237. it gets inside and eats you up

[want_to_jog]

GUILT

guilt /gɪlt/
noun
1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt

Comments

♥♥♥

[drlehnsherr]

[ He enters wordlessly, closing the door in his wake with a muted click. Several paces and he’s crossing the room, a glance spared for the familiar form seated in the bed, every angle of the telepath seen as tender now with un-angered eyes. Sitting on the other’s side of the bed, on the small space between Charles and the edge of the mattress, he’s faster than he’s been to close the physical gap where he can; one divide quite enough for his tastes. ]

Charles-- [ He murmurs, downcast and guilty-- not atoning; never quite humble enough to be truly sorry, but he’s regretful of the harsh bitterness he’s evoked between them, their usually unhindered closeness seems tainted now, battered. Despite the warm room and the glow emitting from the fireplace grate, he’s still cold; soaked nearly to the skin, his hair lying wetly across his forehead. A hand extends to still the movement of the pen, closing around the telepath’s fingers with a chill press. The bed has dipped where he’d sat down, and he can feel Charles’ thigh, warming the back of his spine, still covered by the black overcoat. ]

This storm’s not letting up out there. [ The tension stays high, and Erik is ever grave, forced by his own decision to push aside whatever grudge he might once have carried in lieu of such an argument. ]

[butwedonot]

I can see that, [ Blue eyes lift from his captured hand, the heat drawn from it and into Erik's own cold grip. He traces over the finer details of his composure; the water slicked hair and dabbed clothing, the chill, the coat, even the way it's brought a bit of color to his skin as his body fights off the chill. He hates to think he had any part in causing such a desperation, but in that small arrogant way he can't help but believe Erik's brought it on himself-- just as he has done the same. He reaches over with his free hand, laying it over the one that's ensnared his pen and gives a soft squeeze. ]

Why don't you take a hot shower and change, get comfortable and we can talk about whatever's on your mind afterward. [ He saw no need to rush into it, it gave him a moment to prepare and to avoid the chilled man from getting their bed too wet. It was important, but they had time-- at least, this evening seemed to be promised to them and he would take it slowly as he did every other they were allowed. ]

[drlehnsherr]

[ Charles has a way with him that he's never been subject to with any other living creature; mutant or human-- the man can move him with nothing more than a touch and a look; the quiet patience that he always receives even after an argument as embittered as the one of several hours ago. He's already feeling penitential, the gnawing anger of earlier at the other man's sheer ability to be so damn naive having melted away, and he's glad for Charles' sense of hope-- it offsets something dour in him, lightens it. But he's afraid, terrified of losing the telepath in the same way that he's gradually been separated from everything he'd held in any esteem over the years since he'd left the camps. Leaning forward, and returning the press to the other's hand, he lands a quick kiss to Charles' temple-- disentangling his hand and pulling away. ] I'll be a minute.

[ He stands and crosses to the adjoining bathroom, shucking off his heavily dampened coat, draping it over the back of the desk chair and glancing back at Charles-- gaze still cautious. Closing the door behind him he sets about stripping off the sodden clothing, stepping under the hot water and exhaling finally-- that first ugly movement towards reconciliation behind him, and the telepath's extraordinary acceptance focused on him. Grabbing a towel he dries off after the shower, pulling on a pair of track pants and an old t-shirt. ]

[butwedonot]

Take your time, [ He murmurs with that gentle nature creeping into his tone-- he had been upset, even angry in his own right-- but one could not remain angry forever. Charles understood, in many ways, why Erik felt the way he did-- but it was simply not something he could agree with. For all his care for the man their ideologies would probably nary cross if things kept up the way they were. Still, it wasn't as if this was the first fight they had, and Charles was able to be mature about the entire thing-- the look that crossed Erik's face telling him more than the anxiously clipped words.

HE waits till Erik has abandoned the bed in favor of a shower so he could strip the now-wet sheets from the mattress. Bundling the damp cloth into a ball he tosses it into the laundry pile and retrieves another set from the linen closet in the hallway. Redressing the bed rather quickly, he tosses the blanket back over the bottom of it just as Erik comes out of the bathroom. Charles shoots a half-smile over his shoulder, flattening the comforter down and fluffing the pillows a bit. ] Come to bed, yes? [ It's less a question, and more a request-- he doesn't know how upset Erik still is, even with the lingering feeling of that kiss on his temple; isn't sure the man will still share a bed with him after the clash of ideals. Still, he turns, pulling back to ease himself up onto the edge of the bed, turning to tuck himself back under the comforter. ]

Dry off first if you do.