Superheroes (5/8)
Part 4
The tassels have switched sides, the emerald green robes have been shed, and the sound of pictures being taken, mingled with proud, tearful exclamations, are over and done with.
Graduation.
It came with nervous knees and sweaty palms and went with sighs of relief and wide smiles, and now Erik and Charles sit in the mostly deserted park down the street from Charles' home. Their suit jackets and shiny dress shoes have been long discarded onto the grass, and ties loosened around their throats. They've rolled up their sleeves and stuffed their socks into their pockets, more to enjoy the way grit gets between their toes and up trouser legs. They've long outgrown this sandbox, but neither of them move from where they sit.
The setting sun cuts a swath of orange light across Erik's eyes and he keeps his head down to avoid the glare. Gripping a handful of sand, he moves his arm in lazy figure eights and loosens his fist gradually, watching the golden bits fall in a steady stream. A sudden grin breaks across his face and he rubs his knee against Charles'. Remember when I dared you to eat a fist full of this stuff?
Beside him, Charles laughs quietly at Erik's question. Yes, he answers, I was sick for a whole week.
You were only sick for a day, and stretched it out into a week. Charles laughs again, louder, and Erik looks over at his friend quickly, smiling at the way his freckled nose wrinkles slightly. I still felt so bad, though, Erik thinks. He remembers how upset he'd been to see Charles choking on the small handful of rough particles. He also remembers how he'd apologized more than a dozen times, going as far as to give Charles his favorite stuffed zebra to hunker down in bed with. It didn't matter that Charles forgave him the first time he'd said sorry - he still spent hours on the edge of Charles' bed, floating and bending his first set of knitting needles into any and every shape Charles asked for.
He can hear the grin in Charles' voice when his friend begins to float another thought his way. Remember that day, when you kept pushing me higher and higher on the swing? The laugh is building in Erik's chest, even before Charles finishes - he knows exactly where he's going with this. I kept saying 'Erik, I don't think this is a good idea,' and you just kept telling me to 'hold on tight.' Completely ignoring my pleas-
Oh, please, Erik laughs aloud. You loved it-
You froze me in mid-air! Charles insists. In front of a huge crowd of people-
A sharp bark of laughter pushes itself out of Erik's chest. He remembers that day crystal clear - God, his Mama had been so vexed when she looked over from the playground benches to see more than a dozen kids and their parents agape at the sight of Charles' swing frozen midair, chain link bars held out perfectly straight, and eleven year old Erik's wicked smile. He can recall Charles' large blue eyes a mix of nervous and excited, shining with happiness.
I didn't get dessert that night, Erik thinks wistfully, and Charles gives an amused snort.
I could have fallen and really hurt myself.
Nah, Erik thinks, casually. I'd never have let you fall.
They sit side by side, fingers buried into the sand, the surface sun warmed at first, but getting cooler the further they dig their fingers down. A few more moments pass in silence before Charles' quiet thought floats over.
We are officially adults now.
Something tightens in Erik's chest at the note of longing in his friend's voice, heart leaping uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn't answer, just buries his fingers further down, the surface giving easily. He digs as if he's looking for something, vaguely - maybe searching for the bottom. He can't recall ever getting to the floor of this thing when he was little, working with hands much smaller than they are now, but it never worked - the rest of the surrounding sand always fell easily into the hole he'd just dug.
After this summer, its college, Charles continues, and Erik's stomach gives an unpleasant lurch. And then careers, and… Charles shifts next to him and sighs aloud, quietly. It's happening so quickly. Or it feels like it, anyway.
Out of the corner of his eye, Erik sees two of the few children left, brothers it looks like, with their matching, flaming red hair, run off to where their mother has just called them inside from a few houses down. He wants to let out a hum of acknowledgement or even nod at Charles' words, but he can't seem to move anything except for his fingers that just keep digging, digging, digging.
I've already put a request in for us to be to be roommates, Charles says, leaning a little closer to where he's trying to build a little tower without the aid of water. It keeps falling into a puddle of crystals. And since it was done so early, I can't think of a reason why they'd say no. Father said that he'd take us to get things for our room. Later on, of course -
I'm leaving.
It's the first time he's pushed the thought to the forefront of his mind, and Erik digs his fingers in. His heart starts beating double-time in his chest, and he's sure Charles can hear the blood rushing in his ears.
A few feet away a father calls for his daughter, who jumps off of the swing and runs towards him. Her excited chattering fades away as she grabs his hand and tugs him down the street. And suddenly all that is left is the setting sun and Charles' silence. Erik doesn't look over to his best friend, but grabs a fist of sand, lets it filter through his fingers, and looks up and out into the trees. I meant to tell you before, he tries to explain into the silence, staring straight ahead. It's true - he did try to tell Charles about his plans for after high school, once graduation was over and done with, but every time he would try to bring it up the other boy's bright blue eyes would light up at the prospect of going to college together - finally being on their own but always having a piece of home in each other.
But the truth is, Erik can't imagine going through another cycle of homework, and tests, and grades; school, academics, that's always been Charles' thing. Everyone knows Charles is going to go to college, get the best grades, graduate first in his class out of three thousand, and go on to discover the cure for cancer, or find the missing link, or manage to take over the world in the most humane way possible.
But Erik? Erik wants travel, go to different countries and cities, not leaving until he's fluid in their native tongue. It's the only thing that's ever really made sense to him, always being able to absorb different languages like a sponge. The pull to travel is so in-ground into him, that he can't imagine sitting behind a desk while a bored teacher over-pronounces words before listlessly handing out an exam.
The thought is suffocating.
He bets he's the only person to ever feel their heart sink when they received one of the thick envelopes from Oxford.
I just wanted - I just wanted to be sure before I said anything. Charles still says nothing in reply and Erik looks back down at his dusty hands, the stone in his stomach growing heavier and heavier. I don't think college is for me. I want to learn languages, but not in the classroom, you know? And I really was- and he can't get his thoughts straight, not when Charles is being this quiet. I really want to be with you- live with you, and share a room with you, and watch you get drunk at frat parties and listen to you use your drunk pick up lines, but- He stumbles again. School's just not- I can't...
He trails off. The sun sinks lower, disappearing under the horizon.
It's alright, Charles says softly, finally, and out of the corner of his eye Erik can see Charles bow his head to look at his own gritty fingers tapping against the sand. I figured that... you were going to do that. Erik stares and Charles cracks a little smile. I didn't look into your mind. Believe it or not, after thirteen years of friendship, you're pretty easy to read.
Erik grins at that and Charles bumps his shoulder into his. Have you told your parents? He shakes his head, and Charles lets out a huff of laughter. Your mum is going to kill you. Erik groans, knowing Charles is most likely right, but he's not too worried about that. The weight in his stomach is fading gradually, disappearing completely when he feels Charles move closer to him and rest his head on Erik's shoulder. So, he thinks once he's settled, where are you going?
The sun has set by now, the sky a dark, inky blue, and when he looks up, he can see the stars before he closes his eyes and buries his face into Charles' clean smelling hair, inhaling deeply.
Everywhere.