Chapter Text
Erik had always believed that those people who were emotionally dependent on others were stupid. But Erik wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe his life was very sad, or maybe he was the one who made things complicated. A refuge that ended up being worse than a hiding place, until it became the whole house.
His mother had told him so when his father left. They would sit around criticizing the couples in the park, saying they were unrealistic. Even so, Erik only half understood it, because when he met Charles Xavier in college, he let himself go like he had no brakes.
And the thing is, it was impossible not to. Charles was the stereotype of a heartthrob: handsome, young, commercial smile. Erik knew it well. When he offered to tutor him for free —Charles was drowning in second-level German— the idiot just kept talking about his red hair and making double-entendre jokes. Just like those people he and his mother used to criticize years ago. And ironically, he was kind of nice.
And eventually, they became friends. Erik started spending almost all his free time with him. He did dumb things like carrying his books or buying him stuff for no reason. But one night, while helping Charles get home because he was way too drunk, Charles let it slip that he was really "cute." From then on, Erik couldn't see him as just a friend anymore. And one day, without thinking about it, their relationship turned into no-strings-attached sex. Again and again.
Erik believed then that the fact that Charles didn't ask him to stop, and that he kept kissing him like there was no tomorrow on the couch, meant he had a chance. Until he confessed. He still remembered the pathetic way he'd been rejected: laughing, getting up from the chair, and letting out a «I'm sorry, Erik, I can't be with you» watching his silhouette disappear around the corner, while his heart stayed confused and shattered in his hand.
The following days sucked. Charles went out partying and there was always a photo of him with some pretty girl or muscular guy, kissing him on the cheek, the lips, wherever. But Charles wouldn't stop calling when he was drunk. Erik figured that's just how things were, that's how they'd always been. Charles had never taken him seriously. If he wasn't going to, Erik decided to give him the same treatment. That's why he'd avoided him and completely ignored him when Charles followed him with his eyes. Even his mother had scolded him for getting involved with someone like that. But in Erik's defense, not everything was bad. He fell in love. It was Charles who didn't need him.
Until that moment.
"Seriously, only you would catch feelings for the most clueless human being I've ever known," Emma said, without any shame, while sipping her lemonade. Erik had his cheek resting on his hand. "I mean, Xavier wouldn't remember his own head even if it was attached to his body. I get the sex thing, it's kind of addictive, but the guy's a coward."
Erik sighed, looking at Emma with his nerves on edge.
He already knew Charles would never have a good reputation among his friends or family, especially because he was the reason Erik stayed locked up all day. Then he'd get over it, but it was like Charles had a radar: just when Erik started to feel calm, he'd show up at his door the next day. Erik would tell him he didn't want to see him, but Charles just had to flash those big blue puppy-dog eyes and Erik would fall right back into that vicious cycle of love-hate. Because Charles never seemed to want to leave.
Or maybe it was that Erik didn't know how to let go. Who knows. He'd already had a very long conversation with his mother and sister about how bad that relationship was for him. And still, Erik wanted to believe that Charles wasn't cruel for fun. That there was more to him. He'd lost count of the times that, after sex, Charles would talk to him about his private life, about things that seemed to hurt him. Erik didn't know how to tell him he could count on him. It was useless. The next day, Charles would go back to treating him like a friend. Everything had him all messed up.
"Charles doesn't deserve you. And I'm not saying it because of the cheap-ass eyeliner he uses, or because he showed up drunk to my birthday," Emma clenched her teeth, her tone more aggressive. Erik thought she had a right to be angry. "I'm saying it because the night you confessed, he went out partying and made out with half the campus. Do you really want to be the consolation prize for someone who doesn't know how to be alone? That guy just needs attention."
With every word Emma said, Erik's shoulders sank lower. He hated being told what he already knew.
He'd known Emma since high school and he knew she never lied to him. Plus, she cared about him. She was right to scold him and be so direct. He needed someone who truly wanted him, not someone who only looked for him when he was drunk or horny. Although Charles couldn't just stop being attractive to him overnight, that was obvious. But reality checks always came when you least expected them. Just like that one.
"Things weren't like that in the beginning," he told Emma. She rolled her eyes.
"How many times have you told me that? Six?" Emma crossed her arms. "Oh, honey, I respect who you fall in love with, but what you have with Charles isn't healthy. You don't even smile like you used to. Smile."
Erik made a face that was supposed to be a smile, and he thought it was fine because Emma had done it too. It was pathetic to admit, but at this point they didn't even have a relationship. He'd been like this for years, back and forth, game after game. He thought everything had a limit.
And the saddest part was that if he pulled away, Charles would tell him not to. It was torture. Everything had him fucked up.
So he was convinced that he was going to do it.
And as if it were a cruel test from destiny to put his word to the test, his phone started to vibrate. Erik looked at the screen and his smile disappeared. He dropped back into the chair, drained. Charles's handsome, provocative face lit up the screen.
"Fuck," he said, showing Emma the phone. "See? I told you. He always knows when I'm making progress in life. He's selfish."
But Emma just made a face, handing the phone back lazily. This whole game had to end at some point.
"Don't answer," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You can't act like you're desperate for him."
Then, the phone vibrated again. The silence was short and deathly. Charles's name kept appearing on the screen like the image of an angel. Erik frowned and just declined the call.
"What does he want? I don't get it," he said, staring at the black screen of his phone. But then it rang again. Erik just looked at the phone sadly for several seconds one last time, before tossing it to the bottom of his backpack. He didn't want to hear any of that. He didn't want to know anything about that until he was calm. Then he stood up, his backpack in hand.
Emma let out a little laugh when she saw him so determined. She stood up too and put her hand on Erik's arm as they walked back to their dorms. "See? The world didn't end," she said on the way. Erik just hoped Emma was right this time too.
But on the other side of campus, Charles Xavier's world had ended when the pregnancy test on the toilet lid came out positive. This was bad. Really bad. And the person responsible for that baby wouldn't even answer his phone, all because of a guilt that was his own.
Charles understood it. Why would Erik answer him now? After the stupid thing he'd said when Erik confessed. But that wasn't the point.
Sure, Erik was a whole thing that kept him up at night, but having a kid with him was not in his plans. He was sure Erik wouldn't accept it either. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He'd only held a baby once —Hank's niece— and he almost dropped her. He was definitely not ready to be a dad.
So he tried to text him. Maybe he was busy, or asleep, because Erik usually took a nap around this time. But all he managed to do was write messages and curse every time he deleted them. "Come over." Delete. "Where are you?" Delete. "I'm pregnant." That wasn't a good way to say it either. He deleted it. He couldn't do much. Everything was driving him crazy.
"This is bullshit," he complained, almost crying, throwing his phone onto the bed. But Hank was looking at him with a wince.
"What makes you think Erik wants to answer you?" Hank asked, picking up the phone. Charles rubbed his face hard, like he wanted to rub his skin off.
"My life is ruined! I'm going to be a single dad. I don't know anything about babies," he said, feeling his eyes fill with tears.
"Nobody knows anything about babies, Charles," Hank said, adjusting his glasses. "When my niece was born, my sister cried every day. Kids are unpredictable. But even if you don't know, I think Erik deserves to know you're expecting."
Charles jolted and covered Hank's mouth with his hands.
"Don't say it! God. It sounds terrible. Are you trying to kill me with stress?"
"I mean it," Hank said, frowning and pushing Charles's hand away. "You were sleeping with Erik without being careful."
Charles rolled his eyes. He took the test and threw it into the sink. Then he slammed the bathroom door shut.
"That's it! I don't want to see it until I know what to do!" he said, and started rubbing his face. This wasn't in his plans.
What, did they never use protection? Sure they did, but the morning-after pill was supposed to make everything fine. In two years, he'd never had a scare like this. Because even then, Erik's voice kept swirling around in his head: "I like you." And Charles kept blushing without knowing why. But the distance between "like you" and "we're going to have a baby" was enormous, and fear made him shake.
He felt way too young to have a kid. Inexperienced. At twenty-two. Great. Just what he needed.
"This isn't fair. He should have been careful. God, why isn't he answering?"
"Maybe you should take another test," Hank suggested, seeing him so stressed he looked drunk. "Sometimes they're false positives. I learned that in class."
"Do you think it could be wrong?" Charles asked, grabbing Hank by the shoulders.
"Uh… probably?"
Charles nodded without much confidence, but it was the only thing he could hold onto. Hank took him to the nearest pharmacy, bought him a new box, and Charles locked himself in the bathroom.
He wished it was all a lie. He'd gotten used to solitude, in his own way, and he didn't want to have to share that with anyone. Although life seemed determined to screw him over in the worst way.
"Damn," Hank murmured, looking at the two red lines again.
Charles already had a twitch in his eye.
Two hours later, when there was no one on the streets, Hank dragged Charles to Erik's front door. They were almost fighting like two cats because Charles didn't want to do it, but Hank insisted it was necessary. There was no time. The tests were real. Unless Charles had cancer, his pregnancy was a fact.
Charles shook his head, stepped back, wanted to leave. He wasn't ready for any of this. Hank stopped him.
"I can't do this! It's humiliating! He won't even look at me and I don't want him talking to me about sappy crap," Charles made a gesture with his hands. They were both whispering. "What am I thinking? I'm not like this. I run away from problems. Erik doesn't want to see me. Can you imagine getting this news at eight o'clock at night?"
"Well, Erik is right not to want to answer you."
Charles opened his mouth, offended, but no words came out.
"Now you're on his side? I already have enough with people giving me dirty looks in the guys' locker room. You're my best friend. You can't say that," he said, breathing hard, but his voice kept getting louder. "Besides, he never even asked me why I rejected him. He just disappeared."
Hank looked at him with a bored face.
"What?" Charles asked.
"Does that hair dye make you talk nonsense?"
"I don't…!"
Then the door swung open. The light hit only Charles, who, upon seeing Erik, smiled nervously. Erik stood frozen for a few seconds. No way. But something stronger —maybe resentment— pushed him. Before Charles could say anything, Erik slammed the door in his face.
Charles blinked a bunch of times, confused, hurt, his eyes going back to Hank, who couldn't believe it either. Then came a silence that burned more than any insult. Erik hadn't even wanted to listen to him. How dare he? And that's exactly why Charles ended up pounding on the door at least three more times, because he was definitely not leaving there without ruining Erik's existence the same way his own was ruined right now.
He had always told himself he was self-sufficient. That no one in his life would ever be important enough to let himself get carried away. Not even his own family. But he couldn't believe the ridiculous scene he was making right now, all because he didn't want to face this alone. Because he needed Erik.
Turns out there was always an exception.