Prompt Post: ROUND FOUR

[oakenshields13]

ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED

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Fill: Turn Me Inside Out (6/??)

[anonymous]

Erik tries to not hate hard plastic. It's not the plastic's fault it exists, of course, and he shouldn't blame it for not being metal, but it just seems like such a waste of space. There's something about hard plastic that makes him think of tofu and faux fur, of substitutes that are never as good as the original.

It's the plastic that gets to him about his cube. Oh, the strappy white pajamas that are too small in some places and far too large in others and are just waiting to be a straitjacket are irritating and uncomfortable, and the view into absolutely nothing is frustrating, but he could survive these things. Erik is excellent at surviving discomforts. It's the plastic and the absence of metal that makes him twitch, makes him reach towards Charles in a way he knows has to be annoying. Charles puts up with it, of course, because he knows Erik doesn't like where he is and they care about each other, but he can feel the layers of frustration building up.

Your move, he projects, staring down at the chessboard. It is simultaneously the best and worst part of his cube - chess is always a good thing, but plastic and glass chess just seems wrong, like it takes the war out of the game and leaves chess as simple pieces on a board. There's no battle.

Charles is in an airplane. Erik can tell because he can feel the metal humming around Charles. He's never tried to channel his powers through Charles, but he thinks that maybe, with enough practice (and some way to make sure nothing happened to his best friend), they could manage it. Erik adores airplanes, almost as much as steam-powered trains, but he knows better to try and tamper.

When he gets no reply, Erik tries again. Charles, he projects. It's your move.

Erik, I am trying to figure out what happened and am dealing with a paranoid group of mutants who think I may be a shape shifter who killed the older version of myself right now, Charles replies. Please give me some time.

Erik considers telling him no and pestering him until he makes a move, but he doesn't want to risk losing the only connection to something that doesn't feel fake in the room. He sighs, sending a quick feeling of apology towards Charles before laying down on his bunk for a moment.

At least, he intends it to be for just a moment. When he wakes up, Charles is already there, sitting in front of the chessboard and grinning at him. "You, my friend, have clearly done something very naughty," he says.

"I don't appreciate you knocking me out, Charles," Erik replies, and takes the seat on the opposite side of the (fake fake wrong wrong fake) chessboard.

But you needed it, Charles tells him, blunt but well-meant, and Erik can admit it's true. "What do you think happened to get you in here?"