Cherik Fanfiction: There is no Future Without You - 1/7
Title: There is no Future Without You
Word Count: 4 697
Pairing: Cherik
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: M ...? I'm honestly bad at figuring out what rating things should be - Just look at the warnings.
Warnings: Love of the homosexual nature. Implications of sexual situations. Oh, and swearing.
Summary: Charles and Erik were friends when they were children - Until certain circumstances tore them apart. Many years later, when Erik moves to England so that he can study at Oxford University, he certainly doesn't expect to run into his childhood friend again.In fact, he doesn't expect any of the events that follow.
Notes: This is something that I wrote for ile_o, who drew this amazingly cute fanart for me (Which can be found here), gushing about how much she wanted to see a fic where Charles and Erik meet as children - But with the age difference. And this is my response to that cos the image just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here it is darling, and I hope to the gods of Tuesday that you like it. >///<
~X~
At the age of five, the course of Erik Lensherr’s life changed drastically - And not only because his mother had come to the conclusion that they should move to America. Although that was a large part of what brought about the change, it was not the majoring factor that decided Erik’s future.
When Erik first moved to New York, he absolutely loathed it - The other kids at school avoided him because of his accent, and the fact that he could only speak broken English didn’t help. Not that Erik cared about that because he just found the other children annoying, it simply frustrated him that he could hardly understand the teacher. The sole comfort to him then, was that he felt … Stronger, somehow, here in New York. It wasn’t until Erik turned seven that he realised the reason for this was because of his mutation.
Later in life, if he was asked when his mutation first revealed itself, Erik would say that he couldn’t remember. Which was a complete and utter lie - He remembered it well. He could recall with uncanny accuracy the way he felt as he stopped the pen that had been thrown at him in midair, before turning it over and hurling it back at that annoying Jessie guy, all with instinctual twitches of his fingers. And he could just as easily recall the mix of horrified and startled expressions on his classmates faces as they realised what he’d done. Erik could even remember sighing as he realised it was just another thing his schoolmates would avoid him for, a sigh that had turned into a groan as he considered what his mother’s reaction was going to be.
Erik certainly hadn’t expected she’d simply smile fondly at him, ruffle his hair and tell him that she knew he was special before returning to the dishes. He also hadn’t expected to be pulled out of regular classes and placed into a class for “gifted individuals”, which was simply the politically-correct way of saying “The class for those mutants we don’t want mixing with the other children”.
He could never have known then that moving into that classroom would be what set the path at his feet. Or, rather, would bring him to meeting the person who would play a major role in shaping his future.
---
When Erik came to stand in front of the door of his new classroom, he could positively feel his heart beating in his chest as if he were the new, foreign boy all over again, and the only thing offering him some scrap of calm was the coin he had buried in his pocket.
He took a moment to stuff his hand in his pocket and clasp the coin tightly - To some, it might have seemed strange, to be taking comfort in an unfeeling metal. But, as Erik found out just yesterday, perhaps it was the fact that it was metal that it calmed him.
Scowling at the door before him, Erik made no move to open it. He knew what they called this class through the rest of the school - The Freak room. And while that in itself didn’t bother him, he was sure that inside this room would be the same annoying class mates as before, the same kind of people who would look at him as if he were a mouse or cockroach or something equally unpleasant, all because he still had a slight accent despite having lived in America for two years. It was irritating, the way they all stared and whispered behind their hands when they noticed him, as if they thought he couldn’t understand what they were saying.
For half a second, Erik considered simply walking back out the school and demanding to return to Germany. Just as his feet began to shift so that he could turn and walk away however, the door was pulled open and Erik was met by a girl, her mouth pulled into an uncertain frown as she looked up at him, a strange defiance in her stance despite the fact that she was clearly a few years younger than Erik.
And then Erik blinked with surprise as her skin suddenly shimmered before turning blue, and the blonde hair shifted to red. “What do you want?” she asked him, her yellow, reptilian eyes looking at him suspiciously.
“Raven!” an adult’s voice admonished, a hint of exasperation in the tone, “That isn’t how we answer the door!”
Raven paused to glare at Erik once more with suspicion before she turned and retreated back into the room. Erik barely even had time to realise that someone had just drastically changed colour before his eyes, before the door was pulled open to reveal the tall figure of who Erik presumed to be the teacher, and his chance for escape had eluded him.
“Ah,” the teacher hummed as she looked down at Erik with a kind face. He simply scowled up at her, lamenting the fact that now he had no choice but to go into the room and deal with the fact that he was in New York instead of in Germany as he should be. “You must be the new student,” she said with a smile, “Erik, right?”
“Yes,” Erik grunted.
“Pleasure to meet you Erik, I’m Miss Harlow. Don’t be shy now, I’m sure the other kids are looking forward to meeting you.”
I highly doubt that, Erik thought sourly as Miss Harlow stepped aside and ushered Erik in the room. The door closed with an ominous, clear, click, and Erik had to struggle to not audibly sigh.
“The other teachers tell me you didn’t show any reason to be in here before yesterday, is that correct?”
Surveying the room with inevitable curiosity, Erik simply nodded at the teacher as she prattled away, asking him inane questions like Did you bring along your books? Did you remember to tell your mother about the change of class? Mr Clarke tells me that your favourite classes were Maths and Science, is that right?
Erik watched with vague interest as Raven sat on a multi-coloured matt, her face screwed up with concentration as she attempted to change her skin tone to suit the matt beneath her. There was an older looking boy curled up in the corner of the room with a book in hand, his bright-red skin clashing horribly with the mustard yellow of the chair. Erik didn’t even notice he had a tail until he used it to turn the page. By the toy shelves, there were two smaller boys wrestling over some toy or another. One boy hurriedly clasped his hands over his ears when the other let loose a shrill noise that made Erik flinch.
“As you can see, things are slightly more hectic in here than you might be used to,” Miss Harlow said to Erik, the corners of her mouth twitching. With frustration or bemusement, Erik couldn’t tell. “And with that, sit wherever you’d like Erik. We’ll begin maths shortly, I think -” Suddenly the young teacher stopped talking in a soft voice to Erik and suddenly yelled out “Sean! Give Alex that bear right now! We don’t want another accident like last week!”
Erik made his way through the desks uncertainly as the two wrestling boys suddenly stopped and the one with dark brown hair pouted profusely before relinquishing the stuffed bear that he’d been trying to claim. The Sandy-haired one grinned widely before pointedly saying “Ha-Ha!”, which simply made the darker haired boy open his mouth and begin to wail in that high-pitched keening noise again, forcing Erik to wince. He certainly hoped he wasn’t that irritating at that age.
Sighing softly to himself as he threw his bag atop one of the desks not already taken, Erik busied himself with pulling out his books and arranging his desk. As he pulled out his pencil case, he couldn’t help but wonder how Miss Harlow was going to be able to teach them, considering there were students from all ages in the room.
A quick glance around made Erik believe that the red-tailed boy was the eldest, while the boys that had been fighting over the toy might be the youngest.
Erik was pulled from his musing as a tentative, but sure, voice spoke to him though. Already annoyed about the change in routine, Erik turned his head to glare at the speaker, but found himself momentarily stunned by the big, bright blue eyes that met his, before realising that the words the boy spoke to him should have surprised him more than his eye colour.
“Guten Tag,” the blue eyed boy repeated, his eyebrows pulling together with uncertainty. “Was that correct? Guten Tag? I’m afraid I don’t know German at all, but that seemed to be the right thing to say.”
Erik simply blinked at the boy slowly, trying to decide how he should be reacting. On the one hand, he was stunned that someone was greeting him in his home-language, but it was by a boy who appeared to be five years old who then went on to say that he didn’t even know German. And Erik certainly hadn’t spoken to the boy yet for him to know about his accent, so how did he even know about Erik’s background?
Quite suddenly, the boy smiled sheepishly at Erik, confusing him even more, “I’m sorry. Papa always tells me I shouldn’t look into people’s minds without their knowledge, he says it frightens them when I talk about things I shouldn’t even know yet. You just think so loudly though, I couldn’t help it. My name’s Charles, by the way, Charles Xavier, and I’m a telepath,” he finished with a proud grin that Erik couldn’t help but return, albeit more uncertainly.
“Erik Lensherr,” he said, and Charles’ eyes lit up even more than they already were at the sound of his voice. Oh, here we go, Erik sighed mentally and waited for the question - ‘Why do you speak like that?’ He can’t count the amount of times someone has asked him and -
“I know,” Charles told him with an amused smile, before frowning slightly and adding, “and I like your accent. The other kids are just jealous of it, you know. It makes you interesting.”
Once again, all Erik seemed to be able to do was sit there and blink with surprise at the words pouring from Charles’ mouth. He didn’t sound like a five year old, and more to the point -
“Telepath,” Charles repeated, with a slight pout this time, “It means I can read people’s minds … I suppose it also means that my speech is advanced or something? Papa says it’s just because I’m clever, but -”
“Charles, do you shut up?” Erik asked, completely unable to help himself. He had known the boy for a mere five minutes, and in that time Charles had spoken to him more than any of his previous class’ classmates. It was unnerving.
Charles simply laughed delightedly at Erik’s words, before smiling with more mischief to his grin than a five year old should. “Sometimes,” he answered, and Erik fought the want to groan. He just had to choose the seat next to the class’ chatterbox didn’t he?
“Oh! I’m not the chatterbox! You should hear Alex. Hank’s pretty bad when it comes to science too - Of course, he’s a lot older than you or I, he’s turning ten soon. And then there’s Azazel-”
Erik was caught somewhere between listening to Charles’ rambling with amusement, and wanting to beat his head repeatedly against his desk.
---
After having been in the Mutant-Class for a few weeks, Erik was mildly surprised to realise that, aside from the class being disrupted by Alex suddenly letting loose a plasma blast - Something that Charles would yell “Duck!” to seconds before it happened - or Sean screaming a little too loudly and cracking the windows, or by the diverse range in ages, it was really no different to the other class’ he’d been in. They were even ushered out of the classroom for sports every Thursday afternoon, although Erik couldn’t help but notice that they were kept away from the ‘regular’ kids.
It annoyed him that they had to be kept separate. He didn’t see any reason for it - Having extra abilities didn’t mean they loved to play dodgeball any less. But Erik had seen the looks the other kids gave his new classmates - They were afraid, and not sure how to react to any of them. Even with the mutants who’s powers weren’t obvious, the school knew they were in the “Special” class, and instantly labelled them as someone to be avoided.
“You shouldn’t let it worry you so much Erik,” Charles sighed softly as he fell to the grass beside Erik, apparently deciding he didn’t want to play Dodgeball today.
“Can’t help it,” Erik replied, not even bothering to pretend to be frustrated by Charles listening in to his thoughts anymore. He’d come to realise that regardless of whether Erik wanted him to or not, Charles pointedly refuses to accept that Erik’s thoughts are meant to be private. “It’s stupid.”
“Perhaps, but people always find it difficult to accept something that’s different.”
Erik simply sighed and reclined back on the grass, deciding it simply wasn’t worth arguing with Charles. He had a tendency to cheat and call you out when you lied.
“I do not!” Charles growled in response, folding his arms and heaving his breath out in a loud huff. Erik could all too easily imagine the pout on his face too, and he failed dismally at not smiling in amusement at the younger boy’s antics.
“Shut up Erik!”
Erik would have apologised for being amused at Charles’ expense … But he enjoyed it entirely too much to feel genuinely sorry for it, and Charles clearly knew that. Which was why, two seconds later, the wind was knocked from Erik’s lungs as Charles lunged at him, repeating “Apologise! Apologise!” over and over, while Erik simply laughed harder as he fought off Charles flailing fists.
---
Although he still disliked New York, Erik found that he didn’t hate school as much anymore. In fact, he even found that he enjoyed having discussions with Hank about Science, and he rather enjoyed Azazel’s company.
Then there was Charles of course, and Erik supposed he could say Charles was the reason why going to school didn’t suck so much anymore. It was Charles he spent most of his time with, after all, and he apparently spoke enough about the younger boy that his mother had said she wants to meet his new friend. It surprised Erik at first to hear Charles referred to as his friend, but as he’d thought about it that night, he supposed Charles was - It was certainly Charles he first greeted of a morning, and Charles he normally spoke to about homework if there was something he couldn’t quite figure out on his own.
That didn’t mean that Erik liked the rest of the school yet though. Even in his own class he still had little patience for either Sean or Alex, and the extent of his interaction with Raven was for her to glare at him for unknown reasons before she went back to whatever she was doing. And it still annoyed him to no end that the general population of the school they went to avoided him and the other kids, but he certainly didn’t dread waking up of a morning anywhere near as much as he used to.
Out of the entire school though, there was one person that Erik decided he simply did not like in the slightest. Moira MacTaggert. She was the only normal student who actually associated herself with those in the Mutant class, and it made Erik’s blood boil every time he saw her playing with Charles.
He supposed it was strange, because he didn’t care if she played with Raven or Hank or any of the others, but the very second Moira found Charles in the playground, Erik’s scowl would deepen, and he would storm off to the library to find something decent he hadn’t already read.
Charles would always look at him with confusion when they came back from lunch on days he did this, sometimes earnestly asking him why he didn’t like Moira.
“She’s really interesting! And she doesn’t care that we’re mutants at all! I like her,” Charles would say, his eyes wide and confused, his mouth pulled into a frown so deep Erik wanted to tug the corners up. Instead, he would make a point to ignore Charles for the rest of the day when he was foolish enough to say this.
By the end of the day though, Charles’ eyes would be brimming with unshed tears and Erik would cave and pull Charles into a hug, the younger boy’s head instantly ramming itself into Erik’s chest as he ground out things like “Stupid Erik! Can’t understand you at all. Thought you were mad at me! Don’t do that again! I hate it when you don’t talk to me! Can’t even read your mind when you’re like that!”
What Charles never seemed to realise was that it was normally just as Moira was within eyeshot that Erik would pull Charles to him, glaring at Moira as though she were trying to steal his prized coin collection.
The human would leave Charles alone for a few days after that, and Erik knew that if Charles ever caught him he’d be in trouble, but it gave him a few days where he didn’t have to worry about someone stealing Charles away at least.
---
One thing Erik rather enjoyed was the walk home from school. Initially, it was simply because it meant he was finally going home and would soon be able to immerse himself in doing things he enjoyed - like practising his powers, or leafing through his science book.
He found another reason to enjoy the walk home from school though in the winter. Even though he’d been in the Mutant class for a good couple of months now, Erik had never taken the time to notice how his classmates went home. He was normally too busy thinking about what he was going to do when he got home to pay attention to what was going on around him, too busy wondering what Mama was going to be doing for dinner that night.
When Erik actually focused on the people walking around him for a change though, he instantly kicked himself for not paying more attention earlier. There, not three people in front of him, was the small form of Charles, walking home alone, and Erik couldn’t help but frown at that.
It was fine for him to walk home alone, he was a big-boy. But Charles … He was small, so much so that even Sean and Alex were a little taller than him, though he was a year older than those two.
Biting his lip, Erik watched as Charles turned the corner, trying to make a decision. If he was home late, his Mama would surely scold him … But, as Erik came to the street Charles had turned down and realised he was walking completely alone down the snow-covered street, Erik didn’t hesitate to run towards the younger boy, skidding a little in the snow as he called his name so he’d wait.
“Erik!” Charles said, his lips pulling into an overjoyed smile as he realised who was calling him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realise you lived this way.”
“I don’t, I live that way,” Erik replied, pointing in the direction of his house, “But … Uh. That is…” Erik fumbled for words, unsure of what he was trying to say.
Charles simply cocked his head to the side, listening to the thoughts or feelings Erik couldn’t articulate, before smiling softly at him, “I appreciate the thought Erik, but I’m perfectly fine walking home by myself.”
Erik didn’t bother saying anything to that, he simply stood next to Charles, waiting for him to continue walking. He didn’t care if Charles thought he was fine walking alone, Erik just didn’t feel it was right that he was walking by himself.
After a moment, Charles sighed and rolled his eyes before starting to walk again, Erik keeping pace beside him. They walked on in companionable silence for five houses, before Charles said softly, “Actually, I don’t normally walk home, so it was a touch unnerving,”
For a moment, Erik was going to scoff and say something snarky about Charles’ lack of height making him an easy target, but then he was distracted by the way Charles’s hands were holding onto the straps of his bags. His bare hands, and it had been snowing for the last hour. Erik’s mouth instantly pulled into a frown.
“Where are your mittens Charles?” the question fell from his lips before he even had a chance to realise what he was about to ask.
Charles instantly looked over at him like a child who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but then his blue eyes iced over with mild defiance. “At home,” he said simply, his eyes narrowed as he continued to look at Erik, “And while I appreciate the concern, you’re not my mother Erik.”
For a moment, Erik was taken aback by Charles’ response, it was rare for Charles to be so … Cold to anyone, and Erik briefly wondered about Charles’ home life. Erik knew that he was close to his father, but as he thought about it … He didn’t hear him talk about his mother much. Erik’s eyebrows knitted together with concern.
“Please don’t - Don’t worry Erik. It’s nothing, truly,” Charles sighed, and it didn’t escape Erik’s attention that Charles was still frowning, that there was something lingering behind his eyes, but decided it better not to ask.
Instead he tugged his mittens off his own hands and silently set about pulling them onto Charles’, ignoring his startled “Erik, what -?” He barely even managed to get one partially on before Charles starting protesting.
“No. No! Absolutely not! Your hands will get cold if you do that!” Charles objected, trying to pull his hand free of Erik’s grip and out of the mitten, his eyebrows furrowing together and creating a crease between in his irritation.
Erik simply sighed and was inclined to tell Charles to stop being so difficult, but the icy fire in his eyes made him think better of it. Instead, he said, “Fine. I’ll wear one, and you wear the other.”
“That makes absolutely no sense,” Charles muttered, though he stopped resisting and allowed Erik to pull the mitten up on his hand - Though it was obviously too big for him. “Now we’re both going to have a cold hand.”
Without even thinking about it, Erik took hold of Charles’ still bare hand with his own equally bare hand, and raised an eyebrow at the smaller boy, silently asking if he had any more objections.
Charles shook his head, though the crease was still there on his brow and he was still pouting slightly as they continued to walk along the street.
From that day on, even when it wasn’t winter and Charles stopped leaving his mittens at home, Erik walked him home, their hands still clasped as if they still needed the warmth.
---
The day after Erik’s eighth birthday was decidedly the worst day of his life. It was even worse than moving to America, and that had been pretty high on the mantle of “Days that sucked”.
The day after Erik’s eighth birthday, Erik had actually been called out of class. The only other time that had happened had been the day Erik discovered his powers, and so he looked at Charles curiously to see if he could glean some idea about what it might be about.
He was slightly startled when he realised that Charles’ mouth was slack with shock and he was trying his hardest not to meet Erik’s eye, his eyes looking suspiciously watery. That was the first sign that whatever he was being called into the principal’s office for was not good news.
Never had he imagined exactly how bad that news was though.
“We - We’re so sorry Mr. Lensherr but … The doctors say that there was nothing that could be done and -,” Erik tuned it all out. Erik hardly even realised that Miss Harlow’s hand was on his shoulder as though trying to offer some semblance of comfort to him.
The walk home that day he spent alone, having been sent home directly after the meeting with the principal, and Erik’s feet had dragged the whole way, his greenish grey eyes darting all over the street trying to tell himself to wake up, because surely this was just a bad dream.
Still, when he came close to the apartment that was home and he saw the flashing lights, Erik’s feet suddenly took off beneath him and he was running. Running towards those flashing lights, his mind still refusing to accept what they told him.
It wasn’t until he pushed open the apartment door that wasn’t locked and Erik saw the amount of police and officials that were standing around, taking photo’s that Erik realised it was no lie. His mother had been murdered.
He lost track of the next few hours - He slipped into a coma of sorts, his consciousness taking a life of its own. Some distant part of his mind remembered the police having to leave in a hurry because the cutlery had started flying around the apartment with a life of it’s own, their guns pulled out of their holsters to join the sweeping, angry cloud of metal that was swirling around his body like a shield. Vaguely recalled them saying “We need someone to calm him down, but who?!” and not caring - he was too busy screaming himself hoarse with his cries of heartache and anger. The neighbours had to leave, unable to stay in their apartments listening to the guttural sounds pulling themselves out of the child’s throat, and equally unsettled by the fact that everything metal within the building was rattling angrily. He didn’t even want to listen to the soothing voice in his mind that was murmuring ‘Erik, Erik, you need to calm down. Erik, you need to calm your mind’
It wasn’t until the sky had turned dark, and his sobs had long ago faded into the occasional hiccups that Erik realised he could feel Charles inside his mind, that it felt as though he were enveloped in someone’s warm embrace, even though he was most definitely alone in the apartment.
Around the same time, Erik realised that he was acutely aware of each and every piece of metal within the room, as if it were also trying to find a way to comfort him.
I’m sorry Erik. I am so, so sorry, the voice of Charles was whispering, and Erik allowed the sound of it, and the warmth of Charles being there, in his mind, to lull him into an uneasy sleep.
The very next morning, Erik was shipped off to an Orphanage in Brooklyn, and he wasn’t even given a chance to say goodbye to Charles, or the few friends he’d made. He was barely even given enough time to collect his belongings and say goodbye to the only place in this country that held memories of his mama.
In that moment, Erik wasn’t sure who he hated more - The bastard who stole his mother from him, or the unfeeling police who simply saw him as another mutant child undeserving of any pity, despite the traumatic experience he’d just experienced.
As the police car pulled away from the apartment block, Erik thought he caught a flash of a small someone running towards the car, yelling out “Stop. Stop! Wait!”, but then Erik had buried his head into the single duffel bag that now held his entire life, trying to fight off more tears.
~X~
Part 2
Can I just say, I had alot of fun writing Charles and Erik as children? <33 Hope you guys liked it as much as I~
Also, this fic is in fact finished. And all seven parts are up =D
Word Count: 4 697
Pairing: Cherik
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: M ...? I'm honestly bad at figuring out what rating things should be - Just look at the warnings.
Warnings: Love of the homosexual nature. Implications of sexual situations. Oh, and swearing.
Summary: Charles and Erik were friends when they were children - Until certain circumstances tore them apart. Many years later, when Erik moves to England so that he can study at Oxford University, he certainly doesn't expect to run into his childhood friend again.In fact, he doesn't expect any of the events that follow.
Notes: This is something that I wrote for ile_o, who drew this amazingly cute fanart for me (Which can be found here), gushing about how much she wanted to see a fic where Charles and Erik meet as children - But with the age difference. And this is my response to that cos the image just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here it is darling, and I hope to the gods of Tuesday that you like it. >///<
~X~
At the age of five, the course of Erik Lensherr’s life changed drastically - And not only because his mother had come to the conclusion that they should move to America. Although that was a large part of what brought about the change, it was not the majoring factor that decided Erik’s future.
When Erik first moved to New York, he absolutely loathed it - The other kids at school avoided him because of his accent, and the fact that he could only speak broken English didn’t help. Not that Erik cared about that because he just found the other children annoying, it simply frustrated him that he could hardly understand the teacher. The sole comfort to him then, was that he felt … Stronger, somehow, here in New York. It wasn’t until Erik turned seven that he realised the reason for this was because of his mutation.
Later in life, if he was asked when his mutation first revealed itself, Erik would say that he couldn’t remember. Which was a complete and utter lie - He remembered it well. He could recall with uncanny accuracy the way he felt as he stopped the pen that had been thrown at him in midair, before turning it over and hurling it back at that annoying Jessie guy, all with instinctual twitches of his fingers. And he could just as easily recall the mix of horrified and startled expressions on his classmates faces as they realised what he’d done. Erik could even remember sighing as he realised it was just another thing his schoolmates would avoid him for, a sigh that had turned into a groan as he considered what his mother’s reaction was going to be.
Erik certainly hadn’t expected she’d simply smile fondly at him, ruffle his hair and tell him that she knew he was special before returning to the dishes. He also hadn’t expected to be pulled out of regular classes and placed into a class for “gifted individuals”, which was simply the politically-correct way of saying “The class for those mutants we don’t want mixing with the other children”.
He could never have known then that moving into that classroom would be what set the path at his feet. Or, rather, would bring him to meeting the person who would play a major role in shaping his future.
---
When Erik came to stand in front of the door of his new classroom, he could positively feel his heart beating in his chest as if he were the new, foreign boy all over again, and the only thing offering him some scrap of calm was the coin he had buried in his pocket.
He took a moment to stuff his hand in his pocket and clasp the coin tightly - To some, it might have seemed strange, to be taking comfort in an unfeeling metal. But, as Erik found out just yesterday, perhaps it was the fact that it was metal that it calmed him.
Scowling at the door before him, Erik made no move to open it. He knew what they called this class through the rest of the school - The Freak room. And while that in itself didn’t bother him, he was sure that inside this room would be the same annoying class mates as before, the same kind of people who would look at him as if he were a mouse or cockroach or something equally unpleasant, all because he still had a slight accent despite having lived in America for two years. It was irritating, the way they all stared and whispered behind their hands when they noticed him, as if they thought he couldn’t understand what they were saying.
For half a second, Erik considered simply walking back out the school and demanding to return to Germany. Just as his feet began to shift so that he could turn and walk away however, the door was pulled open and Erik was met by a girl, her mouth pulled into an uncertain frown as she looked up at him, a strange defiance in her stance despite the fact that she was clearly a few years younger than Erik.
And then Erik blinked with surprise as her skin suddenly shimmered before turning blue, and the blonde hair shifted to red. “What do you want?” she asked him, her yellow, reptilian eyes looking at him suspiciously.
“Raven!” an adult’s voice admonished, a hint of exasperation in the tone, “That isn’t how we answer the door!”
Raven paused to glare at Erik once more with suspicion before she turned and retreated back into the room. Erik barely even had time to realise that someone had just drastically changed colour before his eyes, before the door was pulled open to reveal the tall figure of who Erik presumed to be the teacher, and his chance for escape had eluded him.
“Ah,” the teacher hummed as she looked down at Erik with a kind face. He simply scowled up at her, lamenting the fact that now he had no choice but to go into the room and deal with the fact that he was in New York instead of in Germany as he should be. “You must be the new student,” she said with a smile, “Erik, right?”
“Yes,” Erik grunted.
“Pleasure to meet you Erik, I’m Miss Harlow. Don’t be shy now, I’m sure the other kids are looking forward to meeting you.”
I highly doubt that, Erik thought sourly as Miss Harlow stepped aside and ushered Erik in the room. The door closed with an ominous, clear, click, and Erik had to struggle to not audibly sigh.
“The other teachers tell me you didn’t show any reason to be in here before yesterday, is that correct?”
Surveying the room with inevitable curiosity, Erik simply nodded at the teacher as she prattled away, asking him inane questions like Did you bring along your books? Did you remember to tell your mother about the change of class? Mr Clarke tells me that your favourite classes were Maths and Science, is that right?
Erik watched with vague interest as Raven sat on a multi-coloured matt, her face screwed up with concentration as she attempted to change her skin tone to suit the matt beneath her. There was an older looking boy curled up in the corner of the room with a book in hand, his bright-red skin clashing horribly with the mustard yellow of the chair. Erik didn’t even notice he had a tail until he used it to turn the page. By the toy shelves, there were two smaller boys wrestling over some toy or another. One boy hurriedly clasped his hands over his ears when the other let loose a shrill noise that made Erik flinch.
“As you can see, things are slightly more hectic in here than you might be used to,” Miss Harlow said to Erik, the corners of her mouth twitching. With frustration or bemusement, Erik couldn’t tell. “And with that, sit wherever you’d like Erik. We’ll begin maths shortly, I think -” Suddenly the young teacher stopped talking in a soft voice to Erik and suddenly yelled out “Sean! Give Alex that bear right now! We don’t want another accident like last week!”
Erik made his way through the desks uncertainly as the two wrestling boys suddenly stopped and the one with dark brown hair pouted profusely before relinquishing the stuffed bear that he’d been trying to claim. The Sandy-haired one grinned widely before pointedly saying “Ha-Ha!”, which simply made the darker haired boy open his mouth and begin to wail in that high-pitched keening noise again, forcing Erik to wince. He certainly hoped he wasn’t that irritating at that age.
Sighing softly to himself as he threw his bag atop one of the desks not already taken, Erik busied himself with pulling out his books and arranging his desk. As he pulled out his pencil case, he couldn’t help but wonder how Miss Harlow was going to be able to teach them, considering there were students from all ages in the room.
A quick glance around made Erik believe that the red-tailed boy was the eldest, while the boys that had been fighting over the toy might be the youngest.
Erik was pulled from his musing as a tentative, but sure, voice spoke to him though. Already annoyed about the change in routine, Erik turned his head to glare at the speaker, but found himself momentarily stunned by the big, bright blue eyes that met his, before realising that the words the boy spoke to him should have surprised him more than his eye colour.
“Guten Tag,” the blue eyed boy repeated, his eyebrows pulling together with uncertainty. “Was that correct? Guten Tag? I’m afraid I don’t know German at all, but that seemed to be the right thing to say.”
Erik simply blinked at the boy slowly, trying to decide how he should be reacting. On the one hand, he was stunned that someone was greeting him in his home-language, but it was by a boy who appeared to be five years old who then went on to say that he didn’t even know German. And Erik certainly hadn’t spoken to the boy yet for him to know about his accent, so how did he even know about Erik’s background?
Quite suddenly, the boy smiled sheepishly at Erik, confusing him even more, “I’m sorry. Papa always tells me I shouldn’t look into people’s minds without their knowledge, he says it frightens them when I talk about things I shouldn’t even know yet. You just think so loudly though, I couldn’t help it. My name’s Charles, by the way, Charles Xavier, and I’m a telepath,” he finished with a proud grin that Erik couldn’t help but return, albeit more uncertainly.
“Erik Lensherr,” he said, and Charles’ eyes lit up even more than they already were at the sound of his voice. Oh, here we go, Erik sighed mentally and waited for the question - ‘Why do you speak like that?’ He can’t count the amount of times someone has asked him and -
“I know,” Charles told him with an amused smile, before frowning slightly and adding, “and I like your accent. The other kids are just jealous of it, you know. It makes you interesting.”
Once again, all Erik seemed to be able to do was sit there and blink with surprise at the words pouring from Charles’ mouth. He didn’t sound like a five year old, and more to the point -
“Telepath,” Charles repeated, with a slight pout this time, “It means I can read people’s minds … I suppose it also means that my speech is advanced or something? Papa says it’s just because I’m clever, but -”
“Charles, do you shut up?” Erik asked, completely unable to help himself. He had known the boy for a mere five minutes, and in that time Charles had spoken to him more than any of his previous class’ classmates. It was unnerving.
Charles simply laughed delightedly at Erik’s words, before smiling with more mischief to his grin than a five year old should. “Sometimes,” he answered, and Erik fought the want to groan. He just had to choose the seat next to the class’ chatterbox didn’t he?
“Oh! I’m not the chatterbox! You should hear Alex. Hank’s pretty bad when it comes to science too - Of course, he’s a lot older than you or I, he’s turning ten soon. And then there’s Azazel-”
Erik was caught somewhere between listening to Charles’ rambling with amusement, and wanting to beat his head repeatedly against his desk.
---
After having been in the Mutant-Class for a few weeks, Erik was mildly surprised to realise that, aside from the class being disrupted by Alex suddenly letting loose a plasma blast - Something that Charles would yell “Duck!” to seconds before it happened - or Sean screaming a little too loudly and cracking the windows, or by the diverse range in ages, it was really no different to the other class’ he’d been in. They were even ushered out of the classroom for sports every Thursday afternoon, although Erik couldn’t help but notice that they were kept away from the ‘regular’ kids.
It annoyed him that they had to be kept separate. He didn’t see any reason for it - Having extra abilities didn’t mean they loved to play dodgeball any less. But Erik had seen the looks the other kids gave his new classmates - They were afraid, and not sure how to react to any of them. Even with the mutants who’s powers weren’t obvious, the school knew they were in the “Special” class, and instantly labelled them as someone to be avoided.
“You shouldn’t let it worry you so much Erik,” Charles sighed softly as he fell to the grass beside Erik, apparently deciding he didn’t want to play Dodgeball today.
“Can’t help it,” Erik replied, not even bothering to pretend to be frustrated by Charles listening in to his thoughts anymore. He’d come to realise that regardless of whether Erik wanted him to or not, Charles pointedly refuses to accept that Erik’s thoughts are meant to be private. “It’s stupid.”
“Perhaps, but people always find it difficult to accept something that’s different.”
Erik simply sighed and reclined back on the grass, deciding it simply wasn’t worth arguing with Charles. He had a tendency to cheat and call you out when you lied.
“I do not!” Charles growled in response, folding his arms and heaving his breath out in a loud huff. Erik could all too easily imagine the pout on his face too, and he failed dismally at not smiling in amusement at the younger boy’s antics.
“Shut up Erik!”
Erik would have apologised for being amused at Charles’ expense … But he enjoyed it entirely too much to feel genuinely sorry for it, and Charles clearly knew that. Which was why, two seconds later, the wind was knocked from Erik’s lungs as Charles lunged at him, repeating “Apologise! Apologise!” over and over, while Erik simply laughed harder as he fought off Charles flailing fists.
---
Although he still disliked New York, Erik found that he didn’t hate school as much anymore. In fact, he even found that he enjoyed having discussions with Hank about Science, and he rather enjoyed Azazel’s company.
Then there was Charles of course, and Erik supposed he could say Charles was the reason why going to school didn’t suck so much anymore. It was Charles he spent most of his time with, after all, and he apparently spoke enough about the younger boy that his mother had said she wants to meet his new friend. It surprised Erik at first to hear Charles referred to as his friend, but as he’d thought about it that night, he supposed Charles was - It was certainly Charles he first greeted of a morning, and Charles he normally spoke to about homework if there was something he couldn’t quite figure out on his own.
That didn’t mean that Erik liked the rest of the school yet though. Even in his own class he still had little patience for either Sean or Alex, and the extent of his interaction with Raven was for her to glare at him for unknown reasons before she went back to whatever she was doing. And it still annoyed him to no end that the general population of the school they went to avoided him and the other kids, but he certainly didn’t dread waking up of a morning anywhere near as much as he used to.
Out of the entire school though, there was one person that Erik decided he simply did not like in the slightest. Moira MacTaggert. She was the only normal student who actually associated herself with those in the Mutant class, and it made Erik’s blood boil every time he saw her playing with Charles.
He supposed it was strange, because he didn’t care if she played with Raven or Hank or any of the others, but the very second Moira found Charles in the playground, Erik’s scowl would deepen, and he would storm off to the library to find something decent he hadn’t already read.
Charles would always look at him with confusion when they came back from lunch on days he did this, sometimes earnestly asking him why he didn’t like Moira.
“She’s really interesting! And she doesn’t care that we’re mutants at all! I like her,” Charles would say, his eyes wide and confused, his mouth pulled into a frown so deep Erik wanted to tug the corners up. Instead, he would make a point to ignore Charles for the rest of the day when he was foolish enough to say this.
By the end of the day though, Charles’ eyes would be brimming with unshed tears and Erik would cave and pull Charles into a hug, the younger boy’s head instantly ramming itself into Erik’s chest as he ground out things like “Stupid Erik! Can’t understand you at all. Thought you were mad at me! Don’t do that again! I hate it when you don’t talk to me! Can’t even read your mind when you’re like that!”
What Charles never seemed to realise was that it was normally just as Moira was within eyeshot that Erik would pull Charles to him, glaring at Moira as though she were trying to steal his prized coin collection.
The human would leave Charles alone for a few days after that, and Erik knew that if Charles ever caught him he’d be in trouble, but it gave him a few days where he didn’t have to worry about someone stealing Charles away at least.
---
One thing Erik rather enjoyed was the walk home from school. Initially, it was simply because it meant he was finally going home and would soon be able to immerse himself in doing things he enjoyed - like practising his powers, or leafing through his science book.
He found another reason to enjoy the walk home from school though in the winter. Even though he’d been in the Mutant class for a good couple of months now, Erik had never taken the time to notice how his classmates went home. He was normally too busy thinking about what he was going to do when he got home to pay attention to what was going on around him, too busy wondering what Mama was going to be doing for dinner that night.
When Erik actually focused on the people walking around him for a change though, he instantly kicked himself for not paying more attention earlier. There, not three people in front of him, was the small form of Charles, walking home alone, and Erik couldn’t help but frown at that.
It was fine for him to walk home alone, he was a big-boy. But Charles … He was small, so much so that even Sean and Alex were a little taller than him, though he was a year older than those two.
Biting his lip, Erik watched as Charles turned the corner, trying to make a decision. If he was home late, his Mama would surely scold him … But, as Erik came to the street Charles had turned down and realised he was walking completely alone down the snow-covered street, Erik didn’t hesitate to run towards the younger boy, skidding a little in the snow as he called his name so he’d wait.
“Erik!” Charles said, his lips pulling into an overjoyed smile as he realised who was calling him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realise you lived this way.”
“I don’t, I live that way,” Erik replied, pointing in the direction of his house, “But … Uh. That is…” Erik fumbled for words, unsure of what he was trying to say.
Charles simply cocked his head to the side, listening to the thoughts or feelings Erik couldn’t articulate, before smiling softly at him, “I appreciate the thought Erik, but I’m perfectly fine walking home by myself.”
Erik didn’t bother saying anything to that, he simply stood next to Charles, waiting for him to continue walking. He didn’t care if Charles thought he was fine walking alone, Erik just didn’t feel it was right that he was walking by himself.
After a moment, Charles sighed and rolled his eyes before starting to walk again, Erik keeping pace beside him. They walked on in companionable silence for five houses, before Charles said softly, “Actually, I don’t normally walk home, so it was a touch unnerving,”
For a moment, Erik was going to scoff and say something snarky about Charles’ lack of height making him an easy target, but then he was distracted by the way Charles’s hands were holding onto the straps of his bags. His bare hands, and it had been snowing for the last hour. Erik’s mouth instantly pulled into a frown.
“Where are your mittens Charles?” the question fell from his lips before he even had a chance to realise what he was about to ask.
Charles instantly looked over at him like a child who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but then his blue eyes iced over with mild defiance. “At home,” he said simply, his eyes narrowed as he continued to look at Erik, “And while I appreciate the concern, you’re not my mother Erik.”
For a moment, Erik was taken aback by Charles’ response, it was rare for Charles to be so … Cold to anyone, and Erik briefly wondered about Charles’ home life. Erik knew that he was close to his father, but as he thought about it … He didn’t hear him talk about his mother much. Erik’s eyebrows knitted together with concern.
“Please don’t - Don’t worry Erik. It’s nothing, truly,” Charles sighed, and it didn’t escape Erik’s attention that Charles was still frowning, that there was something lingering behind his eyes, but decided it better not to ask.
Instead he tugged his mittens off his own hands and silently set about pulling them onto Charles’, ignoring his startled “Erik, what -?” He barely even managed to get one partially on before Charles starting protesting.
“No. No! Absolutely not! Your hands will get cold if you do that!” Charles objected, trying to pull his hand free of Erik’s grip and out of the mitten, his eyebrows furrowing together and creating a crease between in his irritation.
Erik simply sighed and was inclined to tell Charles to stop being so difficult, but the icy fire in his eyes made him think better of it. Instead, he said, “Fine. I’ll wear one, and you wear the other.”
“That makes absolutely no sense,” Charles muttered, though he stopped resisting and allowed Erik to pull the mitten up on his hand - Though it was obviously too big for him. “Now we’re both going to have a cold hand.”
Without even thinking about it, Erik took hold of Charles’ still bare hand with his own equally bare hand, and raised an eyebrow at the smaller boy, silently asking if he had any more objections.
Charles shook his head, though the crease was still there on his brow and he was still pouting slightly as they continued to walk along the street.
From that day on, even when it wasn’t winter and Charles stopped leaving his mittens at home, Erik walked him home, their hands still clasped as if they still needed the warmth.
---
The day after Erik’s eighth birthday was decidedly the worst day of his life. It was even worse than moving to America, and that had been pretty high on the mantle of “Days that sucked”.
The day after Erik’s eighth birthday, Erik had actually been called out of class. The only other time that had happened had been the day Erik discovered his powers, and so he looked at Charles curiously to see if he could glean some idea about what it might be about.
He was slightly startled when he realised that Charles’ mouth was slack with shock and he was trying his hardest not to meet Erik’s eye, his eyes looking suspiciously watery. That was the first sign that whatever he was being called into the principal’s office for was not good news.
Never had he imagined exactly how bad that news was though.
“We - We’re so sorry Mr. Lensherr but … The doctors say that there was nothing that could be done and -,” Erik tuned it all out. Erik hardly even realised that Miss Harlow’s hand was on his shoulder as though trying to offer some semblance of comfort to him.
The walk home that day he spent alone, having been sent home directly after the meeting with the principal, and Erik’s feet had dragged the whole way, his greenish grey eyes darting all over the street trying to tell himself to wake up, because surely this was just a bad dream.
Still, when he came close to the apartment that was home and he saw the flashing lights, Erik’s feet suddenly took off beneath him and he was running. Running towards those flashing lights, his mind still refusing to accept what they told him.
It wasn’t until he pushed open the apartment door that wasn’t locked and Erik saw the amount of police and officials that were standing around, taking photo’s that Erik realised it was no lie. His mother had been murdered.
He lost track of the next few hours - He slipped into a coma of sorts, his consciousness taking a life of its own. Some distant part of his mind remembered the police having to leave in a hurry because the cutlery had started flying around the apartment with a life of it’s own, their guns pulled out of their holsters to join the sweeping, angry cloud of metal that was swirling around his body like a shield. Vaguely recalled them saying “We need someone to calm him down, but who?!” and not caring - he was too busy screaming himself hoarse with his cries of heartache and anger. The neighbours had to leave, unable to stay in their apartments listening to the guttural sounds pulling themselves out of the child’s throat, and equally unsettled by the fact that everything metal within the building was rattling angrily. He didn’t even want to listen to the soothing voice in his mind that was murmuring ‘Erik, Erik, you need to calm down. Erik, you need to calm your mind’
It wasn’t until the sky had turned dark, and his sobs had long ago faded into the occasional hiccups that Erik realised he could feel Charles inside his mind, that it felt as though he were enveloped in someone’s warm embrace, even though he was most definitely alone in the apartment.
Around the same time, Erik realised that he was acutely aware of each and every piece of metal within the room, as if it were also trying to find a way to comfort him.
I’m sorry Erik. I am so, so sorry, the voice of Charles was whispering, and Erik allowed the sound of it, and the warmth of Charles being there, in his mind, to lull him into an uneasy sleep.
The very next morning, Erik was shipped off to an Orphanage in Brooklyn, and he wasn’t even given a chance to say goodbye to Charles, or the few friends he’d made. He was barely even given enough time to collect his belongings and say goodbye to the only place in this country that held memories of his mama.
In that moment, Erik wasn’t sure who he hated more - The bastard who stole his mother from him, or the unfeeling police who simply saw him as another mutant child undeserving of any pity, despite the traumatic experience he’d just experienced.
As the police car pulled away from the apartment block, Erik thought he caught a flash of a small someone running towards the car, yelling out “Stop. Stop! Wait!”, but then Erik had buried his head into the single duffel bag that now held his entire life, trying to fight off more tears.
~X~
Part 2
Can I just say, I had alot of fun writing Charles and Erik as children? <33 Hope you guys liked it as much as I~
Also, this fic is in fact finished. And all seven parts are up =D