Chapter Text
For the first ten years of his life, Charles had been content with the fact that only his immediate family knew about his abilities. That wasn’t to say that he hadn’t thought about telling someone else, especially when he was younger and he’d still thought his powers were cool, before he truly understood just how dangerous they could be. But that desire had disappeared after the third time he’d accidentally set fire to the kitchen, and the second time he’d burst a pipe during the ensuing panic attack.
Pierre was the first person he’d really thought about telling the truth. They had met at one of the hundreds of karting tracks and they’d hit it off immediately. At first their conversation had centered around Formula 1 and their favorite drivers and circuits. But, as they’d become closer, they’d veered off into the more mundane, every day topics ranging from complaints about annoying siblings to the latest episode of their favorite TV show. And the closer they got, the more Charles daydreamed about telling him the truth. He thought about how he would do it, how Pierre would react, how Charles would react, what his family would say to him about revealing the best kept secret of their family lineage.
But despite his growing desire, he could never work up the courage to actually do it. He nearly had once when Pierre had slept over after they’d gone to see the newest Harry Potter movie. Pierre had spent the better part of an hour after the movie moaning about how much he wished magic were real and all the things he would do if he were a wizard (most of them had involved using his hypothetical magical powers to do his chores, and who was Charles to judge him when he was guilty of using his actual magic to do just that?). Charles had nearly caved then. The words I can do magic. Wanna see? Look! had been on the tip of his tongue, but then he’d remembered about the exploding boiling water incident two months before that had melted a pot and nearly given his mother third-degree burns, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything. Having magical powers was fun in theory, but the reality of it was much more terrifying, especially when there were no grown-ups to help clean up his mess when he inevitably fucked things up.
So, Charles had reluctantly resigned himself to forever keeping his powers a secret from anyone but his immediate family. Unfortunately for Charles, he tended to be careless when he was comfortable, and, fortunately for Pierre, Charles was often comfortable when he was around his best friend.
The day in question had started out like any other during their summer break. Pierre had come over for the weekend and they’d found a small, deserted area by the docks to pass a ball around, for once just talking about TV shows and movies they’d seen and, in Pierre’s case, espousing the virtues and hotness of whatever new actress he had a crush on that week. Pierre was in the middle of his rant about everything wrong with the new J.J. Abram’s Star Trek movie when he accidentally kicked the ball a little too hard and to the left.
“Aw, fuck,” he grumbled as he watched the football sail past Charles and into the water.
“Great going, Calamar,” Charles laughed as he watched his friend groan in frustration.
Charles, in true Charles fashion, had been so busy being amused at Pierre’s expense that he didn’t give it a second thought as he turned around and flicked his hand over the water. The football came flying back to him and it wasn’t until he turned around to kick it back to Pierre that he realized what he’d done.
There was a long moment of silence as Pierre stared at the dripping football in Charles’s hands with wide eyes.
“That just flew into your hand,” Pierre whispered slowly, as if he were still trying to wrap his head around what he had just witnessed.
Charles paled as he stared at his friend with wide, frightened eyes.
“That literally just flew into your hands! From the water! Charles! How?!”
Charles tried to swallow past the knot in his throat and instinctively took a step back as he clutched the ball to his chest. He could feel his panic rising as he started to lose control of his breathing. Pierre’s eyes widened even more at his reaction, and he instinctively reached out to him, but Charles flinched violently away and took several steps back to put space between them.
“Charles,” Pierre said softly, his hands up where Charles could see them as he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I won’t get closer. But… Can you take a couple of steps toward me? You’re really close to the edge of the pier, Calamar.”
Charles closed his eyes tightly and crouched down, curling in on himself as he hugged the ball tightly to his chest. The pressure helped to ground him, gave his mind something to latch onto as he tried to control his breathing by taking deep breaths. He knew he needed to calm down, he knew he must be freaking out Pierre, he could hear it in his friend’s voice. He could feel his magic just below his skin trying to lash out, but he clamped down on it. He couldn’t lose control now, not with Pierre here, not while they were out in the open and anyone could walk in on them. He could still hear Pierre calling him, talking to him softly. He tried to match his breathing to the cadence of his voice and, slowly, Charles could feel the tightness in his chest unwinding. He groaned in misery as he realized he’d lost all feeling in his legs and he crashed backwards onto his butt, eyes closed in agony as pins and needles shot down his nerves.
“Charles?”
He bit his lips at the uncertainty in Pierre’s voice. “Yeah?”
“Can I come closer?”
Charles peered up at him and instantly felt guilty. Pierre was pale as he stared at him, the fingers of one hand on the ground in front of him, like he’d started to move forward but had thought better of it and had instead frozen in place. Charles nodded in response, too tired to try and speak. He was drenched in cold sweat, and he shivered despite the warm air. He felt Pierre’s fingers tentatively touch the back of his hand and, when he didn’t move away, his fingers curled around it tightly. Charles forced himself to take in a deep breath, hold it, and slowly release it.
“Sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
Pierre squeezed his fingers again. “You okay?” Charles nodded. “Can I ask…” Pierre paused, and Charles watched as he licked his lips nervously and flicked his eyes down to the ball still clutched to Charles’s chest and then back up to Charles, the question clear in his eyes.
Charles couldn’t help but shrink a little into himself. “I don’t know… how.”
“How you did it?” Pierre asked, his brows pinching together in confusion. Charles shook his head. “How to explain it?” Charles nodded slowly. “Hmm… Well, it looked like magic, to me.”
Charles huffed and pouted at that description. “It’s not magic,” he complained, his disdain for the word evident in his voice.
“Okay,” Pierre said. “So, what is it?”
“It’s… Like, I can feel this energy around me and around everything. It’s… sort of like a shimmer in the air?” He knew he sounded dumb, but he couldn’t help it. It’s not like anyone had ever asked him to explain his powers. He just didn’t have the words to describe it.
“So, when the ball flew back to you, you were… What? Manipulating this, like, shimmery air around it to make it move?” Pierre asked, clearly still confused but trying to understand.
Charles shrugged. “Kind of…? More forcing the energy around the ball to move, and that made the ball move.”
Pierre nodded absentmindedly. Charles could tell that he didn’t really understand it but that he was trying really hard to stop himself from asking a million questions. “What else can you do?”
“Umh…” Charles hesitated for a couple of seconds before placing his right hand on the concrete below him. He furrowed his brows and closed his eyes as he concentrated, and he heard Pierre gasp as smalls cracks snaked out from under his hand. He forced the energy to stop and pursed his lip as he breathed in deeply and forced the cracks to close back up. He let go of his breath loudly and slumped back, shaking his hand out.
Pierre gaped at the ground under Charles. “Wow.” He looked back at his friend, blue eyes shining with excitement. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I don’t know… I try not to use it too often.”
“Why?!” Pierre cried in disbelief. “You’re magic!”
Charles glared. “Do not call it that. It’s not Harry Potter. And it’s… It can be really dangerous.”
“Oh,” Pierre said as he deflated. “How so?”
Charles sighed in frustration. “I’m not sure I know how to explain it.”
“That’s okay. Just try?”
Charles sighed. “It’s like…” He gestured wildly with one hand. “Sometimes I have a hard time controlling it, and things I don’t meant to happen do. Especially if I’m angry, or anxious, or tired. So, like,” he looked down at the ball still clutched in one hand. “I brought the ball back from the water, right? But I could have just as easily accidentally exploded it.”
“Has that happened before?” Pierre asked looking worried.
“Sort of? I’ve made the pipes in the bathroom and kitchen explode,” Charles replied sheepishly.
“Oh,” Pierre said with sudden understanding. “Is that why it always seems like your house is under construction?”
Charles blushed bright red and hid his face against the ball. “Yes,” he squeaked out softly.
Pierre snorted and pushed Charles over until he was sprawled on the pier.
“Stop that!” Charles cried out as he glared at his friend. “You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
“I do not. I most definitely hate you,” Charles sniffed haughtily.
Pierre laughed and leaned back on his palms, watching as Charles pushed himself back up until he was mirroring him. They were silent for the next few minutes, both watching the boats swaying in the harbor.
Pierre sensed Charles shift around nervously and turned his head to looks at him. He frowned slightly when he saw Charles chewing on his lips nervously as he stared at the horizon. He nudged him slightly with a foot and Charles glanced over at him quickly before looking down at his knees.
“What’s wrong, Calamar?”
Charles inhaled deeply and sighed. “What if I hurt someone?”
“You could never, Charles,” Pierre responded automatically. “You’re one of the nicest people I know.” Pierre slung an arm over his shoulder and pulled him against his side. “You’d never hurt anyone.”
“I wouldn’t mean to, but sometimes, I just can’t control it.”
Pierre said nothing and pulled him closer instead. “Is there something you can do that helps you control it?”
Charles thought about it for a few seconds before he slowly nodded. “If I’m feeling jittery, using up my magic––” Charles scrunched his nose in disgust as soon as he’d said the word. “Urgh! I can’t believe you got me calling it that.” Charles hit Pierre on the shoulder as the Frenchman cackled. “Stop it! God,” Charles sighed as Pierre continued to chuckle softly. “I guess using it up helps me control it for a short time, even if I’m stressed or anxious.”
Pierre chuckled for a few more seconds as he rubbed his arm. “Okay. Then if you ever need someone to cover for you so you can use up some of your magic,” Pierre said as he waggled his eyebrows and dodged the immediate punch that came at him, “then you let me know and I’ll help you out.”
Charles was silent for a few seconds as he stared at his friend with wide eyes. He’d always known that Pierre was special, that he could count on him. But this…
“Thanks,” he said softly as he smiled at Pierre, grateful not just that Pierre now finally knew but that he’d accepted this part of Charles immediately and unconditionally.