ficlet february 5: useless, but beautiful
Quick little thing that's...not really a full story. But whateverrrrr these are for me not for the world or whatev. I might, when this month is over, make this one into a real story about how differently Erik lives his life because of his children.
This is shore verse.
***
Ficlet February 5: useless, but beautiful
It hits Erik from nowhere on a quiet evening when he's alone in Charles' apartment.
There's nothing particularly noteworthy about the day. Charles called about fifteen minutes previous with the usual barrage of apologies for getting caught up in his work and a promise to pick up dinner on the way home. Erik isn't actually annoyed--Charles' propensity for getting caught up in his work is already a staple of their relationship. He finds it endearing, at least for the moment.
It does mean that Erik is alone in Charles' apartment though, wandering through it with a sharper eye than he has since the first time he was here.
It was months ago, now. It surprises him to realize that, to stack all the days together to get the whole scope of it. He met Charles on one of the hottest days in August and now it's nearly Thanksgiving. It feels like the blink of an eye. It feels like it would take ten, twenty, two hundred times this stretch of days for Erik to get sick of Charles.
He's used to Charles' apartment now, a generic student townhouse on the more upscale end of the student housing in the neighborhood. Charles has the place to himself, though, and while Erik's never examined that too closely, always thought of it as a boon, for the first time he pauses and realizes the reason. Charles can afford it. Charles doesn't need a roommate to make rent, even living on his graduate stipend.
Because most graduate students don't live like this, Erik knows. Sure, for the most part Charles' apartment is the same as any other, but there's just enough class to speak of money. The art on the wall is framed and nicer than the usual torn posters and photographs he remembers from college. Charles has knick-knacks on his bookshelves, tiny glass statues and wire sculptures of DNA helixes. They're not quite bookends, more like decorations--useless, but beautiful. Erik's going to have to move them a few shelves higher up before he brings the kids over here.
His hand is halfway outstretched towards one of the metal pieces when he processes that thought fully. He freezes.
Down the hall, he hears keys in the door.
"I'm home!" Charles calls out. "I just brought pizza because I know I'm already late and--" Erik can feel Charles' wheelchair moving closer, and then feel it stop. He looks up at Charles in the doorway to the living room. Charles smiles at him peculiarly.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Uh," Erik says. He thinks he should lie, or shrug it off. It's been four months. Less than four months. They haven't talked about this long term and Erik knows how he gets--he knows he clings to the familiar without examining it, that he's so terrified of change that he doesn't allow himself to see other possibilities, that he moves too fast as a coping mechanism. That's how he got into trouble with Magda, after all--marrying his best friend out of fear of losing her when they were too young to know any better.
Except, well--marrying Magda may have been rash, but it wasn't a mistake, not really. He does love her; he'll always love her. He just doesn't love her the way he needed to love her to be married to her.
He doesn't love her the way he thinks he might love Charles.
Charles is still watching him, expression mild, eyes sharp. Erik swallows.
"I'm...figuring out how to baby-proof your apartment," Erik says slowly.
"Oh," Charles says after a moment. He smiles, his fingers curling around the pizza box on his lap. "Good."
"Not...right now," Erik says. He lowers his hand. "But...someday it will be important."
Someday. There's a future, a future here with Charles, a future where Erik is going to introduce Charles to his babies. This thing between them, this beautiful thing, Erik sees it rolling onwards and onwards. He knows it's too soon to talk about it that way. He knows it's too soon to make those plans. But he's making one of them anyway, or at least making his intentions known. He's putting one tiny thing out there to see how Charles reacts, and so far, so good.
"It will be very important," Charles agrees. Something about his smile is making Erik dizzy with relief. "And I'm--I'm so pleased to hear that you think so."
"Good," Erik says, because he doesn't know how to say anything else. Because he knows it's too early to say what he really wants to say. "So...pizza?"
Charles laughs.
"Pizza," he agrees.
Soon. Soon, he'll set the whole thing up with Magda. He'll tell her more about Charles, ask for her permission. He'll plan the whole thing out so it will go off without a hitch.
For now, there's pizza and the way Charles is looking at him and the knowledge that they have all the time they need to figure these things out. There's no need to rush.
***
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture
This is shore verse.
***
Ficlet February 5: useless, but beautiful
It hits Erik from nowhere on a quiet evening when he's alone in Charles' apartment.
There's nothing particularly noteworthy about the day. Charles called about fifteen minutes previous with the usual barrage of apologies for getting caught up in his work and a promise to pick up dinner on the way home. Erik isn't actually annoyed--Charles' propensity for getting caught up in his work is already a staple of their relationship. He finds it endearing, at least for the moment.
It does mean that Erik is alone in Charles' apartment though, wandering through it with a sharper eye than he has since the first time he was here.
It was months ago, now. It surprises him to realize that, to stack all the days together to get the whole scope of it. He met Charles on one of the hottest days in August and now it's nearly Thanksgiving. It feels like the blink of an eye. It feels like it would take ten, twenty, two hundred times this stretch of days for Erik to get sick of Charles.
He's used to Charles' apartment now, a generic student townhouse on the more upscale end of the student housing in the neighborhood. Charles has the place to himself, though, and while Erik's never examined that too closely, always thought of it as a boon, for the first time he pauses and realizes the reason. Charles can afford it. Charles doesn't need a roommate to make rent, even living on his graduate stipend.
Because most graduate students don't live like this, Erik knows. Sure, for the most part Charles' apartment is the same as any other, but there's just enough class to speak of money. The art on the wall is framed and nicer than the usual torn posters and photographs he remembers from college. Charles has knick-knacks on his bookshelves, tiny glass statues and wire sculptures of DNA helixes. They're not quite bookends, more like decorations--useless, but beautiful. Erik's going to have to move them a few shelves higher up before he brings the kids over here.
His hand is halfway outstretched towards one of the metal pieces when he processes that thought fully. He freezes.
Down the hall, he hears keys in the door.
"I'm home!" Charles calls out. "I just brought pizza because I know I'm already late and--" Erik can feel Charles' wheelchair moving closer, and then feel it stop. He looks up at Charles in the doorway to the living room. Charles smiles at him peculiarly.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Uh," Erik says. He thinks he should lie, or shrug it off. It's been four months. Less than four months. They haven't talked about this long term and Erik knows how he gets--he knows he clings to the familiar without examining it, that he's so terrified of change that he doesn't allow himself to see other possibilities, that he moves too fast as a coping mechanism. That's how he got into trouble with Magda, after all--marrying his best friend out of fear of losing her when they were too young to know any better.
Except, well--marrying Magda may have been rash, but it wasn't a mistake, not really. He does love her; he'll always love her. He just doesn't love her the way he needed to love her to be married to her.
He doesn't love her the way he thinks he might love Charles.
Charles is still watching him, expression mild, eyes sharp. Erik swallows.
"I'm...figuring out how to baby-proof your apartment," Erik says slowly.
"Oh," Charles says after a moment. He smiles, his fingers curling around the pizza box on his lap. "Good."
"Not...right now," Erik says. He lowers his hand. "But...someday it will be important."
Someday. There's a future, a future here with Charles, a future where Erik is going to introduce Charles to his babies. This thing between them, this beautiful thing, Erik sees it rolling onwards and onwards. He knows it's too soon to talk about it that way. He knows it's too soon to make those plans. But he's making one of them anyway, or at least making his intentions known. He's putting one tiny thing out there to see how Charles reacts, and so far, so good.
"It will be very important," Charles agrees. Something about his smile is making Erik dizzy with relief. "And I'm--I'm so pleased to hear that you think so."
"Good," Erik says, because he doesn't know how to say anything else. Because he knows it's too early to say what he really wants to say. "So...pizza?"
Charles laughs.
"Pizza," he agrees.
Soon. Soon, he'll set the whole thing up with Magda. He'll tell her more about Charles, ask for her permission. He'll plan the whole thing out so it will go off without a hitch.
For now, there's pizza and the way Charles is looking at him and the knowledge that they have all the time they need to figure these things out. There's no need to rush.
***
ficlet february!
Get some sleep
Five minutes away
Faint recognition
Half an hour before sunrise
Useless, but beautiful
Something’s broken
Surprise celebration
There were signs and signals
Rituals
Write about a postcard
What are you looking for?
You remind me of someone
A meeting, a beginning
Lasting impression
Long drive
Behind closed doors
Ask questions later
Six impossible things
Day off
Lost in a city
A door key
A late night phone call
Someone else’s mortification
Something from music
Something from a picture