Erik stalled at the gates, wondering if he should really even be at this place. Angrily, he moved forward, knowing that he was here to help someone in need. He was going to help Charles Xavier, no matter what it took. Yet again, Erik faltered. Why was he helping this boy? Yes… it is always appropriate to help someone in need, but why was he trying so hard? The answer came quickly, and Erik sincerely wished it hadn't—he was so attracted to the young man it hurt. He couldn't bear to have such horrid things happening to such a beautiful boy. But that was sick. This boy wasn't eighteen yet, and these disgusting feelings were wrong. But, he would help, even if it didn't mean he got to be with Charles in the end. Now that the answer was fresh and burning in his mind, there was no turning back.
After walking yards to the marbled and columned entrance Erik rang a bell and waited impatiently for the door to open. Tapping his foot, he barely noticed when the door slowly opened and a meek Charles, with oversized black dress pants and a stained white shirt, stood in the door way trying to find words.
"Hello… Mr. Lenkersher? I'm sorry, I'm horrid with names. Please forgive me," the weak and almost terrified tones of Charles' voice made Erik want to step through the door and grab him. To hold him, and protect him, like he should've been protected his entire life; but he controlled himself and settled for a reassuring smile and light pat on the arm.
"It's fine for you to just call me Erik, and I take it you are Charles?" Erik restrained his anger, knowing that many found it to be intense, and often mistook it for rage against them. After Charles blushed and nodded delicately, Erik entered into the grand foyer of the house, and scanned the room silently. He felt the young man's presence behind him; it dominated the room. All Erik could feel was a quick heart beat and short breathing from behind him.
"It is rather large, I know. Father likes those around him to see how much better off he is. But, Father is simply doing what's right. It's not like he can't show off, he's earned it. I mean, he works really hard. Father even donates some of the money to charity—he's a very kind man…" Again the small and timid voice made Erik clench his fists in anger. No one should be that afraid of their parent. No one should have to suffer like his Charles was. His fists clenched and his jaw was painfully strained, but before he could go further the small voice brought him back to earth, "Are you alright, Mr. L—Er-Erik?"
"Yes, Charles. I'm fine. How are you…" the question he posed was innocent enough, but Erik wanted the answer to be real and complete, he wanted the connotations to be heard and he wanted permission to save Charles. But seconds later Mr. Xavier and his wife entered the room—completely made up in a tuxedo and blood-red silk gown respectively. His wife was stick thin and had flowing blonde hair; she was a shell of a person—there, but decidedly not there. Mr. Xavier on the other hand was completely aware of everything in the room. His hands were twitching with excess energy and his eyes were flaming with knowledge.
"Ah, Erik, I see you've made it intact. I'd like to introduce you to my lovely wife, Rebecca. I see you've met my son Charles, would you like to proceed to the dining hall? My lovely cook Lana has prepared an appetizer." Mr. Xavier, even through his obviously calm words, was visibly on edge. It was slight and hardly noticeable, but he was uncomfortable with having someone alone in a room with Charles. Erik clenched his jaw, yet again, but smiled politely and nodded.
Charles burned with embarrassment when his father entered the room; he knew he was seconds from answering Erik truthfully. And it wasn't his fault; Erik seemed to know what he was going through. Erik looked so concerned… so genuine. He'd never met a person who actually cared about him before. A slight smile ghosted on his pink lips, but before his father could see it, he quietly left the room. Moments later he allowed his father to pull him roughly into the kitchen, where Lana noticed them and, as father had instructed her, left.
"What were you two talking about?" His father's gruff voice sliced through his ears and left him sore—almost bleeding. His neck was crushed against the wall beneath Mr. Xavier's hand and he was squirming wildly. What if Erik saw? What would he think? There had never been a guest at the mansion who was allowed to meet him before, and, though it was awkward, Charles wanted to make a good impression on people.
"Nothing, Father. I promise. P-please. It was just pleasantries, I swear."
His neck was released and air returned to his lungs. Charles remained red for several more minutes; whether from embarrassment or lack of air was uncertain. Either way he politely and silently followed behind his father as they walked the halls towards the grand dining room. Forrest green walls travelled twenty feet above their heads and crown-molding, a stunning ivory, encircling an enormous chandelier was simply a beautiful sight, but all of it was too much for Charles' taste. He preferred his books, and quiet charm. He dreamed of a flat in the middle of a city; somewhere that had people everywhere. Charles had always been fond of people—he prided himself in having a sense of what they were thinking.
"Yes, we've owned this house for seventeen years now. In fact we bought it while Rebecca was pregnant with Charles." Mr. Xavier's voice was an octave higher than its normalcy, and he was dangerously white whenever the subject of Charles came up.
"So Charles, are you going to high school?" Erik, wanting to silently communicate his knowledge to the teen, continued to prod the boy with silly questions. But the blush Charles made whenever he was addressed was simply gorgeous—so it wasn't all bad.
"I'm… I attend a small private school several miles from here. It's very small… it's only the four grades… and it has fewer than three hundred students. I'm quite happy there of course. Father pays a great deal of money for me to receive such a wonderful education… it's truly wonderful." Charles was aware of his rambling, but he couldn't help it. Either he was going to speak of stupid things, or he was going to let go and tell Erik what was happening in the dungeon… in his bedroom… anywhere his father wanted it to. Realizing he had gone pale, Charles feigned a cough and smiled gently.
The evening proceeded with no large abnormalities. Charles continued to discuss things too much whenever Erik asked him a question, and Mr. Xavier continued to look distracted and upset whenever this occurred. But, Erik was truly content just watching the young man trip over his words and blush. The tip of the iceberg was, of course, whenever he would absent mindedly bite his lips—it was heavenly to watch and Erik often found himself staring.
"Well Erik, it seems as if it's beginning to grow late. If you wouldn't mind, we should call it a night. It was rather enjoyable having you over, of course, would you like to be shown the door?" Mr. Xavier was slowly becoming less and less timid, and realized his son wouldn't dare let any information go.
"Well, actually. I was wondering if I could be shown the bathroom. But, I wouldn't want to bother you or your lovely wife. Charles could show me, if that's alright," Charles' eyes widened when his name was spoken, and the doe-like ovals were pure splendor. Erik caught himself staring and quickly turned back towards his boss.
"I suppose that's fine. Charles, please take him to the guest bathroom."
"Yes, father." Charles looked up at Erik and slowly began to walk from the room. Erik was fascinated with the power in each of the teen's steps. He didn't seem like a man who would walk with such passion. His weak outside was very misleading.
"Charles… is there… um. I mean. Would you like to… tell… I-I'm sorry. I'm just going to say it. Charles, I know what's happening. Do you need help?" Erik's ramblings had entertained the younger man for a few minutes, but at the end his eyes had grown round with shock and his jaw was wide. He had several tears streaming down his red cheeks.
"I… don't know what you think you know. But, I'm not a child. I can handle myself." Charles heard the lies in his voice as clearly as Erik did, but it was the utter shock of being asked such a horrid question. How could Erik know? Why did he wait until now to say?
"No, Charles I don't think you can. He's your father, I understand—but he's treating you like some… fuck toy." Erik's words were harsh and acidic, they burned Charles; he didn't want to hear this.
"No, you don't understand. Whatever you've been told… it's worse. I can't leave. He'll find me, and then it'll only be worse. You can't help me, even if you wanted to." Tears were now full-blown sobs, and they wracked his body as he stood in front of Erik, completely vulnerable and broken. The arms that wrapped around his small frame surprised him; he gasped and pulled away. Erik, though, didn't let go.
"I do know Charles. Charles… Charles… please. Just let me help. I need to help you."
It took several seconds for the following moments to process completely in Charles' head. First, he felt a gust of cold air as the warmth that had been surrounding him went away. Then, his father's voice cut through the twisted-joy he'd been experiencing moments earlier. Finally, he heard Erik's voice rise in anger as he was thrown out by Jamal and Santiago, the butlers.
There was no more hope for Charles now. He'd had salvation, and he'd wasted it protesting.
A/N- I know this was a sucky chapter. But, I'm going to get to the ErikxCharles later, don't worry. I wanted to get this chapter in there, so you could see what the front is like at the Xavier house. Also, please don't hesitate to give me ideas! (You can PM me, any time. I'll give you credit if I use your idea). And I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but there will definitely be a few more.