「 The Professor & I 」Charles Xavier Love Story

(51) Scotch

Lynn's POV

I was appalled by my surroundings the moment I drove myself into Charles' bedroom.

Basically, it was devastated.

Everything was in a mess, like he had vented his frustrations on even the most innocent books on the shelves that were now sprawled over the parquet which was further littered with used syringes. Countless emptied cans and bottles of alcohol, probably all we had in the house, strewn in plain sight.

If his study could pass off as a bar, his room would be a liquor store, albeit without the liquor in both of them.

Suddenly, the sound of moving liquid traveled to my ears and I turned to the source to find Charles pouring himself a glass full of Speyburn from his desk.

"Scotch?" I scorned.

Charles was never a whiskey person. He much preferred lighter alcohols like lagers or wines from what I knew but that had evidently changed.

"It's the only thing that numbs me now," he replied nonchalantly as he downed the entire glass of golden spirit in less than two gulps and served himself another one.

"Would you like a drink?" He offered as he finally looked at me.

I stared blankly at him for a few moments but figured that I probably needed to get as drunk as him to be able to convince him of this mission.

"Vodka. Please," I requested softly.

While Charles filled me half a glass of the colourless solvent, I slowly manoeuvred through the obstacle ridden floor to the part of his room where we used to play chess. He brought our glasses over and set them down on the coffee table in front of me as I removed the blanket from my lower body.

I was about to seek his assistance to get into the neighbouring armchair but without a word, Charles guided my arm around his neck and lifted me into his arms. I took the chance to lean in, intending to peck his cheek but he faced away from me as he carefully seated me onto the crimson velvet cushion and meticulously arranged my legs proper.

He re-cloaked my limbs under the soft knit, albeit the warmth it provided could only be felt on my hands, before heading back for his desk from which he whipped out a small box and a white band.

As he plopped himself into the chair opposite me, he removed the left sleeve of his night robe, revealing his inner singlet and an arm plagued with needle wounds. He leaned back in his seat, securing the belt-like band around his bicep and bit into the end of the strap.

Pulling it with his mouth, he tightened it around his arm and opened the small box to reveal a syringe coupled with a tiny bottle of yellow solution I always recognised. His hands trembled as he struggled to withdraw the mutant X serum from its sealed packaging and my heart ached like never before when he injected himself right in front of my eyes.

Even when he used to take it, he never did it in my presence. He well knew that I detested the serum being abused as such but all of that did not seem to matter to him anymore. As he plunged the last of the liquid into his blood, he chucked the syringe to into a pile of its duplicates in the corner and ripped off the tourniquet from his bicep, pulling his sleeve back onto his shoulder.

"Charles," I breathed shakily but he simply picked up his drink again without responding.

I followed to take my own glass and emptied the clear beverage down my throat, needing the alcohol boost to hold myself together. As I returned my glass to the table, I leaned forward towards Charles and looked intently at his disheveled frame.