Imaginary 5/7
Jan. 23rd, 2012 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
poor_medea“Erik?”
Erik’s head snaps up, eyes widening. Sean stands by the side of the road, waving enthusiastically.
Erik’s fingers tighten.
“Hey! I was just walking over to your house,” Sean calls, setting out across the field towards him. “I wanted to hang out.”
“Oh.” Erik feels numb, watching his friend wade through the tall grass, a smile on his face, as he stands, fingers entangled with Charles’.
Charles squeezes his hand back, looking over at him with wide eyes. Erik very carefully doesn’t turn his head away from Sean’s approaching figure.
Of course, it doesn’t matter what Charles does or where he looks. Sean can’t see him.
All he sees is Erik, standing alone in a field. Or, Erik hopes that’s all he’s seen.
If he had been looking closer or paying more attention, he might have seen Erik talking to thin air, swinging his hand beside his body, fingers clutched around nothing. If he had arrived a few minutes earlier, he might have seen Erik lean in to press a kiss to a mouth that wasn’t there.
His face flushes just thinking about it, agony twisting inside of him even though it’s quite obvious Sean has seen none of that.
There are many complications that come with dating an invisible boy, as Erik has come to realize over the last two years.
The one on the forefront of his mind is that his afternoon with Charles has just been interrupted, and apparently spoiled. It’s not like he can tell Sean he’s busy. As far as the other boy is concerned, he’s doing nothing but standing by himself in a field. Sean probably thinks Erik’s relieved to have the company.
“What’re you doing out here?” Sean asks as he comes to his side. Erik very carefully releases Charles’ fingers, flexing his hand like he was just working out a cramp.
“Just taking a walk.”
Charles stands uncertainly beside him, looking between the two boys, indecision on his face. They had been planning on going down to the stream, and Erik had held fond hopes of splashing Charles enough that he’d have to remove his shirt, at least.
He clears his throat, meeting only Sean’s eyes.
“So you’re up for hanging out? Alex is being a loser and going over to his girlfriend’s house.”
Charles snorts and Erik shoots him a quick, warning look.
“Thank god you’re a total failure with the ladies, huh?” Sean laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.
Erik grimaces, his fifteen-year-old pride demanding he snarl a rebuke. Another hazard to dating Charles, although he supposes it would be the same whether his boyfriend was visible or not. He has to pretend he hasn’t so much as kissed a person since Angel two years ago, despite the fact that his neck is still wet with Charles’ saliva.
Erik reins back his indignation and gives Sean a vicious grin. “Yeah, you too, man.”
His friend frowns, but stays put, waiting for Erik to take him up on his offer.
“You want to come to my house, then?”
“Will your hot mom be there?”
“She’s not my mother,” Erik says, like always. “But yes, she’ll be there. You can perv over her all you want.”
“Excellent!” Sean cheers, starting off in the direction of the Shaws’ place.
Erik waits for him to take the lead and then looks back over his shoulder at Charles, standing forlornly in the deep grass of the field. I’m sorry, he mouths.
Charles just watches him go.
________________________________________
Erik sees Sean to the door, waving him away, and then peers cautiously around the Shaw’s front yard.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hi,” Charles gives him a small smile from where he’s perched in the low-hanging branches of a tree.
Erik glances back into the house—Emma’s on the phone, chattering about one of the women in the neighborhood. He nods, satisfied, and closes the door carefully behind him. “Were you waiting the whole time?” he asks.
Charles shrugs. “I walked around for a bit.”
Erik stands at the foot of the tree, looking up at the other boy. Charles dangles just a foot above him, curled up in the branches, practically hidden from sight—if anyone else could see him. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
He doesn’t look mad. He looks sad, though. Not like when he’s about to start crying, but a blank, resigned kind of sadness. Like he’s never going to smile again.
Erik hauls himself up into the tree, sneakers scrabbling against the bark. He winces at the burn in his palms.
“Hey,” he says, straddling the branch beside Charles.
“Did you have fun with Sean?”
Erik shrugs. “It was okay. I would have had more fun with you.”
Charles gives him a small smile. “That’s just because you can’t make out with Sean.”
Erik grimaces. “I could, but I wouldn’t want to,” he corrects.
Charles laughs softly, shifting closer.
“I am sorry.”
“I know.”
Erik reaches for him, gripping the branch tight with his legs so he can wind both arms around the boy, pulling him closer. It’s awkward, but it feels good to have Charles in his arms. It always does.
Charles curls into him, tucking his head against Erik’s shoulder. He’s the perfect fit. Erik’s long past wondering if that’s because Erik wants him that way, or if it’s just how Charles is made. It wouldn’t change how nice Charles feels curled against him.
“I wish things were different.”
“I know,” Erik says gently. He leans back, tipping Charles’ face up to meet his eyes. “I don’t, though. Not really.”
It’s only half a lie and it’s worth it when Charles leans in, pressing their lips together.
“Erik,” he says after moment, laying his head on Erik’s shoulder. “I know I’m real.”
“I know,” Erik agrees, knowing it’s not the answer Charles wants. He’s never doubted that Charles believes he’s real.
But Charles can hear the omission in his words. “I want you to believe it, too.”
He rears back, eyes bright. “I want everyone to believe it. I want people to see me and talk to me, and know that I’m real.” The words are fierce, determination practically slapping Erik in the face.
“Charles,” he says gently, but the boy turns away. “I don’t want to live like this anymore,” he says firmly.
“Are you so unhappy?”
“Yes,” Charles practically snarls, the words ripping at Erik’s heart, even though he understands.
“I don’t know what we can do.” Erik feels helpless, trapped by Charles’ sadness.
“What about that boy? The one who gives you the books about hallucinations and mental illness?”
Erik grimaces. Hank has continued to press books upon him over the years, apparently hoping each new volume would finally convince Erik he was nuts.
As if he wasn’t pretty sure, already.
“He’s really smart, isn’t he?” Charles presses. “And he seems really interested in this stuff.”
“You want me to ask Hank about you?” Erik gapes. “Tell him I still see you? That I’m dating you?”
“You’re not, though, are you?” Charles frowns. “We don’t go on dates. We don’t go anywhere.” He swings out of the tree, dropping carelessly to the ground.
What does it matter? He won’t get hurt, no matter how he falls.
Erik knows he’s supposed to go to Charles, to comfort him. But he doesn’t know how, doesn’t know what to say that could possibly make things better.
He can’t take Charles on dates. He can’t tell his friends about him. He can’t be seen in public with him. Because Charles isn’t real.
Cautious where Charles was rash, Erik eases his way out of the branches, dropping softly to the ground.
He looks longingly at the house, and for a moment thinks about just going back inside, ignoring the way Charles is standing at the end of the drive, staring out into the distance, shoulders slumped.
But, of course, he can’t. He’s never been able to ignore Charles.
He lays a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. Charles turns into him, curling close even though his body is tense, radiating frustration and anger.
“I’ll talk to Hank,” Erik promises, although it’s a lie. He remembers how everyone looked at him when they heard about Charles, about Erik’s ‘little imaginary friend.’ He never wants to see that look again.
And it would be so much worse, now that he’s practically grown up.
What would they think of him, if they found out he was so pathetic he had to imagine himself a boyfriend? What would they think if they knew he spent long afternoons kissing and touching and petting Charles, rutting against him breathlessly? Except, to everyone else, it would seem that Erik was alone, panting and rutting to fantasies of some non-existent blue-eyed boy.
Charles smiles at him, happy to get his way. After a moment, his smile turns sly, and he runs his hands down Erik’s sides, squeezing gently at his waist. “Want to go back to your room?”
Despite everything, Erik does.
________________________________________
Shaw slams into the house, the door rattling on its hinges. He grunts, yanking the boots from his feet and tossing them with a loud thunk against the wall.
Emma shoots him a withering glance over the glossy pages of her magazine. “Had a good day?”
Shaw sneers at her, heading for the fridge and his first beer of the evening. From the corner of the living room, Erik watches, hunched over his school books. With Shaw in a mood, he wishes he could retreat to his room, hide behind the closed door, but it would just draw more attention to him. Better to stay quiet and still.
“The Xaviers are back in town,” Shaw announces, cracking the beer open on the edge of the table.
Emma drops her magazine, leaning forward eagerly. Erik rolls his eyes. Gossip is one of the few things that can get her attention. “Really?”
“The driver brought their car by the garage. The carburetor is fucked but he wouldn’t let me touch it. Said they’d wait for a professional opinion.” Shaw growls. “What the fuck does he think I am?”
“I don’t know,” Emma mutters. “Sounds like he pegged you right.”
Shaw pretends not to hear her.
“So, they’re back at the house?”
Emma’s eyes gleam the way they only do when she knows something other people might not. He can practically feel her desperation to pick up the phone.
“For the summer,” Shaw agrees. “They’ll have the whole town jumping at their every whim.”
Erik glances between the two of them, wondering if he’s going to be filled in. “Who are the Xaviers?” He finally asks, curiosity getting the best of him.
Shaw glances at him, eyes narrowed and Erik winces under the weight of his attention.
“Rich assholes,” his foster father finally says.
“Here?” Erik snorts. Their town isn’t exactly a prosperous one. He doesn’t know why rich people would bother.
“They have a summer place, out in the country,” Emma supplies. “Or, had. They haven’t been here in years.”
“And the town was better for it,” Shaw insists.
“Please.” Emma rolls her eyes. “The town used to run on Xavier money flowing in during the summers. For the last ten years we’ve been high and dry.”
“Why’d they stop coming?”
“No one really knows,” Emma shrugs.
“It was that accident,” Shaw counters with a sneer. “Like they blamed the town for totalling their car.”
“Well, I did hear they all nearly died,” Emma says.
Erik frowns. “What happened?”
“Nothing. They totalled their car, got driven to the hospital, and then went back to their fancy city house and never looked back.”
“It was just down the road,” Emma said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I actually saw the wreck. And Sebastian towed the car away. Said there was blood everywhere.”
Emma’s face is alight and Erik can tell she’s been riding high on this exclusive information for the last decade. She probably asked to see the bloodstains herself.
“Where down the road?” For some reason, the whole thing is nagging at him.
“In that fucking field you spend all your time in,” Shaw says, drinking deeply from his bottle. “Crashed right through the fence, nearly hit one of the cows. Could have taken out Johnson’s whole livelihood.”
“They paid for all the damages,” Emma says reasonably.
“Does that mean they just get to do whatever they want?” Shaw snaps. “Walk all over us and expect us to say thank you?”
Erik frowns. The idea of an accident, right in his and Charles’ special place, eats at him. He tries to imagine the wreckage, the damage, and shudders. It brings back memories from when he was little—of Charles running, falling, the sickness Erik felt at seeing his twisted ankle, which got so much worse when Charles merely stood up, shaking off the grotesque injury.
He can practically see the grass stained with blood, the tire marks seared into the dirt.
“But no one was hurt?” he demands.
Emma shrugs. “Well, no one died,” she says, which isn’t really the same thing. “We would have heard about that. But the family was airlifted out of the hospital. Didn’t trust our doctors, apparently.”
“So you don’t know what happened?”
Emma purses her lips. She hates not knowing.
“They must be fine,” she insists after a moment. “Or else they wouldn’t have come back.”
“And now we have to put up with them all summer,” Shaw grouses.
________________________________________
That night, Erik can’t shake the mental image of the car accident.
He can see it so clearly: the mangled fence, the crumpled steel. The blades of grass swaying in the breeze, stained a deep red.
He rolls over, pushing his face into the pillow as if that will stop the images running through his brain.
He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much. He’s seen his share of violence in his life, more than a child should, and yet a single accident, before he even came to the town, is lodged in his brain.
For once in his life, he wishes Emma knew more than she did, that she had all the details of the accident. He can’t believe she doesn’t even know if everyone in the car was okay.
He shakes his head, rolling to his back and staring up at the dark ceiling.
Long hours pass before he’s finally able to settle into sleep.
________________________________________
Erik thought Emma was bad, but his whole school is abuzz with the return of the Xaviers. It seems everyone’s parents have a stake in their presence, from cleaners to bakers to extra help at the house. Kids who work at the local restaurants speculate about whether they’ll come in. Kids who need a summer job wonder if they’ll be hired.
It was as if a celebrity had come to town.
Erik shakes his head, denying that he’s as intrigued as the rest of them. He’s never met anyone rich before. Hell, if half of what the other kids are saying is true, he’s never even laid eyes on someone as rich as the Xaviers.
In the lunchroom, kids congregate in little packs, sharing information, sights and speculations.
Erik eyes them for a moment and then spots Hank, hovering on the periphery, alone.
“Hey.”
Hank brightens. “Hi!”
Erik has tried to be nice to the kid, these past few years. But he can’t force anyone to be friends with him, and so Hank is still an outcast. Guilt gnaws at him every time the boy catches his eyes, looking at him eagerly as if this will finally be the day something changes.
“Everyone’s pretty excited about these Xavier people,” Erik says blandly, sitting down beside the boy.
“Of course! The fact that the Xaviers used to come out here is the only reason anyone has ever even heard of this town.”
“So,” Erik says, casually as he can. “Why’d they stop coming?”
If anyone would know, it was Hank.
“They were in a terrible car accident. Some idiot ran them off the road. Right out by your place, actually.”
Erik nods, although it’s nothing he doesn’t already know. He doesn’t know why he’s so interested, anyway, but that doesn’t stop him from asking. “Was everyone okay?”
Hank frowns. “No.”
Erik’s eyebrows rise in surprise. After a moment, Hank leans closer. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it. But my dad works in the city—at Xaviers’ lab.”
Hank’s smart—smarter than is good for him—so Erik isn’t surprised his dad is the same. It’s no wonder the kid’s an outcast, though. He can’t imagine people in the town taking too well to someone who works in the city—going in every day and then coming back to this grubby place. Even if it doesn’t, they’d believe it gave the man pretensions.
“The whole family was shook up,” Hank nearly whispers. “Brian Xavier walks with a cane now, although he makes it look distinguished, like you couldn’t even imagine him without it. The wife and the daughter were fine. But the son…”
“Yes?” Erik prompts eagerly, leaning in just as close to Hank.
“They tell everyone he went away to boarding school. Because they don’t want the press staking out their house, harassing the medical staff, covering every blip in his records.”
“Medical staff?”
Hank nods solemnly. “Charles Xavier has been in a coma since the accident ten years ago.”
Erik tries to process that, but his brain catches on just one thing Hank said. “Charles?” His brow furrows.
“Yep. Heir to the whole thing, except it doesn’t look like he’s ever waking up. He was just a little kid when it happened, too.” Hank shakes his head sadly.
Erik’s head spins, bits and pieces of the story fitting together in his mind like a jigsaw puzzle.
Charles Xavier. A little boy in expensive clothing, injured in the cow pasture down the road from Erik’s house.
A little boy who Erik is willing to bet had wavy brown hair and big blue eyes.
His stomach seems to drop out from under him, leaving him breathless and dizzy.
“Erik?” Hank asks, concern creasing his brow.
“How old was he when it happened?” Erik asks, just to be sure.
“Um. Five, I guess. He’s just our age.”
Erik stifles a humourless laugh. Just their age.
It can’t be a coincidence, that he found a five-year-old boy named Charles wandering in that field, with no idea how he got there or where he came from.
“But he’s alive?” Erik says, because the only word he can come up with for what he’s thinking—for what must be true—is “ghost.”
Hank gives him a strange look. “Yes. He’s in a coma. I don’t think he’s even been declared brain-dead, although there’s still been some talk about pulling the plug.”
Erik’s eyes widen. “What?”
“It doesn’t look like he’s waking up,” Hank says with a shrug. “If it were anyone else, they would have pulled the plug years ago. But the Xaviers can afford the doctors and staff. So they just…wait.”
They wait, and a lonely boy called Charles wanders a small town they’ve been avoiding for a decade.
It’s heartbreakingly sad, except that all of Erik’s attention is hooked on one thing: Charles is real.
He’s a real person, with a last name and a family and a past.
________________________________________
Waiting out the rest of the school day is torture. Every time he hears the name ‘Xavier’ his heart leaps, and he wants to race out of the building and find Charles and tell him everything he knows.
Will the name mean anything to Charles—who’s never had any idea of his past? What about their faces? What if Charles is seeing them right now, in town for supplies? Would he recognize them? Call out to them?
Would they be able to hear him?
For ten years Erik has been the only one who can see and hear Charles. For ten years he’s been half-convinced he’s crazy.
The idea that Charles is really and truly real overwhelms him. It’s all he can think about. There are people in the town right at that moment who saw Charles be born. Who watched him take his first steps. Who have watched him grow up alongside of Erik—albeit watching a still and silent figure in a pristine bed, while Erik ran and played and laughed and cried with his double.
He wants to run to Charles now, to tell him everything, but forces himself to wait until the final bell.
The moment school is over he’s off, waving away the attention of his friends and barrelling down the road.
Charles is in the field, the field Erik first saw him in, the field he keeps coming back to, again and again.
The field in which he nearly died.
Something tightens in Erik’s chest at the thought, the idea that he almost lost Charles, before he even got a chance to meet him. The idea of the little body he inhabited when Erik first met him, lying broken and bloody in the grass. He splutters to a stop, choking at the image.
Charles looks up, his sunny smile fading into concern. “Erik?”
“Charles,” he gasps, stumbling closer, gripping tight around his arms just to feel that he’s still here. “Charles, you’re real.”
Charles looks sad. “I know that.”
Erik shakes his head wildly. “Really real. I know your last name. I know who your family is. I know where you really are.”
“I’m right here.”
“Yes,” Erik agrees, pulling him from where he perches on the split-rail fence, down into his arms. “But you’re also in a hospital in Manhattan, asleep. In a coma.”
“What?” Charles struggles against him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re Charles Xavier,” Erik says frantically, holding tight despite Charles’ protests. “Your parents are Brian and Sharon Xavier. You have a sister. And ten years ago you were in an accident that left you in a coma.”
Charles stares at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
“Right here, in this field.”
“No,” Charles denies. “I’m fine. I’m awake. I’m right in front of you.”
His insistence is familiar. It’s the same way he’s insisted all along that he was real.
“Charles, I know it sounds crazy, but no crazier than the fact that only I can see you.”
But Charles steps back, shaking his head.
“The Xaviers are rich and live in New York, but they have a summer house on the outskirts of town. They used to come every year. Ten years ago, they got into a terrible car accident. Their son, Charles Xavier, was injured the worst. He’s been in a coma ever since. He’s fifteen years old,” Erik says in a rush, holding Charles steady against the force of his words. “They’re back this summer.”
“If all that’s true, then why can’t I remember?”
“I don’t know, Charles, but it can’t be a coincidence.”
Charles goes quiet, and Erik knows his quick mind is puzzling it all over, slotting the pieces together the way Erik did.
He turns away, glazed eyes gazing out over the field. Erik’s stomach clenches, knowing what he’s trying to remember, what he’s trying to picture. The bloody images that Erik hasn’t been able to get out of his mind.
“Was I hurt very badly?”
“I don’t know,” Erik says, reaching over to stroke gently at Charles hair, smoothing it back out of his eyes. “I guess you were.”
“I haven’t woken up for ten years?”
“That’s what I heard.”
He turns back, sadness etched into his face. “Will I ever wake up again?”
“I don’t know.” Erik cups his lovely face. “I hope you do. But you know it doesn’t matter to me either way, as long as I have you here with me.”
“Even if no one else can ever see me?”
Erik bites his lip. Of course, he’s always wanted Charles to be a normal boy who went to school and had friends and was visible to the whole world. Since things changed between them, it’s been that much more important to Erik. That other people would know that he wasn’t a loner, a loser; that there was someone amazing in his life.
But now he knows that he isn’t crazy. That Charles isn’t just a figment of his imagination, but a real boy, who really loves him.
And, Erik finds, that’s enough.
“Even then,” he promises.
Charles turns his face into Erik’s touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When they open again, they’re sharp and clear.
“The Xaviers. They’re here, right now?” At Erik’s nod, determination colors his face. “I want to see them.”
Erik doesn’t know how they’ll manage that, but he’ll make it happen, for Charles.
________________________________________
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Date: 2012-01-23 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-01-23 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 08:14 pm (UTC)I cannot wait for more of this beauty. It's amazing. Thank you!
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Date: 2012-01-24 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 08:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 08:46 pm (UTC)Can't wait for the next installment!
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Date: 2012-01-24 10:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-23 11:35 pm (UTC)I kinda imagine something like this will happen :D, like in the movie "Just like Heaven(2005)
Thanks for the update!
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Date: 2012-01-24 10:46 am (UTC)Wow, I just had to go look up that movie--how did I miss something Reese Witherspoon has been in? Is the plot quite similar?
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Date: 2012-01-25 01:18 am (UTC)Haven't you seen the movie? O_O it's..amp ,like you based this fic on it, well, I prefer this fic. x'D
Yeah, well Mark Ruffalo's character moves in Reese's character apartment and she met her "ghost"but he is the only who could see her and listen to her; she doesn't remember her past nor where does she worked and stuff, but she did remember details about her apartment,her family; Also she is very positive she is NOT dead and she feals real. Though in the movie Mark is not able to touch her.
Of course they fell in love then they discovered she has been in a coma for months and her family are planing on pulling the plug, and so ~~
here is the trailer! :D
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Date: 2012-01-25 07:33 am (UTC)I actually got the idea from horror movies--you know, there have been a couple where little kids had imaginary "friends", but they ended up being evil/scary. Haha, that sounds like such weird inspiration, I know, but I was mostly just thinking of the idea of an imaginary friend who ended up being something more.
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Date: 2012-01-26 03:31 am (UTC)waah horror movies :S Glad you didn't went that way!! D':
but it's ok, your fic is so beautiful and delightful, I've enjoyed it so much, I'm sure a lot of ppl have :'D
awesome!
Date: 2012-01-24 02:17 am (UTC)Re: awesome!
Date: 2012-01-24 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 06:03 am (UTC)THE XAVIER'S ARE BACK HOLY CRAP.
Also, this is still so lovely.
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Date: 2012-01-24 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 06:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-25 07:34 am (UTC)