invisible string

the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

erik woke up on tuesday feeling as sick as one could be. his head hurt and his throat felt like sandpaper. he texted charles, asking if he had anything that could help him. erik didn't have any medicine at home, he lived off one aunt visit from pennsylvania every two months and some pasta in the counter. every time he got sick or needed to iron a suit, he had to go to the xavier mansion. charles said he'd go as soon as school was over.

he walked around the apartment gathering blankets, thinking about how he should've gone home straight away last night, not out in the streets thinking of his mother, of charles, of his father, of charles again... charles didn't feel like a brother to him, but he felt unspeakably close, as if every time they were together erik's heart was taken out of his body and pressed against charles' own beat.

he thought about the poem.

"but think about old friends the most"

once again he thought about safety. charles was his oldest friend, he had too moved from europe, though in much more fortunate circumstances, and felt like an outcast, even if a much more comforted one. erik had come with little money and no parents, while at the time, charles still had his mum, raven, a mansion and dollars to spare. nonetheless, they connected. they both knew loss and they both knew disappointment.

they met when they were ten, in the school counselor's office on a 'troubled' students meeting. little erik recognized the faces of a few troublemakers at the time, but the particularly small boy on a knitted sweater was a strange sight. as the counselor made everyone introduce themselves and say what they've done wrong, he quickly learned the mastermind character that charles always liked to play; at least five of the ten kids there were only in trouble because charles had had an idea and persuaded them to it.

they were twelve, and friends for a while now. charles had just lost his mum. they spent every second they could together. one particular day, when erik was visiting charles' house, he found his friend crying on the ground.

"charles? what are you doing? is everything okay?" he had asked

charles had looked up and with a face full of tears and hair sticking onto his forehead from nervous sweat "you're my only friend, you know?"

"i don't have many of those either."

"and i think i won't have any friends anymore after i tell you this."

"i don't think there's nothing you could say that would make me not be your friend" erik had proclaimed, this statement continued to be true every passing year of their friendship.

"you know... you know how i do like girls, right? i even wrote a letter to anabelle back in august, remember?"

"yeah?" erik was still confused

"but... shit, okay, okay... i've been thinking- wow this is hard!"

"charles you can trust me."

"it's just- even though i haven't written a letter to, i don't know sean or you, i think i like boys too."

"that's okay." erik replied with a cold wave of realization rushing over him

"really?" charles' hopefulness shining on his skin

"yeah... i think i like boys too."

they were 14 then. it was camping with the school and they were sharing the tent. charles had a flashlight and erik was holding a pack of marshmallows. they were sharing candy and talking ghost stories, when charles started talking.

"i'm taking antipsychotics." he let it out in one breath

erik took a bit to respond "what for?"

"i sort of... hear things? people. i hear people."

"oh."

"yeah."

"makes sense." the words bursting out with no reason behind.

"what?"

"you were too smart to be doing it on your own."

the boys laughed, throwing pillows at each other and stuffing their mouths with the stolen sweets from the teacher's tent, until they fell asleep somewhere close to two in the morning, whispering not to wake anyone up.

16. a year ago. erik opened charles' room door, breathing heavily. charles was reading whatever difficult book he had picked up at the time and drinking tea from a broken mug. erik was standing at the door, didn't even know how to start.

"erik! what are—"

"i've been sleeping with your sister." erik was never good with words, even less with their timing. charles laughed, but stopped, looking erik up and down, seeing his turtleneck inside out and the lack of shoes on his feet.

"you bastard." he whispered, and before erik could ask 'what?' charles had jumped on him, trying to pull some fighting move to imobilize erik "you're my best friend! and she's my sister! she's a year younger than us! you're my best friend!" he struggled to cause any reaction on erik, who was both taller and stronger than him "let's fight! do it like men!"

"no, charles." erik picked him up and hugged him to make him stop "we don't fight, you especially, don't fight. i'm sorry."

they stayed in silence for a couple of seconds "you're not."

"excuse me?" erik asked

"you're not sorry, i know it."

"yeah... i'm not. sorry about that."

"that i believe." charles hugged his friend back "are you going to keep sleeping with her?" you could hear the disgust in his voice. erik thought it was hilarious.

"honestly? i don't think so. i think it's weird for the both of us that you're her brother."

"good. i was actually going to beat you up, you know?"

"you weren't." erik squeezed him before letting go, and out of nowhere, charles threw a punch. erik muttered "you were." and charles bent down curling over his hurting hand.

"and i don't want to do it again." said charles with his voice cracking.

17. now. they had been friends for seven years and erik was waiting in his bed for charles to come and take care of him, like he probably did at erik's seventeenth birthday, when he threw up on charles' shoes.