Erik/Charles, memories
anonymous
June 7 2011, 17:11:42 UTC
Charles had a better or at least more secure childhood than Erik, but his mom was distant and didn't really care about him. So I'd just like the two of them exploring Erik's happy memories of his mother and Charles basking in their love and warmth because he never had that with his mom. Erik is bowled over that he can provde Charles with that.
"Tell me more," Charles had asked, his hair, still damp from his shower, sticking up in all directions like his beloved Einstein. Please.
He’d looked so ridiculously young, almost hopeful, like a child asking for just one more story before bedtime, that Erik had been truly and utterly powerless against the request. And so he nodded, extending his hand toward Charles and feeling a warm thread of emotion wind up his arm as Charles’s fingers slid over his palm.
“I don’t,” he’d started to say and then stopped, unsure of what to say. Know how to remember. Know where to begin. Know if I can.
“I can help,” Charles said quietly, sitting down on the couch next to him so their bodies were pressed close from shoulder to knee, their hands still clasped. Let me.Erik closed his eyes. He could feel a warm spring breeze on his face. The smell of bread twitched at his nose. The sound of his mother’s laughter as he tore into a roll newly from the over and a puff of steam made him cough was like the most beautiful symphony. Erik could almost feel
( ... )
Thank you so much! I think this breaks the record (for me at least) of quickest viewing-to-writing for a new fandom. But I couldn't *not* write. Especially with this prompt.
I wanna go hug my mom now.
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He’d looked so ridiculously young, almost hopeful, like a child asking for just one more story before bedtime, that Erik had been truly and utterly powerless against the request. And so he nodded, extending his hand toward Charles and feeling a warm thread of emotion wind up his arm as Charles’s fingers slid over his palm.
“I don’t,” he’d started to say and then stopped, unsure of what to say. Know how to remember. Know where to begin. Know if I can.
“I can help,” Charles said quietly, sitting down on the couch next to him so their bodies were pressed close from shoulder to knee, their hands still clasped. Let me.Erik closed his eyes. He could feel a warm spring breeze on his face. The smell of bread twitched at his nose. The sound of his mother’s laughter as he tore into a roll newly from the over and a puff of steam made him cough was like the most beautiful symphony. Erik could almost feel ( ... )
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