“And if you hate what I believe so much, why don’t you just treat me like the lemmings you call students and bend my reality however you see fit!”
Every particle of metal in the room jumped with the powerful jerk of Erik’s body, perhaps even the entire building given the way the framework seemed to surge just as Erik’s rant came to a close.
He continued to heave, slow and angry until his eyes finally met Charles’ own where tears brimmed at his waterline, not quite full to toppling through his lashes and down his cheeks.
Erik finally calmed; a short, pained sigh came out of his parted lips before he began crossing the room. “Charles, I—,”
“No, Erik.” Charles shook his head, hand rubbing roughly across his jaw. “It’s foolish to—,” he couldn’t quite find the words, “I find it difficult to find sympathy for your cause where you have always found sympathy for mine.”
Erik pursed his lips, kneeling down in front of Charles, thighs pressed flush to to Charles’ calves. He took Charles’ face in his hand, as he had a million times before, stared into his eyes with his own piercing gaze, analyzing, pondering
And when Erik pressed forward, Charles did nothing to stop him, not when his knees were shifted to either side to make way for Erik’s frame, not when Erik’s nose brushed over his cheek as he tilted his face down and let his eyes droop closed, not when their mouths connected in savory heat that made Charles’ chest collapse with relief.
He let his hand spread across Erik’s back to pull him closer, clumsily, with a bit of giggling as they fumbled and found their place again. They kissed and laughed and let skin touch skin, butterfly touches and hugging and just a few fleeting tears.
“You’re exhausted.” Charles mused, only knowing so much time had passed because of the low, amber hue cast by the sunset that bounced off the light blue walls.
Erik grinned, dreary eyed but looking calm, safe. “Always so observant, Charles. Sometimes I wonder why you even bother reading minds.”
Charles only shrugged. “I can’t anticipate everything.”
“You don’t have to.” Erik murmured, rising to his feet and leaving a placid kiss in Charles’ tousled hair. “Especially not with me.”
Charles paused for moment, before shifting back to look Erik in the eye. “So I can expect you back in the morning?”
Erik smiled, bright and genuine. “Promise.”
you can also find this on ao3 here:
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Sorry, I should've made clear I was joking about the ship thing. You are cool. I hope you enjoy the Cool Sound today, and have a nice day :)
you good baby doll i was in on the joke. i am enjoying cool sounds of my doggie making snoring snuffles :)
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rafa have you ever read aftg/tfc?
I haven't! Yet! Its on my list of books to read. I love any and all indie books so I imagine I'm going to be obsessed with it
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So, a few minutes ago, I made this poem, and I just wanted to rant about my mental space here. But in order to do that, I need to give backstory to everything. So-
CWs: death, suicide, depression, self harm,
A few years ago, in 2019, over summer break(the month of May), a close friend of mine committed suicide. She was the smartest, funniest, kindest, person I have ever met. And for the longest time, I was mad at everything, and in a way I still am. I got to a point where the next year, I started hurting myself. On purpose. I've stopped since then, with a few relapses. Anyways, I was upset. This is something that effected me deeply so fucking deeply. The difference from a death in the family from expected or unexpected causes, to a friend committing suicide is huge. It's big. And I've always had trouble with accepting death. But it's so much different when it's a suicide, at least to me. And I think it's because with expected/unexpected causes it's not the person deciding they were done with everything, in fact the person had no say in it, vs. suicide which they decided to go. They decided that everything would be better if they weren't there. And that makes it worse somehow(to me at least, I know everyone is different). Anyways, my mental health wasn't great to say the least. And I think in a way, when my friend died, I died. Which hadn't happened with the other deaths in the family, like it was sad and I was depressed. But I could still feel joy. Anyways, when she died, in a sense I died to. But because I wasn't literally dead, I could at least try to live again. Only I didn't realize this until now. I didn't realize that in a sense I was dead. Lying in a coffin of my own sorrows and depression(I want to be more descriptive on this, but I don't know how so I hope you understand what I mean). Until now, and it's not something that I'm going to be able to get up from and walk away. It's something that I need to work on, and get to by myself. Not by myself as in no one can help me, but by myself in a sense that the journey is my own, and people can come with if they want. It's going to be slow, and I might not ever get back to living. But making the effort to get better, helps in a sense, I know it does. I've done that before, on a much much smaller scale, but I have done it before. And I think the journey I need to take is through poetry, and maybe abstract art. But poetry helps more for some reason. Anyways, this is a long winded way of saying, that I will be actively trying to get better from now on, just bear with me please?
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