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Charles blinked at the feeling of dry calloused fingers caressing his lips.
Dizziness and nausea were exhausting him as if he returned to consciousness after going through brain damage.
His brain was alright though. And everything was normal. It was Logan touching him in his sleep.
It would’ve been cruel to worry him, considering that Charles did it over and over again, through endless days and nights. So he shifted quietly and then stood up from the bed.
“Good morning, Charles.”
Charles winced. Belatedly, he cleared his throat and croaked,
“Good morning.”
Not “it’s a lie” of course, because Logan was patient and caring with him.
“How are you?”
Charles shook his head, hoping that the question was about his current state. His body felt cold, numb, wobbly, and hurt. But it was merely uncomfortable to move in certain ways, not that Logan had wounded him.
“Had a bad dream,” Charles growled, not explaining further. Logan didn’t know how to react to his mood swings so why burden him with frantic speeches.
He retreated to the bathroom. Standing on his knees before the toilet was very normal too, comfortingly familiar. Charles couldn’t vomit though, he only crouched and coughed helplessly, desperate to let out the poison hurting him.
His efforts were to no avail.
“You enjoyed my company at night as I can see,” Logan commented upon his return.
“Please, don’t be a dick,” Charles responded blankly and went to search for more clothes, to warm his miserable body.
.
Sitting at the dining table, he was studying his hands. They were cold, Charles thought. But Erik’s hands were so much colder. And they weren’t even lean, they were already bones.
“Hank, I’m hearing the voices again. Take them away,” he gasped.
He didn’t need to raise his head. He knew that his poor student froze from the sound of his voice. But Charles wasn’t able to comfort anyone now.
“Hank, don’t stare at me,” he groaned, feeling how his face was reddening. “Give me the syringe. Quickly.”
Of course, Charles felt guilty, knowing that Logan was watching the whole scene. But his pitiful state affected his ability to care about others and to be gentle.
“I don’t want to,” he quickly breathed out, before Logan managed to throw in his usual “Eat, Charles.”
And I beg you to not ask why. Charles added inwardly. Sometimes he forgot that he couldn’t communicate telepathically anymore. That was for the better, he has decided. He felt emotionally isolated from people and it meant more peace.
He knew that Hank was trying to catch his eyes while injecting the syringe. He didn’t answer.
“I am here for you but you are not my parents, okay?” Hank pointed out upon finishing. “I have a lot of work to do, by the way.”
“Sure... I have a headache. Bring me something to drink. You know what.”
“No,” Logan interrupted them. “I’ll do it myself. You said you’re busy. Go rest, kid.”
Hank shrugged at that but didn’t hurry to leave, looking worried.
“Here, Charles. Enjoy.”
The mug with hot steaming tea was placed before him. Charles wrinkled his nose as if it smelled bad. His drinking made Logan angry. Not always but recently, since Logan noticed that alcohol made Charles unresponsive.
Such a small domestic abuse, Charles thought, and not that it really bothered him – the tears poured down his cheeks on their own. It happened often. Charles struggled to not kick when Logan’s hand put away a shaggy strand of his hair.
He swallowed heavily.
“Go to your room, Hank,” Logan ordered but Charles interjected,
“No. Stay. Sorry.”
Hank merely rolled his eyes, sipping his tea on the couch opposite them. It let Logan understand that Charles wasn’t that bad. He stood up and went behind him, then gripped his shoulders, giving a little massage.
Charles sighed when his messy hair was gathered in a bundle and pulled backward.
“You need to wash sometimes,” Logan tried to say it softly but the answer was bitter laughter anyway.
“I thought you like it dirty.”
“Guys,” Hank reminded them wearily.
“I don’t complaint, Charles,” Logan was still touching him. “I never anticipated the orchard with roses from you. There is no perfection. Shitty life – shitty relationship.”
Charles sighed bitterly. It shouldn’t be like that. No.
“But you could at least try.”
“Don’t.”
“Stop crying, Charles.”
“I told you I can’t!” his tears were too stubborn and the tirade made them flow only faster.
“I see that you are tired and sad, and still grieving after ten years, and that walking can’t make you happy. But you could fight and take matters into your hands already. You can’t do anything with the loss so think about your students who are hoping for support. You could become past you and give it to them.”
Charles didn’t mind. But there was a mental breakdown between past and present him, and he didn’t see a way to change it. His brain and nerves became numb, and his throat felt very painful, so he croaked,
“Or you could just leave and let me die.”
It earned him a slap to the face. He knew that Logan didn’t mean to. Charles didn’t care, it wasn’t even painful physically, only that his hand flinched and the tea mug fell to the side, spilling all the hot liquid on his knees.
“Fuck,” Charles hissed.
Logan’s grip on his shoulders instantly became tighter. Charles heard how he bent and sniffed, determining if there was the smell of burnt flesh mixed with the leaf flavor. But unnecessary.
“I’m fucking fine!” Charles insisted, reasonably.
Logan released him. After a pause, he stepped back. It didn’t surprise him that Charles was nowhere close to stop crying. He didn’t seem to have any control over it.
If Logan was Erik, he could’ve probably found the words of comfort and some kind gestures. But he wasn’t, he didn’t know how to react to grief and express compassion, so after Hank cleared his throat very loudly, Logan merely freaked out.
“Sorry,” he blurted out. After reassuring himself that Hank would tend to Charles, he left the house in silence.
.
He didn’t intend to disappear for long, assuming himself too old for attempting anything dramatic. A few hours of loitering around the city and a few punches on a wall did it for him. It started getting dark when he returned to the mansion.
“Hank, is it Logan?” Charles’s creaking voice followed immediately after the door was closed.
He felt the sharp smell of whiskey in Charles’s bedroom. It was too irritating for Logan’s sense so he sneezed.
“Sorry,” Charles groaned from under the blanket. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks,” Logan sighed, reminding himself that he was indeed at home. He stood in “their bedroom”, their cozy place. Logan decided that it was better not to think further on this matter or he could turn soft, in a bad way.
He bit his lip.
“Charles…”
The man literally ran into his embrace. Logan realized that Charles was feeling abandoned and feared to be left alone. Logan wouldn’t do it to him, of course. He could be a bastard but at least a faithful one. He understood when he was needed.
“You alright?”
“Better. I just sent you a thought that I love you but you didn’t hear.”
“Sure. Because you are not a telepath anymore.”
“It matters, right?”
“No. I’m fine with loving humans. Not a proud mutant. Let’s put you back into bed, lonely depressed man.”
“I’ll wash I promise,” Charles muttered while being dragged there. “Will you help me?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he allowed Logan to tuck him into the duvet.
Then, the blue eyes glanced at Logan, so kind and fair, so he bent down to place a kiss on Charles’s hairline, still terribly greasy. Logan took time to study Charles's face in the darkness. His powers allowed him to see all the details on Charles's skin: dried sweat and tears, wrinkles and freckles, but no bruising after the slap. Thank God. Logan felt too guilty each time he left signs of pain on Charles's body, even considering that Charles asked about them himself. It was Logan's responsibility, still.
“Sleep,” Logan asked him hoarsely. “I need you, Charles.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to be that desperate in the morning. After you returned, I feel relieved and calm. And sleepy, in a nice way.”
“I’ll put a bin under your side, just in case.”
“I want to be alright.”
“I know,” after a few deep breaths Logan dared to say, scolding himself in advance, “Listen, Charles. It’s not my business and I’m not strong in such things… Most likely, I don’t know what I am talking about but I think that Erik is in peace there. He is good.”
Charles exhaled into the darkness.
“Honestly, I think the same.”
Upon saying that, he closed his eyes. Logan started stroking his hair, strangely satisfied with the realization that he was giving those locks some order. The night promised to last for very long though.