Xavier's School, 24th July 1993
Lynn's POV
Preaching was always easier than fulfilling.
Despite the constant teachings that I once had a share to spread, advocating the recommendation that emotions never take control of one's actions and that we should at least have the endurance to be faced with the challenges posed to us, my ungoverned timid and passive behavior had been dictated by my agony and sorrows.
It was apparent Charles could hear my thoughts that involuntarily left my head as a result of my incompetence to sustain the psychic barrier between our minds. He slept on the same bed as me and as much as it would have tortured him, he competently stayed away, restraining himself for me.
Yet, as my sleepless nights passed, the redemption yielded from being outside of his arms was fleeting, diminishing so rapidly, I was at a loss. It became unclear as to what I wanted, apart from the desperation to take flight from these tormenting surroundings that only served to provoke the grief that never seemed to cease.
Time was irrelevant and obscured as Charles considerately maintained our room in perpetual darkness with the windows and curtains neatly drawn, recognizing that my eyes were sore from crying and practically could not adjust to the light that glared into them as I continuously laid in bed.
Its only indication came when he woke, dressed himself and headed for his lessons, or when Jean diligently and promptly delivered my three meals that were usually returned almost uneaten. My appetite was evidently non-existent, surely not necessitated with my prolonged lack of activity, and the few mouths reluctantly ingested during Jean's feeding several days ago was probably all I needed to last another couple more days.
Hiding myself under the covers, engulfed in emptiness and misery, tears automatically found their way out of my eyes as I heard the knob click open. There were no footsteps as the door closed, suggesting the entrance of Charles, and the muffled whir of his chair became slightly more distinct, eventually coming to a halt as he routinely arrived at my bedside.
"How are you feeling, Lynn?" He probed, a recurring question he uttered like a habit, yet his true and undying concern pricked my heart every time, that was more often than not, he came by to ask.
Still not having any answer that would suffice and not stab him, I remained silent and motionless under the sheets. Frequently, the absence of my response would trigger a caring nag and polite persuasion to consume the food that had been left untouched on the nightstand but today, his unexpected petting on my side from above the quilt startled me. Instinctively, I rolled over but unable to summon any strength to drag my deadweight along, I could not get far from his grasp as he persistently tugged on the duvet, determined to get it off me.
"Please, don't," I begged shakily, clutching the thick fabric with all my might, which was rather minimal, and his resistance thankfully paused.
"Lynn, I just want to talk to you," he appealed calmly and he sounded closer, like he had stretched over to whisper in my ear.
"Not now. I'm sleepy," I dismissed in a hushed tone. "And you should be in class," I refuted lethargically and he was speechless for a while.
"It's... It's Founders' Day, love," he informed hesitantly, and the reasons for his difficulties in articulation became as obvious as my sobbing that emanated from beneath the covers.
"Lynn, please. Don't be like this," he pleaded, his vocalization almost crumbling.
Charles was again quiet for several moments, presumably as he swallowed his tears to regain his composure but suddenly, the part of the mattress behind me sank.
A soft grunt he probably did not anticipate escaped his lips as I heard every cumbersome motion required for him to hoist himself onto the bed. Accomplishing the gruelling procedure, he gently yanked off the covers from my head yet even when his hand had not directly contacted me, my body flinched and trembled like it had been plagued with an uncontrolled cramp as I panicked to keep out of his reach.
"All I want is a chance to talk it out. After that you can disappear to wherever it is you disappear to," he claimed and stunned me with his perceptive revelation.
"What?" I muttered feebly, turning around slowly to meet his damaged gaze that, despite the dim illumination, still wholly reminded me of why I had been spending so much effort to avoid it.
His weak smile beamed with tremendous sadness as he caressed my moist cheek, wiping away the endless droplets that flowed upon my skin under his warm palm. As the salty stream stopped only because they ran out, he cuddled me strongly and too weary to refuse, I allowed him to lay my head onto his lap.
"I know just how much you want to leave, and how much it pains you that you can't bring yourself to tell me what you need," he acknowledged sympathetically as he gingerly stroked my hair and his unwavering compassion disrupted my streak of curbing my view from reaching his face.
"Charles..." I breathed, the only word of appreciation I could gather in that moment, but he simply shook his head and tenderly cupped my face.
"Hush, my love. Just hear me out, will you?" He requested nicely and I subtly nodded.
"I know that it kills you to look at me, it burns you to feel my touch and it hurts even hearing my voice," he unveiled despondently yet not a tinge of bitterness could be heard from his benevolent tone.
"I fully understand, Lynn. I really do, and I intend to let you go," he asserted graciously and his unbelievable generosity only magnified the pang in my heart.
"But is there truly nothing I can do to help you, besides setting you free?" He investigated earnestly and the innocent hope radiating from his crystal blue eyes was far too much and far too perfect to destroy, I simply could not be honest him.
"I'm sorry, Charles," I murmured apologetically, shutting my eyes in defeat.
"I'm tired. I'm tired of being played. I'm tired of fighting the pain. I'm tired of watching you suffer because of me," I confided sheepishly.
"I'm not the one suffering, Lynn. You're the one suffering because of me and I hate to be the source of your pain as much as you hate to be mine," he consoled even though he knew it could not appease me.
"But I still love you, I swear," I confessed as I took his hand, holding it for the first time in weeks and not letting go like it was his life.
"I know you do," he plainly affirmed, securing my palm in the safety of his hand with a firm grip.
"And it's precisely why you have to leave. To preserve whatever that's left," he spoke knowledgeably, verbalizing the deepest thoughts in my mind as he brushed his slender fingers through my tangled and messy bleached fringe.
"Do you still love me?" I unintentionally asked, the words spilling out of my lips naturally and unknowingly and it all happened so quickly there was no way I could even take them back.
"I know you wish I said I didn't. But I'm not going to lie to you, Lynn," he insisted with a face of melancholy.
"I love you now, more than I have ever loved you," he declared confidently yet arduously as he gradually leaned down to peck my forehead.
"But love is not about possession and if it takes me stepping out of your life to restore its stability and function, I will gladly do it," he readily assured, as if it was an easy task, but I knew the decision took every ounce of his courage to make, the same fortitude I unfortunately did not possess.
"How is it that you're still so kind to me, even when I've made you so broken?" I enquired but my genuine curiosity was probably drowned by my shameful tone that reflected my true sentiments.
"I learnt it from you, love," he flattered frankly, yet I could not even smile.
"I'm just a useless coward underserving of your love, Charles," I disputed, feeling thoroughly disgraceful and conscience-stricken by basically every atrocity that ever landed on us, because it all started with me.
"Please do me a favor and never say that about yourself again, Lynn," he demanded gravely, yet cordially.
"You're not useless. And you're absolutely not a coward," he stressed without a doubt.
"You're not trying to run. You're just trying to heal," Charles reiterated, peering down at me ever so tenderly it mended and shattered my heart simultaneously.
"So just let me do my part, alright?" He urged, mustering a small but brave smile.
"Thank you, Charles," I mumbled and it was all I managed.
XXXXX
It's probably bad that even I cried a lot writing this? But ok, at least the big revelation is not quite the cliffhanger for the week 😅
I hope all of you have enjoyed the chapter and the book thus far! Do remember to leave me votes/comments if you did 😘
PS: It's my mom's birthday today! 🎂🥂🍾
