Marvel Imagines

026 - Young Charles Xavier - Bad day

It was the sound of smashing glass that woke you up. 

It could have been anything really: the screaming, the shouting, Hank yelling or the children running through the halls. Maybe the glass was just the final straw. 

Your eyes snapped open and you flung yourself out of bed in an instant. Just moments later, you pulled on a t-shirt and some baggy jeans then raced out of your room. You were moving so fast that when you slammed into Hank you were knocked to the ground, sliding back on the polished floor.

"Jesus," he exclaimed offering you a hand, which you took and used to pull yourself back up. "I didn't see you there."

As you were about to respond an ungodly scream ripped through the hallways of the school. Hank's eyes darkened.

"Is it Charles again?" you asked quietly.

He nodded. "I'm really trying. It just takes more and more meds each time to keep him stable. The few kids we have left are starting to worry." 

"This isn't your fault."

You took his hand in yours and ran your thumb along his knuckles sympathetically. "Come with me. I'll see if I can calm him if you want."

Hank gave you an uncertain look but you only smiled in response. You had only recently graduated from the academy but had decided to stay there to teach the odd lesson and keep everything in check. At the age of fifteen, your parents had discovered that you could influence moods and project feelings onto people - ultimately forcing their hand into giving you to Charles and Hank.

"Come on then," you announced, starting to drag him towards the staircase.

The smashing and shouting intensified as you both got closer to Charles' bedroom. Then, suddenly, it all stopped. 

You forced the door open as Hank stood helplessly in the doorway, watching his brightest student take his oldest friend into her arms and rock him like a small child. You could both see that he'd been crying and drinking again; eyes red from tears and lack of sleep, and long dark hair unruly and matted. He hadn't shaved - hadn't showered - since the last time you had seen him two days prior.

"Hank, Hank," Charles whined as he continued to cry into your shoulder. He'd started to lose the use of his legs again, meaning that he was sitting on the floor surrounded by shards from broken bottles. 

Hank darted forwards and helped you dust him off then place him on the bed. 

"Hank," he spoke again, his voice sturdier this time and he clutched a fistful of Hank's jacket. "I need those drugs."

"No, I...I can't." Hank avoided his eyes before brushing him off and leaving, tears threatening to spill as he left the room.

Charles turned to you. "You'll help me, won't you?"

"Not with drugs. I'll try my best with what I've got."

He didn't look impressed but he didn't dismiss you. 

Cautiously, you took a seat beside him and placed a hand on each of his temples. He closed his eyes and within minutes you were projecting your emotions on to him. His features started to relax and a small smile smoothed out his lips. Calm, peace...

"Love."

Your eyes met his blue ones. "What did you just say?"

"You're projecting your feelings. I feel calm. I feel love."

His words made you shift to avoid his eyes. A part of you even contemplated getting up and going to find Hank. You owed this man your life, however, so you stayed next to him. 

"What about it, Charles?"

You avoided his eyes and tried to maintain your hold over his emotions. It was like a floodgate; once something was out you couldn't just pull it back in or stop it. Charles kept trying to talk to you as you desperately tried to keep your gaze focused on your lap, blocking out his words completely.

"Jesus Christ, will you just bloody look at me!" he snapped, scaring you and jolting your eyes up to meet his. When he saw your expression regret immediately flooded his voice. "Oh god...oh, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean that."

"I know," you replied meekly, removing your fingertips from his temples.

There was a heavy pause that hung in the air like static. "So...um, do you love me?"

"Love comes in many forms, Charles. Platonic, familial, romantic..but yes, I do love you. In a more than friendly way."

His eyes stared back into yours. "What feeling are you picking up from me right now?"

You smiled. "Happiness."

With that, Charles leaned in and gave you a deep, meaningful kiss. A kiss that you happily returned.