This story is inspired by liverquiver's hilarious comic strips about hipster XMFC. Go see them on her tumblr!

Chapter 1: Kandinsky was actually colorblind

It was a chilly morning in New York and Erik was not satisfied with his painting. He had scraped two canvases, a brush and nearly the whole night before he decided to simply abandon and try later. Passing it again when he woke up, he noticed there was just something missing, it seemed. A color or a shade, maybe. He was starting to lose his mind. That was at that precise moment that his darling cell phone decided to ring. The caller ID said 'Ice Bitch'. If Emma knew that was her contact name, she already would have made a nice purse out of Erik's ball sack. Having barely slept for, what, his entire life, Erik decided to ignore the call in preference of a nice shower and coffee because he was too tired for this shit.

You see, Erik is an artist. So basically, he hates everyone. You know the kind; cool, handsome, moody with a twinge of gay. He falls in love with beauty, though, not gender. Let's be clear on one thing though; Erik can even turn on lifeless objects. That's how hot he is. He could make anyone come within two seconds with only a look. Point is, he's a sexy motherfucker. But strangely, he doesn't act on it, like many others would. He lives for art and if life gets in the way of that, fuck life. He does sleep around. After all, he is human and fully aware of sexual tension. He's just not one of those frais-chiers art student hipsters that believe everyone wants them.

Yeah. You may think an irritable artist living in New York is pretty stereotypical. But you'll come to notice that Erik is quite different. Where the said hipsters say French words to try and be cool, Erik actually speaks French fluently as well as a multitude of other languages including Spanish, Russian and his mother tongue, German. Where those same hipsters get tattoos of things and sentences that make no sense, Erik has a wondrous ink of a wings-spread silver phoenix engulfed in dark flames he drew himself that goes from his left shoulder to the middle of his back. Where art students stain a canvas and call it 'art', he depicts mazes of emotions through posture, color, shade, disposition and a lot of other factors out of real beauty he creates. Where all those underground kids say religion is vain and wear the symbols ironically, Erik is very much Jewish and he celebrates his beliefs seriously. There are many more things separating Erik from those posers. Erik is authentic and unique and he has talent. He has hurt, baggage, and it makes him see the world differently, pouring into his creations all the distortions he finds in reality. That or he's just really moody.

He won't admit it, but inside, he's a huge teddy bear. There's a painting he did, he gave it to a girl called Raven, where you can clearly see Marilyn Monroe but something is wrong with her. Marilyn is smiling too widely, you can see tears prickling her eyes, her skin looks purple like she's not breathing, her corset is impossibly tight, she wears too much make-up, her garters are biting into her skin, her perfectly manicured fingers seem badly bitten at the cuticles like she's wearing false nails to hide the real ones, her wrists are marred with scars, there are blue splotches on her arms, the insides of her thighs are slightly chaffed, her nose is bleeding a bit and you can see white powder there too. That is if you look closely. From a distance, all you see is Marilyn in a background of vivid crimson fading to black.

He actually did this painting for Raven. He was at a studio looking for models for his paintings when he met her; a natural beauty with a round face and an elegance that was rarely found these days. Through talking to this girl, he found out she was highly uncomfortable in her body, what with being in an industry that hates curves. After making the 'Weeping Marilyn', he made an incredible portrait of a stoic Raven in a majestic blue gown surrounded by fire and a myriad of dark-feathered birds. She looked like a goddess. Raven never doubted her beauty again.

He still keeps in touch with the girl. He likes her, she's a good kid. She dropped out of modeling and is now serving coffees part-time at a local cafe while studying in politics at Columbia instead.

He sees her every day.

She might be one of the only ones he can actually stand, and she is one of the rare people who aren't scared shitless of him. He can actually open up to her, he talks about his life and knows everything about hers.

Erik is thinking of Raven with a smile on his face now. He feels it's a bit inappropriate since he's going to take a shower and wank away his morning wood furiously. So he steadfastly switches to his new infatuation; Raven's brother.

XXX

He had met him for the first time a few weeks ago when he walked into the Hellfire cafe and saw him chatting away with Raven. He looked young, perhaps early twenties, rivalling with his thirty years of existence. He didn't know who this strange bright eyed guy making motions in the air could be at first but then remembered that Raven had mentioned her brother would fly in from London to teach in New York a few days past.

"Hi, Raven. How are you?"

"Fine, fine! Meet my brother Charles." Raven said all enthusiastic. Having forgotten his glasses, Erik had not seen the man well enough when he entered the cafe but was now confronted to five feet and seven inches of pure magnificence. The face was especially sinful. There were lips redder than any he'd seen before, lodged between a set of pearly white teeth, smirking up at him like the pair of cerulean eyes watching him intently. To top it off, he wore his dark hair in a grown out forties fashion that fell into his eyes and brushed his pale but vibrantly blushing complexion. Erik was falling hard.

"Hello, I'm Charles Xavier. Darkholme's my step dad." The exquisite creature suddenly held out a hand. Erik, dumbfounded, stared at it for a few long seconds before shaking it back and choking once on his words like he drank water trough the wrong passage, rasping out a stern and quiet "Lensherr, Erik Lensherr."

"Wellll, I guess I better go make your latte, then. And take off your beanie! Manners." Raven was not oblivious as to what was happening there. Erik let out a chuckle and looked back at the tumult of vivacious colors adorning the smaller man's impish face. Charles was laughing as well, both of them a bit embarrassed by Raven's very obvious comment. It was Charles who broke the ice.

"So, Raven tells me you're an artist?"

"Yeah. Teaching is my work, painting is my life."

"Oh, you teach?"

"History of Art. Part-time as a course lecturer at Columbia Uni. I'm actually setting up my own gallery right now."

"Oh. I've just recently gotten a teaching position at Columbia myself."

"Oh yeah? What department?"

"Genetics & Development. I also do course lectures in maths." Charles said with a smug smile.

If Erik had been drinking his coffee, he'd have been spitting it all out right about now. Teaching position, genetics, what? He was barely in his twenties, for god's sake! He'd have to have had his Ph. D. at―

"I graduated from Harvard at sixteen. Went to Oxford afterwards, got my Ph.D.s in Genetics, Biophysics, and Psychology with a two year residence at Pembroke College. And now, here I am." Charles was smiling proudly now. Erik's eyes were impossibly huge.

"What? How old are you? Or, more importantly, how can your brain be that potent?" Erik was struck with an expression of awe mixed with incredulousness.

Charles broke out in a full earthy laugh.

"I'm twenty-seven and my brain has always been that potent. It's so potent I can read minds!"

"Yeah. And I bend metal." Erik said, shaking his head with a smile.

"Seriously! I can sense that you like lattes―"

"That's because Raven is making me one." Erik was smirking a bit now.

"―And that you think I would like a latte too. One day, somewhere were my darling wee sister doesn't work?" There was a tongue darting out from those lips. Tongue, tongue, tongue. Erik's brain was slowly short circuiting.

"Well done. There's this little place up on the fifth, it's my flat actually." Erik broke out a sharkish grin.

"Hey, oh! Guys, how can that be possible? You're beasts or what? Already, Charles? Erik?" Raven looked as though she had just seen her grandparents making out. "Ugh! Get a fucking room." And she stormed out.

"Language, sis." Charles was smiling fondly.

"I'm not a fucking five year old!" Raven shrieked from the kitchen.

Erik and Charles looked back at each other barely containing their laughter.

"I think she may have had a bit of a crush on you." Charles said lowly.

"Did not!" Raven shrieked again and startled the two men waiting at the counter. How has she been able to hear Charles all the way over there?

"How does she do that?" Erik asked, incredulous.

XXX