Charles' laughter is a helpless, light thing as Erik all but drags him down the corridor, a sound that only drifts into a curious breathing as he crushes the camera and pulls him closer. One hand settles on his shoulder, the other drifting to his forehead, the back of his palm smoothed along his companion's furrowed brow.

"I don't doubt that, my friend."

He hums, pushes his fingers gently into Erik's hair with a small grin, the flash of white behind too red lips and it's easy, ridiculously so. "I know, I know, today of all - but I can't help but want to be a little selfish right now."

Because Erik is looking at him in a way that makes Charles feel as though his very essence is written in the lines of his face and his heart twists in yearning. The things he would do for Erik, could be convinced into, have crept into his thoughts the last week. If Charles were anything less than he were he might have laid it all at his feet by now but he has to hope, has to believe that they will work it out, that they can come to some sort of understanding of each other.

Erik is a dangerous thing to want.

And oh, Charles does.