been so comfortable with queerness?” Charles finally broke the silence to ask. “Not that I’m unaccepting of others but…” Charles placed a hand on his chest indicating what he meant, unable to meet Erik’s eyes.
“I was taught from a young age that everything about me was wrong. Especially the things I had no power over. The things I was born as. Jewish. Mutant. Queer.” Erik bit his lip and selected a piece that cleverly trapped Charles in, then smirked at the board in pleasure. “Either they were right, or they were wrong. I don’t see the world in partials. If they could hate me enough to want me dead for being born as I was, then they always would. But everyone deserves a chance to live. These certain innumerable things about ourselves, these irrefutable facts that they hate so much… it’s always rooted in fear of some kind.” Erik looked up and met Charles' eyes head on. “Why should I do their job for them?” That thought stole Charles' breath from him.
“But did you ever feel that fear?” Charles asked softly as he considered what move to make next, focusing all his attention on the board.
“No. Not after the camps.” Erik paused, his fingers tapped on the table. “Not until I met you.” Charles looked up in alarm, hand hovering over the board.
“I-” Charles started but stopped when Erik clasped Charles’ hand in both of his.
“I didn’t understand, but once I realised what you could do it made sense. When we were alone together.. sometimes I could feel you. Like you were hovering over my shoulder, breathing on my neck, but you were right in front of me laughing and drinking, or wrapped in my arms.”
“Erik, I’m sorr-”
“No. Don’t apologize for that. I knew not to push you then, and I know not to now.” Erik squeezed his hand gently and Charles sighed. This was the other piece of the puzzle.
“It was more than it being you, Erik. It was the thought that you’d never want all of me.” Charles looked up at him finally and Erik looked so perplexed that Charles couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “I don’t want to bring up old wounds, my dear. But you have never really accepted me.” Erik still looked confused. “My power.” Charles said softly and watched the realization trickle into Erik’s eyes. His jaw flexed and he looked away. “I know it’s invasive, I know it’s everything you hate about losing control, but I just want you to-..” Charles sighed again, putting his free hand over Erik’s. “See me. As you once taught Raven to see the beauty in herself.” Erik turned back to Charles, something wistful in his eyes, either at the thought of Raven or at the thought of everything Charles implied. As much as Charles missed his sister, the point he was trying to make needed to be said. He wished he could have had this conversation with her too.
“I’ve always respected your power, Charles.” Erik admitted, but Charles could sense the tension under the surface.
“I know.” Charles agreed. “But you also feared it.” Erik winced and withdrew his hands to his lap. Charles ached at the loss of contact. “I’m not blaming you, Erik. I just need you to see. That while you were asking Raven to come out of hiding you were shoving me back in the closet.” Erik chuckled darkly at that comparison.
“No wonder we never had a chance.” Erik had a melancholic tone to his voice. “One hand gripping tight, one hand pushing away.” Charles let the silence lapse between them, knowing Erik was thinking over the reality they had just put to words. Charles took his move, and they exchanged several more but the game was drawing to a close. There was one move left that would seal Charles’ fate:
“I’m tired of hiding.” Charles proclaimed as he moved his final piece and watched Erik smirk as he tipped over Charles’ king to signify his win. His grey eyes met Charles, cautious and hopeful. “I want to take the time to… unlearn some of my own internal feelings about..” Charles took a deep breath. “My queerness. I don’t want it to leak into you anymore.”
“You want me to let you in. That’s the trade.” Erik steepled his fingers and rested them against his chin and lips as he considered Charles. Charles shook his head, a sad smirk on his lips.
“It’s not a trade, Erik. It’s a promise. The only way this works is if we give over to it. We stop hiding.” Charles started the process of putting away the game, flipping the board over to slot the pieces back where they belonged. “One real chance.”
“We’ve never been good at that.” Erik said with a smirk.
“Vulnerability?” Charles posited as he shut the case and slid it across the table to Erik. Erik’s hand covered his again. Charles flipped his over to explore the texture of the calluses, the strong lines of time worn into Erik’s skin, and how their hands curled around each other into something like a greeting but more intimate.
“Giving up.” Erik said simply. Charles’ eyes met Erik’s and he saw a wealth of truth. The same answers he’d always known deep inside. No matter what bitter things they spewed at each other, there was always a dedication. Both to their cause and to each other.
“Quite right.” Charles agreed. “Good and bad sides to that.” Charles squeezed Erik’s hand with a finality now that they’d come to an agreement. Erik nodded and stood to push his chair into the table as he grabbed the chess set. Then with slow steps he walked over to Charles’ side and bent to speak in his ear.
“When you’re ready, you’ll know where to find me.” Erik’s voice sent chills across Charles’ skin and he had to close his eyes to really feel the sensation. To bask in Erik’s presence, in the warm pulses of his mind. Erik’s fingers grazed over Charles’ temple as he pressed a kiss to his head. The light pressure of chapped lips nearly had Charles’ begging him not to leave even though he knew they both needed this time apart. His knuckles were white from holding the arms of his chair to keep from reaching for him. Eventually the gentle pressure ended, and his oldest friend’s hand slipped away. Charles’ heart felt like it was underwater and it was pulling the rest of him down with it. Down, down, all the way back to that first night in the water with his arms wrapped around Erik.
“How will I know if you’re ready?” Charles asked and Erik smirked at him in that balance beam sly way, then turned on his heel to disappear into the Paris streets.
I will be. Was the reply in his mind and Charles gasped. Be well, moje kochanie. With Erik’s teasing tone echoing in his mind Charles finally understood the emotion behind his Polish term of endearment. Charles raised a hand to rub at his aching chest, but for once he didn’t shove it away. He needed to feel this, needed to let it out of hiding. Then it wouldn’t haunt him anymore.