"Erik, I think we need to talk." This was the twelfth time Charles had said it today. His morals prevented him from directly looking into Erik's mind for the answer, especially when Erik was not wearing Helmet. Doing so would be practically equivalent to declaring a breakup.
But his curiosity, Charles thought, his damn curiosity—surely it had to be curiosity, not some short-video syndrome—demanded an answer. Yet Erik remained as difficult as ever.
Charles had known for a long time that if Erik made up his mind not to say something, no one else would ever find out.
Like that ridiculous Helmet of his—was it really meant to keep Charles from peeking into secrets from his past? What past had the two of them not gone through together?
If Charles had to give that Helmet a name, he would call it "Leave Me Alone." Its primary function was to stop Charles from constantly saying in Erik's head, "Erik, I think we need to talk."
Charles knew it was annoying too, but he still could not resist asking for the thirteenth time. By the fourteenth, Erik had put Helmet back on.
As always, stubborn people could only ever be friends with other stubborn people. The only difference was that some were openly stubborn, while others were secretly stubborn—Charles chose to enter Erik's mental world.
Do not ask how that differed from directly invading his mind with telepathy. The difference was that Charles could choose to come over looking young and knock on the door. Generally speaking, it never failed.
Erik still opened the door, seeming entirely unsurprised by Charles's arrival. The young Professor X gave him a brilliant smile and asked, "Where's Anya? Did she run off to play again?"
"She was taken away by that raccoon and yellow rat. They