"I have to tell you something, Charles," she said, before she could lose her nerve, before she could talk herself out of it again, and felt as lightheaded as if she were stepping off a cliff. "I won't say 'don't be angry' because you will be and you should be. But I want you to understand -- I was so scared for you, Charles, you weren't eating or sleeping or talking, you just laid there like a dead thing, you didn't even cry after the first few days, and your parents wouldn't do anything -- and then you were just starting to come back to yourself, and I was so afraid of what it would do to you. I was afraid you really would burn the letter and then regret it forever, and I was more afraid that you'd read it and go crawling right back to him. I knew just seeing it would destroy everything you'd managed to rebuild. I didn't know what to do."
Charles's face had changed at the word letter, going pale and still, progressing, moment by moment, to white and frozen. Only his eyes were alive, burning with fury and hope and relief and terror and fury--
"Give me the letter, Raven." His voice was clipped, hard, emotionless.
Raven stepped over to her sock drawer and fumbled through it with numb hands. There it was, the envelope ivory-edged with years, ink faded. She handed it to Charles, felt the subtle tremor in his hands.
"I need you to leave now, please," he said, and she went, head bowed, without a word.
Charles sat down heavily at Raven's table, stared at the pale envelope against the rich mahogany of the wood. Traced a fingertip over Erik's handwriting, barely touching. Stared down at the letter as minutes turned into hours, as the sun slowly sank outside the window. Then tucked it, still sealed, into the inside pocket of his cardigan, over his heart, and went down to dinner.
---
Erik slid into the seat next to Charles at the staff table, passing the letter to Potter into Charles's hand in the same movement. He took it without changing expression. Which expression was, Erik realized, entirely odd, haggard and dazed, almost panicky.
"Charles? Are you all right?"
"I d-don't feel very well, actually," Charles replied. "I… do believe I'll retire early."
"You should eat something," Erik said, gesturing at the heaping plates of food that had appeared before them just as he arrived.
"I'll just – take something with me –" He plucked a cheese roll from his plate and turned to go. "I'll see you later?"
"Of course."
"Here, Charles, take mine too," Raven said, holding out her own cheese roll, but Charles gave no sign of having noticed her. Erik frowned, watching Charles leave, then turned to Raven, who, he realized, also looked miserable, red-eyed and blotchy.
"Did you two have a row?" Erik asked, but Raven's answer, if she gave one, was lost as Angel Salvatore plopped into Charles's vacated seat.
"Sorry I'm late, Erik! Are we still on for tonight?"
Raven leaned around Angel's shoulder to give Erik a look of open-mouthed outrage, which was a bit rich from someone who wanted him to disappear from Charles's life entirely. Erik's only reply was a defiant glare.
"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly to Angel. "I can't stay long, though."
"First year teacher, say no more." Angel put up a hand. "Never enough hours in the day. I promise, your evenings will be slightly more your own next year. In the meantime, at least we have one night of fun coming up!"
"Yeah," Erik said, mind bouncing between Raven's glare, Charles's absence, and Angel sitting too close so that their arms brushed. "I'm sure it'll be magical."
FILL: The Better Men (18b/30ish)
Charles's face had changed at the word letter, going pale and still, progressing, moment by moment, to white and frozen. Only his eyes were alive, burning with fury and hope and relief and terror and fury--
"Give me the letter, Raven." His voice was clipped, hard, emotionless.
Raven stepped over to her sock drawer and fumbled through it with numb hands. There it was, the envelope ivory-edged with years, ink faded. She handed it to Charles, felt the subtle tremor in his hands.
"I need you to leave now, please," he said, and she went, head bowed, without a word.
Charles sat down heavily at Raven's table, stared at the pale envelope against the rich mahogany of the wood. Traced a fingertip over Erik's handwriting, barely touching. Stared down at the letter as minutes turned into hours, as the sun slowly sank outside the window. Then tucked it, still sealed, into the inside pocket of his cardigan, over his heart, and went down to dinner.
---
Erik slid into the seat next to Charles at the staff table, passing the letter to Potter into Charles's hand in the same movement. He took it without changing expression. Which expression was, Erik realized, entirely odd, haggard and dazed, almost panicky.
"Charles? Are you all right?"
"I d-don't feel very well, actually," Charles replied. "I… do believe I'll retire early."
"You should eat something," Erik said, gesturing at the heaping plates of food that had appeared before them just as he arrived.
"I'll just – take something with me –" He plucked a cheese roll from his plate and turned to go. "I'll see you later?"
"Of course."
"Here, Charles, take mine too," Raven said, holding out her own cheese roll, but Charles gave no sign of having noticed her. Erik frowned, watching Charles leave, then turned to Raven, who, he realized, also looked miserable, red-eyed and blotchy.
"Did you two have a row?" Erik asked, but Raven's answer, if she gave one, was lost as Angel Salvatore plopped into Charles's vacated seat.
"Sorry I'm late, Erik! Are we still on for tonight?"
Raven leaned around Angel's shoulder to give Erik a look of open-mouthed outrage, which was a bit rich from someone who wanted him to disappear from Charles's life entirely. Erik's only reply was a defiant glare.
"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly to Angel. "I can't stay long, though."
"First year teacher, say no more." Angel put up a hand. "Never enough hours in the day. I promise, your evenings will be slightly more your own next year. In the meantime, at least we have one night of fun coming up!"
"Yeah," Erik said, mind bouncing between Raven's glare, Charles's absence, and Angel sitting too close so that their arms brushed. "I'm sure it'll be magical."