Charles Francis Xavier (
groovy_mutation) wrote in
towerofanimus2012-01-09 03:17 am
So much to offer, yet nothing to give.
Characters: Charles Xavier and whomever.
Setting: Floor number twenty-five.
Format: Paragraph format, but anything is fine.
Summary: Charles laying in the meadow with his feelings. Manly tears and angst abound.
Warnings: None. G for tears?
Everything had piled up.
After finding himself needing to be rescued all the time, or not being able to help, at least not anyway that made a difference. Instead usually hurting those he tried to help... Charles was tired. He was tired and worn and he couldn't keep up the visage of being okay anymore.
Having woken up in the tower after the nightmare of all those monsters. People fighting and him not being able to do anything, just be a liability, people probably died, and everyone so close together in such pain, and the anger and the fright and everything had gotten to him, beaten down on his mind and he'd been able to do nothing but curl fingers tight in his hair and hold his head. If he'd died during it, Charles couldn't remember, didn't want to remember. But after waking up from that and feeling numb, not wanting to move or do much of anything, he figured that it would be worse for him not to get up, he'd done enough of not getting up before he'd been brought to the tower as it was.
So he'd checked to see who was in the tower, a light scan with his mind, Erik was here, Molly, others who's minds he'd touched briefly before, new minds. Minds he couldn't quite touch, but that was fine. He just wanted a basic idea as it was. Happy that he still knew people here, yet not, he decided to take a look around, see if anything had changed, if things were 'normal'. And in doing so found one of the new floors.
It was beautiful really, flowers that never seemed to end, a lovely meadow. Wheeling through it in his wheelchair he'll come to a stop eventually, peering around and inhale deeply. Eyes closing he'll let his breath out, just needing a moment, before he'll work himself out of his chair and awkwardly manage to get himself laying on his back, next to said chair, looking up from the flood of flowers around him. It's there, alone, with only his thoughts and the sea of flowers that he'll feel tears stain his cheeks, sliding down slowly. Fingers touch gingerly at the wetness and Charles will scoff at himself, before letting his hand fall beside him.
No matter how hard he tried to not let everything get to him, to be strong and help people and just do what he thought was right.
He just felt so useless.
Setting: Floor number twenty-five.
Format: Paragraph format, but anything is fine.
Summary: Charles laying in the meadow with his feelings. Manly tears and angst abound.
Warnings: None. G for tears?
Everything had piled up.
After finding himself needing to be rescued all the time, or not being able to help, at least not anyway that made a difference. Instead usually hurting those he tried to help... Charles was tired. He was tired and worn and he couldn't keep up the visage of being okay anymore.
Having woken up in the tower after the nightmare of all those monsters. People fighting and him not being able to do anything, just be a liability, people probably died, and everyone so close together in such pain, and the anger and the fright and everything had gotten to him, beaten down on his mind and he'd been able to do nothing but curl fingers tight in his hair and hold his head. If he'd died during it, Charles couldn't remember, didn't want to remember. But after waking up from that and feeling numb, not wanting to move or do much of anything, he figured that it would be worse for him not to get up, he'd done enough of not getting up before he'd been brought to the tower as it was.
So he'd checked to see who was in the tower, a light scan with his mind, Erik was here, Molly, others who's minds he'd touched briefly before, new minds. Minds he couldn't quite touch, but that was fine. He just wanted a basic idea as it was. Happy that he still knew people here, yet not, he decided to take a look around, see if anything had changed, if things were 'normal'. And in doing so found one of the new floors.
It was beautiful really, flowers that never seemed to end, a lovely meadow. Wheeling through it in his wheelchair he'll come to a stop eventually, peering around and inhale deeply. Eyes closing he'll let his breath out, just needing a moment, before he'll work himself out of his chair and awkwardly manage to get himself laying on his back, next to said chair, looking up from the flood of flowers around him. It's there, alone, with only his thoughts and the sea of flowers that he'll feel tears stain his cheeks, sliding down slowly. Fingers touch gingerly at the wetness and Charles will scoff at himself, before letting his hand fall beside him.
No matter how hard he tried to not let everything get to him, to be strong and help people and just do what he thought was right.
He just felt so useless.

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But still, Charles feels like opening up after closing himself up would be too much. He didn't want to break down in front of Erik, but he wanted to move closer, to drag himself close enough so he could lean against him. Erik's warmth, just sit there and try to forget everything that had happened to the both of them, if only for a little while.
Though after shunning Erik's touch before he has to wonder if the other would let him get close like that. Sniffing a little, Charles will look at his friend, before awkwardly moving himself a little closer, legs angled oddly as he leans against him.
And he hates himself as he feels tears threaten to well up again, he didn't want Erik to have to deal with him blubbering and sobbing like a child. So he'll turn his face to bury it against Erik's arm, inhaling sharply and letting out a shaky breath as he clutched at him. Not speaking, he was sure saying anything would ruin any attempt to not cry.
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Still too skinny, atrophied. But the mind is what mattered most; and that wasn't injured...psychologically a bit, perhaps--but still whole.
"It's okay, Charles."
He wrapped an arm around a waist, squeezing.
"You aren't alone."
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"It's not alright, Erik." Damp cheeks are stained with a few tears again as they slide down, Charles not caring to try and stop them now.
"Nothing here is alright, no matter how much I try to trick myself otherwise. No matter how I act or what I say, or what I try to convey to everyone else, it's not--" A shudder of breath and tears and he'll just hug Erik's neck. He's thankful for Erik putting up with him, for staying with him right now when he could have walked away.
"I'm so sorry." For many things, things they haven't really discussed since they happened. For right now. He's sorry and yet he feels that it isn't enough to say that, but all he can do right now is cling to Erik as if his life depends on it and sobs quietly into his shoulder. Something he hoped to never do again, he didn't want to be weak like this, he wanted to be strong for his friend, Erik had so much more to deal with here than he did. This whole place was a nightmare for him and yet here he was crying to the one man who he should be consoling.
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"...what would the great Magneto be without his Professor?"
We have each other.
It's small, and solves nothing. But Erik, who had nothing for so long, clings to that. Because while he had been through nightmares like this before--it had always been alone.
But this time? He wasn't. And neither was Charles. It mattered.
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Erik would be better off, Charles will think. But then he can her Erik, his thought and he knows that's not quiet true. While there was truth to it, Charles knew that it hurt Erik to leave him, to hurt him, and that both of them would do things different if given the chance. Maybe only slightly, but enough of a difference to perhaps end up together in their conflict, not like this.
It is more than I could ask for... I am lucky you would have me again, my friend.
So very lucky.
But there is that lingering thought in his mind of what would happen if they did ever actually leave the tower. If they were able to go home. Would it be like his nightmare realm? Part of him feared it would tear them apart once again.
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That after all that's happened, Charles didn't hate him. There were still ideological gaps, chasms that may never be crossed. But emotionally...they had mended the fence. And that was no small thing.
Nosing into the other's hair, he pulled back, hand resting against Charles' neck, a thumb brushing over cheek. "...feel better?"
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"... a little." A small nod accompanies his words, and he'll lean his head ever so into the touch of Erik's hand, looking up at him. He doesn't think, just does as he'll tug himself up, fingers curled in Erik's shirt and kisses him. Charles needed it, it had been some time since they'd shared the intimate gesture. Since they'd had a moment or second to think of sharing a moment like this.
Not that they had really had any real moments beyond that first time they'd really kissed. After that things had been awkward more than anything. The kiss lingers, but it's soft, and he'll break it to allow a small smile.
"Perhaps a little better than I thought."
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Giving a smile back, he quirked an eyebrow. "Well I hope you don't kiss everyone who makes you feel better." A chuckle, and he slides a hand up through the other's hair.
"Because I'm horrible at sharing." A tease he feels comfortable making, in light of everything. Erik leaned down to kiss Charles again, deepening it slow and easy.
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He hardly wishes to sleep now, but it lulls him into a hazy warm state of mind.
"Mm... no, I cannot say I do." Murmured, before Erik claims his lips in another kiss. This was nice, better than what he'd imagined would happen when Erik showed up here with him. A pleasant distraction from his pity party and negative train of thought.
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Breaking the kiss, he leaned back against he chair, staring up at the ceiling of the room, fingers still stroking through Charles's hair.
"I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day like this."
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"... could we?" A selfish idea, staying away here all day, not caring at all what happened else where in the tower.
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Finding an exit wasn't proving to be very fruitful.
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But he didn't want to think about that. He just wanted to have one day where it was just him and Erik. Nothing else. Just this one day of complete selfishness.
Charles won't bother to say anything, just curl fingers in Erik's shirt to tug himself up a bit to kiss Erik again. Greedy and selfish, that was Charles Xavier today. He wouldn't deny it.
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His own tongue chases Erik's into the mutant's mouth, tilting his head to better get an angle to delve his tongue inside, a soft pleased noise escaping him. It was easy to focus on this, to forget everything was happening around them, a small escape, and he would take it gladly.
When he needs a bit of air, lungs complaining he'll pull back just enough to breath.
"My friend, has anyone ever told you you're quite the kisser?"
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"Are you comfortable?" Erik couldn't imagine that having to sustain his position with his upper arms could be that comfortable.
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"I will be fine like this." Which meant no, but really he didn't mind it. He was with Erik and they were for the time being, having a very good day. A moment in time where nothing else mattered and he didn't wish to ruin it.
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"Better?"
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"Much." And he'll be momentarily distracted by a flower that seems to have snuck between them, sticking out from the ground. Fingers touch at petals and he'll seem to ponder on plucking it, before doing so. He'll bring it up and poke Erik on the nose with it.
He's feeling rather silly in mood now. Thanks to the other mutant.
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"I didn't know you were a teenage girl."
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"Though I cannot say if that color does anything for me." Charles reaches up to touch at the flower in his hair.
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That they would find a way out, and it would be over. Things wouldn't change. The rift would continue, just as it always had.
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Fingers clutch in Erik's shirt as he tilts his head up into the kiss, needy. He would be fine staying like this as long as the other mutant would allow.
This could be considered quite romantic after all. Laying in a field of flowers with the man he loved, kissing. Straight out of some silly romance novel.