Silent Hill AU
Title: The Memories Obscured [Your Silent Tomb] 1 / ?
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing/Characters: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, Sean Cassidy, Sebastian Shaw, others.
Rating: NC-17
Content: Silent Hill AU
Word count: 1168
Warnings: Major character death (in the past), detailed description of violence, abusive themes, mind-fuckery.
Summary: The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again. Charles Francis Xavier had died. But on March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell. A letter from Charles, beckoning him to come- come to Silent Hill.
Part I
[Love Long Lost]
He came to with a violent jolt that nearly sent him face down on the floor; he was clutching fiercefully at the foot of the bed as the result of such a wild awakening. He inwardly thanked it for being so small, even if he would have fallen; the most he would get was a bump. As the blood in his ears reduced its thumping, he could regain his breathing again and calmly get off the bed. That seemed like a nice idea just a few moments ago, but he did not move a single inch. Instead, he turned onto his side, now facing the empty space of his bed. He reached out, like he always did these days, his fingers brushing over the satin fabric. It felt smooth and gentle beneath his touch, but cold regardless, reminding him of how empty this bed felt without Charles being there -lazily stretching under the sheets, with his eyes of sky blue looking back at Erik with what seems to be endless affection.
The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again.
Charles Francis Xavier had died. His eyes once of sky blue -vibrant and so alive- were lost and dull. He held Erik’s hand and smiled the smile that Erik despised the most, the one that said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ as if he was to blame for taking that very last breath and leaving Erik behind.
He had nightmares ever since that day. The ones that left him hurting both physically and emotionally, the ones that had Charles alive at one moment and dying right at the next. With Charles asking him questions that tore his heart to pieces, that left him kneeling before his lover, tears burning down his face, clutching hopelessly at Charles’ thighs, and shouting on the top of his lungs, “Don’t go!”
Pathetic.
Every morning since that dreadful night, Erik woke up feeling drained, weak, and most of all- pathetic. It’s been almost three months since Charles’ death, and his heart was not even set on letting go. He would never forget, of course, and he would kill himself the instant he would no longer be able to recall Charles’ face, his smile, his voice, but he cannot mourn forever- that he surely knew.
Some could say that Erik had gone soft, that he was nothing of the man that he once claimed to be -a leader of new species- a mutant powerful enough to wipe the humans off the face of the Earth. Exaggeration at its best, that statement. Even if he did pursue that goal, following the road of hatred, he would never be able to overcome the other mutant, which held the power of a much greater force -the power over his soul. After hearing that for the first time, Charles just rolled his eyes and laughed at such a sappy and over sentimental phrasing, wrapping his arms around his lover, and kissing him gently, lovingly on the lips, making Erik blush. It’s one of the many little secrets they both shared- Erik could actually blush and Charles was a man of action.
But whenever Erik recalls that memory, he has to remind himself that Charles was the man of action, he’s not here anymore. He was constantly reminded of that, by the walls around him that were crushing him under their weight, but he never did move out of their apartment. The apartment that now was his alone.
On March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell.
It seems you were right, Erik. I am lost again. Would you come and take me home?
The next moment he stormed out of the apartment, the door swinging open in a rushed, forceful motion, only to find a photo, laying on the doorstep -waiting for him. He could not believe his eyes; whoever was behind this trick was as good as dead. He may have gone ‘soft,’ but he would not hesitate to snap the neck of the person responsible for this; no one dared to use Charles and his name in such a heinous way.
He took a deep breath, another and another, and looked at the photo again. He still remembered the date it was taken -May 22nd- and the picture showed Charles, smiling broadly and pointing at the huge wooden sign that said, “Welcome to Silent Hill.”Another look at Charles’ happy face and Erik felt as though he would shatter, so he flipped to the back of the photo to check the year it was taken -one of the things Charles insisted on doing. “When we’ll be old and bald, how do you expect us to recall when the pictures were taken?” he had said- and Erik froze. He could feel his fingers going numb -today- the same day he was struggling through without Charles by his side and here he was, smiling at him from the photo that was taken just today. This was way out of line; whoever got a hold of this photo and wrote down that date had just signed himself a death sentence.
...............
The persistent nudge of pain forced him to open up his eyes; which was a Herculean effort alone, and get up. The blood dripping from his eyebrow got into his right eye, obscuring his vision for the next few minutes, before he had a chance to rinse it off with water. Water?
Erik had stared at his reflection in the mirror for good five minutes or so, trying to recall something, anything for that matter. His head was throbbing violently, memory a blur. He looked over his surroundings; what seemed to be a public restroom. He reached out for the paper towel machine, cursing his tough luck; he left the unkempt restroom behind, in the hope of finding something that would help stop the bleeding.
A few steps ahead was his car, smashed beyond any recognition, the door to the passenger side having fallen off. The telephone pole had not received that much of the visible damage; it was just tilted to the right. It’s a miracle that Erik managed to get away with just a split brow. He looked inside the car, in search of any sort of cloth to wipe and hopefully, stop the blood. As he reached for the glove compartment, everything came back to him. There was a photo of Charles and a letter, and now he knew where the hell he was, he was on the way to Silent Hill. Absurd as it may be no one but Charles and Erik had had that photo in their possession, so who else but Charles could’ve signed it?
His mind raced with all possible and impossible thoughts of ‘what if Charles is alive?’ and the town of Silent Hill welcomed his search for his long lost love.
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing/Characters: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, Sean Cassidy, Sebastian Shaw, others.
Rating: NC-17
Content: Silent Hill AU
Word count: 1168
Warnings: Major character death (in the past), detailed description of violence, abusive themes, mind-fuckery.
Summary: The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again. Charles Francis Xavier had died. But on March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell. A letter from Charles, beckoning him to come- come to Silent Hill.
Part I
[Love Long Lost]
He came to with a violent jolt that nearly sent him face down on the floor; he was clutching fiercefully at the foot of the bed as the result of such a wild awakening. He inwardly thanked it for being so small, even if he would have fallen; the most he would get was a bump. As the blood in his ears reduced its thumping, he could regain his breathing again and calmly get off the bed. That seemed like a nice idea just a few moments ago, but he did not move a single inch. Instead, he turned onto his side, now facing the empty space of his bed. He reached out, like he always did these days, his fingers brushing over the satin fabric. It felt smooth and gentle beneath his touch, but cold regardless, reminding him of how empty this bed felt without Charles being there -lazily stretching under the sheets, with his eyes of sky blue looking back at Erik with what seems to be endless affection.
The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again.
Charles Francis Xavier had died. His eyes once of sky blue -vibrant and so alive- were lost and dull. He held Erik’s hand and smiled the smile that Erik despised the most, the one that said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ as if he was to blame for taking that very last breath and leaving Erik behind.
He had nightmares ever since that day. The ones that left him hurting both physically and emotionally, the ones that had Charles alive at one moment and dying right at the next. With Charles asking him questions that tore his heart to pieces, that left him kneeling before his lover, tears burning down his face, clutching hopelessly at Charles’ thighs, and shouting on the top of his lungs, “Don’t go!”
Pathetic.
Every morning since that dreadful night, Erik woke up feeling drained, weak, and most of all- pathetic. It’s been almost three months since Charles’ death, and his heart was not even set on letting go. He would never forget, of course, and he would kill himself the instant he would no longer be able to recall Charles’ face, his smile, his voice, but he cannot mourn forever- that he surely knew.
Some could say that Erik had gone soft, that he was nothing of the man that he once claimed to be -a leader of new species- a mutant powerful enough to wipe the humans off the face of the Earth. Exaggeration at its best, that statement. Even if he did pursue that goal, following the road of hatred, he would never be able to overcome the other mutant, which held the power of a much greater force -the power over his soul. After hearing that for the first time, Charles just rolled his eyes and laughed at such a sappy and over sentimental phrasing, wrapping his arms around his lover, and kissing him gently, lovingly on the lips, making Erik blush. It’s one of the many little secrets they both shared- Erik could actually blush and Charles was a man of action.
But whenever Erik recalls that memory, he has to remind himself that Charles was the man of action, he’s not here anymore. He was constantly reminded of that, by the walls around him that were crushing him under their weight, but he never did move out of their apartment. The apartment that now was his alone.
On March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell.
It seems you were right, Erik. I am lost again. Would you come and take me home?
The next moment he stormed out of the apartment, the door swinging open in a rushed, forceful motion, only to find a photo, laying on the doorstep -waiting for him. He could not believe his eyes; whoever was behind this trick was as good as dead. He may have gone ‘soft,’ but he would not hesitate to snap the neck of the person responsible for this; no one dared to use Charles and his name in such a heinous way.
He took a deep breath, another and another, and looked at the photo again. He still remembered the date it was taken -May 22nd- and the picture showed Charles, smiling broadly and pointing at the huge wooden sign that said, “Welcome to Silent Hill.”Another look at Charles’ happy face and Erik felt as though he would shatter, so he flipped to the back of the photo to check the year it was taken -one of the things Charles insisted on doing. “When we’ll be old and bald, how do you expect us to recall when the pictures were taken?” he had said- and Erik froze. He could feel his fingers going numb -today- the same day he was struggling through without Charles by his side and here he was, smiling at him from the photo that was taken just today. This was way out of line; whoever got a hold of this photo and wrote down that date had just signed himself a death sentence.
...............
The persistent nudge of pain forced him to open up his eyes; which was a Herculean effort alone, and get up. The blood dripping from his eyebrow got into his right eye, obscuring his vision for the next few minutes, before he had a chance to rinse it off with water. Water?
Erik had stared at his reflection in the mirror for good five minutes or so, trying to recall something, anything for that matter. His head was throbbing violently, memory a blur. He looked over his surroundings; what seemed to be a public restroom. He reached out for the paper towel machine, cursing his tough luck; he left the unkempt restroom behind, in the hope of finding something that would help stop the bleeding.
A few steps ahead was his car, smashed beyond any recognition, the door to the passenger side having fallen off. The telephone pole had not received that much of the visible damage; it was just tilted to the right. It’s a miracle that Erik managed to get away with just a split brow. He looked inside the car, in search of any sort of cloth to wipe and hopefully, stop the blood. As he reached for the glove compartment, everything came back to him. There was a photo of Charles and a letter, and now he knew where the hell he was, he was on the way to Silent Hill. Absurd as it may be no one but Charles and Erik had had that photo in their possession, so who else but Charles could’ve signed it?
His mind raced with all possible and impossible thoughts of ‘what if Charles is alive?’ and the town of Silent Hill welcomed his search for his long lost love.