Theme Challenge #19: Content
#19: Content
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 339
Warnings: Mentions of suicide
Notes: None
Charles is beautiful. There’s no other way to put it. He’s amazing, the sort of completely unique creature that only a series of extremely fortunate mutations could produce. Erik could describe him, but it wouldn’t do him justice- could talk about the way his hair stick up in all directions when he gets up in the morning, could wax poetic about his lopsided smile and his ruby-red lips, could babble for hours about his wide blue eyes, but his words could never show just how much he loves him. There is so much about Charles that Erik never wants to get used to, things that he never wants to stop seeing through fresh eyes. He doesn’t ever want to get used to his voice, to his mannerisms. He wants to spend every moment with Charles like it’s their first.
Here, like this, it doesn’t matter what goes on outside. It doesn’t matter that the humans hate them, that the CIA is using them, and that Shaw is constantly lurking in the shadows. For once, Erik doesn’t worry about the monsters that he knows are out there in the world, waiting to strike. He doesn’t think about death or pain or loss. He doesn’t think about his mother, or the dying screams of men, or the numbers of his arm. He doesn’t think about anything at all.
Erik wants to die like this. Not in the familiar way that he thinks of suicide, of ending everything before it can get worse. He wants to lie down beside Charles and go to sleep, to hold him close and shut his eyes and just drift off. He is happy, now, and he knows that it will not last, but he thinks that if he could just die like this he would be content. To die held in Charles’ arms, to die by his side, would be as close to perfection as Erik would ever come.
Erik lies in Charles’ tight, slumbering embrace and wishes that the night would never end.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 339
Warnings: Mentions of suicide
Notes: None
Charles is beautiful. There’s no other way to put it. He’s amazing, the sort of completely unique creature that only a series of extremely fortunate mutations could produce. Erik could describe him, but it wouldn’t do him justice- could talk about the way his hair stick up in all directions when he gets up in the morning, could wax poetic about his lopsided smile and his ruby-red lips, could babble for hours about his wide blue eyes, but his words could never show just how much he loves him. There is so much about Charles that Erik never wants to get used to, things that he never wants to stop seeing through fresh eyes. He doesn’t ever want to get used to his voice, to his mannerisms. He wants to spend every moment with Charles like it’s their first.
Here, like this, it doesn’t matter what goes on outside. It doesn’t matter that the humans hate them, that the CIA is using them, and that Shaw is constantly lurking in the shadows. For once, Erik doesn’t worry about the monsters that he knows are out there in the world, waiting to strike. He doesn’t think about death or pain or loss. He doesn’t think about his mother, or the dying screams of men, or the numbers of his arm. He doesn’t think about anything at all.
Erik wants to die like this. Not in the familiar way that he thinks of suicide, of ending everything before it can get worse. He wants to lie down beside Charles and go to sleep, to hold him close and shut his eyes and just drift off. He is happy, now, and he knows that it will not last, but he thinks that if he could just die like this he would be content. To die held in Charles’ arms, to die by his side, would be as close to perfection as Erik would ever come.
Erik lies in Charles’ tight, slumbering embrace and wishes that the night would never end.