(no subject)
Title:
Rating: PG
Pairings/Character(s): Erik/Rogue, past Max/Magda
Warnings: None
Summary: He’d prefer the nightmares that still haunted him years and years later to this torture.
It was the good dreams that hurt the most; the happy memories replaying in his mind a bittersweet reminder of what he used to have, the kind dreams that played back how happy they’d been-how much they’d built together-that truly seared at him.
The dreams of buying their own house, of their wedding day, of the day their daughter was born, of Anya’s first steps, first words, first birthday, of sleeping with Magda curled up with her head over his heart, hurt more than any nightmare Erik could ever have had.
He’d prefer the nightmares that still haunted him years and years later to this torture.
Sometimes, the dreams would rear their heads while he slept beside Anna. He’d yet to be able to stop himself from jerking out of them as if someone had tossed a bucket of water on him while he slept. His breath ripped from him as his sleep addled mind caught up with reality and reminded him that his memories were just that, memories.
It never took more than a few seconds for Erik’s mind to catch up, but it never failed to twist the knife further. Neither did it fail to wake Anna; sweet, kind, understanding Anna who never said anything, never asked, never tried to pry.
Anna, who understood and simply reached to cradle his face in her hands and bring their foreheads together. A silent offer of comfort for a wound that refused to heal. A silent comfort that he deeply appreciated.
They would stay like that and just breathe.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Character(s): Erik/Rogue, past Max/Magda
Warnings: None
Summary: He’d prefer the nightmares that still haunted him years and years later to this torture.
It was the good dreams that hurt the most; the happy memories replaying in his mind a bittersweet reminder of what he used to have, the kind dreams that played back how happy they’d been-how much they’d built together-that truly seared at him.
The dreams of buying their own house, of their wedding day, of the day their daughter was born, of Anya’s first steps, first words, first birthday, of sleeping with Magda curled up with her head over his heart, hurt more than any nightmare Erik could ever have had.
He’d prefer the nightmares that still haunted him years and years later to this torture.
Sometimes, the dreams would rear their heads while he slept beside Anna. He’d yet to be able to stop himself from jerking out of them as if someone had tossed a bucket of water on him while he slept. His breath ripped from him as his sleep addled mind caught up with reality and reminded him that his memories were just that, memories.
It never took more than a few seconds for Erik’s mind to catch up, but it never failed to twist the knife further. Neither did it fail to wake Anna; sweet, kind, understanding Anna who never said anything, never asked, never tried to pry.
Anna, who understood and simply reached to cradle his face in her hands and bring their foreheads together. A silent offer of comfort for a wound that refused to heal. A silent comfort that he deeply appreciated.
They would stay like that and just breathe.