He rises like an old man, shoulders hunched a fraction and his jaw set but nothing can really dull the affect of the expression in his eyes. Charles is an open book for anyone who had ever cared to read it and he can count the very small number who have without a thought. So he curls his hand around the lip of the table, thumb against knotted wood and his voice a soft torrent of unhappiness.
"I can't imagine it in the way you must be thinking, Erik, but I have wanted some things I have no hope of ever receiving."
His mouth twists, bitter for a moment. Charles has only ever craved companionship. For a telepath this might be laughably pathetic - he can read people so easily but there has ... he loves his sister but having someone know him right down to the very core has yet to be realized. Erik comes close, Erik with his cruel mouth and the set of his beautiful hands.
"I'm not going to argue self-worth with you," he murmurs, running a hand through his hair, sleeve coming untucked momentarily. "I care for you, don't you understand that? And I don't know why - but you don't have to protect me from this."
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"I can't imagine it in the way you must be thinking, Erik, but I have wanted some things I have no hope of ever receiving."
His mouth twists, bitter for a moment. Charles has only ever craved companionship. For a telepath this might be laughably pathetic - he can read people so easily but there has ... he loves his sister but having someone know him right down to the very core has yet to be realized. Erik comes close, Erik with his cruel mouth and the set of his beautiful hands.
"I'm not going to argue self-worth with you," he murmurs, running a hand through his hair, sleeve coming untucked momentarily. "I care for you, don't you understand that? And I don't know why - but you don't have to protect me from this."