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It was a usual sight to see Xavier looking out the window in his office. Perhaps it was the nice weather, a view that would bring him peace. It was often to where that disc had once been, the one containing Cerebro, the fields overlooking a common running route of the boys living in the mansion. His first students. The students who had begun to see their professor staring out the window over and over.
Hank had mentioned it; it was when they all had bear witness to it at the exact same time. Over the past few months multiple people had seen them. Moira was once when she had grabbed tea, she had mentioned it. Commenting on his still presence.
“He has a habit of looking out that window, doesn’t he?” Instead, she had been met with the absence of knowing “You have seen him stuck there, right?”
She let silence breath into the room, soaking the atmosphere preparing to morph it “He turns, always with a bright greeting, is it forced to you?”
The boy’s that morning in the kitchen had not answered, instead they seemed to ponder it. To twist in such a motion that Moria dropped it said she would be back for next weekend as usual.
The haunting notion of her voice had stuck with them for a while, so between the waits of the weekend they would try and spot him staring. In truth, when Moira came around for tea with her friend, she had saw that look in their eyes, the knowing they had of seeing him so still and longing out of his office onto the fields.
It was during a late-night talk; it was late incredibly late. In truth it was early morning. Charles had been crying again, you could not feel his emotions in their mind through telepathy. They learnt quickly that broke, his conversations with Hank had become quick and begging. Hank had silent tears streaming down his face when the other’s had seen him. All waiting, hunched over the sofa, he was acting different. If you could not see the lack of spark in his eye, it was his forced nature that man had always worked by passion, instead like most stuff it was flaming ash. Ash that would glow a small amber but without firewood would never light.
Sean had seen him one time, it was when he was actually punctual. They were meeting in his office to work on some studying. He just seemed to be staring at the gloom outside, his shoulders tense, head sharp. Only when he offered a small knock to the door. Then Alex, even though they were outside working on his aim, Xavier managed to get distracted and stare off into the distance. After that it was of course Hank, ever test update always started with walking into his office, seeing him have a small chuckle or tense sob before he would suck the emotion from his face. It was as if Erik was still here but instead had given Charles his walls and left his life to crumble instead.
“He used to be so open, no walls or boundaries now he’s just so closed off” Hank had muttered into his tea, a paper of his research in hand.
Alex had a book, glaring at Sean who could not stop staring in disbelief “Even outside, or whatever weather he just looks so longing”.
Then it was Sean, Alex meeting his eye which seemed to sober him of his giggles. “I’ve heard him cry before, only a little. My room is not too far from his, one night he woke screaming like that beach.” his eyes down casted, head low. The once fluid motion was halted, “I don’t want to see him so…broken”.
The masks began to peel as Sean’s voice wobbled and flexed in his throat, Alex seemed to place his book on the table, his hands massaging into his hair. Then it was Hank, his research paper becoming more erratically scribbled as he wiped at his eye. Sean like Charles seemed to be distant, staring off from the lounge into the office.
He was doing what they had all been doing, what they would all do. Wonder why Charles Xavier always used to stare at the steps of the house overlooking the garden, always seeing the disc, which was no longer there. If either of them would reach out more, to Charles of course but to one another. To place a hand on either shoulder or join the other late at night or early for runs despite exhaustion seeping into their bones. They would never mention it, but their hearts would sing it all the same, a small “Thank you” for the family found in the mansion, always with a hint of curiosity of the owner of the place.
—
Wondering was all they could do, Charles would tell them, but Xavier would not dare. His eyes would be frozen, but his emotions would never weigh that heavy in his throat. No matter the weather it all seemed to link back to that time or that moment in those locations.
Even in the rain, just before Sean was training to be Banshee, that familiar disc would catch his eye and all he could hear was laughter. His outcry of alarm and a laugh that sent butterflies in his stomach and warmth within his heart. Warmth so strong he felt like the fireplace was on when him and Erik played chess. When he laughed again and knew.
Then it was outside, he was in a small warm jacket. Not a grey hoodie and joggers but Alex was. Alex who was running harsh sprints then aiming with so much stamina leaving his body. Every time he would pass those steps and the outlook of the fields to see that figment. He had to remind himself of that. The figment of where the disc was, he would be reminded of the tears that had graced his eyes. The vulnerability and happiness bestowed so strongly in front of him. The kiss that he would bring to his mind and Erik would bestow upon his hand after he had beaten him at chess.
“Thank you” Erik had bestowed, then placing such a delicate press of lips. It was the night before the big battle and as much as he wanted to call him back into his office. To hear the knock of a door and know that with the onset of snow, small and random, that Erik would return.
He would return and do what Charles had longed to do, to kiss him. If he had would it have been any different. Perhaps at the disc, if he had reached for the man’s shoulder or playfully pushed him, well pushing was not Charles thing but a slight comment. He should have stared into his eyes longer before cheering for Banshee souring through the clouds.
Perhaps after that run with Hank when he had seemed that vulnerability. To feel the hands that felt unworthy. The hands soaked in blood and bestowed a kiss early. Or even a hug, to show such intimacy of trust and compassion that he would have had to be reminded.
Then in the office, after Erik had kissed his hand. He should have dived forward, calling his name quickly before he reached the door. Ask for something his soul had craved. Not in fiery lust in his stomach but the creeped in moments of craving him. His laugh, which hugged his brain when he would get that migraine from the overwhelming. The way he was so kind to the children, showing them in such a manner that was so natural, how proud he was for them. Then his own humour, the chess pieces that despite their battle would dance across the board. His heart which shone so brightly that Charles had to read his mind and know that maybe this is what a red string was. Brainwaves and thoughts tying tightly. Would a kiss have worked, to pour his heart out?
Even if he had not stayed would a kiss have at least been worth it? To not feel this heartbreak so deeply. To not mourn the loss of friends, to not jump at Moira with her tea pot and kettle at his office door and know he could never bestow his heart to her. That his heart belonged to a man that had closed the connection of their minds. A connection so strong that Charles own DNA had screamed at him about the bond, the instant bond. Safe, kind, compassionate and all those other emotions that had only soured.
He heard a knock at the door, no matter what weather - snow, hail, rain or sun he would always hope to turn and see a turtleneck, a brilliant mind without a helmet. Perhaps to see the flames dancing in Erik’s eyes just before they were torn from other another by the world and each other. To bestow a kiss.
Instead, he pushed these emotions down. Like a reset he forced his mind into the mould that it always seemed to leak out of. But he had to not let them see his heartbreak, to not know how his soul was shattering and the red string was pulling itself into threads.
He had everything he wanted, well almost. Students, teaching, to do good in the world and to help mutants and humans alike. Connections snapping into place, but one lone wire nagging and shocking him as he practiced before the school opened, practicing with his wheelchair. Knowing that the wire would never stop its jabs.
Should he have kissed him at that beach? His power of love, but in front of all those people to see him from what he was, truly, to see Erik. No he should have made a move when it was them. Would they ever be 'Them' again?
Instead, he smiled, turning to the door. Forced his soul into the mould and said a bright, happily seeming “Hi!”
But never to Erik.