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Advanced Organic Chemistry. Organic Chemistry as a Second Language. Modern Organic Chemistry.
By now, Erik had already memorized the books by the title, cover and color. He did not need to check at the already sorted books to figure out where the unsorted books from his trolley would go.
Erik still had a lot of books that needed sorting- from educational to fiction and adventure, which meant that he had to walk several blocks in order to finish his task since the library is wide - not to mention, very wide - and the educational books were separated from the fictional ones.
He was about to push the trolley when a hooded figure - a student - suddenly slipped and sent the trolley to the ground. “Aw!” The student yelped in pain as he grabbed his knee and crouched on the ground. Fortunately, he did not share the same fate as the books, which were haphazardly thrown into the ground, some near, some inches away.
Erik’s forehead was creased as he stared at the books but then quickly looked at the boy in pain on the floor. He internally berated himself for wanting to prioritize the condition of the books rather than the poor kid beside him. “Are you all right?” He warily asked the boy as he made his way in front of him.
The kid finally looked up at him, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “Yeah, aside from the possibly bleeding knee, and not to mention maybe even fractured?! I think I’m quite all right Mister Librarian.”
Not even trying to hide his appalled features, Erik ignored the silver locks peeking from the kid’s hood - surely, his teachers would be the one to report this misbehavior, right? He, however, noted the kid’s bruises and cuts surrounding his face.
’Ah, delinquents.’
“It couldn’t have been that bad.” As he was about to cuff the boy’s jeans to reveal his injured knee, he was halted by a thin and pale hand.
“I was kidding, dude! I’m totally fine! Seeeee!” The kid tried to stand up and Erik, as if having predicted the future, leaned in and grabbed the younger man’s (right) shoulder tightly, his other hand gripping the boy’s (left) arm, preventing the boy from colliding against the ground.
The student would have landed face-first on the librarian’s chest if he hadn’t placed his free hand in front and scrunched the older man’s uniform to gain a steadier balance.
Erik sighed as he shifted his arm and placed it around the back of the kid’s shoulder. “Yes, the state of your well-being is quite obvious.” He then placed his other arm under the student’s knee and lifted him up. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”
The student, having realized what’s happening, fidgeted. “Dude! This is totally uncool! Put me down! What if my classmates see us? That would be a nightmare!!!”
“The nightmare is if your injury was left untreated.” Erik did not get fazed by the kid’s disapproval and started to walk toward the school clinic, which was downstairs.
“But dude-!”
“This is the library. Lower your voice.”
The younger man pouted and stared at the librarian with a look of childish defiance. “It’s past 6pm anyways. No one is here now.” He said, in a calmer tone.
“Which comes into question: what are you doing here 2 hours past school hours?”
“Well… I was doing….. homework. A very very hard one.”
Erik’s eyebrows raised in amusement, indicating that he knew what the kid had said was obviously a lie but chose not to comment on it.
After a short moment of silence, the kid spoke up again, “I haven’t been to the doctor, you know. I mean not really all doctors, just the school doctor. You see, if he sees my cuts and bruises here,” the boy paused to point at his injured face, “he would definitely tell the principal. What if I get in detention again? Or worse, suspended?! If that happens, I’ll be all sad and miserable again, my family will be all mad and sad again, and that will be all on you, you know? Won’t that get into your conscience or something, old man?”
The said old man rolled his eyes as he continued to walk down the stairs. “So you fancy detention? I never would have guessed. Looks like you're in for a new session.”
“Come on! I’ve been forced to read books about history already! And those aren’t just booooooks, they’re thiiiick books! It was so boringgggg!”
“Then maybe think again before dyeing your hair and participating in a fist fight with your school mates.”
The kid was about to open his mouth to speak when he heard a door in front of them open. Oh, they were at the clinic already.
“Erik?”
“Dr. McCoy.”
It took a few seconds before the doctor responded, “what happened?” He turned around to go back inside his clinic and urged them to follow.
“This student bumped into the trolley cart in the library just now. He couldn’t stand up by himself so I brought him here.” Erik explained as he finally placed the student down on a chair.
The said student kept silent as he cautiously stared at the doctor who was busy looking at some papers. He silently cursed when he realized his hood must have fallen off earlier so he quickly put it back on to hide the color of his hair.
“Well then...” As Erik turned to leave, he was stopped by the thin and pale hand from earlier, which was now shaking. The older man quizzically looked back at the younger man, all traces of defiance gone from his face. His mouth was left open as if debating whether to speak or not.
He eventually did speak. “I’m sorry about the books.”
The older man gave him a thin smile and a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Focus on getting better.” And he left.
Before he left though, he did hear Dr. McCoy call the kid’s name, which was Pietro Maximoff.
-
Erik blissfully immersed himself in the tranquility in the library. It was 8 in the morning and all the students were in class.
This is primarily the reason why Erik had opted to choose to be a librarian rather than an educator as his old friend, Charles, who is actually the principal, had initially suggested.
Erik loved the peace. He loved everything that allowed him to submerge himself in his thoughts without getting distracted by anything else.
Unfortunately for the librarian, his peace was short-lived when the door to the library hastily opened.
From the counter, Erik’s eyes shot open as he looked at the only source of noise in the room. It was the boy from last time.
Peter’s eyes roamed around aimlessly, taking in the emptiness of the library. He smiled when he locked eyes with the librarian and immediately ran toward him. “Hey dude!”
Erik gave him a stern look, which Peter deliberately ignored.
“Man, it’s so quiet here! I swear if it were me, I’d just go out and have some more fun! It’s not like the library needs guarding anyways since no one is literally here. How could you even manage to keep this job? Aren’t you even dying out of boredom???—”
Erik heavily sighed. The garrulous kid in front of him, however, continued on with his rambles and didn’t even realize that the man he was talking to had already toned his voice down as small background noises.
Erik noticed how the boy’s hair was not silver anymore. His hair was now brown, which was unkempt and unruly. The same thing can be said to his unironed uniform that had dark areas on the inside of the collar and a yellow stain on the shoulder area.
He also took note of the boy’s small scars and healing bruises, which looked very fresh and striking the last time he saw him.
“—y!!! Are you listening to meee???” Peter leaned in closer so that the librarian would shift his focus back on him.
Erik cleared his throat as he snapped out of his trance. “Pietro Maximoff, was it? What are you really here for?”
“What? No! I mean yes! But no one calls me Pietro anymore. It sounds so weird and strange. Call me Peter. It’s way cooler and awesomer! I don’t know what the deal with my family is but they’re waaaay into strange names. Like who would name their kid Sahria? They could’ve just named her Sarah for all I know.”
“Pietro is a beautiful and unique name.”
Peter gasped and he couldn’t form words with his mouth for a few seconds before he looked away and started rambling again, “pfft. Tell that to Summers. He always makes fun of my name. Oh and father. He always sends away the emails from schools sent to me because he keeps forgetting that my legal name is actually Pietro. My mom and I had to contact the school multiple times so they could send the letter back! But well, father’s always drunk so who would blame him if he accidentally reads something like Philip Maxim instead of Pietro Maximoff right? No wonder he always sends it away. I mean who even is Philip Maxim? What if that’s a dead man’s name?! That would be so scary, man! Imagine if his soul started haunting us!”
Erik couldn’t decide if he wanted to put on earplugs or cover the boy’s mouth with duct tape— he did neither. “Kid,” he started but was cut off when the boy spoke again.
“I’m not a kid! I swear everyone calls me that! I’m like 16 already, okay? In like, five years, but still!”
Erik pinched his forehead in exasperation as he closed his eyes. Maybe, the boy would just magically leave if he starts ignoring him.
He didn’t.
“Soooo, I wanted to thank you for what you did last time! You know, Dr. McCoy didn’t say anything to the principal and I am just so happy about it! Well, in return, I received a 15-minute unwanted advanced biology lecture but that’s still much better than two hours of detention every day for a week!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
The boy— Peter— pressed his lips into a thin line, an act of being caught guilty.
“What Dr. McCoy had failed to accomplish last time— I would be so very kind to be the one to carry it out.”
For a slight second, Peter wondered for a moment what the librarian was talking about. When realization hit him, his eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock. “Don’t tell the principal!”
Erik pressed his index finger on the boy’s lips to shut him up with a bit of roughness that made Peter tilt his head backwards.
Peter grumbled, “What was that for?”
“Keep your voice down. This is a library.”
“Why do you always say that? No one’s here anyway!”
“I am.”
“You’re no fun,” Peter said, crossing his arms and looking away, his mouth slightly in a pout— a perfect example of a child having a tantrum. “I bet your kids are having a hard time abiding by your principles when all they want is to experience awesomeness instead.”
Erik slightly tilted his head. He doesn’t have any children. Well, he had one. He had a daughter— a daughter who never grew up and stayed at the age of 10. His little princess, Anya, died in a fire. Her remains were not found. He couldn’t even hug her corpse. There were only ashes.
Erik felt his heart ache and he looked at the young man in front of him. This young man didn’t know anything about Anya— didn’t know anything much about the world, really. He meant no harm. “I don’t have any children,” Erik said shortly.
Peter looked back at him curiously. “Really?”
Erik merely nodded.
Peter didn’t speak. He just looked at Erik with wide eyes, his features embellished with new awareness and fascination.
Erik narrowed his eyes in bewilderment. Since when did his life become the subject of their topic?
“Well, I ought to go! But before that, this is for you!” The younger brunette brandished a stainless keychain in front of him before placing it down on the desk. “I found it somewhere and I think it’s very fitting! You know, Dr. McCoy said that my x-ray result was very bad! Imagine if you hadn’t brought me there! I would’ve just ignored it and it would have eventually killed me! You know I had to drink his prescriptions for like a week before my wound finally healed! You’re like super awesome! You saved my life!”
Unbeknownst to the student, Erik had talked to Dr. McCoy the day after he brought Peter to the clinic. He knows full well how mild Peter’s injury was. Erik, however, suppressed himself from saying anything to prevent any possible retaliation.
“I’ll see you!!” Peter waved his hand literally just inches away from Erik’s face before rushing out of the library and presumably, hopefully, going back to class.
Erik let out a deep exhale, glad that his moment of peace has once again been returned to him. He meticulously examined the keychain before picking it up. It said ‘YOU’RE AWESOME’
Erik’s lips curved into a smile before hiding the keychain inside his pocket.
-
Ever since that day, Peter had started to go to the library everyday to bother Erik. The amount of topics the boy had was overwhelmingly vast that he seemed to never run out of things to say. Even during the times when Erik reminds him that he should be in class rather than hanging out in the library.
Peter would make a retort about how his teachers are so boring and that history is boring and suddenly, he’s going to talk about how his shirt got stained, or what dreams he had the other night, or that when he grows up, his dream is to do nothing.
He did learn quite a lot of things about the boy’s life through his babbles and Erik had already deduced that Peter’s father isn’t very fatherly. In other words, the boy’s father is a bastard who does not deserve to have kids at all.
“You know there was one time when father dropped his beer on my arm and it hurt so much! Add to that that the bottle is still full! It was so heavy! There was like so many blood on the table!” Peter said enthusiastically, as if his story was pleasant to hear. His hand, which was on top of his forgotten book on the table, was randomly forming gestures midair.
Erik doesn’t remember how their topic turned from 'his kindergarten enemy' into this but he nodded anyway— this time with narrowed eyes. His gaze was directed at the book in front of him but his attention was now at Peter.
“And then I just wiped the table clean! I wrapped my arm and that’s it! My mom never found out about it! I’m that quick you know.”
“What about your father? Did he help?”
Peter stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of what to say next. “Well, he was drunk.”
“And?”
“And I had to clean up and wrap my own arm myself. He always tells me I’m old enough to treat my own injuries anyways.”
“When was that?”
“I’m not sure. It could have happened last year or last two years ago. My memories aren’t that good man!”
“Show it to me.”
“What? No!” Peter swiftly moved his chair inches away from Erik but when he extended his arm as if he was about to pull his jacket from him, insisting that he must see it, Peter eventually gave in. “All right! All right! Wait!”
Peter slowly unzipped his jacket and placed it on the table. He then extended his left arm to show Erik the scars. “Right there.” He then started to wiggling his arm like he was proud of it.
Erik gripped his arm and held it steady.
‘So he wasn’t lying.’ Erik thought as he traced the scarred surface of the boy’s arm. The wound was huge. Erik even started imagining a bottle full of liquor lacerating this poor boy’s arm.
“My mom did find out about it, you know.”
“You said she didn’t.”
“Well, I had a fever. And it was so painful! I couldn’t sleep properly and my fever wasn’t getting any better. And it was turning all blue and purple and stuff so yeah I told my mom about it. She got mad and she brought me to a doctor. The doctor gave me pills and stuff.”
Peter only got a hum in response since Erik seemed to be deeply focused on his scar. Peter looked around and noticed something shining beside the book Erik was reading. His eyes glistened when he realized that the keychain he gave him last time was coiled together in a loop with some keys. “You kept the keychain I gave you!”
“Of course I did.” Erik then allowed him to pull his arm back. “You have to go back to class.”
“What!?” Peter gasped as he was wearing his jacket. “But but I was just about to tell you about the first time my mom brought me to a carnival!”
“You have to go back, Pietro.” Erik insisted.
Peter grimaced at the sound of his birth name but stayed on topic instead. “Come on!”
“You have to be in class.” Whether it was from the knowledge that Peter might be searching for a proper father figure or that Erik misses being a father to Anya, Erik didn’t know. He just leaned forward and brushed the stray strands of hair on Peter’s forehead before softly cupping his cheek. “You can tell me about it tomorrow or later before you go home.”
Peter’s breath hitched. Neither of them knew if he was actually sobbing or not as he suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Erik. “I’ll be back! Later!”
Erik was not given a chance to react because Peter was already retreating from the hug. He briskly took his bag before dashing outside and saying, “see yaaa!”
-
Around 4 in the afternoon, students from different levels started to arrive one by one at the library. Erik busied himself on a book he started reading earlier.
It was 6 in the evening when Erik stood up to collect the books left on the counter. It was usually around this time when he would clean up and start closing the place. He was already anticipating a certain brunette to show up and initiate a conversation with him but—
When the clock struck 7, Erik decided to lock up and leave.
Peter didn’t turn up.
-
The next time Erik saw Peter was on the streets. Peter was pacing back and forth in front of a restaurant, clear on his features that he was brooding over something.
“Pietro?” He called out.
From afar, Erik can already see Peter’s eyes light up at the sight of him. It took a while but Peter had gotten accustomed to Erik calling him by his birth name. “Mister Librarian!” he greeted.
“What are you doing here?” Erik asked when he stopped in front of Peter. He looked at the restaurant and tried to figure out what the boy needed.
“I am contemplating.”
“About?”
“Look,” Peter held his hands out to reveal a stack of coins held together by an adhesive tape. “I have 50 cents but the thing is: a quarter pounder costs 55 cents. I know I can buy a normal burger for like 33 cents but man, I miss quarter pounder! Now, what I am contemplating is if I should ask father for at least 5 more cents or I could try to charm the vendor with my cuteness and ask him if I could pay with just 50 cents. What do you think? I’m thinking of choosing the latter.”
“Don’t you have food at home?”
Peter looked up from the coins, “Not really. Besides, father told me to wait for them.”
Erik’s blood usually begins to boil whenever Peter talked about his father. He looked at Peter, who was once again focused on the coins on his hands.
How could his father just leave his 11-year old kid alone in a wide area where he could easily get lost?
“I’ll buy you what you want.”
For the second time, Peter’s eyes lit up in excitement. ”Really?”
Erik held Peter’s arm as they both walked inside the restaurant. He can feel the kid’s excitement beside him as he hugged Erik’s arm close— a gesture that reminded him of his little girl, Anya.
Whenever Erik would hold his daughter’s arm, she would hug his arm in return with her tiny and frail hands. By the time both of them get tired, Anya would ask her father to carry her back home— which Erik would happily oblige to.
Erik doesn’t remember the first time he started to think of Anya because of Peter. All he knows is that he wanted to make it better for the kid. The kid is very bright and charming. He doesn’t deserve to be in an unloving environment.
Peter ended up ordering not only a quarter pounder but also a chicken meal with fries and a soda.
They went to sit on an empty table and Peter just couldn’t wait for one more second before blabbering. Luckily for him, his company was already used to his endless stories.
Erik, however, had questions in his mind so he cut the boy’s story short. “Why’d your father leave you here late at night?”
Peter’s mouth, which was still open as he was in the middle of his story, immediately closed. “Ahm… He ugh… My sister’s in town. They went to eat somewhere nice. They’re probably in a very classy Italian restaurant right now ordering some pizza or as my sister would always say Fettuccini Alfredo, Pasta Primavera, and like a lot more.”
“Why didn’t they bring you?”
“Ahm… father thinks I’m annoying. And my sister… Oh speaking about my sister! I’m sorry for not coming back to the library yesterday! Father, surprisingly, fetched me from school and told me I was to go home early! Turns out my sister was coming to town and the house has to be squeaky clean! I had to wash the dishes! I had to clean the rooms! Father cleaned the floors and the walls and everything! Our house looks soooo tidy now!” Peter narrated with the same enthusiasm he uses every time he tells a story.
“Why didn’t they bring you to where they went?” Erik reiterated his question.
“Well… it must be costly for three persons, i dunno man.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“Work.”
“Does your father work?”
“Hmm… I don’t really know. He’s just lazing around the house everyday. He always has a bottle of alcohol in his hand and he gambles from time to time.”
When Erik didn’t speak, Peter took this as a sign to talk more but Erik stopped him before he was even able to say something.
“Is your mother aware of the difference between the treatment he gives you and your sister?”
Peter’s eyes were affixed on his fingers, his thumb randomly pressing on a nail. “You know… I’m.. I’m not… really… his son,” his answer was slow, which was unlike him.
Erik’s eyes widened upon hearing the information. It started to make sense how his father could treat him the way he does. Because he wasn’t his father at all.
“I’m my mom’s son, that’s for sure. But… I have known from the start that he’s not really my father. Sahria, on the other hand, is actually his daughter… from another woman, not my mom… so yeah he loves her. Sahria was already there when my mom and him met. So by now, she should be 20-something year old already. We don’t really talk so I don’t know.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Hmm… I feel okay, man. I’ve known it from the start sooo… nothing different.”
“Have you tried looking for your real father?”
Peter stopped. His fingers stopped, his breathing stopped, and if he could stop his heart, he would. It took him a few seconds before he slowly looked up at the man in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak—
“Your order sir!” A waitress suddenly filled their table with Peter’s orders.
“Food!” Peter didn’t waste a second before unwrapping the burger and devouring it.
Erik didn’t realize the level of intensity he was omitting until his shoulders hunched down. Part of him was glad that the atmosphere was light once more since he didn’t really appreciate the look on Peter’s face when he was pressing for answers. He looked anxious and terrified.
-
The next time Erik saw Peter, he was at the very end of the hallway in between the bookshelves, hiding in the dark. Peter flinched and covered his eyes when the lights flickered open.
By now, Erik is already used to seeing Peter in unexpected places but this feels… different.
Erik walked closer. “What are you…-” He halted when Peter started to withdraw by hugging his knees closer. He was trembling.
“Pietro?” Erik softly called out.
Peter’s face slowly emerged from his knees as he looked up at Erik. That was when he realized that the boy had been crying. His face was covered with his own tears, sweat, and… blood. He was sobbing, hiccupping ever so silently that no one would ever know someone was even there.
In less than a second, Erik was already in front of Peter. His hand on the side of the boy’s face checking his injuries. “What happened?” His question went unanswered as the brunette was preoccupied with trying to calm himself down. Erik wiped his tears away as he noticed Peter’s reddish and swollen eyes, which indicated he might have been crying for a while now. His eyes went to trail up to the source of blood on the boy’s forehead. He felt a little relieved that the wound wasn’t big enough to be considered an emergency.
“I was waiting for you,” Peter’s voice came out as small, fragile, and… broken.
Erik’s hand gently tilted Peter’s face up so he could look him in the eye. “Who did this to you?”
Peter just whined in response, telling him or at least hoping he would understand him that he wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal.
Erik clenched his teeth behind his mouth as he already had a suspicion on who the culprit behind the boy’s current situation is. “You have to go to the clinic. Come, I’ll help you up.” He went to grab the boy’s shoulder to pull him up but Peter resisted and pulled himself back down. His silent sobs had started to worsen as his gasps became more audible.
“Please, I-I can’t! I don’t want to!”
“Given your condition, you have to!” Erik insisted as he used a little bit more force to get the boy to stand up.
“I don’t want to!” Peter literally yelled as he clawed on the older man’s arm and used more weight to bring himself back on the floor. His sobs became violent as tears flooded his face once more.
“All right, all right…” Erik’s voice was soft, as if he’s hushing the most delicate infant back to sleep. He lowered himself down as he allowed Peter to return back to his position earlier. “I won’t do anything against your will.”
Once Peter’s sobs had diminished, he leaned his head on the older man’s chest and stayed there. He felt himself getting pulled closer, one hand protectively looped around his shoulders and another one tenderly running through his hair.
“This feels nice…” Peter muttered.
“What?”
The hand running through Peter’s hair stopped and it caused him to whine. “Can you keep doing that to my hair please?” He said as he cuddled closer.
Erik’s lips curved upward as he resumed his work on Peter’s hair. He suddenly remembered the nights he had with his daughter. Anya was in his arms as he hummed her a lullaby as per her request. He would hum it over and over again accompanied with his hand combing through his daughter’s hair until he felt her daughter’s breathing even out.
As if on cue, Erik started to hum the same song he used to sing to Anya.
“What are you humming?”
“A song I used to sing to my daughter whenever she sleeps.”
“Where did you learn it?”
It took a while before Erik answered. “Back then when we hoped that we would be saved and get out from the concentration camp.”
“Concentration camp?”
“People would sing it at night when the officers were sleeping. Tant qu'y'a d'la vie, y'a d'l'espoir, Vos désirs, vos rêves, Seront exaucés un soir Avant que votre vie s'achève. Le bonheur viendra vous voir, Il faut l'attendre sans trêve, Chassez les papillons noirs…” He could feel a tear forming in his eyes. “We would sing it and feel as if tomorrow will be a better day.”
Erik started to pull away so he could look at Peter’s face but the boy insisted their position does not get disturbed.
“Was it… very bad in there?... I’m sorry for asking that… It must have been very bad…”
“It’s everything anyone should ever experience… But it was a bit bearable at that time because of…”
“Because of?”
“My wife. I met my wife at the concentration camp. I thought I had lost her but I saw her there. It would have been better if she didn’t experience any of those but… I’m glad she was there. I wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for her. She…
She was my only light. Everyday she made sure I returned back to our quarters rather than being gassed against our will. She was the reason I memorized that song of hope. She was the reason we were able to escape… And years later, she was the reason why I knew what to sing to our little girl to help her sleep…
If only it lasted… but it didn’t.”
By now, Peter had already stopped crying though his eyes were still swollen. He pondered for a moment if he should keep asking about a sensitive topic but… he wanted to know. So he mustered up a lot of courage and asked, “What happened?”
Peter can feel the grip on his shoulder tighten. He wanted to retreat, to tell him sorry and that he won’t ask about it again—
“My daughter died… and my wife left me afterwards.”
“I’m sorry for asking…”
“It’s all right it wasn’t your fault.” Erik finally allowed him to pull back but he still held Peter close by squeezing his face between his hands. “Tell me what happened?”
Peter’s eyes widened before he looked away. When he looked back at Erik, he saw him smiling and he couldn't help but feel safe. “Father… he…”
“Was he the one who hurt you?”
Peter hesitantly nodded. “B-but you see! H-He wasn’t always like that.. He… You know.. I…
I had a younger sister once… she was my mother and father’s biological daughter… They called her Fely. She… There was this one time when my father asked me to look after Fely for a while since there was someone outside who wanted to talk to him… Mom was at work… and… Fely was…”
Peter started to fidget his hands and pulled randomly at the fabric of his jacket. The hands on his face went down to his shoulders so he would feel more comfortable.
“I didn’t… really look after her… because I was busy watching my favorite show and… she started making some random noise, which I didn’t understand back then. I went to her and checked what’s happening but I.. I didn’t know what to do!...” Peter immediately blinked the tears away before they could even fall down. “Now I realized that she was actually choking but as a child… I-I didn’t know how to act… I thought it was okay when she stopped moving… I thought that maybe… what if she had just fallen asleep? But when father came in… he started shouting… he was pulling his hair… his face was turning red… he glanced at me before carrying Fely and rushing out of the house… She was 3 when she died… That night when mom went home with father… they were both crying… And that was the first time father hit me so hard. His ring left a mark right here.” He angled his face and pointed at the side of his face just above his neck. “Ever since then, he would always be mad at me.”
“Losing a child is painful but that is not a reason for him to hurt you.”
“Last night… I did tell you that my sister was in town right? It was ugh… I think she hates me too… I think she was supposed to stay the night but she suddenly left… and father started to get mad at me again… Mother was at work so I… I ran here.”
“You’ve been here since last night?”
Peter’s nod was full of reluctance. “I-I swear I didn’t steal anything! I just didn’t know where to go… I-I tried to reach the window and get in and I did! A-And I fell down and I just couldn’t get back up anymore so I just stayed…”
“So you haven’t eaten anything since last night?”
Peter shook his head.
“All right, let’s get you something to eat. Are you sure you don’t want to head to the clinic?”
“No… I’m fine… I’ve decided to go back home when the school opens.”
“Are you sure you want to go back home?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. My mom said she’ll come back in the morning.”
With Erik’s help, Peter was able to stand up. It’s not like he needed help anyways since his leg was not really injured but… he was grateful of the help he received nonetheless.
“I can walk you home to make sure your mother is there.”
Peter’s eyes widened and he made an inaudible gasp. “N-No! There’s no need! I promise! Father’s usually asleep this early in the morning anyways so no need to worry!”
“Bu—”
“I’m okay! I promise!” Not even waiting for the older man’s reaction, Peter quickly dashed onto the hallway and outside the library. He rushed down the stairs and covered his face sideways as he avoided the looks of the bodyguard at the gates.
-
Erik contemplated on turning to the authorities. If the boy was getting abused by his own father, then it has to be stopped now. He also considered reaching out to Peter’s mother if he knew who she was or where they lived.
Erik couldn’t take his mind off Peter now matter what he did. He busied himself by reading a hardbound thesis about “The Diversity of Genetics and its Implications on Disease Progression” that was written by none other than the principal of the school Erik was in— Charles Francis Xavier.
Erik found himself not being able to focus on the words so he went on to arrange the books that were left by the students at the counter. He sorted them back into their original places.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Peter. The image of dried blood sticking on the boy’s forehead was enough for Erik’s seething rage to flow out.
At this very moment, Erik was not doing anything. He let Peter go without even making sure he was given the proper attention and necessary medications.
But there was nothing Erik could do if Peter didn’t want any help. He wasn’t in the place to intervene. He wasn’t the boy’s relative. A mere librarian has no authority.
With a heavy chest, Erik locked the door to the library. Peter didn’t show up as he usually did— which was expected due to his state earlier.
Erik drove off without the intention of going back to his place. He searched for the boy everywhere. Somehow, he was certain he would miraculously spot the boy wherever he was.
Call Erik unrealistic but he could feel a string tugging him to Peter’s location. He knew that every turn was leading him to the right way. His heart knew that he would see Peter again tonight before the day ended.
Erik was getting further and further away and he knew that he should turn back. His overoptimism about seeing the boy should be stopped because there was no way his instincts were right. He wouldn’t see Peter again tonight. All he could do was hope that Peter would be in proper condition tomorrow. That he would be well taken care of.
Erik couldn’t bring himself to stop. He gripped the steering wheel— almost wanting to crush it— as a way to express his rage.
The car went to an unexpected halt when Erik caught sight of something familiar. It was a kid— Peter— standing on a railing that would lead to his death if he slipped.
Erik immediately jumped out of the car and pulled Peter away from danger. They both fell down on hard ground with Erik cushioning Peter’s fall.
”Oh my God, Pietro! What were you doing?!” Erik shouted as he sat Peter up and checked his condition. His wound is still there on his head, not bandaged as opposed to how Erik hoped it would be.
“Mister Librarian?”
Before Erik knew it, he was already hugging Peter— cradling his small body in his arms, kissing the side of his head.
“M-Mister Librarian, I-I’m okay,” Peter spoke.
“You’re not okay, Pietro.” Erik pulled back so he could see Peter eye to eye. “Is the condition in your household very unfavorable that you thought of ending your life?”
Peter’s eyes widened at that. “N-No! That’s not it!”
“Then why were you there?!” Erik cursed himself internally for shouting when he saw Peter flinch in reaction. “Why were you there?” He asked again, this time gentler.
“I-I thought it’d be fun…”
“Fun?”
“Yeah! I get to balance at those railings! I looked very cool walking on it, didn’t I?” Peter’s face was then filled with enthusiasm.
Erik looked back at the railing then back at Peter who was still stupidly smiling. After a heavy sigh, he pulled Peter back to his embrace and softly stroked his hair.
“That was dangerous, Pietro. Never attempt that again.”
“But—!”
“No buts. You can perform activities like that but not at the expense of your life.”
Peter let out a small whine before his body sagged in Erik’s arms. They were still awkwardly on the ground but it didn’t matter. Erik liked how Peter always seemed to melt under his touch. He laughed at the way Peter nuzzled his face against him.
Erik hated to cut the moment short but it was getting dark. And they couldn’t stay here forever. So he pushed Peter back a little so he could see his face.
“Pietro? Is your home nearby?”
Erik felt the energy drip off from Peter when he shook his head. “No.”
“Where is your home then? I’ll bring you there.” Erik offered with a plan in mind. A plan that certainly included not leaving Peter alone with his adoptive father. If the boy’s mother weren’t there, Erik would bring Peter back home with him.
“I don’t want to go home.”
Peter does not want to go home. It didn’t take much for Erik to acquiesce. “Would you like to go to my place?” was his immediate offer.
The light in Peter’s eyes returned as he gasped and immediately nodded.
Erik lived in a flat. His apartment was so much like him, Peter noted. It didn’t have many colors— it had this feeling of monotony in it, which makes sense as it only reflected its owner. Erik, himself, was not a very vibrant man.
Peter, however, was already ready to remedy that. He haphazardly threw his blue bag down a chair and since its zipper was slightly opened, a few pencils came out. His bright silver jacket that was around his waist followed after.
Peter was too excited to check the house out. What may be deemed as dull and uninteresting for many seemed to excite Peter a lot.
While Peter dashed around the house, Erik took his time to put the boy’s things neatly on the chair.
“Man, your house is so awesome!” Peter ran back to Erik to say that in front of him.
“Is it?” Erik ruffled Peter’s head, which earned him a giggle.
Later that night, Erik finally covered up the wound on Peter's head. He had been itching to do it the moment they entered his house yet Peter said he was hungry, even gave Erik the puppy eyes so Erik had to rush to make a proper dinner for the kid.
Erik wasn’t a good cook yet Peter devoured his cooking with dazzling eyes. He even almost choked at one point so Erik had to advise him to slow down.
When Erik finally tucked Peter to bed, he asked the most important questions first. As much as part of him wanted to take care of the boy and possibly adopt him (Erik smiles at the idea), he couldn’t ignore the fact that Peter has a family that might be looking for him at this exact moment. Maybe not his adoptive father but his mother, or if there’s someone else.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? Won’t your mother look for you?” Erik sat on the bed beside Peter, who was a few seconds away from jumping on the bed.
Peter’s bubbly expression immediately turned upside down. “Mom’s trip got extended for one more week. I don’t wanna be alone with father since I think he’s still very angry from yesterday.”
“You don’t have anyone else?”
“Hmm…” Peter looked up at the ceiling as he tried to think of more people but he shook his head afterward. “Nah, I don’t think my sister would want me,” he said so casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Erik cradled Peter’s face in one hand and stroked his cheek with his thumb. How could anyone not want you? You’re such a precious little thing.
“You can stay here until your mother comes back.”
“Really?! Yeyyy!” Peter enthusiastically lunged forward and wrapped his little arms around Erik’s neck.
Erik was a bit surprised but he accepted it nonetheless, and placed a firm hand on the boy’s back.
When Peter pulled away from the hug, he only did so he could look at Erik in curiosity. His eyebrows furrowed as his small hands traced the roughness of Erik’s face as if he was looking for something. He smiled, a little later, as if he found what he was looking for before looking Erik in the eye and saying, “you’re a nice guy, Mister Librarian!”
Erik returned the smile. “And you should go to sleep.” With this, Erik lifted Peter up a bit so he could lay him down properly on the bed. He unfolded a blanket and draped it on Peter’s body.
Peter basked in the warmth that the blanket provided yet he left his eyes uncovered. “Where are you gonna sleep?” He asked.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Peter seemed to frown at that.
“Tell me a bedtime story. No, sing me a song! A lullaby. Sing me a lullaby.”
Erik pulled down the blanket to the level of Peter’s neck. He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. Then, he sang:
“As long as there is life, there is hope.
Your desires, your dreams
Will be granted one evening.
Before your life ends,
Happiness will come to see you.
It must be waited for without a break.”
It was the song that contained his worst and best memories. It was the same song he sang for his dearest Anya.
Erik leaned down and pressed a kiss on Peter’s forehead (it was probably his old habit crawling back up to the surface). When he pulled away, Peter was already fast asleep.
-
Peter woke up in the middle of the night with tears stinging his eyes. He rubbed them off harshly and clutched the blanket.
Peter didn’t want to move around because his father was the one who tucked him in. What was the big deal? That, itself, is the big deal! His father tucked him in, sang him a lullaby, and kissed him goodnight. His mother does that every time she is around but, you see, the difference is that it was the first time his father did that.
No, not his father— his dad, the one Peter had been searching for the moment his mom had told him the truth that Leo wasn’t his real father and that someone else is.
Funny how Peter found Erik first before Magda did when he was only there right at the school Peter had enrolled in. Maybe if his mother weren’t so busy with her business trips, she’d finally discover that Erik was right there.
Despite not wanting to ruin the way his dad tucked him in, Peter felt lonely. Why was he all alone here when his dad was somewhere near right in this very house?
It didn’t make sense.
Peter, in his sleep-addled state, went off the bed. The sheets tangled in his feet and he almost slipped but he easily got rid of it. He searched in the dark
The apartment wasn’t that big so when he felt the fabric of the sofa, he called out, “dad?”
Suddenly, there was a hand on his arm. “Pietro? What’s wrong?”
Oh. Peter finally found his dad. He climbed up on the sofa and buried his face on his dad’s chest, tucking his head under his dad's chin.
“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
But Peter didn’t hear anything. All his brain was registering was that he was being pushed away (this was actually so that Erik could look at his face but Peter didn’t know that) so he whined and further pressed himself forward— finally sighing in content once the movement stopped.
Peter smiled when he felt his hair being caressed and an arm circling his back. He wasn’t sure he heard it right… but he’s pretty sure he heard a ‘goodnight, Pietro,’ before he went back to sleep.
It was the best sleep Peter’s had in years.
-
Peter wanted to tell Erik so bad of their relationship. That he was his dad. Erik has been so good to him. But part of Peter worries, what if he’s just nice because Peter was being clingy? And that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter at all… Maybe Erik didn’t want a full time responsibility.
Peter wished he could stay with his dad forever. But unfortunately, happy things never lasted.
The next day when Erik was the one who brought Peter to school, he got a handful of looks thrown his way. He grinned proudly when his eyes met those kids who teased him that he never had his father accompany him to school.
“Have fun, Pietro,” Erik said as he ruffled Peter’s hair.
They went in different directions. When Peter looked back, Erik was talking with someone— the principal, who looked worried. Then, they both looked at Peter. Peter immediately looked ahead and ran to his classroom.
Peter’s adoptive father, Leo, took him back home in the afternoon.
“Where the fuck were you last night?! Your mother said you weren’t answering her calls.” Leo spat out the words as if he’s disgusted. “Next time you don’t come home, I’m going to lock you in the basement.”
Peter’s mind flashed back to the time that his adoptive father indeed locked him in the basement just because he accidentally woke him up in the afternoon. He was only able to get out the next day.
Peter dreaded the moment they’d be home. As Leo parked the car beside the house, Peter shuddered when Leo opened the door to get out and closed it with a bang. The next thing he knew, he was pulled out of the car with Leo grabbing his collar.
Peter pulled himself back and struggled. “I don’t wanna go home!”
“You little shit!
“I hate you! I don’t wanna be with you!”
A violent grip found its way around Peter’s arm and nails dug on his shoulder so he was forced to move forward.
Peter and Leo both staggered backward, away from each other, when a presence inserted itself between them.
“You’re hurting the child!”
Even Peter felt shaken by the loudness and intensity of Erik’s voice but the firm grip on his arm kept him upright.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Leo advanced forward, probably to grab Peter again but Erik threateningly raised a hand while pulling Peter closer behind him.
“If you continue with your behavior, I will be forced to call on the authorities.”
Leo scoffed as he looked back and forth at Peter and Erik. His fists tightened, readying himself to swing at any moment. And he possibly would have… if there weren’t any other interruption.
“Peter? Leo? What’s happening?”
Peter gasped, setting himself free from Erik’s grasp and running toward Magda. “Mom!”
Magda set her hands on Peter’s back as she stared at the new face in their house. “Erik?”
“Magda…?” Erik said in a whisper. There was a cackle behind him. It grew louder, the laughter, and part of Erik wanted to break the man’s skull. But for now, he stared at Magda… who was staring right back at him. His gaze shifted to Peter, who was hugging her waist.
Magda looked at Erik with an unreadable expression. Her lips opening and closing, unable to say something she wanted to say.
Erik looked at Peter again, his chest constricting making him unable to breathe properly.
‘You know… I’m… I’m not… really… his son.’
’Dad?’
“You’re Erik Lehnsherr?”
Wrong timing. That was a bad time to speak. No, it was the worst time. Because the next time Erik turned around, his fist had immediately collided with Leo’s chin. And it sent him to the ground. But Erik didn’t stop there. He kept hitting and hitting…
It was because of this why Erik was deemed a murderer. Because he beat those who were responsible for Anya’s death until they weren’t breathing anymore.
As Erik kept hitting, his mind was flooded by his time with Peter. The first time he met Peter, he had cuts and bruises that was probably because of this man. He always looked so thin and frail— was he really being well taken care of? He remembered Peter crying in the library with a bloody head—
“Erik, stop! Erik!”
It was as if a sudden wave washed over Erik and now that he is in his right mind, he got a clear look at the man he beat into a pulp. His bloody fists were shaking. Magda was right there, holding his shoulder and trying to pull him back.
But where was Peter?
“Wh-Where’s Pietro?”
-
Peter ran away the moment his mom started shouting his dad’s name but she still couldn’t stop him. He didn’t like it— the violence. It scared him.
Peter ran to his usual place, in an alleyway, just near the dumpster. Luckily, it didn’t smell as strongly now as it usually did.
No one really minded Peter here. He was alone. He felt content.
At least it wasn’t raining now. He remembered hating it whenever it rained because it was cold. And he would be sick… but still refuse to come home unless his mother was present.
Was it a bad idea that Peter just ran off like that? Possibly. But he couldn’t care about that now.
Whenever he thought of his mom and his dad, he felt at home. There’s peace and solace. So for his dad to destroy his ideal image just like that… It wasn't comforting.
Peter had always wished for a happy life. He wished to have a father who would love him. A mother who would always be there for him. Maybe a twin sister too, since that feels kinda cool.
Maybe Peter and his twin would wake up one day… in bed… with their mother yelling for them to wake up and get ready for school. They’d race downstairs, probably shatter a few things which their mom would get angry at… then their mom would chastise them for behaving improperly.
Their father would spoil them so much. He’ll carry his twins in his arms and give them kisses, and tell their mother that they can always buy a new set of furniture… even if that’s probably the third one they broke this week… but sadly, their father would have to go to work. And Peter and his twin would have to go to school.
Their mother would drop them off at the school bus, tell them to be good, and place a kiss on their foreheads…
Maybe Peter would excel at school… maybe his twin would. Maybe they both would! And they’d make their parents proud. They might even get medals or recognitions…
But Peter didn’t have a twin. His mom was always away for work. And his dad didn’t know he was his son. That’s 0/3 of his wishes and Peter agrees that his life sucks.
But it would still be nice to imagine though…
But now that Peter thinks about it, in his imagination of an ideal family… would he inherit his father’s surname Lehnsherr? Would he be Peter Lehnsherr? Or would he retain Maximoff? Wow. Peter kinda prefers the Maximoff surname since it has a nicer tone… But Lehnsherr rhymes with his first name! Which sounds cool!
“Pietro?”
Oh wait, that’s right… His name is Pietro.. So he’s gonna be Pietro Lehnsherr then?
“What are you doing here?”
Wait…. That sound seems too real.
Peter slowly lifted his head up from his knees and saw his dad. How did his dad find him?
Erik approached him, unhurried yet there was a hint of urgency in his gait. “Are you all right?” He leveled himself down at Peter’s gaze and cradled his wet cheek. “Are you hurt?”
Peter gulped before shaking his head, not trusting himself to not burst out crying in front of his dad. Erik should know by now, right? His mom, Magda, was right there earlier. They could have talked. They should have talked.
“Where’s my mom?” Peter asked then.
“She’s with your father.”
As if wanting to confirm whether Erik knows or not, Peter said, “but you’re right here…” in a very small voice.
Erik’s lips curved up a little as he stroked his son’s cheek gently. His expression then swiftly changed into something else that looked wistful.
Erik pulled Peter up into a standing position and immediately encased him in his embrace. Peter froze, unsure if he should hug back or not. He felt his eyes brim with tears.
“I-I wasn’t sure you wanted a son… that’s why I couldn’t say…”
“Pietro, I was ready to adopt you when you called me ‘dad’ last night.”
Peter gasped and then pulled away from the hug, “I did that?! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
“It’s all right, Pietro. You did nothing wrong.” Erik was quick to assure him.
Peter stopped stuttering then. He could feel tears forming in his eyes and he wanted to run away. He averted his gaze to anywhere but his dad but it was quite hard when they were inches apart and his dad was staring directly right at him.
Peter thought about escaping and never see his dad ever again just because he wasn’t ready for whatever conversation was waiting for him. But then he also didn’t want to not see his dad again, the one he yearned to have since forever.
So slowly, Peter redirected his gaze to Erik. With his lips trembling and eyes on the verge of tears, Peter softly muttered, “I can call you… dad?”
“Of course, you can. You’re my son.”
’You’re my son.’ Those are three very simple words that in any other occasion would sound very common and ordinary. But when used together, and coming from his dad who was talking to him…
Peter felt like a newborn, fresh out of his mother’s womb, with the way he bawled and clung tightly to his dad. “I thought you wouldn’t want me! I thought… you wouldn’t love me…” He wasn’t sure he was understandable since his words seemed to all het muffled against his dad’s chest.
But Erik understood him clearly. “I love you, Pietro. I love you so much.”
Peter hated how tall his dad was at this moment since he couldn’t hug him properly. He hated it even more when his dad decided it was a good idea to withdraw from the hug.
There was a handkerchief on Erik’s hand as he wiped the tears off Peter’s face. But Peter was aggressively rubbing his eyes and his nose because he felt so messy. There were tears mixed with snot and he kept on hiccupping— similar to that day he fell flat on his face on the playground and no one helped him until his mom came. He felt like that child again. He was an absolute mess.
But his dad didn’t mind. His dad, so gently, pulled his hands from rubbing his eyes— similar to what his mom did— and used the handkerchief to dry his tears away.
But it was only until Peter’s cries grew louder that Erik realized he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. He pressed a firm kiss on his son’s head before he carried him in his arms.
Peter’s hands automatically wrapped around his dad’s neck as he kept crying.
“It’s going to be okay, Pietro. I’m here now. I have you.”
And Peter believed him.