Summary: You and Erik are friends...or so you thought until Raven's comment calls that into question...

Warnings: Mild language, alchohol, smidge of angst, Raven being a little shit.

A/N: Soooo this is my first Erik Lehnsherr one-shot. I haven't even watched the X-Men movies beyond the first two originals even though I've been begging mom since forever lol. But I saw clips on youtube and pictures and interviews and I'm sold on Young Magneto. Michael Fassbender is hot and I'm obsessed so I knew I needed a new one-shot book all for him and his characters. Hopefully this is accurate enough to the movies. Also the reader's mutation is inspired by Ransom Rigg's series, 'Mrs. Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children.'

3523

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His brow creases as he raises a hand. The sun illuminates the lines of his palm and the crisscross of veins, pink and blue beneath his skin. You watch his fingers twitch and shake, rippling under the stress of his power, mirrored in the harsh expression on his face; his knitted brows, the tight seal of his lips. A vein bulges along his neck. You study every aspect of his struggle to lift you into the air. Your boots are heavy, made of lead and iron. They keep you rooted to the ground while you learn to control your own bodyweight. Unlike most, you have zero mass. You simply float. If you took off your metal shoes anywhere without a roof, you'd disappear in the sky like a lost balloon. High above the clouds, into the far reaches of the heavens where air no longer exists.

A place where you'd quickly suffocate.

A cold, lonely death.

Your feet leave the grass.

"Yes."

Erik shifts on his feet.

You dip in the air. "N – you've got this! So close!"

Erik grinds his teeth together but recollects himself and begins to raise you higher and higher and higher. A smile spreads on your face as you grow taller than the trees just behind Erik. Their cluster of leaves shrink. The warm summer air lightly toasts your skin, less intense in the later parts of the day like now, an hour or so after dinner. An hour before the party. To celebrate the recent graduating class, Charles has promised the youth a party. You aren't ready to graduate, but your friends are and they've invited you to their celebration. Knowing the evening would be consumed by a sea of raging teenagers, stolen drinks and wild mistakes, you made sure that you'd get time with Erik earlier in the day. That determination took you to the field where you're hovering, suspended by Erik's metallic manipulation.

A bird soars past your head.

He sings you a song.

Laughter bubbles from your lips, "I'm flying, Erik!"

Below you, he opens his eyes.

"Why are you so excited? You can fly whenever you want!"

"Not without a rope around my waist!"

Erik begins to lower you.

You whine in protest.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"In 60 minutes!"

"You'll have to change." Erik's voice is clearer now that you've touched back down. His hand falls to his side and weave into his pocket as he steps towards you. His eyes flit about your figure, assessing any damage.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

You gesture to your ripped jeans and baggy t-shirt.

Erik quirks a brow. "This is not a party outfit."

"It's not a gala, Mr. Magnet," You scoff, "It's a bunch of teenagers being idiots."

"May I suggest a dress?"

You roll your eyes, "Erik, you know I hate dresses."

"It's a special night."

Unbelievable. There's a familiar edge to his gaze that tells you he's not backing down on this one. A dress? Of all things? You've never once seen a dress you like. Well...that might not be true. You've seen one. It's stuffed in the back of your closet. Black, edgy, yet tasteful. You tried it on, loved it, hated the rush the mirror gave you, and swore to never look upon it again. And now, Erik's urging you to go against that oath? To relinquish it from the depths of your closet and actually wear it? In public?

No.

Unless...

"Fine," You tilt your head to the side and smirk, "I'll wear a dress – if you come in a nice button up shirt. No turtlenecks."

"What? Not a fan?"

Erik hooks his finger around the hem of his turtleneck and draws it away from his neck, revealing more of his skin than your heart can take.

"Stop that."

His grin turns your insides to goo.

"Wear the goshdarn shirt. I'll see you tonight."

You pivot on your heels and run as fast as you can in your lead boots away from your teasing friend. His quiet laugh is lost in the crunch of turf beneath your heavy footfalls, but the image of him in a crisp dress shirt haunts you throughout the whole process of getting ready for the party. Erik lingers in your thoughts as you strip off your casual clothes and slip into that dress you had to wrestle from the furthest corner of your closet. The slick black fabric is synched at the waist, filling out until it's end, tracing your thighs and dipping lower around the back. A thin, transparent layer of fabric adorns only the skirt, while the top is a simple puff sleeved look. Your collarbones proclaim themselves in the mirror while you apply a light, natural smokey look to your eyes, bold lipstick and a bit of blush. Your hair you let flow freely, untouched. It got washed this morning and looks fabulous.

You keep your boots on.

Everything in your closet can go with your boots.

Otherwise you'd never leave your room.

Shoes are as important to an outfit as any other item of clothing.

Feeling confident in this look, you hurry down the hall in search of the party's epicenter on the first floor. Along the way you run into friends and classmates. The guys look casual as ever, but the girls have outdone themselves. You pass ten girls who look a hundred times prettier than you ever could and it sows a seed of doubt in your styling. There's no backing out now. Erik has to hold up his end. If you show up having broken your promise but he kept his, you'd never live it down. He's tease you about dresses for eternity. Or however long you could survive his heckling.

Insecurity dims your smile as you step into the common room.

Teens fill the floor, dancing to electro music.

Lights flicker.

Suddenly, you're spun around.

Your boots skid on the floor as they're tugged by an invisible force, drawing you in a circle.

You gasp as you jerk to a stop.

The crowd of mutants leave a narrow part, just wide enough for you to notice a stunning figure across the room.

Erik.

He's killing the dress shirt look.

He even left the top two buttons undone.

Your heart flutters.

Erik starts walking towards you.

You match him step for step.

Somewhere in the center, the two of you meet, less than a foot apart.

"You wore the dress," He comments.

"You ditched the turtle neck."

He raises a brow, "Where has this been all this time?"

Sweet Lord –

Erik's fingers skim the end of your sleeve, barely grazing your skin.

"Stuffed in the back of a closet where it belongs. I look ridiculous –"

"Not at all," Erik replies, smiling fondly. "I think it rather suits you. Dark, mysterious, yet simple in a childish way. A lovely summary of your person."

His words warm your heart.

"But, no doubt you chose it for its less...demanding presence."

Oh?

You slip closer, "Are you implying I wanted to hide?"

"It would come as no surprise."

"I don't know if I like your tone, Mr. Lehnsherr," You drawl.

Erik yanks you closer by your boots, cutting the space between you directly in half so that you're nearly forced to lean into him. His eyes rake your body from head to toe, and a sly, hungry smile plays on his lips. Your heart clenches so hard, it just might capsize under the pressure of the moment. The music, bursting your eardrums; Erik, flirting the brains out of you; and this goshdarn dress. You feel naked. Erik is looking at you like you could be. Like his mutation isn't metal manipulation, but the ability to x-ray through clothes. His gaze sets your skin aflame. You struggle to douse the fire, and Erik's no help, heaping a fresh portion of kindling atop the dying embers when he murmurs,

"Mr. Lehnsherr...I kind of like the sound of that..."

"Good," You gulp, "'Cause it's your own damn name."

Erik chuckles, "It is. I almost wondered if you forgot. Mr. Magnet frequents our conversations so often."

"I'd say it's a fitting nickname."

"What should I call you then...feather?"

"Feather," Your jaw drops in disdain.

To be honest, you like the sound of it.

Though, anything sounds appealing when it rolls off of Erik's tongue.

That voice.

Erik taps your chin, "Careful, feather, a fly might get in there."

You bat his hand away but don't miss the spark the sudden contact ignites.

Laughing, Erik draws back, "I'll find us some drinks before Charles takes them away!"

He backs into the crowd. One blink later and he's disappeared completely. Suddenly alone, and very much aware of the dress you wear, you push your way through the mutants, in search of a familiar face until Erik returns. Although your interactions are a bit...unorthodox, Erik is your best friend here. Charles is like an older brother, and the others are all like extended family; some you love and cherish, other's you've never properly met before. Erik, despite being almost four years older and vastly different from you, has been your closest friend since you discovered your mutation. The two of you share far more in common than meets the eye. Deep things. Hurts, bottle anger, bitterness, but also similar tastes in people, music, society. Erik might be more confident, self-assured and dark while you're nervous, shy, and quirky, but, like a venn-diagram, parts of the two of you meet in the center.

That's where the friendship was born.

Only...neither of you have ever used that word.

Friends.

Are we even friends? You ask yourself as you stumble through the loud, wild mass of teenagers. Your anxiety turns up the longer you're jostled back and forth. All manners are abandoned in a desperate attempt to break free –

You stick an arm through the crowd and finally drag yourself out of the mess of limbs.

Phew.

A feminine laugh startles you.

Oh, it's only Raven.

Her and some friends, holding solo cups, sporting...what you suppose could be called dresses, though Charles would certainly not approve of them for the students.

"This party is gonna be great!" One girl yells.

"I feel like we're missing something though!"

"What? Like boys?!"

Raven rolls her eyes, "There's plenty of those!"

"I mean ones for us!"

"Raven's right though," The first smirks, "We could find someone. Penny, who'd you snatch if you could?"

"Alex Summers," Penny, the second girl licks her lips and hums like Alex is some sort of meal she'd like to take a bite out of. You cringe. "How about you Raven?"

"Definitely, Erik."

Your heart stops.

There's no way it's your Erik –

"Wait like, Magneto-Erik?!"

"Yeah," Raven sips her drink, "He and I are getting somewhere."

No way.

Never.

If they ever had a bit of chemistry you would've noticed. He's your best friend. He's your crush. Erik has never once mentioned Raven to you. Only in a generalized or professional context. He never...he wouldn't...could he possibly be seeing her behind your back?

Is it behind your back if you aren't even together?

Your face falls.

Maybe Raven's right.

Afterall, you aren't even sure if Erik considers you his friend.

What hope do you have?

"Go Raven, get that hot older man."

Raven laughs so loud you want to vomit all over your stupid dress. "Oh I will. Just a matter of time. He's definitely into me."

That's it. You can't take it anymore. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you sprint blindly down the hall. The electro beats boom behind you, covering the thud of your heavy boots as you run for the nearest bathroom. There's a small one in the library, where you can be alone and lock the door. Cry. Throw up. Whatever comes first. Your ankles ache from the weight of your boots as you hurl yourself around corners left and right. The hallways are dead. Everyone is in bed or at the party. Good. Less confrontation. Maybe none, if you're lucky. The tears are building. Your stomach is so sick, you heave.

Shit shit shit –

You burst into the library and practically dive head first into the bathroom.

The door slams shut.

You jam the lock so hard your wrist cries out.

The pain is the last nail in the coffin.

Your tears release in a flood.

They steam down your cheeks, hot and sharp. A silent sob contorts your face as you slide down the door, onto your knees. The cool tile kisses your aching legs.

All this time...you've only ever liked Erik, only ever wanted him, and he's never even seen you as his friend. He doesn't have those butterflies when he sees you. He doesn't fawn over your voice, your face, your body. He doesn't notice you.

He notices Raven.

Always Raven.

She's bold.

She's not you.

Why did he waste my time, you sob. Why does he spend so much time with me when he likes her?

What if he does see you as a friend...

But he sees her as more.

Oh gosh –

It hurts worse.

So this is what it feels like to be friendzoned, you think as you fold yourself into the fetal position and bury your head in between your knees.

Knock, knock!

"This bathroom is occupied!" You yell in a croaky, teary voice that colors your face a shameful red.

"(Y/N), it's me...it's Erik, are you alright?"

Perfect.

He's found you and heard your shit voice and everything.

"I'm fine, just taking a crap or whatever just go away!"

Silence.

"If you were really fine you wouldn't answer like that..."

Damn him. You sniffle. An itch spreads across your snotty nose so you drag your arm across it, caring little for the slimy wetness that gets left behind. You decide to be quiet, hoping the longer you don't answer, the less interested he'll be. Then, he can give up and go back to Raven and her stupid friends and he can get her a drink and show off that handsome button up shirt. Meanwhile, you'll be here. Getting snotty and salty on the bathroom floor.

Yay.

Outside the door, the floorboards creak.

You hold your breath.

Go on, leave.

"Feather..." Erik mumbles, his voice so close, he must have his lips pressed to the door. "If you don't open the door...I'm coming in."

Oh. Duh. You grunt and slap your cheeks. What an idiot you were to forget he can freaking unlock the door if he wanted too.

Even without his powers he could just break it down with those lovely shoulders...

"What if I'm naked," You try.

"Then I'll have quite the view won't I?"

There's no stopping him.

The least you can do is scooch so you don't get hit by the door.

So you drag yourself across the floor to the opposite wall.

The lock pops.

The squeaky-ass hinges announce Erik's entry. You make it a point to stare at his feet as he steps into the small space. He pauses, as you expected. What you don't expect is for him to shut the door behind him, lock it with his powers, and then step carefully around you, squished against the sink.

He clears his throat. "Move over."

"Why?"

"So I can sit. Don't make me move you."

Groaning, you slide closer to the toilet. Erik folds himself at your side, his legs beneath the sink. "There. Not so hard."

"Why are you here," You mumble.

"Well, I was stood up."

"By Raven?" You ask.

"What?" Erik exclaims. His surprise coaxes you to look up. His eyes find yours and you do a double take. He's never looked at you like that before. Like you're crazy. "Last I recall, I was getting drinks for the both of us."

Oh...right.

"You weren't there when I looked for you. No one has seen you."

"I um..."

Erik's hand slides over your fiddling hands, clasping around one of your wrists and holding out your arm across his lap. He examines your skin closely, taking note of the strange shimmer. A crease forms between his brows as he looks back up at your face, which you try to hide behind your free hand. Erik stops you and forces you to face him with a finger beneath your chin. Now more than ever you feel exposed to him. In the dress, soaked in tears; vulnerable. Despite the discomfort of truly being seen as you are in a time of toil, you remain remarkably still, allowing Erik to study every inch of your face. His forefinger strokes your jaw.

"Who made you cry."

You swallow hard.

Raven.

The way Erik asked...the growl he emitted, like an animal in search of it's prey, makes you wonder...

Would he go after her? For making you cry?

But did she? Did she make me cry?

Erik.

He's the one behind the tears.

Erik's grip on your chin constricts, "Who. Did. This?"

"I...Erik y-you don't understand –"

"Don't I? Someone made you upset, and they need to be dealt with."

"But Erik –"

"Who was it?"

"YOU!" You shriek, too tired and impatient to stutter any longer. "You, Erik, you! You spend everyday with me like we're what – friends? What the Hell is going on, Erik! I don't understand why I care about you so much and I feel so many things for you and yet you've never even called me a friend! Are we friends? Are we? Or-or am I some pet side show project person while you go off with Raven so she can gush to her stupid friends over drinks?"

"Raven?"

"YES!"

"Raven said this."

"What – Erik I'm telling you what I know!"

Erik's hand snaps back. "Oh? You know for a fact that I do not consider you a friend? That I don't care for you? Love you? You know that I'm involved with Raven? That I care for her more than you?"

"Y-ye..."

"Yes or no, (Y/N)," Erik growls.

"I don't...I don't understand," You press a fist to your forehead, above the spot where a headache is taking shape. "You and Raven aren't together?"

"No."

"And...you...you like me?"

"Yes..."

"So, we are friends?"

Erik hesitates.

"We're not?"