❝A gift can often be a curse. Give someone wings, and they may fly too close to the sun. Give them the power of prophecy, and they may live in fear of the future. Give them the greatest gift of all, powers beyond imagination, and they may think they are meant to rule the world.❞
Indie Charles Xavier
XMCU ◦ EVO ◦ COMIC ELEMENTS NSFW 21+ tracking: askprofessorx
His scoff was at the offense of it all. The audacity of a man and his atrocities. He rubbed his face again and sighed.
"He had prevented Tristan from knowing what he is, from changing. He thought it was permanent, and-" His hands had become fists. The attempt to unclench hurt as much as the white knuckles and nails in his palms.
"Tristan all but said he wished he was never born. What I said before - one of the last things he said to Boone. He left me alone with him. I just stood there, trying to talk to him. He said things and I... I wanted to hurt him, Charles."
“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
Charles gave a gentle shake of the head. He understood how the statement would have been jarring to hear, but it didn’t sound like wishful thinking to him.
“And of course you did. He’s a man who should have loved Tristan unconditionally, and instead treated him cruelly. He’s your person. Your reaction was utterly human. I’m assuming you didn’t act on that impulse.”
Deep breath. He closed his eyes and took another one. They had time. They had plenty of time to talk about this.
"Tristan found his father. Dunno what he expected. Dunno what I expected. Something - Someone better than... better than what we met. I wanted to believe there was a reason. Something that could be forgiven. But then - But then Tristan said something to him that I can't shake. 'If you were so goddamn worried about her knowing you should’ve done something about it when she was in time to get rid of me.'"
The fire began to crackle merrily and Charles turned to let it warm his back. He studied Leslie for a few moments, knees pulled to his chest.
“So… Tristan’s father is unhappy about his existence? Did he know? Was this… was it news to him?”
Leslie dropped his full weight on the couch, slumping forward and resting his chin in his hand. He was staring forward, rather than Charles just so he could manage to articulate.
"Sometimes I just... don't feel prepared for relationships. Mean... I wanna help people. Sometimes I don't know how. Sometimes people say things, shitty things, and I say shitty things and hindsight doesn't change what was said."
Charles knelt by the hearth. If Leslie needed to look away for this discussion, the telepath would busy himself with grabbing the fire poker. He listened as he prodded at the dying embers, trying to stir them to life.
“Of course you want to help people, Les. You’re a good person.”
He leaned over to grab two additional pieces of wood, placing them carefully on the embers as he continued.
“More importantly, you’re a person. Everyone has said something unkind. Would care to elaborate on this… shittiness? Or the relationship that you’re concerned about?”
Charles was held for what some might consider a few seconds too long. It had been six months since laying eyes on each other. Since Bo Nowicki's awakening. It shouldn't have been this long.
"Right to it, then?" he forced a laugh, led them into the living room where a fire was already dying on its last embers.
“Naturally.”
Leslie could hug him for as long as he liked. Charles knew the man’s laugh better than his own. That new sound rang painfully hollow.
It just wouldn’t do.
“No sense in dawdling. Surely, we’re close enough that small talk is unnecessary. What has you down, Les?”
