As the chess pieces fall, so do the walls.
Charles surveys the scene in front of him: Erik, playing chess with him in the library. The scotch bottle they both jointly nursed has long been forgotten in favour of hard stares and silent gameplay. Erik is currently contemplating whether to move his rook or his bishop to space E7, Charles knows. Charles always knows.
Erik decides to move the bishop, and Charles has the next move prepared. His arsenal of telepathic possibilities is endlessly helpful when playing someone as good at chess as Erik. But tonight Charles feels like playing by the rules; no telepathic cheating. Erik can tell when Charles is in his mind now, he's explored everything there is to discover. Every broken crevice, every haunting memory. Of Schmidt, of Nazi Poland, and of his mother. The warm, comforting aurora Erik exudes when he thinks of her is irresistible. In a way, it's funny to see a man so destructive as Erik melt art the thought of his mother.
But Erik rarely thinks of her. His childhood memories are locked away deep in his subconscious. Sometimes Charles wishes he could help Erik, just get some of those memories into the forefront of his mind. Just so he can reminisce for a while. But Erik relents, claims he's had enough, that he's tired. He's always tired.
As Charles captured Erik's queen the metal bender smiles. A rare occasion. It's only normally when he witnesses Alex or Sean in discomfort, or completes his morning sprint in a record time does Erik smile. Charles takes a mental picture and hopes he never forgets the way his friend's lips curl up at the edges and his eyes brighten when he grins.
"You're not cheating tonight Charles" Erik comments, glancing at the bookshelves to his right, loaded with everything from James Joyce to George Orwell to Rold Dahl.
"What's the point? My friend, no matter how little I show it, i do care about you and your friendship. Simply beating you is no fun, and is also very distrustful" Charles deadpans, trying desperately not to look at Erik's calloused hands, the ghostly concentration camp number engraved on his wrist.
"I thought the end result was all that mattered Charles" Erik says, rather amused by his friend's outburst.
"Oh my friend, it is always more than that" Charles smiles slightly at Erik's naiveté.
The night progresses much the same as this, with both men winning their fare share of games. It is however, on their 7th game of the night when Charles speaks the words that will be burned into his and Erik's memories forever more.
"Listen to me very carefully, my friend, killing Shaw will not bring you peace"
The silence that follows is steely and Charles immediately regrets speaking at all.
"Peace was never an option." Erik says like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
The two men look into each other's eyes, desperately searching for what they both want but know is only present in themselves, not the other man. Charles stands and makes to leave the room when Erik speaks.
"I do love you, you know Charles"
Charles wishes Erik hadn't said that. He really wishes he could just teleport like that devilish mutant working for Shaw could. Of course he loved Erik, but they were on different sides now. The lines had been drawn, and there was no going back.
"Oh Erik, you don't realise how impossible that is. We are on different teams now. Who is right and who is wrong no longer matters; we must be opposed."
Charles leaves the room. He misses the fall of Erik's face, the turn of his mouth into a frown, and the tear that slowly progresses down his cheek and falls on the chessboard, space E7.
They are on different sides. Black and white, light and dark, left and right. The boundaries have been established, there is no return, no redemption, for either of them.