「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(175) I Love You

Xavier Mansion, 24th December 1993

Charles' POV

"Come in," I beckoned quietly in response to the three light knocks on the door resonating discretely through the relative silence that prevailed since the sound of midnight which did not feel too long ago.

The old hinges creaked, screeching sharply, and cautious footsteps slowly approached my back that faced the entrance. I had my gaze fixed to the small portion of cloudy skies distinctly outlined by the white frames of the large windowsill directly before me, staying mostly motionless apart from the gentle swirling of my Merlot.

While recognising the customary soft flapping of a couple of pairs of bedroom slippers gently flopping along the varnished parquet amidst the faint crackles of scintillating flames in the distance, a subtle and unexpected clicking was additionally discernible upon closer scrutiny of the vibrations that travelled through the still air. The usual mellowed flutters paused nearby yet out of sight but the rhythmic clacking confidently marched on and was followed by a muted squeak of her patent heels as she crouched down by my side, balancing on her tipped toes in the corner of my vision.

It was marginally pleasing to discover that she was getting better, or I was getting tired, with her dynamic brainwaves going undetected until my eyes registered her presence.

"Jean," I nonchalantly acknowledged and she peered up at me with her baffled green eyes, astounded that I was not at all surprised but it quickly faltered as she fathomed my insight.

"Happy birthday, Professor," Jean mumbled, taking my hand as she smiled but the wider it was only ironically displayed her tremendous sadness with greater clarity.

"Thank you, Jean," I murmured, squeezing her palm.

"Happy birthday, Professor," Scott and Storm spoke together as they strolled to the front and lowered themselves before me.

"Thank you," I whispered exhaustedly and lethargically raised my glass but Jean swiftly grabbed my wrist, shaking her head pleadingly in dissuasion.

"It helps me to sleep," I argued truthfully.

"Doesn't mean you should be drowning yourself in the entire bottle every night!" Scott defiantly countered, rising angrily from the ground, and Jean's expression immediately transformed to aghast at his revelation as I resentfully avoided eye contact with all of them.

The emptied crates of wine in the cellar had undoubtedly gone down my system but I honestly was not intending to seek any refuge under the facade of a drunk man. Significantly fuelled by the determination to keep my vow made, I clearly understood that returning to the intoxicated numbness was no longer an option. Instead, the ability to merely lull my senses kept annoyingly active by guilt, dreadfully incapable of independent respite, into any kind of slumber was what I truly searched for in the medium alcohol.

"Scott!" Storm nervously blurted as she shot him a ferocious glare and pulled him back but he simply shrugged in a cocky manner, disregarding her conscientious efforts of intervention to mitigate the tensed atmosphere.

"Professor..." Jean voiced shakily, meeting my gaze with her watering eyes, as she tenderly pried away my fingers from the glass and carefully set it to the floor.

"I know that just like her, you're still struggling with the pain," Jean agonisingly revealed as she held both my hands in hers.

"And yet, you don't want to bother us with it but I'm telling you now, you really don't have to endure it alone," Jean comforted, mustering an earnest smile.

"We promised her we'd help you and you promised her you'd live well. You promised her you'd be alright," Jean kindly reminded but it was contradictorily brutal, the anguish her benevolent words induced in me, and her.