Fanfiction: Cherik: TETHERED

originally posted here at AO3

Charles, the very first thing you have to know about us bonded Draconians

 is that we never really die.

Instead, we get reborn

Funny how Emma Frost could utter the sweetest words right at the end of the world. However, in this moment of clarity and understanding, Charles never saw a female Draconian more beautiful and her uttered words were equally so.

Years after the end of the world, said world was slowly rebuilding. The wounded slowly healed, the torn slowly mended and the ones responsible for the failed annihilation were banished. A bright future’s promise is slowly dawning.

*******

Charles, are you there yet?

Raven, you’ve been asking the same question for the last half hour. Relax, my dear.

How can I relax when you've been on the road for hours with still no sight of any weird meteorological phenomenon?

Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll get there.

Eventually.

Eventually.

What do you see?

Well, a road... a seemingly never-ending one. And pastures, flowers... just greenery really.

Tell me if anything changes.

Yes, ma’am. Certainly, ma’am.

*****

Charles always thought that the winged-people—the Draconians-- were products of myths. Yes, he has read about them in children’s stories and old-wives tales but he never believed of their existence in this human-filled planet. They were collectively a metaphor, he thought- for purity, beauty and bravery. Surely, none of these creatures could actually exist at present for the present is presenting a story of opposition to their metaphorical idea. And just, really, people with wings? People who could fly? Even he, who has been in the military intelligence for years, never thought that this could be possible.

Until now.

Until now when he’s falling, plummeting towards an abyss with no hope.

With his arms and hands reaching out for nothing.

When all he can see is the glare of the light and nothing else.

And suddenly, there was darkness

and a pair of wings, a pair of hands grasping his arms, embracing him, drawing him towards a warm body, saving him.

“I’ve got you, Charles”, the angel said.

*****

When Charles was a child, he shared a house with two other orphans—Raven and Henry. They treated each other like they were brothers and sister. They loved each other very much even though they never really knew much about each other. Unfortunately, they were adopted by a selfish, tyrant king who ruled a large portion of the planet. Consequently, there were factions that aimed to rebel against his rule and overthrow him from his throne. The three children, innocent to their adoptive father’s sins, never really had any inkling about what is happening beyond their home until that single night.

A fire broke out inside the house and the three children were left without help. The three of them were separated during the escape. As far as he knew, Charles was alone and was trapped in a room fully surrounded by fire. He could not even control his telepathy due to his nervousness so communicating with his siblings was futile. Charles’ memory of this night was unreliable and hazy but he swore he saw a boy and that boy held out his hand for him and saved him from the fire. The next thing he knew he woke up alone, tired, warm, with soot all over his body and skin. A necklace with a spherical metal pendant was hanging in his neck.

“This must be of the boy’s,” Charles muttered.

Remembering what happened the night before—the fire, the cacophony of distressed voices, the loss of his siblings suddenly hit him hard. Will he ever see them again? And the boy, the boy who saved him, he never even knew his name.

“He even had wings,” Charles realized.

*****

Steve Rogers of The Avengers, an elite mercenary team for The Rebellion, believed in unity of all the factions of The Rebellion and this is why he was walking towards The Brotherhood’s team leader for a briefing for their new allied mission. Overthrowing a long-sought tyrant king was never easy and that was why Steve understood that with more people, the success rate of this current mission will be extraordinary.

Steve’s stepbrother and second-in-command, Charles Xavier, was excited for this union but he had complete opposite feelings towards meeting the commander and leader of The Brotherhood.

“Seriously, Charles, don’t be ridiculous!”

“I am not being ridiculous! I’m a telepath, remember? I may not read other people’s minds without consent but I cannot help but hear how they feel about him.”

“And that is?”

“They fear him. They fear him very much. Immensely. He has so much blood in his hands that I’m afraid that he’s killing and gutting the bad guys and actually enjoying every second of it!”

“Charles, you know they are just rumours right? You, of all people, should know that rumours do not make a man, that rumours are just what they really are—rumours!”

Steve was not actually alone in walking towards the leader of The Brotherhood. Right by his side was Charles, matching his strides and holding his head up high. From this aspect, Charles could only see the back of the The Brotherhood leader but it was still unnerving.

Seriously, Charles, his back? His back is unnerving?

“Good morning, Commander Lehnsherr!”

Then he turned towards Steve and Charles.

“Good morning too. Commander Rogers, I presume.”

Steve, with his bright blue eyes and bright white-teethed smile, said “Yes, I am Commander Steven Rogers of The Avengers but please, Commander, call me Steve.”

Contradictory to Steve’s expression, Commander Lehnsherr’s was bordering between disdainful and murderous.

Until he turned his head towards Steve’s right and saw the one standing beside him.

Then he smiled, gradually, like a predator seeing its prey.

Now THAT is unnerving, Charles thought.

Then Commander Lehnsherr gestured towards Charles and asked, “And who might this be?”

As if snapped out from his deep reverie, Charles started clearing out his throat and stuck his right hand out as a greeting.

“Good morning, Commander Lehnsherr. I am Charles Xavier, Commander Rogers’ stepbrother and second-in-command for The Avengers.”

With the way that Commander Lehnsherr’s gaze was fixed on him, Charles thought he would never shake his hand. He was, of course, totally wrong for Commander Lehnsherr shook his hand... and then some.

“Oh please, Mister Xavier, call me Erik. I believe, Mister Xavier and Commander Rogers, that we will have a splendid time working together for one goal.”

*****

Henry, are you sure I’m on the right road?

Positive, Charles.

Then why have I been driving for hours without any storm in view?

You’re near it.

How near?

Just a couple more...

Hours? Miles?

Maybe?

Hank, please tell me the truth, am I lost?

No, Charles. Just, trust me on this. You’ll see him.

Eventually.

Eventually.

*****

Right after meeting Commander Lehnsherr, correction—Erik, for the first time a frown that Steve has never seen in his whole life was settling in between his stepbrother’s brows.

“What are you thinking about, Charles?”

The frown deepened and Charles closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head and opened his eyes again but the frown was still there.

“Steve, there is something wrong with Commander Lehnsherr.”

“What is wrong with him now? Too scary? Too murder-looking? Too shark-like?”

But the joke had no effect on Charles, instead, he looked more troubled than before.

“No, it’s not that. I can’t read his mind, it’s like he’s never even there. It’s like he’s never even real!”

*****

Plunging towards your almost-death was a million times more horrific than jumping out of a helicopter with no parachute on. It was quite an adventure yes, but Charles was not thinking about that at that moment.

“You have wings! Ho—How—How—Wha— “

Of course, gesturing wildly with his hands-- although animatedly-- did not help one bit.

“Charles, calm down. I know you almost died so please calm down.”

“But Erik, you have wings!”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you saved me.”

“Correct again, as gravely evidenced by our intact, standing bodies.”

“So, winged people do exist. You’re a Draconian, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You’re amazing.”

Yes, amazing. The Draconians were actually beyond amazing to the point where they were considered mythical figures by modern people. However, his thoughts on this matter were backhanded by his thought of the immediate present—seeing Charles, falling, helpless, plunging towards his death.

It was unacceptable. His life-long secret was not worth it. Charles saw his wings once, he will then see it again. This was worth it, Charles was worth it. That was the very reason why he gave his heart to him from the start without doubt or question. The world needed Charles and Charles needed him right now.

The look on Charles face was... well, priceless. Erik never saw such utter look of wonderment before, it was like seeing him for the first time... again. But, Erik thought, nothing would compare to what Charles’ face did next.

He smiled, like Erik was the only thing and person in the world, like seeing Erik was the only thing that kept him alive. Erik swore Charles’ blue eyes were actually twinkling and there were no fairy lights in the immediate are.

“Thank you, Erik, for saving me.”

Erik was, for the lack of a better word, in love.

All

Over

Again.

Damn those eyes.

*****

Charles was exhausted riding his motorcycle for hours. It’s quite funny, actually, because he would never have allowed himself to ride on his motorcycle if it not for Erik himself. He has been on the road for what felt like forever and Charles was losing patience. What encouraged him to keep driving was his nonsensical calls through his comm with Raven and Henry, their voices more like a white noise against the loud ones bombarding his mind.

What if Emma was wrong?

What if I am on the wrong road?

What if I was too late?

What if

What if

What if

What if I will never see him again?

*****

The odds were working spectacularly and unquestioningly against Charles. One moment he’s incandescently happy being reunited with his long-lost siblings—Raven and Henry and right in the next he loses the one he was growing to fall in love with. Typical, really. It was like the world was pulling a prank on him. But Erik’s death—a sharp sword entering his back, piercing his heart and exiting through his left breast—was no joke at all. Charles shed tears enough to wash the floor clear from a Draconian’s blood. The tyrant king’s soldiers were to blame for this and Charles will make sure they and the tyrant kill will feel his rage.

His happiness towards seeing his sister and brother again was overshadowed with his mourning. Everybody in his radius felt his immeasurable sorrow, affecting all his colleagues including Commander Munroe of the faction Storm. It rained profusely for days.

*****

“Charles, what do you remember during the night of your escape?”

Charles and Erik are now enjoying a relaxing evening in front of a fire with a chessboard separating them. This was days after Charles was saved from the fall by Erik. Charles feels closer towards him. What he doesn’t know was that Erik felt likewise.

“I’m not sure, I was very young then. All I can remember was that there was fire that I think started in the kitchen. Me and my siblings were separated, so we did not escape together. I was trapped, my telepathy was weak and the air was thin. My memories in the subsequent events were unreliable obviously for the lack of oxygen in my brain, I thought I was hallucinating quite a bit.”

Silence, although comfortable, was not an enough response especially coming from Erik for Charles right after his answer.

“Why the sudden interest in my past, Commander?”

“I was wondering where you got that necklace, the one you always wear.” Erik said, pointing towards Charles’ neck.

On reflex, Charles felt the necklace’s pendant through his sky blue cardigan.

“Well, this is probably the concrete evidence of my hallucination. Forgive me for I know this would be quite confusing. The one who gave me this necklace was a boy, a boy who I thought was also in that fire many years ago, who I thought held out his hand and helped me escape. And then—then—he helped me escape, yes—because we flew... but how did we even fly, I cannot remember...”

And then realization hit him like the harsh sound of a train on a track. Charles was near breathless when he said his next words.

“That boy... who gave me this necklace... that boy... had a pair of wings.”

When Charles looked up, the person across him was smiling. It was his first time to see the other mine smile with such transparent happiness.

“I’m happy you still remember.”

Charles knew, right then and there, that what he felt for Erik was so much more than love.

It felt like this—no matter what past, what present, what future, what alternate universe they would be stuck in, they will always find each other and fall hard for each other.

*****

It’s really just funny how perfect Emma Frost’s timing was. She came, right at the climax of the end of the world, in all her shining, white-hot glory and her blond halo hair. Her wings were off white, evidence to how much she has been involved in The Rebellion for almost all her life. The death of the tyrant king marked the rise of the new world, the end will bring forth the new beginning and a chance for the everybody to rebuild and remedy the destruction that the tyrant king has inflicted upon his kingdom for a very long time.

Commander Frost was at the front line of this rebuilding and meeting Charles was now a chance for her to see who one of the leaders of the new world. Charles, on the other hand, was tired and he thought no vacation could satiate his hunger for rest. But the world was rebuilding and he will be needed at every step of the way.

“Commander Frost, how are you in this lovely morning?”

“Pleasant as always, Mister Xavier. You are as charming as the first time I saw you.”

Charles chuckled, recalling a memory. “Why, the first time I saw you, you did not have those wings!”

Emma guffawed at his exclamation. “A necessary secret, dear Charlie, to protect ourselves from manipulative humans who want us only for our wings. But, enough about me. How are you, Charles? Am I looking at the future leader of this new world?”

With a sigh, Charles said, “I still haven’t decided yet. I want this to be a democracy, I want people to choose me. If I become the leader, it would seem like I only killed my father for the throne which is a message so opposite to what I am trying to send to the people.”

Emma nodded. She was an observant woman and she could not help but notice the energy coming from a piece of Charles jewelry from around his neck. Then, she gestured towards Charles’ neck, inquiring:

“Charles, who gave you that necklace?”

“How did you know someone gave this to me?”

“It’s not important, just tell me who gave that to you.”

Charles couldn’t help but draw his brows together, creating a crease in the middle. As if on reflex gained from many years ago, he grasped the necklace’s pendant with his fingers.

“Commander Lehnsherr gave this to me.”

A look of shock passed through Emma Frost’s calm-demeanour-face.

 “Commander Lehnsherr, as in, Erik? Erik Lehnsherr? Of The Brotherhood? Erik Lehnsherr who is now—“

“Dead. Yes, he died two years ago.”

Emma’s face was similar to her family name—frozen. She did not speak for seconds. When she regained her composure, her calm demeanour was in display again.

“Charles, did you know that Erik was like me?”

“Like you... like a Draconian? Yes, yes I did.”

“Do you know that Draconians, aside from weaving elemental magic, are also capable of making bonds?”

Charles only shook his head as a response.

“A Draconian can form a bond with another person—Draconian or human and this enables us to know where our bonded is at any time as long as that person is wearing something that once belonged to us. In your case, it is the necklace that you are wearing around your neck right now. How long have you been wearing that?”

Charles held the pendant tighter. “Ever since the beginning, ever since he gave this to me.”

“Well that figures how you were reunited after the fire incident.”

“Emma, why are you telling me this?”

Charles was not sure if it was just him or it was really happening, but he saw Emma’s eyes opened wide with wonderment.

“Charles, the very first thing you have to know about us bonded Draconians is that we never really die. Instead, we get reborn.”

Unable to comprehend at such moment, Charles was found speechless and silent with his mouth gaping and his brows creasing in the middle. So, Emma continued.

“We live for our bondmates, we only die when our bondmates die. But if they continue to live and we die, we get reborn. The ‘being alone’ part could take weeks, months or years... nothing is really certain but what stays constant is that the bonded Draconian will always come back.”

Finding the right question to ask next was no difficulty for Charles.

“How do you get reborn, exactly?”

“We are born from the eye of the storm in a clear, bright, sunny day. It’s a perfect combination between chaos—lighting, thunder, dark clouds and tranquillity—the clear sky and the rays of the sun. And when we get reborn, the very first thing we do is to find our bondeds no matter how near or far they are.”

*****

Raven! Henry!

What? What?

I see it! I see it! It’s beautiful!

Charles has been on the back of his motorcycle for hours in this lonely, silent provincial road. A day before, Henry told him that there was a strange build-up of love pressure in the area of the province and it was gradually increasing to increments that would be verging on strange. Suddenly, Henry became, albeit, an unreliable meteorologist in a short span of time. So, without unnecessary questions, Charles rode his motorcycle down the direction that Henry plotted for him.

At present, he’s seeing the one thing he has been searching for—the eye of the storm. It looked like a miniature cyclone but the rumblings of the thunder and the flash of the lighting made it look so violent. But Charles had no fear, only hope for this moment. He parked his motorcycle right outside the perimeter of the dark, circling clouds and walked towards the center of the cyclone. It was absolutely glorious seeing a small storm in the middle of a clear field, it was a beauty done by nature. What a great entrance for a Draconian rebirth, Charles thought it was only fitting.

Charles, what do you see?

A small cyclone, in the middle of the field, my dears.

Well that cyclone sounds very angry from here.

Yes it does, and it looks equally angry too.

And just when the storm grew more violent—more thunder and lighting, Charles started to hear strange whooshing sounds from behind him. He turned but didn’t see anything.

What’s that sound?

I don’t know.

And then suddenly he can see it. Not “it”, rather “them”. There must be hundreds of them—Draconians and the whooshing sound came from the flapping of their enormous, magnificent wings. Overwhelmed, Charles couldn’t do anything but stare as the winged people flew overhead towards the eye of the storm.

Charles, what are you seeing?

Draconians, Raven! Hundreds of them!

*Gasp* Really? You’re so lucky!

I’m very lucky, indeed!

And then a familiar Draconian flew towards him without landing on the ground.

“Charles, what are you waiting for? Run!” Emma then flew off again towards the gathering at the eye of the storm.

Without any more thought, Charles ran like his life depended on it. He ran and then ran some more until he arrived just outside the center. It was amazing, he thought, how there were so many awaiting the rebirth of one single Draconian. This was an event he will never forget.

And then, the storm grew violent again and when he looked up he saw a body with a pair of massive wings covering him, looking like it was protecting him. The body was plummeting ungracefully, it looked lifeless. For a moment, this worried Charles.

Charles, what’s happening?

Oh Gods, Raven, he’s not spreading his wings... he’s falling!

And then three Draconians caught him and held him. He was now being slowly placed on the ground. The problem was, these other Draconians were too tall and Charles could not bloody well see.

Ahck! I cannot bloody well see!

Go after him, you idiot!

Charles, then fought his way towards the center. It took forever for these Draconians were definitely hard to push. And when he finally arrived in his destination, Charles couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Erik. It was Erik. Who looked like he was still trying to regain the strength of his legs and was grimacing while trying to stretch his wings. He was busy fumbling with his wings and totally oblivious to the fact that Charles was right in front of him. Charles never did mind, for he too was busy ogling the once-dead man before him.

Of course, it took Emma for them to come back to reality and finally notice each other.

“AH-HEM. AH-AH-AH-HEM.”

“What?” And the Erik looked up and finally noticed who was in front of him.

Then, with barely a whisper, he said. “Charles.”

Charles, with glistening eyes that are now leaving tear tracks down his cheeks finally uttered, “Erik.”

Erik walked directly towards Charles, not breaking eye contact for fear of ruining the moment, until he was mere inches from him—his bondmate.

Then Charles smiled, and Erik thought it was the greatest welcome the world has given him from being reborn. This was enough. More than, even. Charles continued to smile, then chuckled which drove Erik to mimic said actions too. Until Charles said,

“I found you.”

Erik nodded while sheepishly smiling, leaned forward, meeting both their foreheads together as if saying hello and “I love you” simultaneously for the first time and then took Charles’ hands and held them together. Charles’ telepathy was on fire, he gasped in surprise—Erik’s mind was so open and everything on it was so golden, bright and beautiful. Then, Erik muttered,

“Yes, you found me.”

FIN.

Maybe Relevant To Your Interest: WATERCOLOR PAINTING

To fight my seemingly eternal/perpetual boredom, I have decided right at the end of January 2014 that I was going to start rekindling my penchant for art. So, after my IELTS exam last February 1, I went directly to National Bookstore to acquire the necessary materials for me to start on my little hobby. A month and a half later, I’m still here painting the hell out of it almost everyday. Seriously, I get bored easily. I remember the first things that I bought were my A4 size watercolor pad which cost me a fortune (like P250 for 24 sheets), my crappy brushes, a Pentel 18 color watercolor set and my two flower pallets. At present, there are quite a number of materials added to the bunch. So, if you are interested in watercolor painting and you are a beginner in it, you might find this entry worth reading.

That’s my work table right there. I don’t have a formal atelier since I am an amateur and I cannot afford one (because I’m always going to be broke, way to live a Bohemian life, Nyms) and this certain area of my brother’s room will, therefore, greatly suffice. My brother only comes home during the weekends since he works in another city if you’re wondering why he’s allowing me to pop a squat in his room (yey for me). To date, I have three sizes of watercolor pads, masking tape, three pallets, two cans of colored pencils, a box of soft pastels, 18 colors of watercolor tubes, a container of brushes and a jug of water. Of course, you don’t have to have as many materials as I have to start off smooth, I’m just an addict like that. Teehee.


My first pad was that A4 size one, cost me P250 (or something, I think it was actually more than that) which was quite expensive for me since it has 24 sheets ONLY. I bought this from Goldcrest at Pabayo St., Cagayan de Oro. My second pad was the biggest one, a 12”x18”, acid free, white finish, 200gsm that is just utterly GORGEOUS. I bought this from National Bookstore at SM Cagayan de Oro. It is my favorite, so far, because it is easy to work with and I can put a bunch of colors in it because of its size. This cost nearly P300, with 24 sheets, definitely worth it. The third one was actually bought by my brother from National Bookstore, Mall of Asia branch. The size is definitely twice the A4 size, acid free, 180gsm, cost the same as the biggest pad I have with 24 sheets but what irked me the most about this is that it is CREAM COLORED. I am not really keen on not-so-pure-white paper. All of these pads perform good, they absorb watercolor well and are just utterly lovely.

I went a little bit crazy with my pallets. Honestly, there is not a decent number of decent watercolor pallets here in Cagayan de Oro. It was quite difficult for me to find one for a beginner like me. So, I bought three. Haha. The first two pallets that I have are those flower pallets on the right. I think each of them cost around P15 from the school supplies section of Gaisano Mall. I love that they can hold a lot of colors. On the other hand, I hate that they have wells in the middle that are impossible to work with because of the short partitions. Seriously, screw the one who designed this. Functionality = IMPOSSIBLE. The one on the left was a great find for me. I bought this at National Bookstore, Centrio branch. Cost around P35 and is worth every penny. I fell in love with this pallet because of its six deep wells which are always great for mixing. However, the downside to this is that it can only house seven colors. Boo hoo. That’s why I use all pallets instead to make my life convenient (because I hate mixing colors where a pure viridian ends up a light green or whatever).

I kind of went a little berserk with my brushes because there aren’t a lot of seriously good brushes here in this small city. Most of brushes are crap, I use them for applying poster color or Chinese ink (therefore lessening my guilt when these brushes get destroyed, mwahahaha). These crappy brushes can be bought at Gaisano Mall and National Bookstore. My favorite brushes, though, can be bought at Goldcrest, Pabayo St. Seriously, they have such a great selection of brushes but their best ones cost SO MUCH. So, I bought the less expensive ones, the BERKELEY brushes which have a distinctive quality of having black barrels and white bristles. I guarantee they are not THAT expensive. My absolute MUST sizes are the sizes: 10, 6, 1, 0 and 000. These are all round brushes, by the way.

As I have said earlier, the watercolor band that I use is PENTEL: a box of 18 colors cost P300 and so far I have no complaints of its performance. Of course you don’t have to have a lot of colors for starters but I just don’t like mixing colors. This can be bought at any National Bookstore branch (but to make sure, head to the main branch directly). My box of 12 colors of soft pastels was bought by my brothers from National Bookstore, Mall of Asia. It’s from SIMBALION and it cost about P250. Very expensive, for a cheapstead like me. However, I think they perform well but just a sidenote: if it’s your first time using soft pastels, it’s going to be pretty messy. So, make sure if you don’t want to mix colors through your fingers or smudge them in whatever surface, you should have a damp towel on the side so you can wipe the color out from your fingers. If you are wondering why I use soft pastels, I use them to highlight colors which cannot be done with layers and layers of watercolor. Through this, I leave no indentation most commonly noticed when using to much watercolor on your paper. MEANWHILE. The white poster color is my substitute for my white acrylic (since bookstore don’t sell it by the normal-sized tube) which I use for highlights and corrections. Costs around P30 in any bookstore in the city. The Chinese ink is a great substitute for black watercolor (which runs out so quickly, just like the white one) and costs less, around P36.


For me, colored pencils are just so essential to any watercolor piece where you want your sketch to not appear so obvious, just like how lead pencils do it. I have 2 sets of them—the regular colored pencils and the watercolor pencils—all from FABER CASTEL. I think this brand is the only brand found in Cagayan de Oro that has decent color payoff and longevity. Kudos to you. I’m not really that crystal with the prices but I think my colored pencils cost nearly P500 for 36 colors and my watercolor pencils cost nearly P400 for 24 colors (plus they have rubber grips which I think were quite unnecessary and a free watercolor brush which was just UTTER RUBBISH). I also have some additional coloring tidbits such as my 10 color colored pens also from FABER CASTEL (seriously, they should make me an endorser or something) which cost nearly a hundred pesos, can be found at any National Bookstore branch. I also use Correction Fluid (yep, you read that right) or Correction Pen for my highlights. If you don’t get why, here are some examples:


see those white lines? So crisp, so fine? Oh yeah, that is the wonder of the Correction Fluid, perfect for contemporary art.

So, YES, those are the things that I work with when making art. If you are interested in my art, check out either of these blogs (careful, one of these has gay porn in them!):

czarnyma.tumblr.com

czarnyma.deviantart.com

Some quick tips before you actually start with your art (and you're a beginner):

• Don't be disappointed if your first work is kind of a "MEH", you're going to improve. Trust me.
• When sketching using a lead pencil, use light strokes.
• I use yellow ochre + white for light skin tone and brown + white/purple for darker ones.
• Always pay attention to the amount of water your brush has. Dab the brush on a towel if it has too much water.
• If you want your paint to dry faster, use a blower.
• Mistake? ACT FAST. Dab it with a tissue before it dries.
• For more tutorials, go to youtube. Or email me and I'll teach you for free. hahaha.

When should you start making art? Well, honey, you should start NOW. STAT. You’ll never know how talented you are if you don’t start off with a single stroke of that brush. Oh yeah.

The Eponine Complex

By now a lot of people may be even a little bit knowledgeable of the plot of Victor Hugo’s classic, “Les Miserables.” However, I am not going to be talking about the story’s contribution to classic literature or its contribution to the success of most Broadway productions (Yes, Lea Salonga, I hear you girl). I want to talk about the second most popular female character of this story, right after Fantine and that is Eponine. I don’t really have to describe Eponine or even narrate her background, what I want people to know is how a lot of girls in the whole world kind of relate to this seemingly proverbial character whose fate ends up literally dead.
Eponine is essentially part of the bitter end of the love triangle. In my own opinion, this thing between her, Marius and Cosette does not really resemble a love triangle, rather it resembles something like this:

It’s plainly obvious how every single girl in this world thinks she is Eponine because each one of them thinks that the man (or woman) that they are in love with will never love them back. Consequentially, these girls who think themselves as social pariahs end up crying over this predicament and sing their emotions out right out in the silent streets, at midnight while every drop of rain is hitting their faces. The last bit may hold not true to some accounts—I, myself, sing “On My Own” in the bathroom while the water from the shower is poorly substituting what is supposed to be actual raindrops. But the bottom line is—we all do this, maybe not the singing part but the self pity part. Admit it, you think you’re Eponine, I feel like Eponine, we all feel like Eponine. It is like all our menstrual cycles are in sync, our Estrogen-ridden brains always hit that Eponine note and activate it like a highly sensitive nerve synapse whenever we feel like this guy (or girl, I have no problem with gayhood) is not noticing us and hell, will never ever notice us. EVER. Story of our lives.
It is a global phenomenon-- why are we so susceptible to self pity to the point that we immediately resort to this conclusion whenever we are friendzoned? I don’t blame people who feel like this because I, too, torture myself sometimes with questions like,
“Am I too ugly?”
“Am I too loud?”
“Am I too hideous?”
“Am I too fat?”
“Do I sound dumb?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
But this was years ago and no, there was nothing wrong with me it’s just that I lacked a bit of honesty and determination. The problem with that situation was that I never really told the guy that I fancied him, like, immensely! I only dropped him subtle hints and told all my friends about my supposedly heartbreak. Why the lack of romantic cheesy declarations of love in my life? I had no idea at that time but I guess now, looking back, it was an amalgamation of the fear of rejection, my overflowing pride and (surprise, surprise) my teenage shyness. I mean, can you really blame me? I was seventeen! Being honest is never easy for those people who are not accustomed in putting their figurative hearts in their respective sleeves. Honesty is a bare-all action, something that a lot of us are afraid of because this makes us vulnerable human beings that a mere slight exposure could actually sting us. The things that bring the honesty out from underneath us will sting like sunburn-- it will hurt and that is what we are all afraid of.
However, we must not always blame ourselves when we are loveless, sometimes the many Marius-es in our lives should make an effort to look the other way and notice us for a change. DANG IT. However, maybe Marius just needs a push, maybe he just needs to know how we feel minus the subtlety. Maybe, just maybe, Marius is just too oblivious and he needs to see the light (spoiler alert: the light is us, yes we’re fabulous like that). Maybe the fact that everybody hates Cosette could actually boost your confidence (Yey!).
I don’t really know much about love and relationships, it is something that will perpetually remain a mystery to me. It is normal to pity ourselves once in a while but we must not reach the point of no return, in this case we must not become Eponine who martyred herself by taking a bullet for Marius. When we get sad, the whole world never really stops for us and that is the way that the universe is trying to tell us something—go on, move on and carry on. It is definitely okay to listen to the saddest songs, devour a pint of ice cream and drink bottle after bottle until our blood becomes alcohol when we feel left out from all this love business but we must never forget to promise ourselves that we will go on, move on and carry on tomorrow... or eventually.
As I sit here in my room, writing this bit of reflection, simultaneously scrolling past my facebook account’s newsfeed, the boy who I thought I was so in love with is online. And I thought, “You will never know how much alcohol I ingested because of you... and I hope to God you will never know.”
Cackles. Cackles everywhere.
I hope you all will drink not for heartbreak, but for happiness.
Happy 2013.
Nyma

Fanfiction: Cherik: THE SPACE BETWEEN

Cherik fic: The Space Between, Chapter 1
Summary: A year and half have passed without seeing Erik face-to-face.
A year has passed without hearing his voice.
Charles Xavier understood that it was over between them since Erik decided to go back to New York. But when a friend comes bearing the news that he was back in town, Charles must confront his own conflicting feelings towards the man who left him.
“Have you heard?”
“Hmm?”
“He’s back in town.”
“Who’s back in town?”
“Erik.”
Charles was rather caught in shock by the news that Emma brought with her, rather tainting his lighter mood of finally settling in a cozy coffee shop with the hope of seeing progress in his thesis for his doctorate. The weather was a bit spectacular today with the sun’s rays beaming on people without a harsh sting to their skin, as far as he knows the coffee that he is sipping right now was not half bad and his thesis was well on its own. This day has been flawless. But then Emma Frost happened. Emma Frost, daughter and heir to a chain of luxury hotels and also Erik’s long time friend, has become attached to Charles Xavier: Oxford University graduate student, in the middle of getting his doctorate in Genetics and is juggling three part-time jobs to support his scholarship. Charles has always wondered why the likes of Emma and Erik would bother knowing him and befriending him when he was so different from them in both social and financial status. He was not shallow, he knew that money did not count in true friendship but time and time again there were people who have proven him wrong and have vindicated the fact that one’s social and financial status count in the dating criteria. It took Charles a long time to regard the fact that he has been silent for the past two minutes or so, not responding to Emma’s last word until she made the next move.
“What are you going to do about it, Charles?”
Charles shrugged and brought to his lips the remains of his English muffin. He was not really hungry, no, he just needed more time to process everything and although a momentary mastication of food would not really suffice, he had to take every chance there is to prolong his agony. At last he swallowed the muffin, wiped his lips with a table napkin and sipped his coffee. A burst of caffeine has suddenly given him courage to say whatever lie he can conjure.
“Nothing, Emma. What would you expect me to do? Sulk? Lash out? Drink until my liver gives in? I will do nothing. We moved on, or rather, he moved on even before I even had the chance to know that we were over. I haven’t seen the man for almost one and a half years, I haven’t heard from him for a year. I just can’t immerse myself in self-pity forever.” With that last note, Charles’ nostrils were flaring like it took all his oxygen supply to perfect such lie. Such a lie.
Emma sighed and her shoulders drooped. Her gaze was now fixed outside the coffee shop, faking an observation while she was trying her best to come up with a reply. However, a reply never came for a familiar black Mercedes just parked right outside the shop. Emma tore her gaze from the window and looked at her friend. She stood up, touched Charles’ knuckles with her palm, walked over to his side and kissed his cheeks- their usual sign for a goodbye. Charles grinned but Emma couldn’t really muster the strength to grin back and instead gripped his hand tighter and murmured,
“You know that I love you, right?”
Charles nodded.
With that, Emma grinned and continued, “And he still loves you.”
Charles chuckled. “Somehow, my friend, I really find that hard to believe.”
That response earned him a tighter grip in his hand. Emma leaned down and kissed his cheek again.
“Trust me.”
**********
A year.
It has been a year since he has heard his voice-- his deep, baritone voice that never failed to shake into awakening all of what made Charles whole. Will he ever hear it again?
Almost a year and a half.
It has almost been a year and half since he has seen him face to face. He still remembers how his dark ginger hair would flare up like his it was made of fire when it catches the rays of the sun. He still remembers how his green eyes would gaze up on him with wonderment while he makes clever discussions about how especially groovy genetics is and how their pupils would dilate out of lust when he makes equally clever innuendos out of those discussions. He still remembers how his frown would turn into a grin and extend into a full-teeth smile when he purposely makes a fool of himself. He still remembers how his slender fingers and his rather big hands would touch him in all the right places and ignite all his senses.
Well, so much for moving on.
A year and a half-- nothing drastic has really changed in Charles’ life. He still lives in his too-small apartment, earning enough out of his part-time jobs just to make ends meet, working his very best in maintaining his scholarship and focusing all his energy in earning that three-letter extension at the end of his name. What did change was that he was near in finishing his thesis. He has allowed his hair to grow longer than usual, the bags under his eyes more noticeable and he has gone a bit thinner than what he was used to. The lost weight was good riddance, he would say. He also has a new mobile, its contacts filled with the people he knew albeit the one who he is still pining for.
A year and a half and Erik Lehnsherr was still the Erik Lehnsherr that Charles claimed he knew. Well, sort of. The only way he could see his face now was through tabloids and magazines featuring the handsome and well known adopted son of Sebastian Shaw: owner of the multi-billion company Shaw Industries, the maker of the latest in technology and known worldwide.
Charles and Erik has been together for a blissful year in England before the main branch, based in New York, had to call his attention and he was forced back to the States. Charles still remembers that day: he was buried in a dozen or so books in the library, in the middle of doing his thesis when Erik came in with all his six feet (and more) statuesque figure, caught Charles’s eyes, waved, walked towards him, leaned to plant a kiss on his cheek and sat himself opposite Charles’.
Charles pushed the book he was reading aside and looked Erik in the eyes. When he noticed that Erik looked a little bit uneasy, he asked,
“Erik, love, what’s wrong?”
Erik bit his lower lip and frowned.
“I have to go back to New York.”
Charles’ eyebrows shot up. “When will you be back?”
The look that Erik gave him was so heartbreaking that it was a miracle Charles did not give in to his primal instincts, walk over to his lover and kiss his frown away. But no, they were in the library and they were ‘civilized’ in a sense.
“I don’t know. They said they needed me urgently.”
“That’s okay, I understa--“
Erik shook his head frantically. “No, it’s not okay. I don’t want to leave.” He took Charles’ hands with his own and gripped it tightly. “I don’t want to leave you.”
They didn’t even have time for one last night together before he had to go overseas.  Charles accompanied Erik in his apartment, helped him pack his bags, made out in the sofa for five minutes and the next thing he knew he was in a fancy car with Erik on the way to the airport. Even without speaking to each other, Charles still understood how dreadful Erik felt about the whole ordeal by how he was holding Charles’ hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Every minute or so Erik would bring his knuckles to his lips and kiss it and bring it back down to his lap. Erik did it so many times that Charles, to release him from his agony, reached over Erik’s cheek so that green eyes would meet blue ones and kissed him soundly.
They promised to call each other as often as possible. Their only means of knowing each other’s day was through those wonderful phone calls that went on for six months. Until the calls suddenly stopped coming. Charles did not mind it at first thinking that Erik was busy with the company and that he needed space. But when he tried calling him, the operator always said that the number was no longer in use or was deactivated. Then Charles started to worry. The first person he confided on was Emma but Emma also had the same predicament as him, she had no idea what was going on with Erik. He got worried, he started having thoughts of Erik getting into an accident, of Erik being shot in any major part of his body or an accident that made him lose all his memories. That last one, Charles thought, sounded like some plot from some chick flick but he always insisted it was a possibility. Until one day while walking through the busy streets of the city, he saw a tabloid on one of the newsstands with Erik on the cover with the headline ‘Multi-billionaire Erik Lehnsherr attends the Metropolitan Museum of Art gala with business mogul James Howlett’.
The first thought that crossed Charles mind was a happy, ‘Erik is alive!’ but then it turned into a scowl, bearing the thought, ‘Who is this James Howlett? And why the fuck are they holding hands?’. Charles’ heart started pounding furiously and he couldn’t help it but turn to the page where Erik was featured. It was written in the tabloid that there were rumours saying that Erik and James were dating and beside the article were more smaller pictures of them together obviously shot in different occasions and on different days, walking side by side with their shoulders near each other, only just an inch shy to be considered intimate. Charles was angry and he tried contacting him over and over again even though his attempts were futile. He even considered flying to New York but he knew it was impossible, he was so broke that the only things he could afford were food and his rent. For days Emma tried calling him so many times everyday but he never had the courage to answer, obviously she saw the article. Thank the heavens that Emma did not know where he lived. Right after that, he made sure he would not pass by any newsstand, read any magazine or tabloid ever again.
For all those days, weeks and months that they were apart, Charles thought that if he ever meet Erik again he will not beg for him to get back together. The thing is, the only thing he needed was an explanation. Erik leaving him without a warning gave Charles thoughts that he was not adequate, that he was not enough, that he was too broke to be someone’s boyfriend, that he looked too shabby in his old clothes and that he will never ever measure up to the man that Erik was.
But that was a year and a half ago and Charles still demanded an explanation.
For the rest of the day after his conversation with Emma, Charles was still not at ease. Knowing Erik was back in town brought all the memories back to his forefront, ignoring it would prove to be futile. He wanted so much to confront it, to hunt down Lehnsherr (no longer Erik in his mind, just simple old Lehnsherr) and punch him in the face. And here he was, lying to his own thoughts. A very big part of him still wanted to talk to Erik, to understand where he went wrong and to hear his own explanation. He was lying to himself yet again. Web of lies, Charles, stop weaving them. All he wanted was to hear his voice once more.
By five in the afternoon, it started to rain and Charles decided to go home to his lonely apartment and make his own dinner out of anything there was in his possession.
Working seriously on his thesis was a productive venture, even more so making his own dinner. Charles was left to his own devices until it was near midnight. He propped himself to his bed ready for sleep but no matter what position he was in he can’t seem to fall asleep. He continued to stare at the ceiling. Thoughts of Lehnsherr were threatening to break his mental defences. ‘Stop it Charles, don’t let him get over your head, don’t let him rule you, don’t let him—‘
His mental soliloquy was cut short and he surprisingly found himself already motioning towards his drawer. He then retrieved his mobile and eyed it critically. He sat on his tiny bed with his head against the headboard and his knees brought up to near his chin. Before Charles knew it, he was already dialling Lehnsherr’s number which he knew by heart and pressed the call button. He then reluctantly brought the phone to his ear.
Riiiiiing
Riiiiiing
Riiiiiing
Then a familiar female voice started to say, “The number that you are calling is busy at this—“
He knew it was hopeless. He knew from the start that it was hopeless, why couldn’t he just accept it, roll it into a ball, swallow it whole and shove it up his throat.
Then suddenly—
“Hello?”, the voice said on the other end, the same baritone voice that had always filled his dreams.
For a moment Charles was speechless, that moment turned out to be long enough for Lehnsherr to speak again.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
Charles inhaled sharply and deeply. ‘Courage, Xavier, muster it all up.’
“Uhm.. ah...It’s me.”
Three seconds and then—
“Charles?”, Erik inquired.
Oh to hear his name said by that voice... that was enough for Charles to feel like surrendering. There was already water welling up in his lower eye lids. His tear ducts were obviously failing him. His eyes started to blink fast. He brought his free hand and touched his cheek. Wet. He could not help it, he started sobbing. His sharp inhales of air made it obvious to the person at the other end how he was trying his best to hold on to his very thin thread of composure.
“Are you crying?”
Charles shook his head dramatically and tried to smile as if Erik could see him, as if he was right in front of him. Erik. Not Lehnsherr. Erik. Just Erik.
“No.” His voice was obviously wavering.
It took a couple of breaths for Charles to compose himself and wipe away his tears. However, the attempt was useless for his ducts would not stop producing tears. He tried to smile again to fool Erik into believing that he stopped crying.
“We haven’t done this in a while haven’t we? Talking on the phone, that is.”
“I suppose... you’re right.” Charles heard Erik’s sharp inhalation of air.
“You know...” sniff. “You know what?” sniff. “This thing... this thing happening now... it’s amazing.”
Charles tried his very best to fight back the tears. He knew it was useless but he needed to say the things he wanted to say.
So he continued, “I never really thought that I would ever hear your voice again.”
It was too damn silent on the other end, Charles could only hear Erik breathing. Charles grew rather impatient and was quite angry of the fact that Erik can’t even rebut his little monologue.
“Charles, I—“
“I really do hate you.” Charles was even shocked with the conviction behind his own words. He figured that it was true, that was how he felt. He did not hate Erik Lehnsherr, the man; rather he hated how this ungrateful sod has treated him for the past year. He hated it thoroughly that he made sure that his next words would sting like hell.
“What did I ever do to you? Why would you leave me and still force me to believe that we were still together when halfway around the world you were with another man? You think I’m dumb? You think I couldn’t read a bloody tabloid? You think just because I read books exclusively that you could just go around town, paint it red knowing that pictures of you would end up on some tabloid and the odds of me finding it out would be one in a million?”
“Charles, It’s not what you thi—“
“Shut the fuck up!” Now Charles was shouting, he just couldn’t hold on to his anger any longer so he let the last thread holding on to it snap. Then he clenched his jaw and his hands so hard, he knew that if he continued in that manner, his phone would break. He just can’t afford that happening... literally. So he calmed himself and inhaled.
Charles, with all his hard-earned composure, decided that this call should end soon.
“I’m done. I never want to see you again.”
Then Charles pressed the end call button. The call has ended. Time to go back to reality. He checked the time on his phone: it was already ten minutes past midnight. Time to sleep, then. It was easier for Charles to fall asleep this time with all his energy drained. Before he knew it, he was already fast asleep.
*****
Charles woke up with a start, the rain was pounding hard against his window but that was not the sound that woke him up. There was someone or something pounding against his apartment door. He checked his phone, it was thirty minutes past two in the morning. Then the pounding got louder. ‘Who the bloody fuck is that?’, he thought. He got up from the bed and walked towards his stack of books and grabbed the thickest hardcover he could find. If the person behind the door was a molester or whatever, it was best to come prepared and the book will be hard enough to knock the perpetrator senseless. He walked towards the entrance, with his left hand holding the book and held on to the knob. He counted mentally... 1... 2... 3. He unlocked the door, turned the knob and pulled the door towards him.
He had expected a couple of things happening when he opened the door but none of them actually came close to what was actually right in front of him.
Erik was wearing a black peacoat, dark gray bootleg jeans and black leather shoes. But his choice of clothes was not important upon Charles’ scrutiny. Erik was shivering, his hands were inside of his coat’s pockets, he looked somewhat pale with a faint flush in his cheeks, he had on this pleading look and most of all, he was soaking wet. Erik was staring at him, he didn’t know what else to do so he glared back at him.
“Erik, what in the bloody hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”
Erik, still shivering, just shook his head. “I... honestly... don’t... know... Cha-Cha-Cha-Charles.” Erik’s voice wavered right at the end, his lips were shaking and his teeth were chattering against each other. Even though, Charles couldn’t give in that easily to emotions akin to pity.
“Go home, Erik.”
“Charles... please...”
Charles knew he had his stern face on. He knew that he was strong, he knew he had to be strong for this. “Didn’t I make it clear just hours ago? I don’t want to see you or talk to you. So please, Erik, go home.”
Erik moved so swiftly that Charles was not even fast enough to notice when Erik’s hand was gripping the wrist of his hand that held the book tightly. The book slammed against the floor, forgotten. Charles stared at the book, then at his wrist being held by Erik’s hand and then finally at Erik.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Charles wanted all his anger to be heard in that question but alas, he was still unbelievably not over this man. Instead his voice sounded faint. Erik’s hand slid down to interlace his fingers in between Charles’.  Charles did not fight it nor grasped back, he just remained still and unmoving.
“Charles, I love you”
Charles scoffed. “No, you don’t”
Now there was life in those green eyes. “Yes, I do”
“No. You. Don’t.” Charles spoke every word with much emphasis just to make sure that Erik knows that he was serious. “Now, let my hand go.”
Erik shook his head. “No, I will never let you go.”
With both eyebrows raised, Charles chuckled mockingly. “I think you just did, a year ago in fact.”
“Charles, you must know. The pictures you saw, the articles you read... they were all lies.”
“Well, the way Mr. Howlett held onto your hand proved otherwise.”
The grip on his hand grew tighter.  “Charles, listen to me. Please, just listen to me.”
Charles was looking everywhere except at Erik. He was trying his best to be hostile but it was a useless self-defence mechanism against Erik who knew him so much. Erik, noticing this, held Charles’ right cheek with a shivering hand and pushed it softly so that Charles was facing him.
Erik was crying.
“Charles, I love you. I love you still. You must know that. Surely you must know that.”
“Is a year of silence your way of showing that you love me, Erik? Because if you say so, then you have a twisted sense of humour, my friend, a twisted sense of what love is.”
Erik was sobbing now and his thumb was now actively caressing his cheek.
“I don’t know how to explain what happened, Charles. I can’t explain it now but trust me, please.”
Charles looked into Erik’s eyes. They looked too green and too sincere. He did not know what to say, so he responded through silence.
“I love you, Charles.”
“Please don’t say that.”
Erik brought his hands unto Charles’ shoulders and shook him lightly. “I’m going to say it because it is true. I’m going to say it because I want to.”
Erik brought his hands to Charles’ back and embraced him. With Erik being soaking wet, Charles’ sweatpants and shirt were now damp as well. He didn’t care about that for he was too shocked with what was actually transpiring. He didn’t embrace back, though.
“Erik, what do you want from me?” It sounded like a whisper but that seemed enough for Erik embraced him tighter.
“I want you, Charles. I never stopped wanting you. Please forgive me for how stupid I have been for the past year.”
Silence. When Charles did not respond, Erik leaned back, looked at Charles without letting go of his embrace. Charles was looking at the floor. ‘Lucky floor’, Erik thought.
“Charles, will you forgive me?”
Now, Charles held his gaze. “I don’t think I can do that.”
Erik looked so heartbroken that Charles wanted to take his response back. But no, he wanted to remain strong for himself. Only for himself.
“Why?”
“I don’t even know what I’m forgiving you for.”
“Charles, I can’t tell you the reason now.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t believe it’s the right time.”
Charles’ gaze went back to the floor. Erik, afraid of losing Charles’ attention, asked him, “Do you still love me, Charles?” Charles’ eyes opened wide and stared back at Erik.
“Erik, you need to go home.”
Charles started to push him away but Erik did not attempt to let go.
With a sigh, Charles said “Erik, please, let me go and go home.”
“Do you still love me? Please answer me, Charles, please.”
Charles did not do anything, he just stared at him blankly. He honestly did not know if what Erik did to him had completely eradicated the remains of his feelings. He was not sure if he trusted his voice this time. Erik may have mistaken the stare and the prolonged silence to be reprieve for the next thing he did surprised Charles. Erik sobbed, embraced him back and slowly slid down until he was kneeling and hugging Charles by his waist. His face was against Charles’ abdomen and he was sobbing and whimpering against it. Charles was fed up, it was too early in the morning to feel so many painful emotions that the only thing he wanted to do was go back to bed and just forget everything. It took him every single ounce of strength he had to remove the arms that held him slowly. Surprisingly, the owner of the arms obliged and soon he found Erik slowly standing up and facing him again. He looked wrecked. Charles was near sheer vulnerability but he held back. He slowly stepped backwards, took hold of the door’s knob and said, “Goodbye, Erik” and without looking back at him, he pushed the door to a close.
*****

Fanfiction: Cherik: XAVIER ON NAI CHA AND SURGERY

((a little Cherik fic for Valentine's day where Charles is an O. R. nurse and Erik is a surgeon))

It was just another ordinary day for one Charles Xavier, or so it seemed. He had scrubbed-in in two herniorraphy cases that morning and just one more minor operation in the afternoon. Things were looking great, it seemed that he could get home early and maybe make some real dinner for himself, read a book and finally doze off earlier than what he’s used to. However, when he walked down the halls towards the Operating Room theatre, he could not shake the feeling that something was rather amiss and he swears that what he ate just minutes ago would put up a second appearance. He was feeling a little bit nervous and he haven’t got the foggiest why. He went quickly to the dressing room, changed into his scrubs and crocs and went to the O. R. lobby where he was met with Raven writing something on the schedule board.
“Hey, I’m back from my break!”
Raven did not even budge, so he asked, “Is there something wrong with the schedule?”
Now, Raven finally looked at him, with the tip of the covered whiteboard pen settling just under her chin and shook her head. “Nothing, but you might want to see this.”
Charles swiftly walked over to where Raven was and settled right behind her. When he saw what she wrote on the board, he nearly choked on his own spit. “Wha—When the bloody hell did this happen?”
With that reaction, Raven actually chuckled and turned to stand up beside him. She then placed her right hand over Charles’ right shoulder, faced him with a sly grin on her lips.
“Moira just told me minutes ago that there has been a slight change in the schedule and tomorrow’s thyroidectomy will be pushed today instead. Don’t worry, Charlie darling, I will be there standing right behind you as your Circulating Nurse and I’ll make sure you won’t make a fool of yourself.”
With that last least comforting message hanging on the air, she gestured towards Charles (who was still blankly staring at the board) and departed with a mock salute.

1 PM: Thyroidectomy; O. R. Table no. 1
Patient: Grey, Jean; 25 y. o.
Surgeon: Dr. Erik Lehnsherr
Anesthesiologist: Dr. Sean Cassidy
Scrub Nurse: Charles Xavier
Circulating Nurse: Raven Darkholme

Meanwhile, Charles (bless his soul) could not understand where he went wrong with today or maybe with his whole life. So far, he knows that he has been a good- nay- excellent O. R. nurse for the past two years that he has worked under one Moira McTaggert’s supervision. But, oh, he knows he’s still lying to himself. The first time he met Dr. Erik Lehnsherr was almost a year ago and right before he even met the man, he has heard rumours about his demeanor towards his colleagues. He can still hear the testimonials given by his friends in his head about the man running around his head like a tornado.

Moira McTaggert, O. R. Superviser: “Doctor Lehnsherr is a wonderful surgeon, kind of aloof but his level of dedication towards his work is just astounding.”
Raven Darkholme, O. R. Nurse: “Hot. Just hot. He has these beautiful green eyes that just give me all the awkward ladyboners. Strange, though, I haven’t seen his hair ever. He always wears a bonnet in the O. R. And he doesn’t take it off even in the theatre or in the lobby. I tried flirting with him once, it didn’t work out and trust me, you don’t want to know what happened.”
Dr. Sean Cassidy, Anesthesiologist: “Oh, Lehnsherr. The guy. The man. I heard some girl who was also his scrub nurse at that time tried to flirt with him while they were having a minor surgery, Lehnsherr ‘accidentally’ aimed the cautery wand in the poor scrub nurse’s gloved hand. She had to scrub out after that. Thankfully her hand did not get burned.”
Alex Summers, Surgical Ward Nurse: “Lehnsherr? Doctor Lehnsherr, you say? Let’s see... Unlike other doctors who have hieroglyphic penmanships, he actually writes legibly but he seldom gives orders verbally. Doesn’t talk much.”
Dr. Armando Muñoz, Resident Doctor: Surgical Ward: “We actually had a few classes together in our first year in med school. He’s really smart but he keeps to himself most of the time. I don’t even know if he has a girlfriend. But, when you get to know him he’s actually really good company.”

From the information he gathered, he could deduce that Dr. Erik Lehnsherr is not actually unpleasant but the air of seriousness and constant vigilance surrounding him should always be acknowledged. When he first met this enigmatic surgeon, Charles could not even begin to describe what he was looking at. His first scheduled operation with Lehnsherr was a Modified Radical Mastectomy that had the early on-call of eight in the morning. Charles decided to come in earlier to have everything prepared before Lehnsherr even arrived in the premises. He was very much confident that day, at least he could show this particular formidable surgeon the competent man that he is. However when he reached the O. R. dressing room he was greeted with the vision of a tall man, with dark ginger hair and eyes so green Charles almost got lost in this doctor’s stern stare. It took a few more seconds for Charles to come down from Valhalla to earth and realize that this man is definitely Dr. Lehnsherr. The man was an hour and a half early. Wow. Don’t people sleep anymore? Raven was wrong, this man was not hot, this man was gorgeous and all things beautiful.
Charles, knowing the awkward position they were in, fidgeted and finally broke the silence.
“Uhm, good morning Dr. Lehnsherr.”
Lehnsherr, in perfect mint green scrubs and white crocs, raised both his brows and simply nodded in response to the greeting. Charles had really no idea what to say next, so he fidgeted more.
“I assume you’ll be part of my team this morning?” Lehnsherr’s inquiry hung in the air while Charles changed into his scrubs.
After the mundane ordeal of changing clothes, Charles replied, “Yes, Doc” and raised his right hand forward gesturing a handshake. “I’m Charles Xavier, your scrub nurse this morning”. Erik firmly shook his hand. Charles was pretty sure that that was the moment he realized he was infatuated and it hit him hard. After the introductions, Charles proceeded on readying everything for the operation- the necessary tools and things needed taken out from the autoclave, the operating table in perfect shape, the cautery and the suction machines functioning and all the others that were required for the upcoming MRM operation. While doing his scrubbing, Charles could not shake off the warm feeling in his chest towards Lehnsherr, he was sure he was developing a crush for the handsome doctor but the question was, was he even gay?
Even though Charles was thoroughly prepared for the operation, luck apparently was not on his side at that time. In the middle of the operation things started to run to a rather ill-fated course:
· First, he discovered that he was missing some retractors and forceps in the sterile table, so an orderly had to sterilize newly washed ones before they could proceed which took them quite some time. He tried his best not to look at Lehnsherr because he was afraid that his eyes would look disappointed, so he never really knew how the doctor felt about the minor delay.
· Second, Lenhsherr asked if he could change the blade of the scalpel since it was beginning to turn blunt. It was an easy task and it didn’t really require much expertise for Charles to do it but when he tried to remove the blade with a forcep, it wouldn’t even retract itself. It took a few more tries before the blade surrendered and was snapped in two. He was deeply embarrassed with himself.
· Third, when it was finally time to close the incision, Lehnsherr asked for a plain surgical gut suture. Now, Charles has no idea how he made a fool of himself with this simple, easy-peasy request but when he asked Raven for the requested suture through a subtle murmur in her ear, he said “Doc needs a chromic surgical gut”. When Lehnsherr spotted the mistake, he did not look disappointed or dismayed, he just looked at Charles with his squinted eyes. Charles was not sure if he was glaring or if he was smiling. But a rooky mistake like that wouldn’t really deserve a smile. A glare, it was.
That was a year ago and Charles now swears that he will not allow himself to be embarrassed anymore. And anyhow, he even had around four or five more operations with Lehnsherr in between that horrendous performance and at present and no drastic mistakes were made in those times. He wouldn’t let an emergency thyroidectomy, with Lehnsherr as his surgeon, get him down. No, he will not allow it. And besides, if it is any consolation, Lehnsherr does not even talk much, his eyes do the talking for him. Oh right, it was worse than verbal murder. It’s not that he finds Lehnsherr repulsive that he detests seeing him, on the contrary he finds him rather breathtaking but seeing him and working with him always reminded him that he could instantly turn into a helpless, clumsy little buffoon with just a gaze from those green eyes. He wants to block them with a pair of shades so much. (Oh right, there is a huge possibility that Lehnsherr may look dead sexier with shades, damn!)
The emergency thyroidectomy with Lehnsherr, surprisingly, went splendidly. No accidental cauterization of the scrub nurse, no scrub outs, no misheard suture orders and a certain infatuated scrub nurse. Charles was at the top of his game. Before he even knew it, they were already closing up the incision. Then the sudden sound of Lehnsherr clearing up his throat brought Charles out of his focus with the closing suturing and looked up to meet Lehnsherr’s too-green gems.
“Do you like coffee, Mr. Xavier?”
Charles felt his whole body flush, thank all the gods that his sterile gown and his mask hid his rather embarrassing trait. He blinked twice before he realized there was a question for him to answer.
“Not really, Doc. I prefer Nai Cha over potent caffeine.” Charles still could not get over the fact that Lehnsherr is doing small talk with him.
“Nai Cha? As in milk tea?” This man is amazing, he can do small talk with Charles and at the same time suture an incision with drop dead precision.
“Yes, I like milk tea a lot.”
“50 percent sweetness?”
“I go all the way, Doc. Only a hundred percent for me.”
“Oolong?”
“Wintermelon”
“Well, from your choice in beverage, sweetness and flavour I could probably conclude that you have quite a sweet tooth Mr. Xavier.” Was that... no, Charles could be wrong but he’s quite sure that what he just saw on Lehnsherr’s face (to be honest, just his eyes) was a smile.
After the end of the whole operation, Lehnsherr was left to attend to the Patient’s chart with Raven and Charles had to prepare for the next operation. For a moment there, Charles actually had a conversation with his *ahem* crush. Even though it was far from flirtation, that single moment was enough for him to keep on daydreaming until the end of his second and last operation for the afternoon. At last, he thought, he could finally go home and be left with daydreams of finally having a longer conversation with his dear Erik. ‘Really, Charles? Your dear Erik? And when did you even start calling the man by his first name? You have got to get over your head’. He knew he was hopeless when the daydreaming starts.
It was quite a bit of a surprise for him when he stumbled in the O. R. Lobby, ready to go home, and found Dr. Lehnsherr looking gorgeous in just jeans, a white V-neck shirt and a pair gray chucks sitting in one of the love seats with two take-out Nai Chas in both his hands cradled by his lap.
“Dr. Lehnsherr, you’re still here!”
At that, Lehnsherr looked up from his blank gaze on the floor and actually smiled. Charles suddenly had the feeling that the ligaments holding his knees up were giving in.
“Please, call me Erik. And yes, I’m still here.” Lehnsherr, uhm, Erik stood up and walked towards Charles and handed him one of the Nai Chas with his right hand. Too flabbergasted, Charles could not do anything clever but stare and stare some more.
Realizing that Charles may have not taken the hint to take the Nai Cha, Erik shook it with his reaching hand. “Nai Cha, for you. Wintermelon, 100 percent.”
Charles was doing his best to fight back a whimper threatening to escape from his vocal box. God, he realized, he must look rather stupid now because he was just staring. Well, bloody-effing-hell. So, he straightened up and took the Nai Cha from Erik’s hand. Erik flashed him that toothy smile again. Huh, Erik had too much teeth, Charles realized. He could not escape the momentary daydream of having those teeth graze his neck, his jaw, his everything. ‘Charles, get a hold of yourself.’
“Uhm... wow... uhm.” Splendid! And now he was an incoherent, babbling mess. Just perfect, Xavier. You just lost your dignity right there. “Thank you, Doc- I mean Erik. This is really thoughtful of you.” He sipped and tasted the sweet goodness that is 100 percent wintermelon. When he looked up, he realized that Erik is still staring at him. Or his lips. Maybe his lips. No, definitely his lips.
“Mr. Xavier-“
“Oh please, do call me Charles.”
With that, Erik smiled again (what’s with all the smiles lately?) and straightened himself up, with all his six feet two inches self towering over Charles’ five feet seven inches figure. He definitely felt like a hobbit.
“As you wish, Charles.” Erik said with much emphasis on the Charles. He took a sip from his Nai Cha without even breaking his gaze over Charles. Charles was then made aware of how he was holding his Nai Cha with both hands like it was precious china, too fragile to be held with only one. Erik grinned while sipping and Charles grinned back. It was a well meaning give-and-take situation from then on.
Erik then swept his free hand over his hair and finally regained his voice. “Since coffee is definitely out of the question... Charles, I was wondering if you would like to have another Nai Cha with me sometime.”
Charles was slightly gaping and he was aware of that. Surprised as he was, he couldn’t really find the right words to say. It was a war between “Yes, sure”, “Alright” or “Of course! Then we can get married, have cute little adopted Chinese kids, maybe a Labrador pup or two, a house in the suburbs and a station wagon. Anything, really. Anything for you, Erik”. So much for maintaining composure.
Meanwhile, Erik took Charles’ momentary unresponsiveness for reprieve.
Charles was sure Erik was talking but could not hear what he was really saying because he was trying his best to catch Erik’s eyes because they were going everywhere except to the direction of Charles’ own gaze.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to, Charles, just because I am your surgeon and you are my nurse doesn’t really oblige you—“ God, he was blushing!His self-salvation speech was halted due to the fact that Charles’ index and middle fingers were subtly touching his lips. ‘Wow, Charles, you’re rather courageous today, talking to and touching Erik on the same day!’
“I would love to have one or more Nai Chas with you, Erik.” The smile that he was rewarded with possibly blinded him.
Not being able to resist, Charles then smiled back, took Erik’s free hand and stood beside him. He looked up and saw a glimpse of what could be an expression of surprise in Erik’s eyes.
“I’m actually on my way home, fancy a walk with me then maybe take-out dimsum in my apartment?”
Erik lit up and nodded.
Charles knew it was going to be more than just a walk and take-out dimsum. Maybe a little flirting, maybe little kisses here and there and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as clumsy in bed with him as he is in the operating room.