There are some things he doesn't tell him. From before. A whole lot of things. Iloveyou. Pleasepleasepleasejuststay. Erik,wouldyou-? Back then he had an excuse not to. Training, meetings, or on some rare occasions: a work date with a certain CIA agent. Charles doesn't tell him about the last one.
It's funny. Somehow. He hasn't thought about those things 'til now.
The things he hasn't said before remain unsaid and, if anything, have multiplied in number.
He has more excuses now- most revolving the school he's started and of course the fact that Erik- Magneto, now- is a rival. A friend, yes. But a rival still.
And so he stays silent still. He doesn't tell him that he hasn't met a single person who could match him in chess like he did. He doesn't tell him about the book references he makes that no one understands anymore. He doesn't tell him how he still sits by that fireplace where they used to talk about anything and everything- just reliving the memories. He doesn't tell him that he hasn't had a single relationship after that fateful day-
-night. Those awkward yet knowing touches in the dark. Whispers of words that aren't and will never be promises- not in the long term and not the one he wants so badly it's an ache in his chest. The pain that rushes up his spine as he pushes Erikpleasedeeperharder and that moment that he forgot to breathe cause he was pressing against that one spot that tore away the lingering discomfort and replaced it with a pleasure so mind numbingly powerful that he could do nothing but cry out his name in a strangled scream and wrap his legs tighter around the hips that move above him. ErikErikErik.
He doesn't say anything. And he won't. Not even this last thing which was technically Erik's fault.
"I can't walk anymore, Erik."
He doesn't want to say those words. Even then, at that beach, lying bleeding in his arms. He doesn't say it despite numerous opportunities. It isn't out of cowardice, or his deeming the facts unimportant like all those others he's stashed away at the back of his mind- he does it (doesn't do it) because-
I do love you, Erik.
He doesn't want to hurt him more than he has to. He doesn't want to see those beautiful silver green eyes widen in shock and disbelief. He doesn't want to see the anguish that would paint itself across his strong features. He doesn't want him to hurt. Not for him. Not when he can prevent it (stall it- just for a few moments).
It may have been a stupid idea. It is a stupid idea.
He knows this because he knows Erik. He knows that eventually the man will know and he'll hunt him down for answers (for all the things he hasn't said and never planned to say)- or maybe he won't. Maybe he'll stay far away from his declared rival and best friend and lover. Maybe Erik will choose to forget and leave him alone once and for all.
Charles' lips curl into a mockery of a smile, his hands bracing themselves against the arm rests of his wheelchair.
He hopes for the latter and expects the former.
He doesn't know which he wants to happen.
But for now, he'll keep his silence. He'll keep his secrets, his weaknesses, his questions, his excuses, his reasons-
His love.
He'll keep everything away and stay in this quiet peace he's created for the both of them and remember the time life wasn't so complicated and broken.
Most of all, he'll keep silent as protection from something greater than them. Something that will threaten to consume them both and lead them to ruin.
The truth, after all, hurt.
Lies of omission couldn't. At least, not as much.