I know this is super late but I've been working on the last few chapters and the characters are fighting me a bit. Anyway, hope you like it.
The text alert on his phone went off and Erik glanced down at it as he waited for the taxi to come to a stop. Good, he thought, shooting off a quick acknowledgement. He had things to do and he really didn't want to run into anyone as he did. The taxi pulled up and he pushed off from the wall he was leaning against, wincing slightly, and climbed in.
"Where to?" the driver asked, Brooklyn accent thick.
Erik gave him the address to Charles' apartment building and leaned back, closing his eyes. Scott said they were on campus so the place was empty. He wondered how Charles was adjusting. Reporters were all over, trying to get pictures of him entering or leaving the hospital, speculating on the shooter, on Charles' relationship to his bodyguard…
Charles had stopped by every day since Logan arrived, staying for a couple hours before leaving. Erik could tell that Charles hated having Logan around but just kept telling himself that it was because they had such different work styles. He couldn't afford to think of it in any other way.
He still had a key to Charles' apartment so he let himself in after asking the driver to wait ten minutes. Pushing open the door and stepping into the living room felt strange. Seeing the place so empty and yet so full of Charles…
He shook his head. Focus, he thought. Grab your stuff and go. He had a plane to catch.
Charles hated Logan. Hated how the agent treated him like he was a child, incapable of doing anything on his own. Hated how he treated Scott and Alex, how he acted like Erik had been incompetent while guarding him.
Charles missed Erik, so much it hurt. Visiting him at the hospital after class wasn't enough. Especially since Erik wouldn't let him do anything with Logan in the room. And Logan wouldn't leave the room.
Logan rapped the desk with his knuckles, interrupting Charles and he looked up with a frown. Logan gestured for him to get up from his desk. "Time to go, bub," he said gruffly.
Charles glanced at the clock. Quarter to four already? he thought with dismay. He couldn't go visit Erik today; he had a meeting with the dissertation committee he was on, then a meeting with Emma, then Logan would drag him back to his apartment. The man had instituted a curfew, for goodness sake.
Slowly, reluctantly, Charles started to pack up. Logan moved to the door, arms crossed as he waited. Scott shot him a glare then came over to help Charles put away the books he'd been using.
"You okay?" Scott asked in an undertone as he hefted a book back onto the shelf.
Charles shrugged. "Fine," he replied.
Scott studied him for a moment. "I know Logan's not Erik but he'll be gone before you know it. The election's Tuesday."
Charles dropped a reference book on the floor with the others. "I just wish he would back off a bit, you know?"
Scott nodded. "I know." He bumped Charles' shoulder lightly with his and added, "Come on, you'll feel better once you're with the committee."
Charles forced a smile onto his face and threw his coat on. He knew Scott was just trying to help. He and Alex were worried about him, he knew, but he just couldn't pretend everything was normal when it so clearly wasn't. And wouldn't be until Logan was gone and Erik was here. Erik made everything better.
Erik surveyed the war room one last time, making sure he'd packed all of his belongings. With a sigh, he grabbed his bags and walked back to the living room, dropping a folded piece of paper onto the table. Hopefully, Scott would be able to nab it before Howlett did. He scowled as he stepped out into the hall. From the updates Scott sent him, Erik knew that Charles was having an abysmal time with the other agent. But Erik also knew that this thing between them had gone too far. He shot Scott a text letting him know about the note for Charles, to make sure Logan didn't get it first.
The taxi was still out front and the driver hopped out to help Erik get his bags in the trunk. "Airport," he grunted, collapsing back against the leather seat as the taxi drove, wishing he had thought to grab a water bottle before he'd left the apartment. He did not relish the thought of taking pain meds dry. The skin around the bandage was starting to itch and he tried not to rub it because that would just make it hurt more.
Erik closed his eyes, wishing he could have told Charles goodbye in person but knowing that he couldn't. Lying in that hospital bed the last three days, he'd had some time to think. And the sum of all that thinking was the simple fact that Erik was in love with Charles.
He snorted. Simple? Loving Charles was anything but simple. Oh, his feelings were straightforward enough. It was the effect on his life that was complicated. Erik sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face.
"Problems, mate?" the cabbie asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
"You could say that," Erik muttered.
"It's yer girlfriend, ain't it?" the cabbie said knowingly.
"Boyfriend, actually," he replied then stopped. Boyfriend? Were they actually…no. Almost, but no. But the way it slipped off his lips so easily, it felt and sounded right.
"Want some advice?" Apparently the cabbie didn't care either way.
"Not really, no."
"Unless he's waitin' for you at the airport, runnin' ain't gonna solve nothing." He took the exit for the airport. "You and he get inna fight, words 're said and things 'appen that shouldn't." His eyes met Erik's in the mirror and he said seriously, "You can't run from love. It'll find you, no matter where you go."
Erik blinked. Love advice from a taxi driver. What a cliché. "You don't understand." I could put him in danger, if I let myself be with him.
The car slowed to a stop at the light and the driver twisted around to stare at him. "Mebbe I don't. Mebbe you think you and he got no chance. But I seen a lot of people who run when relationships get hard, when life gets hard, an' I always hope t' help the next one out a bit." He shrugged and drove on. "Take the advice or not, I jus' offer."
"Yeah, well, excuse me if I don't take advice from a stranger," Erik retorted but he couldn't help but wonder…No. He shut that thought down firmly. He was going home and he was going to take a break, from everything.
The taxi pulled up to the airport curb a couple minutes later. Erik paid him in silence and walked inside, trailing his suitcase behind him. The place was busy but he got to the front of the line with a flash of his badge and soon enough he was relaxing into the first class seat of a jumbo jet headed to Washington, D.C. Sometimes it was nice to work for the government.
By the time the group made it back to Charles' apartment, it was around six thirty and Charles wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with a book and Chinese takeout. Logan pushed the door open and Charles trailed in after him, idly wondering when Erik was going to be released from the hospital. Logan made a beeline for the kitchen as Scott darted past Charles to the table. Scott caught his eye and tilted his head towards the hall.
Confused, Charles opened his mouth to ask what he wanted but Scott shook his head quickly and put a finger to his lips. Charles shrugged and followed Scott down the hall, noting that Logan seemed oblivious to their actions. Scott silently opened the door to his bedroom, motioned him in, then slid in and closed the door just as quietly. Charles flicked on the light and turned to face the agent.
"Scott, what—" Charles began.
Scott thrust a folded piece of paper at him. "Here. It's for you."
Taken aback, Charles took it. "What is it?" He glanced down at it, dropping his bag onto the floor by his bed as he did.
"Just read it. And whatever you do, don't let Logan know about it." With that, Scott slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Charles frowned after him. "Okaaaayyy…..That was weird." How did he know about the paper? Why shouldn't Logan know about it? Intrigued, Charles unfolded it. And stared. He recognized that handwriting—it was Erik's. But how could Erik have written him a letter when he was still in the hospital?
Charles,
I know you'll think me a coward for putting this in a letter, but I knew that if I saw you I wouldn't be able to keep my resolve.
Charles stopped, lifted his head, frowning. "Put what in a letter? What are you talking about, Erik?" he asked the empty room before bowing his head again.
When I started this mission, I never expected to like you. In fact, I was determined not to. My plan was to change your mind. Make you drop out. But as I got to know you over these past couple months, I realized something.
You're not at all what I'd thought. You're kind, generous, sweet, smart, handsome, strong, wonderful…
And that's a problem.
"How is that a problem?" Charles scowled at the paper.
You see, Charles, you gave me back something I never knew I'd been missing, something that's been absent in my life since my parents died. You managed to get past all of the barriers I'd put up over the years to keep people out, without my ever realizing what had happened until it was too late.
You see…I'm in love with you, Charles.
Charles put a hand over his mouth, his breath hitching. He reread that line, once, twice, three times before it sunk in. Erik loved him.
But there was more to the letter.
And I can't be. I can't be with you and still be an agent. I'd be distracted, worrying about you all the time. I'd put you in danger just by being with you. I won't do that. Not with the amount of enemies I've made over the years. So I've done the only thing left to me. The only thing I know how to do.
I left.
I know you'll be a great President. I'll vote for you.
This is goodbye, Charles, and good luck.
Erik
Charles sank slowly down onto the edge of his bed, staring at those final words and feeling his heart start to break in half. He wouldn't… On an impulse, he leaned over and fumbled in his bag for his phone. He dialed Erik's number and waited, the letter crinkling in his left hand.
Ring.
Ring.
Ri—
"I guess you got my letter."
"You left?!" Not what he'd intended to start with but it worked just as well. Charles heard Erik sigh over the phone.
"Charles…I had to."
"Where are you? When did you get out of the hospital? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I got released this afternoon. I didn't want you to know because you'd stop me from going home."
"With good reason! You can't just leave me a letter like that and expect that to explain everything!" In some part of his brain, Charles realized he was acting like those girls in all the rom com's Raven made him watch. The ones he most definitely did not enjoy. At all. No matter what Raven said.
Erik remained silent and Charles closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he asked quietly, "Did you mean it?"
Erik sounded tired as he responded, "Mean what?"
"That you love me."
"Charles, that's not the poi—"
"Do you love me?" Charles' voice was heated, intense; he had to know. His grip tightened, crinkling the note into an accordion-like shape.
Silence. Then—
"Yes," Erik breathed, like it was a secret. Their secret. Charles' heart skipped a beat and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear, as if that would bring them closer together. "But that doesn't matter because I won't let things go any further than they have. I won't put you in danger."
Charles retorted, "I'm already in danger. Haven't I been in danger for months? That's the whole reason we met! Is that not a constant thing for presidents to think about? Having you with me wouldn't put me in danger, Erik; it would keep me out of it!"
"I'm not budging on this. Not with your life at stake." Now Erik was starting to sound angry which just made Charles more incensed.
"Exactly! My life! My choice! I choose you, Erik. I want you, consequences be damned." His voice softened. "I love you."
Erik sighed again, huffing into the phone. "Goodbye, Charles."
"No, Erik, wait, I—" but the dial tone in his ear stopped him. Charles slowly lowered the phone, staring at the menu screen, his mouth open slightly. His gaze flicked between his cell phone and Erik's letter, the objects starting to blur in front of him. He tried calling Erik again but it just rolled into voicemail.
He had no idea how long he sat there on the bed before the sound of someone knocking on the door interrupted him. He blinked a couple times, went to run a hand through his hair only to smack himself with his phone. Oh…right. Erik.
"Charles?" It was Scott, sounding hesitant. "You want anything from that Chinese place?"
He scrubbed at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand and realized he was crying a bit. So that was why things were blurry. His chest hurt and his heart felt shattered into a million pieces.
The door opened, letting in light and sounds from the rest of the apartment. "Charles? Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," he managed, surprising himself with how even his voice was. "I'm not really hungry right now."
"What did the letter say?"
Damn it, why wouldn't he just go away? Didn't he understand Charles just wanted to be alone? "Just…just Erik saying goodbye. That's all. Would you mind…" He swallowed. Tried again. "Could I have a few minutes alone?"
Scott's voice softened. "Sure, Charles. But just so you know, Alex and I are here if you need to talk." Charles nodded, unable to look at him, and the door closed, leaving him in silence.
The phone slipped from his hand to hit the floor, bouncing once; the letter floated down after it. Charles dropped his face into his hands, letting it all out. He slid off the bed and onto the floor, his back resting against the mattress as his shoulders shook with his sobs.
In all of his imaginings of how this romance would play out, having his heart ripped out in a letter and then again over the phone had never come into play. Never mind that Erik would be all noble about it. He pulled his knees up, curled his arms around them and buried his face in his arms.