Peace Offering

[thatnaive]

Charles rubbed his eyes and rolled over to glance at the clock. 2:30 AM. Brilliant. There was no point in continuing to feign sleep. He knew if he tried, Erik's nightmares would only wake him again. His new(ish) friend was staying in the room next to his, and the intensity of his emotions was too much to ignore. It was as though someone were screaming in his ear. It was impossible to block out, and the pain that Erik was obviously going through was distressing the natural mother hen that lurked inside Charles' conscience.

With a quiet groan, he sat up and slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of pajama pants over his boxers. Erik wasn't going to let Charles in that easily. He had to come with a peace offering, so it was to the kitchen that his fuzzy-slipper-enclosed feet led him. Stifling a yawn, Charles rummaged through the cupboards. His first thought was to bring tea, but on second thought, tea just wasn't an option. Instead he felt back around the fridge, fingers closing around a bottle and bringing it towards him. Champagne. Perfect.

Charles picked up two glasses and exited the kitchen before heading back upstairs. He hesitated for a moment at Erik's door, then finally reached out and knocked softly.

"Erik, it's Charles. I know you're awake."

Comments

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles flopped over onto his back and scooted closer to the bedframe before patting the mattress beside him in an obvious 'there's room for you here' motion.

Stifling a yawn, he reached out expectantly for the bottle. "I hope you're planning on sharing my scotch with me."

Please. He could keep going for a few more hours. Charles was a professional partier. After all, there were other benefits to a university than just the education.

[sublifter.livejournal.com]

"Not at the moment."

Slightly amused at the fact that Charles was the one who'd barged in here, taken over his bed, and was now inviting him back onto it, he sat where the man had indicated that he should be.

He sat quietly for a few moments, finally processing what they'd just been through, what Charles went through every day without complaint. He felt everything that went on around him and never complained, even though it only built up on top of what he'd been through personally. Privileged, Charles may be, but sheltered, he was not.

"How do you do it, Charles." A question that sounded more like a statement, as usual. He was too used to telling people what was going on to be able to express confusion.

[cerebroed.livejournal.com]

Charles was silent for a few moments, his outstretched hand dropping down to his side. After a moment he sat back up, facing away from his friend.

"I'm not sure, honestly," he said after a moment, chuckling humorlessly. "I've had to since childhood. It's just second nature now."

He sighed softly, rubbing his head. He could feel a headache coming on.

Charles winced suddenly, pressing a hand to his temples. He hated nightmares. Not his nightmares, it had been some time since he'd been the one dreaming, but the nightmares of everyone else around him.

"Hank," he murmured, almost inaudibly.