Chapter Text
Erik drummed his fingers on the table. He was stuck in his room again while Charles had class. There was some confusion for Erik as to why he was so reliant on Charles’ company. Especially now, when there was a gap between them they could not bridge. It wasn’t like before Cuba, when they would seek each other out to spend time together. Frankly, Erik wasn’t sure if he could call Charles his friend. Everything was complicated since he had come back.
He did know, however, that boredom was incredibly tedious. He’d spent the morning in his room again. Erik was still hesitant to join breakfast with the rest of the school. Charles insisted it would be fine for him to do so, but Erik thought he would be out of place. He wasn’t cut out to be a teacher or really any kind of school figure.
Which was why Erik hadn’t joined another class since Wednesday. He spent the next day holed up in his room, simply opting to read more books that were starting to bore him. Charles had once again dropped by after dinner to play chess with him. Erik could tell there was some disappointment in Charles. Maybe he really did expect Erik to play a part in his school. Charles didn’t question him about it, however. Charles wasn’t the person to ask when he wanted to know something.
So Erik hadn’t gone downstairs much since PE class. The PE class, of which he spent the entirety with Peter. It was odd. Peter seemed genuinely interested in spending time with him, ever since they spoke in the kitchen. He wasn’t quite sure what about him made him so interesting for Peter.
Though he would also have to admit, he enjoyed talking to Peter. Erik had trouble understanding him sometimes, but Peter would make plenty of jokes and talk enough to keep him interested. Peter was passionate, in a fascinating way.
“Scott told me you’re spending time with Peter,” Charles said to him the day before, “So you remember him? He’s quite remarkable, isn’t he?”
“I do. And he is,” Erik told him. He had left it at that. He didn’t know what else to say about Peter, didn't know how else to describe the feeling in his chest when Peter was the first to run towards him instead of away.
Erik stood up and shoved his chair back. He had enough sitting around to last him a lifetime, he decided.
-
Since last time Erik went to the kitchen, he still hadn’t been to the library. There was bound to be enough to keep him entertained there. It would probably be empty at this time, too.
There was no one in the hallways once again.
Erik had always had a fondness for the library in the mansion. When they first went here, after the previous base was attacked, Charles had given him a tour of the house. He’d include all these stories from his childhood, too. A strange feeling resurfaced when he thought of the memory. Back then, he’d wondered what his life would have been like if he had grown up in this house instead. Charles had told him of the time he’d spent a day straight in the library and the only one who had come looking for him was a maid. Erik hadn’t quite understood was Charles was trying to tell him, but he was interested nonetheless.
After the tour, he had gone back to the library almost immediately. He drowned himself in the endless books there. Erik had trouble before, he could hardly have a large collection of books with how much he had to move around. Now he had access to all of this, however, he could hardly leave. There was also a chessboard at the back of the library, next to a large window. It’s where Charles and him used to play quite often.
Erik slowly walked through the bookshelves. Not a lot had changed about them. That couldn’t be said for the rest of the library. The right side of it had been turned into a study area. Mostly neat tables with fancy chairs and some more comfortable looking couches not far away from them. He figured the children appreciated a space like this.
On the left side of the library, behind all the bookshelves, was another table with a couple of chairs tucked back. It’d had been there before the school, too. When Charles showed him the library, he told Erik that was his favourite spot. Then it became Erik’s favourite spot.
He picked up a book from the shelf near it and sat down in his old spot. His peace and quiet didn’t last very long, however.
Erik could’ve chosen to stay quiet when he say a child flashing through the bookshelves. He could’ve easily not have said a word and waited until he left. Erik didn’t.
“What on earth are you doing, Peter?” he asked.
“Oh, hey Erik! Don’t blow my cover, dude.”
Erik raised an eyebrow at the boy, who was hiding behind the bookshelf near Erik’s table. His face was a little red, though he didn’t seem out of breath. He hadn’t forgotten about Peter’s immense speed and superhuman stamina, but it was still odd to see sometimes. Peter smiled at him like there was nothing strange going on.
“What are you talking about?” Erik prompted.
“I’m hiding. You have to help me, Erik,” Peter grinned at him. Erik stared at his boyish grin for a moment. Peter seemed to radiate pure joy most of the time, he was always smiling or laughing or grinning. Erik tried not to think too hard about Peter, there was no use trying to figure him out.
“Why would I help you?”
“Ouch, that’s cruel. I thought we had some kind of unspeakable bond. You know, you make awesome food and I keep you company.” Peter looked at one of the other chairs at the table, hesitating. Erik wouldn’t actually mind if he sat down, but he wasn’t going to tell Peter that.
“Why are you hiding?” Erik asked, instead.
“You really are sure of questions. I’m gonna start thinking you’re actually a cop,” Peter said, before giving in, “I’m hiding from Jean. She’s pure evil.”
“Alright. You’re hiding in the library?”
Peter looked at the chair again and this time Erik gave him a simple nod.
“Yep. She won’t think I dare go here, this is like my own personal hell.”
“The library is your hell?” Erik finally closed his book and leaned back.
“Books and I don’t get along. Can’t concentrate on them, mind’s too fast or whatever,” Peter told him offhandedly.
Erik thought it over for a moment and he supposes it made sense. If Peter moves that fast most of the time, his mind would also move faster than others’. Erik couldn’t imagine what that was like. Was everyone else just incredibly slow to him?
“Hey, now we’re on the topic. When are you making latkes again? Yours are even better than my mom’s,” Peter interrupted his train of thought, sounding excited once again.
Erik frowned at him.
“You’re Jewish?” he asked Peter.
“Yeah. My mom’s Jewish, but we’re not very traditional. She kinda ‘toned it down’ or something after moving to the States. She makes great latkes, though.” Peter grinned at him. Erik smiled back.
“Oh, were you not born here?” Erik continued, leaning forward.
“Nope, Germany. My legal name’s Pietro,” Peter told him. Then his eyes widened and he looked down at his hands on the table, some shift in his entire posture. “Sorry, don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Not a lot of people know, actually.”
Erik didn’t back down from it. He shoved his chair forward, making Peter look up at him, Then Erik smiled.
“It’s quite alright. I asked, didn’t I?” Erik said. “Pietro fits you.”
The name was like a bitter memory for him. He remembered laying in bed with Marya, just talking. They would do nothing else for hours. Then she asked him about his family. She asked him if he would ever want to be a father.
Erik was younger and foolish. He said he would never want to raise a child in the very world he fought every day. Marya didn’t shy away from the topic afterwards, however. She never did. If she was interested in something, she would talk about it anyway. She told him she did want to be a mother someday. She told him she wanted a daughter and a son, at least. Erik hadn’t responded.
Marya didn’t care for a response. Erik doesn’t remember much from what she said after that, except for when she mentioned names. Marya said whe wanted to name her son after her father. Her father, Pietro, who had died when she was little.
Erik was convinced he’d never have children, but if he did, he promised himself he’d name one after his mother.
And now Peter was still in front of him. Peter, who was Jewish and Peter, whose name was Pietro.
“Really? No one calls me Pietro though, not even ma,” Peter said.
Erik hesitated, for a moment. He needed to be careful. Peter was just some kid who went to Charles’ school, he couldn’t afford to overstep anything. But Erik hated the way Peter said Pietro, like it was a curse rather than his name.
“Do you want me to call you Pietro?” Erik offered before he could stop himself.
Peter blinked at him. Then that grin was plastered on his face again. Pure joy, Erik reminded himself. Peter opened his mouth to speak, when a shout sounded through the deserted library.
“Fuck, that’s Jean! Gotta run, was nice to see you, Erik!”
Erik didn’t have so much as a chance to bid Peter farewell before he ran off in a flash. He shook his head and picked up the book again.
Huh. Pietro.