He allows himself a brief moment of panic in a strangers bedroom, breathes in and out as slowly as he can as he winds a hand through his hair. There's too much for even his all-encompassing mind to comprehend, too many factors that strain against the shelves constructed in his thoughts. He keeps trying to pick something to focus on and another thing comes flashing to the forefront in neon strip light.
The cameras are only second to Erik's lifeless expression and Charles continues to be unsurprised by that. Unsurprised in the way that Erik has taken up so much of him since the very moment they met, that he has his own place in the corners of Charles, tightly locked up because it wouldn't do to let any of the feeling leak out. That people keep mistaking them for something other than they are troubles him too. They live on the tail-end of a time where friendship - the type where you are never sure where one person ends and the other begins - has taken on a darker note to be pushed aside and Charles ... frets. Another reason for Erik to pull away, another blot to the light he brought with him. He wasn't the only one drowning that day.
He rubs at his forehead with the palm of his hand, moves closer to one of the cameras, head tilted to see it. His power is one that is unseen, one that blurs behind his eyes and stays as far from human knowledge as possible. Erik's on the other hand is a part of him, an extra limb he uses any day at any time because why should he not? Charles will probably find it easier to hide. Erik -- he's not sure if Erik will. If only there was a way to turn them off. He's not as technologically minded as others, Hank would probably know what to do with it, hell, even Erik. But he doesn't want to ask, feels his tongue stupid in his mouth. There needs to be some control back to this, needs to or he might just lose what little he has. Turning his back to the black lens, Charles focuses on all the foolish buckles on his uniform and sheds it like a second skin, is glad for the opportunity to do so because it feels much like wearing a costume.
Erik was right about the clothes, they hang down on him but they are infinitely more better than the way the leather sticks to skin. So he leaves the room as quickly as he came to it, moves back down the stairs without his partner's silent grace. For a moment he feels monumentally tired, the pang on seeing Erik both so lost and so in charge at once only heightening the feeling.
"I feel rather like I'm in some sort of sinister burlesque show."
Eyes drifting to the cameras as he leans against the doorframe, sleeves sliding a little over his knuckles.
no subject
The cameras are only second to Erik's lifeless expression and Charles continues to be unsurprised by that. Unsurprised in the way that Erik has taken up so much of him since the very moment they met, that he has his own place in the corners of Charles, tightly locked up because it wouldn't do to let any of the feeling leak out. That people keep mistaking them for something other than they are troubles him too. They live on the tail-end of a time where friendship - the type where you are never sure where one person ends and the other begins - has taken on a darker note to be pushed aside and Charles ... frets. Another reason for Erik to pull away, another blot to the light he brought with him. He wasn't the only one drowning that day.
He rubs at his forehead with the palm of his hand, moves closer to one of the cameras, head tilted to see it. His power is one that is unseen, one that blurs behind his eyes and stays as far from human knowledge as possible. Erik's on the other hand is a part of him, an extra limb he uses any day at any time because why should he not? Charles will probably find it easier to hide. Erik -- he's not sure if Erik will. If only there was a way to turn them off. He's not as technologically minded as others, Hank would probably know what to do with it, hell, even Erik. But he doesn't want to ask, feels his tongue stupid in his mouth. There needs to be some control back to this, needs to or he might just lose what little he has. Turning his back to the black lens, Charles focuses on all the foolish buckles on his uniform and sheds it like a second skin, is glad for the opportunity to do so because it feels much like wearing a costume.
Erik was right about the clothes, they hang down on him but they are infinitely more better than the way the leather sticks to skin. So he leaves the room as quickly as he came to it, moves back down the stairs without his partner's silent grace. For a moment he feels monumentally tired, the pang on seeing Erik both so lost and so in charge at once only heightening the feeling.
"I feel rather like I'm in some sort of sinister burlesque show."
Eyes drifting to the cameras as he leans against the doorframe, sleeves sliding a little over his knuckles.