Category: AU, Modern Setting, Still have powers, Family Issues
Summary: Life at the Xavier mansion is shiny but cold, adding Kurt Marko to the mix makes it even worse. And Charles will eventually have to leave for his own good. This is not the abuse, this is Charles getting up and leaving.
Series: Fic-A-Week Project 2014 - Week 4
Notes: another one from the mcfassy image generator. This one came out with a rather young Charles, upper class setting and with Erik as the 'bad boy' boyfriend (complete with motorbike).
Additional Notes: Marryoftheblood has embark on her quest and is currently translating my insane project and you can find the German version of this story here
Word count: 1,832
Charles didn't even have time to argue with his stepfather, who looked like he was about to blow a gasket. And for a moment the old doubts were back. Maybe Charles had been a little too argumentative, maybe he'd been a little too sassy and know-it-all, maybe, maybe...
Not even daring to cast one last lingering look on his mother, in fear of finding her ignoring him once again, he stormed out of the dining room, half fearing that Kurt would be coming after him with that damned belt of his. Like he had when Charles had been not that much younger.
Reigning in his mind, when he realized he'd been broadcasting, Charles steered unerringly towards the servants' entrance. He wouldn't have much time. He knew Kurt's reaction pattern. First he'd yell at Charles' mother for indulging Charles too much, then he'd possibly yell at Cain, just because and then, then he'd get into his head that Charles needed to be taught a lesson.
Charles very much planned on being out of reach by the time Kurt got to that point. Hurrying out the door, he made sure the maids and the cook paid him no attention as he passed them. It wasn't something he liked doing, influencing people, but he needed to move, needed to move fast.
Outside the autumn air hit him and as he stalked towards the gates, Charles realized that maybe he should have planned for his, that maybe he should have had an overcoat, because his dinner jacket was not going to do him much good in a few hours when the sun went down.
Then he'd freeze. It was a damn sight better than staying inside the house, answering to Kurt's whims, his bouts of anger and his accusations.
Charles wasn't good enough.
Charles studied the wrong things.
Charles wasn't smart enough.
Charles was too smart.
Charles kept the wrong company.
Charles was a freak. Could hear voices, was a fag. The list mostly seemed neverending.
When he'd been younger he'd been hurt by Kurt's words, but he'd soon learned that Kurt's belt was far worse, that answering back, that trying to reason, would only make it more painful - for him.
Nearly running down the driveway to get to the gates, Charles tried to purge his mind of all the bad things that Kurt would say to him. And those even worse that he would think. His fear of Charles, his attempts to dominate him so that Charles would do what he wanted him to, would use his gift to further Kurt's schemes and shady dealings.
Charles touched the base of his neck and didn't whimper. He'd made the mistake of wearing the necklace after all. A gift, and Kurt's keen eye had caught it, had honed in on it. And in no time he'd gotten enough out of Charles to guess exactly where it had come from. Who had given it to him. And he could still feel the sting where the friction had burned his skin when Kurt had torn it from his neck.
Charles bit his lower lip as he finally saw the old ironwrought gates. The driveway down to it seemed impossibly long, longer than normally.
Finally he came to a stop in front of them. Tugged on them. Nothing. Tore at them, but they didn't move. Normally the old gates would open easily enough. He stepped over to the small panel embedded in the pillar and typed in his pin code.
Charles swallowed hard. Retyped his pin. Maybe he'd hit a wrong key, maybe he hadn't tapped it hard enough?
The line blinked at him, harsh words in red that made his stomach sink.
He considered climbing the gates, then shook his head. The arched top beams had long, pointy spikes and he was pretty sure that they weren't just for show.
Putting a hand against the metal, he wondered if it was vibrating slightly or if he was simply shaking from what he was doing, from what he knew he would have to do. If Kurt wouldn't let him leave, Charles would have to do one of the few things that would damn him.
Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He'd have to use his powers to stop Kurt and that alone would condemn him in the eyes of the law. They'd collar him, drug him...
Charles could hear the sound of an engine from the direction of the house. Kurt would be coming for him now. And Charles would have to fight back the only way he knew how. He was no physical match for Kurt, but he couldn't let the man stop him.
Leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the gates, Charles closed his eyes. He should have left with Raven a year ago. When she'd finally had enough of Kurt's psychological abuse. She'd pleaded and begged, yelled at him and gotten angry. She'd seen every day how Kurt treated Charles, herself and Cain - and she'd finally run. He'd heard from her a few times since, each time she'd tried to reason with him, rage at him; make him see why he couldn't stay.
At least with her gone, he didn't have to catch the occasional thought and image from Cain, involving his sister.
Charles swallowed hard. He could hear the engine get closer, then stutter to a halt, then the sound of another engine from a different direction.
From down the road, outside the gates. And this one was achingly familiar, and so very welcome.
Suddenly the urge to look back in fear lessened, and Charles reached out, wrapping his gift around the perfectly ordered mind.
The motorcycle stopped and Erik got off, parked it and pulled his helmet off. He looked worried, but calm. "Is everything okay?"
"It is now," Charles said quietly, longing to reach through the gates to touch Erik as he drew nearer. Shivering a little, he pressed against the metal.
"I was already on my way here to see if I could kidnap you for the evening," Erik partly joked. "Then halfway here I felt you panic, like a flare in my head."
"I'm sorry about that," Charles said contritely. He'd tried not to broadcast, but sometimes, when he was stressed out, he couldn't help himself, and with each day his gift grew stronger, so each time he'd reach further out.
"I'm not," Erik said, folding his hand over Charles' where it was resting on the cool metal of the gates. Charles was no longer in doubt; he was feeling the metal through his hand, singing to Erik.
"Stand back," Erik told him.
Charles reluctantly moved his hand from under Erik's and stepped back. he watched as Erik ran his hand up the middle of it, where the gates would part when opening. Charles chanced a look behind, could see one of his father's cars stopped halfway on its way to the gates, the figure of Kurt walking fast, fueled by anger, towards him.
The sound of iron grating against iron brought Charles' attention back to the gates. The old metal giants were bending and buckling, the corners at the top folding back like the peel of a banana. Charles held his breath for a moment, amazed to see Erik using his power on such a large scale. He'd only ever showed Charles little tricks.
Exhaling almost explosively, Charles watched the gates part enough to let someone through. To let him through. He stared at Erik's outstretched hand, looked up to watch Erik raising an eyebrow at him.
"Let's blow this place," Erik suggested.
Charles didn't hesitate to reach out and take Erik's hand. Let him pull him forward through the bent gates that folded back into place behind him. He could vaguely hear Kurt yelling something, but he was far too busy staring into Erik's eyes.
Erik touched his neck, a frown on his face. "Kurt?" he asked.
Charles nodded, but didn't say anything. The physical pain hadn't been as bad as the sting of having a gift taken from him like that. He'd come closer to breaking and using his power on Kurt than ever before at that moment.
A look of pure focus darkened Erik's eyes and he let go of Charles with one hand, reaching out towards the mansion. For a moment nothing happened, then there was the distant sound of a window shattering and something like the whine of a projectile growing rapidly nearer.
It stopped instantly as Erik plucked the necklace out of the air and without any comment put it back on Charles, mending it in the process. Erik smirked and levitated the spare helmet he always kept on the back of the bike for Charles. Before letting Charles put it on, though, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Charles'. He'd obviously meant for it to be a quick peg on the lips but he lingered and Charles wasn't going to complain. Instead he held onto Erik's jacket, the night's confrontation already backseated to a mere bad memory.
"We'd better get going," Erik muttered against his mouth, before kissing him again and then finally letting Charles put on his helmet. Then Erik pulled off his leather jacket and put it over Charles' shoulders. He watched quietly as Charles pushed his arms through the sleeves.
Only then did he turn to the motorbike, swung his leg over it and put on his own helmet. Charles pulled the warm jacket closer around his cold body before climbing up behind Erik. Doing so felt like a promise of something better.
Putting his arms around Erik's waist as the motorbike sprang to life under them felt like a benediction.
"We'll figure it out," Erik pushed at him. "I won't let you go back to them."
Charles felt as if he was taking the first free breath of air at that moment. "That's good - because I don't want to go back."
A jumbled mix of words and images weaved through Charles' mind. He didn't even try to make sense of it, but he caught snippets of 'make them pay, take back what is Charles'.' - The notion of friends with influence. Friends with power.
It didn't matter, Charles thought to himself. Then repeated it at Erik as they drove down the road. "I'll be with you, if you'll have me. It's all that matters." And it was. For all the trust funds in the world, Charles would rather have Erik than money.
"Good," Erik told him.
Charles realized he'd shared the right thing, the right thoughts, because he could feel through his arms as he held onto Erik as the motorbike sped up, that he relaxed . His mind seemed to calm as well, the thoughts and emotions he shared with Charles at that moment were full of trust in the future, trust in Charles and the belief that they didn't need anyone, just the two of them.