A sort of continuation of 1962 and the October Ordeal but unlike all the love and conversation, this is all sadness and no conversation. Still very much Erik/Charles though XD I don't own anything of that sort because really, it's canon enough as it is (traneto-love!)
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1962 and The Man-Made Monster
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When Magneto has first met Professor X, he is Erik Lehnsherr and they are not quite friends. He expects influence, just never outright change because they can change the world as two but he is still one painfully hurt soul with an angry heart.
He can't ever forgive this world for all it has done.
Just like the world will never forgive him for what he will do.
The moment the missiles are fired, Charles knows there is no turning back.
Erik extends his hand out towards the sky, fingers fanning out and the world seems to stand still, just as time has decided to take a break and the axis of the earth has been put on hold.
They stand at the edge of the beach with hundreds of missiles littering across the bright Cuban skies.
It is a cold seething need for Charles to understand that sets Erik off, he twists his wrist and all the little missiles are redirected to the ships in the sea because he needs the other (and the world he so desperately wants to protect) to know that the day mutants cease to fight back will be the day the world ends.
And there can't be falling nuclear warheads flying at them.
Because then, it will be too easy.
(Unless they have learned to create destruction without metal and perhaps then, they will have to be worried about someone named Plastino instead.)
Yes, the meaning behind the end of the world is subjective but maybe less so if only they are not mutants. Still, Erik is glad, almost grateful, for the helmet he has pulled from Shaw's head because he knows Charles doesn't need to control his mind.
When he projects a glimpse of that selfless worry into his brain, Erik knows there won't be a shred of hesitation to do things his way. All empathy and understanding, all for a greater good he has never come to face with.
They are standing on the sandy beach and there is nothing but hope and trust that wells up in Charles's eyes.
Erik is glad he still has the control to look away.
Glad, he still has the will to throw it all away.
000
It is unintentional.
He knows. It is a mistake, on his end.
Because underlying all the emotions that rush at him, there's no anger at first, just misery and pain.
He easily flicks his wrist and the bullet deflects. The pulling of the trigger, the loud bang! bang! bang! and all that fury dissolve into the Cuban winds just as the bullet enters Charles' back.
The moment the bullet breaks the skin, a whole other world opens and pulls him in from widening edges. But Erik is unsuspecting.
There is an explosion of metal, of pain, of blood. The realization and recognition hasn't hit them yet.
And it takes a moment before his eyes is seeing what his mind is feeling.
Charles crumbles to the ground.
His hand is at his back and Erik is reacting.
There is no seeking, he has found it.
Found it in the man in his arms, a young, much too young, telepath who has broadcasted his pain to the nearest person when the stray bullet traces pass skin, flesh, before hitting the frail nerve endings deep within his body.
Charles wants Erik to feel his hurt, understand his ideals one last time before he quietly retreats from his mind.
Only nothing happens and that helmet never even moves.
No matter the determination, need or want, there are just some things Charles is never meant to do. (Like save the world or so Erik's actions have convinced him of.)
Erik kneels right next to him and he tells him they want the same things.
Charles lies through his teeth and replies that they don't. And he doesn't need to look to know Erik's hand is clenched around the bullet that only knows destruction down to its last metal edge.
It is 1962 when the missiles in the sky go off like fireworks in the dark.
000
The ability to bend metal at will may not be what He has intended but as the odd man out (a one in three million ratio) he has learned to deal with it.
There is no denial, he has always admitted that he is born as Frankenstein's monster.
Erik doesn't realize at first but years later, when he can no long part with the rage, because it is like as though the anger and pain has become a part of who he is, there is always the power for survival in this superhuman ability at the very least.
So when he is standing on the beach with Charles lying in the sands, he sudden fears himself more than anything.
Because even though he isn't dead (or killed in front of his eyes with a bullet to the head), he is hurt (so badly, and it is all his fault, his sole doing.)
Erik's hand clamps around Raven's, far harder than he realizes.
"Mutant and proud!"
Charles thinks words like these will bring back memories in due time.
Only, it stings. Like a slap to the wrist or a knife in the back, Raven's words hurt far more than he has expected. Hank looks away.
Charles is in Moira's arms when the pain magnifies along his back until he can barely think.
But the registration is clear, he can still see.
They are holding hands, Erik with that ugly ugly helmet on his head, Raven in that natural blue hue, Angel with her broken wings, and Shaw's henchmen. They stand as a line.
And it isn't until they disappear in a curl of black and red smoke that he finally sinks to the fear.
He can no longer feel his legs.
000
Frankenstein's creator is dead.
But another rises in his place.
(Because without Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr may never have become Magneto.)
Charles tries until the very end, and even though he may be too altruistic at times, when things comes to Erik, he knows when to give up. And they are alike in all the wrong ways. Because Erik may never understand Charles' inability to pull that trigger, he knows enough to let go and stop the hurt that resounds in the iris of those blue blue eyes.
Rage touches upon the smiles in the same way serenity brushes over the tears.
Still, no one ever stays long enough to hear the washing of the waves against shards of broken hearts imbedded all over the beach, one October day.
XXX Kuro
I know beach!divorce fics are overrated at this point but I had to write it, it was too sad for my heart to neglect... or maybe I jsut like to torture myself this way.