Wings Of A Butterfly - epilogue
--// back/--
--//epilogue//--
Grief.
It never stops.
It shifts, changes, weakens. It crawls so deep inside you, most of the time you won't notice it's still there. But it never leaves. It never just vanishes.
And sometimes, it reappears, reawakens.
Cutting deeper than ever before.
Charles doesn't know how long he's been staring out of the window, his door closed as is his mind.
Just like he wishes he could close his heart.
He notices Alex outside, standing close to Darwin, both men talking to a small group of the younger children. Darwin uses his whole body to explain something to them, his gestures big, and the children are laughing, the sound of it almost reaching Charles’ window.
It eases the pain in his chest a little, watching Alex and Darwin, alive and happy. Together.
Charles thoughts travel to Erik, to the changes their relationship took through the last very few weeks. Now, in the light of day and miles and miles apart from him, he wonders if the changes are really that big, that profound.
He comes to the conclusion that no, they didn’t really change.
They only added to what they always had been: companions.
Two sides of one coin, bound by it, kept apart by it.
There is a small smile on his face when he remembers Erik looking at him, his young face, his old eyes, trusting him with the gun once again behind the mansion.
Remembers how there had been no bullets in Moira’s gun at the beach.
Charles takes a deep breath.
There’s still hope.
--//The End//--
--// masterpost//