Till I hear you Sing
Chapter 1: Call me Sinner, Call me Saint
It wasn't by the design of fate that they met, Erik knew that now. Oh God, did he know that...November 5th...6 Years to the day...
Erik downed another shot of whiskey, cherishing the burn scorching down his throat, tilting back his head and letting his eyes slip closed. Bright, distinctive blue flashing behind his closed lids, accompanied by a splash of warmth, flecks of sunlight, filtered green flittering between leaves...fingers splayed across his skin tenderly, filled with love...warm love...real love...
The actor slammed his glass back onto the countertop, a sob wretching itself from his throat. 6 Years...God had it really been so long? He scrubbed his hands over his face and brushed them through his hair, he felt tears. Wasn't he long past this? Long past shedding remorseful tears for his Garden of Eden? His forbidden fruit? Guess not. He wept the same he did 6 years ago...sure, this time he may be a little (alot) drunk...
Another flash of blazing blue and one more shot of whiskey. Would his phantom memory never leave him in peace? He sees those eyes again. Those eyes irrisistably, brilliantly blue they're going to drive him mad...only now, they're crying. They're pleading...Begging...
"Please, Erik. No, Erik, no, please- i'm sorry-!"
The shot glass shatters against the wall and rains down onto the hardwood floor with a curse. How dare he. How dare he! Haunt his memories and dreams and nightmares...how dare he, innocent and sweet and faithful...say sorry to a monster like Erik...How dare he.
Erik doesn't usually drink- ever- HE didn't like when Erik drank, but today was the exception. Today was the day everyone knew not to call Erik Lehnsherrs phone unless you wanted to die. or were dying, and even then you ought to call anyone else. Because Erik didn't give a damn today.
2 Hours, 6 moreshots and too many memories to count later, he was in their old room, clutching one of HIS old sweaters to his nose, inhaling HIS scent, He could see his eyes, feel his skin, hear his voice. He could feel his breath, teasingly light down his neck...He could smell his hair, the same old shampoo, clear...all so clear and real and unfairly not his. In his mind, he falls asleep with his limbs all entangled with the one he shouldn't love anymore...but in reality, he's never more alone than in these pure moments of raw weakness...alone and broke. So desperate to lose himself in whatever shadows of the past he can find...Whatever he can manage to hold on to. Whatever he can manage to cling to.
The morning after is almost always nearly as bad as the night itself. Erik awakes with a headache from hell, his eyes are ridiculously photosensitive and every noise makes his head throb. It's far too early for him to already have eight missed calls on his cell and four on his home phone, but he does, and he doesn't bother checking them. He knows it's either his P.A Azazel or his agent, Raven and he had NO intention of dealing with them just now. He didn't want to have to talk about his upcoming "gay" Movie or hear about interviews and press coverage...right now he wanted to take a long, hot shower and forget last night...Forget how sickly desperate he truly was. So ignoring to ringing phone he did just that.
On the other side of California, trying to get to Erik as fast as humanly possible, Azazel tried his friend and employers cell again and got the voicemail AGAIN, so he left a voicemail AGAIN. Very angrily, mind you.
"Erik Magnus Fucking Lehnsherr, I realize you got rip roaring drunk last night but if you don't answer me you are going to be severly regretting it! Listen, they decided on your co-star, Erik and I'm telling you- Shit, gotta go he's on the other line-!" Azazels frantic message didn't get to Erik in time, naturally.
"Azazel, he still isn't answering. I'm just gonnna go in and make myself comfortable-" Charles started, on the other end of the phone, digging the key Erik had left with him 6 years ago out from his pocket...He never went anywhere without it. Is it silly to hpoe after 6 years you might just get a sudden call out of the blue?
"And give him a bloody Heart-attack! There's no telling what state the house is in right now, Charles..." Azazel Clearly wouldn't be altering Charles decision.
"Well too bad for him! We're on very short notice and if I had any other choice I wouldn't be here at all!" He bit back curtly and snapped the phone shut, shoving the door open with more force than was nessisary. Not one step in the door and already he knew, "God, this was a mistake..."
Their pictures still hung in the entryway, all the furniture that Charles had selected was just where he had left it, his set of car keys still in the bowl on the counter, everything was so...Erik. The whole house smelt of him...and Alchohol. Charles wrinkled his nose and shut the door behind him, reflexively dropping his key and phone into the bowl, then hesitating, because he really wasn't sure if he should do that, but...why not? He shed his coat and lay it over his -formerly his- Char, already aware of the shower water running, he looked around, at the empty whiskey bottle and shattered glass in the kitchen...He took the time to clean it up, caught up in memories...
Moving on to the living room, he was drowned. A tidal wave collapsed over him. He ran his fingers over the wall, the sofa, Erik jacket -which he pulled away from as though scorched- the fireplace...So many memories...Places they made love, places they hugged or cuddled or kissed or said "I love you." God, don't let him cry...and then-
"Charles...?" Erik was standing, steam rolling out behind him from the bathroom. Hair slicked back, towel wrapped lowly and delicately on his hips and his very exposed chest dripping wet. He looked shocked, like someone had knocked the wind right out of him, staring at Charles, whose face never changed. The silence hung awkwardly, Erik clearly hadn't got a single one of Charles OR Azazels messages, because he seemed to be searching Charles for something else...
"I called. 5 times, actually." Charles turned away, dropping his hand from the mantal. "You should go ahead and get dressed, then check your phones."
"You kept the key." It wasn't an accusation. More like an affirmation...
"Yeah. I did." Charles stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for Erik to wander off to get dressed, which he did.
If Charles thought it was Awkward to begin with, it was a million times more so after he knew what he was doing there. Then, Erik curtly excused himself to call Azazel from the other room and curse at him none too quietly. Charles took that chance to cry his heart out and compose himself for Eriks re-entry into the room, he returned furious.
"I can't believe this!" He paced as he ranted. Charles stayed silent, taken a seat on the couch, he steepled his fingers and pretended that Eriks -while rightful- apprehension to their casting didn't hurt...Erik watched, and noticed. His heart twisted with greif.
"I'm sorry." Charles voice was think, husky...Erik didn't have to see his eyes to know that they were filled with tears. no no no no no no no no! not this again!
"No. Charles don't you dare apologize..." And then Charles had to look at him. Dammit.