fade away.

twelve.

"Was that Shakespeare?"

"Indeed it was," he smirked. "You enjoy his work."

"How could you possibly know that?" August teased, her fingers absentmindedly twirling the hairs on the back of Charles's neck.

"Magic," he whispered. "Or perhaps it was a lucky guess."

Charles leaned down once again, connecting their lips for the second time. August smiled, overwhelmed by the feeling he gave her with just one little touch.

"We should be training," August said in between kisses, her eyes shut as she savored the bliss.

"We should," Charles agreed, pulling away from her with a smile on his face. "Do you think you can do it again?"

August furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't know, Charlie. I don't even know how I did it in the first place."

"Rage and serenity are key points in order to truly focus," Charles said, as he brought his hand up to his temple. "May I?"

August nodded.

Charles pressed his fingertips into his temple, closing his eyes in concentration. August soon felt the prod of his mind trying to reach her own, and immediately allowed him entry.

What Charles did next shocked August. Instead of reading her mind like per usual, Charles showed her images. They were when she was younger.

"August?" her mother said as she tied up the ribbons on August's dress.

"Yes?" August replied, looking at her mother's reflection in the mirror.

"Always remember that I love you," she replied, as her fingers tightened the bow to make sure it would hold.

"Of course, mommy. I love you too."

The image faded away, and now her mother laid in her bed, a sickly pale color on her skin. A seven year old stared at her mother, wondering what was going on – what was happening to the woman she's known all her life.

"Listen, sweetheart," her mother mumbled, "stay strong. Besides, life may be sad, but it's always beautiful."

The images switched once again, and by now, a steady stream of tears were falling down her cheeks. She missed her mother; she missed the happiness that she used to have.

"You made a promise to her!" August shouted in anger, glaring at her father with pure hatred. "How could you just break it so easily?"

"A promise to whom?" he yelled back, a sudden outrage that made August's heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

"To mother," she said, astonished that he really didn't remember.

Her father scoffed, "she's been dead for years, August. Can't you get over it? She's never coming back, so let it be. That wasn't a promise I was intending to keep anyway."

August was angry. She was infuriated. Get over it? How can you just forget about something like that, and be so fine afterwards? How had he went against his promise and hurt August? How could he betray her mother like that?

"He broke his promise, Charlie," August muttered, the tears slowly falling from her eyes. "He hurt me."

Charles reached up and took hold of her hand, bringing it down to their side. August looked up at him, but she saw her father. The same scuffed up man she knew so many years ago. His dark hair was long, sweeping across his crinkled forehead. At first, she almost lashed out at him, but realized that the slow motion feeling from before was holding her in place.

He never said a word, just stared at August with no emotion. She wondered if he could see her, but that was impossible. She doesn't know where he could be. He could be dead for all she knew.

"August?"

Blinking the image away, she found Charles in front of her -rather than her father- and sighed in relief.

"What did you see?" he asked, his blue eyes shining from the glaring sun.

"M-my father," she choked out, her gaze trained on the toes of Charles's sneakers. "Charles, what did you do?"

"I accessed some of your distant memories," he mumbled. "You're mother was a terrific woman, August."

"Yeah," she agreed, using the back of her hand to wipe away the oncoming tears.

Charles took hold of August's hand with his free one, using his thumb to wipe at her moist cheeks. Once satisfied with his care-taking, Charles pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace.

August came to love his hugs. There was a certain warmth to it, and he would only hug her. There was no returns or exchanges. August had her arms up to her chest, with her palms facing outwards and gripping onto his sweats. Charles's arms wrapped around August's middle, encasing her in his arms.

"Time," Charles mumbled, not releasing August from his hold. "You can manipulate time, maybe even travel through it. See through it, stop it. You can go past and future; you see it all right in front of you. August, that's amazing."

August smiled, finally feeling that she somewhat belonged in this family of mutants, now willing to fight to the absolute end for them. Of course, she would've anyway -if her mutation never showed- because she cared for them all. Even Hank, though he still hasn't apologized.

"Thank you, Charles," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the sweatshirt. "Thank you so much."

Charles pulled away, smiling down at her. August wanted him to kiss her again, to make the moment unforgettable – to make her happy again. But at the same time, she was confused. What does that kiss make them now? What did it even mean? August knows that she liked Charles to be more than a friend, but does he think the same?

"I know what you're thinking," Charles smirked. "And before you scorn me, the answer is yes. I do think the same."

August blushed. Just as she was embarrassed, she was also relieved.

"First day of training wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," she smirked, throwing her arms around Charles's neck.

He hummed, "there's never a dull moment when I'm around."

August laughed. "Very funny, but that's true."

"I know," he grinned, placing his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes suddenly went downcast, making August furrow her eyebrows.

"What is it, Charlie?"

Charles stared solemnly into August's eyes, letting a sigh escape his lips. "Will you leave once this is over?"

She knew exactly what he was thinking about. When she told him that he had no control over who stayed and who left after the war is over. But she was right, he was simply worried that she planned on leaving him.

She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to keep looking at her. His blue eyes held unshed tears, and it broke August's heart to witness it. She's never seen Charles cry before, but this was heart-breaking.

"I'm not going anywhere, Charles," she whispered, sincerity laced in her voice.

"Promise me?" he asked in a quiet voice, reaching up to her hand that rested on his cheek and intertwining their fingers together.

"I promise," she nodded. She won't be like her father and break that promise, she cared too much about Charles. "I swear on my life. I'll be with you for a long time, Charles. You're going to wish, maybe even beg, that I had gone."

Charles cracked a small smile, chuckling at August's attempt to lighten the mood.

"Okay," he said, smiling down at her.

"Alright."

Not being able to stand it any longer, August brought Charles's head down by pushing on his neck lightly, connecting their lips in a delighted kiss. Charles brought their hands to his chest, right above his heart where they could feel the heightened thump of the muscle.

August swore, she would never leave him. At least, not willingly.