Yeah so if you read the first chapter before the drastic style change. Sorry. It's most of a vignette sort of thing. Where all the of it sort of make sense in a overall sense. So please review. It keeps me motivated, cause I'm super vain.

Sorry

The thing with sorry is that nobody really wants to say it, especially when it matters. When there is something to be actually sorry about.

Raven has never been good at the whole sincerity business. Comes with being someone who can change there shape at will, much less their facial expressions. The only sorry that she will ever commit to that holds any weight at all, will be to her psudeo-brother who has been shot in at some beach under some blue skies in a far of dream of cuba. All her real sorrys will be for Charles in the end.

Sean has never really been sorry ever. That's because he's never done anything that needed an apology. Never hurt anyone, past the occasion playful insult thats gone to far or the broken dish. Opps. Sorry. Right.

Alex is sorry for a lot of things, but will never say it. Hank is sorry for just one, and he'll never have the chance to say it. Angel would be sorry about Darwin, if anybody told her about it.

Sorry is a hard one.

"Sorry." He stopped and marveled over how bad his handwriting really was. Than he changed it to "I'm sorry." Much more personal. Charles would appreciate it. Hopefully, he wouldn't assume that Erik had gotten into one of those self-help books he's always soliciting to him.

Now if he only knew what exactly he was sorry for.

Was he sorry that he had assaulted an advance that he consented to? Was he sorry that Charles now sported his first adult shiner? Was he sorry that he felt sorry for feeling this way? He was an adult after all. Adults shouldn't have crushes on other adult males. That's what grammar school was for. Erik had a sinking suspicion he was sorry for something far more complicated than he was use to dealing with.

"Greetings and salutations, My dear Charles."

"A solid first line." Erik almost jumped out of his turtleneck when Charles breath hit the back of his ear. "When my students send me letters begging for extensions, they usually begin quite similarly. Do go on with it."

The letter met the trash can. "The point of writing it is now void."

"Aw, I was curious. And don't be offended, they are Oxford students. It's probably even a compliment." Charles sat down in the extra chair in the small study that they had set up in the corner of Erik's room. His black eye looks worse today. Like a handful of red and black berries were smashed on the side. Yellow tinged the skin around the hit. It was a hard punch. "So why are you sending me greetings and salutations?"

"Why do your students call you dear?"

"My superior intellect, my dashing good looks, the misconception that I have the psychie of a sixteen year old girls, the overwhelming need to take care of me, and I really want to know what you are writing."

Being the brash and bold man that Erik believes, and sometimes suspects he is not, he comes out with it. "It was going to be a really nice letter. I was going to apologize for the eye. With sincerity. And than order you to, well, to do some kinky things. Maybe even be a little graphic. I thought you would appreciate it."

"You just really know how to romance me." But Charles makes no move to start anything. Erik feels his breath hitch, and it's the punch, and it's his fault that they'll never get past first base, as Sean puts it. "Oh, I'm sorry." And there was weight there. Like usual. "I just can't help but be a little cautious. First black eye since I was ten."

It's not much comfort. But the soft touch that runs across his cheek is enough to let the moment breath.

Sorry.

Charles doesn't say it. He wants to. But it would ruin it. From everything he knows about Erik, if he tells him not to worry, that he knows that he hasn't done this before, that he's deeply sorry for tearing his world apart, steering him off course, to the land of homosexual intercourse, to a country where he could possibly find happiness, to a world with the prospect of peace, it will be over just like that.

So he lets Erik take of his pants, and in hitches and in half gasps almost forming the word he should say, but won't, he tells him to continue.

Harder and faster. That's what Erik wants to hear, and he's tempted to shout it. Grunt it. Give Erik everything he wants and more.

It's not like he hasn't done that before. Listened to the other's mind, and just gone along with any whim. But usually he wasn't in the receiving end. Or with a man. Or with a man he respected, and would be very upset if he found out there was a lack of definite honesty in this act.

So he tells him that it hurts, even though he could live through it silently, and to stop when things get a little too uncomfortable. Like when Erik's face gets a little too close to his, and he's overwhelmed with the feeling that there friendship is over. He can see that a scar runs through one of his eyebrows and the hairs just never grew back in. Now that he knows that, Charles feels that they are no longer friends. Something much more interesting than that. But still it hurts.

If it hurts Erik, he doesn't show it.

He should say sorry. But he won't.

"Sex is weird." Raven says, and dips her spoon into the pint of ice cream. "I don't understand why all The Beatles songs are about it."

Charles would wince, maybe tell her that talking about sex is inappropriate beyond believe with your elder brother, but he holds himself back. It's his fault after all. Instead he pulls and tightens his robe around himself and puts his toothbrush onto the counter, and steps out into their apartments living room. "Thought they were all about drugs."

"I can promise you that they are all about sex." She looks really small, and is completely blue pressed into the cushions of the couch cradling the ice cream like a small child. "I know, at least I do now."

It hurts, and he can feel her hurt, and it hurts him even more. "I'm so sorry, Raven."

He could of warned her, could of read the motives of the man walking away with her, could of thought twice about letting his gorgeous sister run around with coeds, at least before telling her. Telling her that not every man is like himself. Like Charles.

He puts his arms around her, and she waits a second before letting herself press into his his chest. And it feels warm. "Yeah, sex is weird."

"If you could be anybody in the entire world, alive or dead, who would it be?"

Erik doesn't know. He tells Charles that. "And do not appreciate these silly car games."

"It's just a way to pass time." Sex had changed a lot of things, but not this. "Come on. All the kids think you'd make a lovely James Bond."

"He's not dead or alive. Not even real." But they did sit closer than before. The CIA guy, whose name only Charles knew, keeps eyeing the in the mirror, leaving Erik a bit nervous. "How bout you than, Professor?"

"Hm. It would have to be Jackie Q."

Erik cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just look at her." Charles laughed at Erik's rolling eyes. "Your turn to come up with a question."

What Erik really wanted to ask, was why Charles was so terribly earnest all the time, but what came out was, "Are you a face man or an ass man?"

"Assman," said the nameless CIA guy. "And I thought you guys were some of those homosexuals."

Instead of getting mad, Charles laughs. "A face man. All the way."

It bothers Erik. Way more than he ever thought an offhanded gay comment would a week ago. Wasn't Charles the one who was suppose to stand up for all genetic variations, even the ones that are sort of illegal? This was strange. He wasn't sure what to do or say. Soon his face started feeling hot, and now he's more angry that Charles isn't.

Calm you mind, Erik.

He can't calm his mind. And he isn't sorry.

End.

I had a lot more for this, but really wanted to go boating instead. Sorry.

Don't have a beta. So if you catch some real fucked up shit feel free to yell at me. Didn't think this would work out, but I really like it

Please, review. And I'll have the next out soon.