You're Gonna Be Okay (Charles Xavier X Reader)

Chapter 1

                  

*Note: I just realized that James McAvoy is Scottish and not British. Let's just stick to British Charles Xavier.

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                "Back to you, Sarah. That's a wrap, Tim." You say to the camera man, Tim Douglas, as you drop your arm with a microphone on your hand. Behind you, is a house in flames on a bleak night; it's a one story house, fit for a family of four or even a couple. Ash scatters all over the lawn while some part of the house emits heavy smoke that you could even see it in your eyes perfectly in the dark sky. The firemen are rushing in and out of their truck as they grab a hose to cascade water while the others try to find any victims still trap inside.

You have interviewed a few people while you were still on camera. Base on your interview, the people who live there are the Morgans, a family of four. Apparently there was a short explosion that startled most part of the neighborhood. It was like someone was experimenting fire and created a blast out of it they say. Then you notice that there are shattered glass on the lawn that belongs to the windowpane on the façade of the house. You look back at it with a melancholy feeling. Tim says that he needs to clean the camera lenses because some of the smoke that is reaching near us is making it foggy and he's going to get the equipment. You nod your head, not looking at him.

It looks like a mystery to you. What you get from the policemen to the story is that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan's son, Drew Morgan, left the socket of the computer plugged on for hours then accidentally spilled water on it causing it to spark and catch the end cloth of his bed in a flash. It seems like a common and a banal problem and wonder why it would cause the whole house to burn. Most of the ashes uncovered are from his bedroom where the furniture was burnt and black to dust. The smoke dies down and you see, in the corner of your eye, someone sitting on the firetruck ledge with a damp towel wrap around him.

It's a boy of a young age, maybe in his early teenage years. He isn't looking at the house but down to the ground where shadows dance with a somber expression on his sharp face. His hair was black and the corners of his mouth are slightly turned down. This must be Drew Morgan you think. You look to your left and right to see if someone would interrogate him or take care of him, but you found none. You don't look for Tim because this boy isn't really in a mood for news interrogations. You think that what he needs is for someone to just talk to him and assure him that everything's going to be alright.

With a warm heart, you stride forward and sit down next to him as if you have this all planned even though you don't even know what to say to him. In interviews, if it's a situation where it is drastically shocking, you don't ask a person if he or she is okay. You already know that he is not okay so there is no need for you to say that.

"You should go inside. It's cold here." You reply, bobbing your head once to the firetruck. He flinches as his brown eyes look at you sideways without his head turning.

"No, I'm okay." He mutters. He adjusts the towel that slips on his shoulders and stares to the ground some more. He notices that you are a reporter since you dress up like one and he recoils as he stares at the house which is already burnt out.

"I'm not going to livestream this." You say as you smile meekly but it is quite awkward. He doesn't respond and you don't force him to.

"Where are your parents?" You ask him. You don't see any adult in the same condition as him and you feel suddenly sad in realizing this. He doesn't respond again and seems to fight an urge to cry and you feel guilty all over again for bringing it up. He's only a young child with an innocent face. You realize that he needs to be alone and question to yourself as to why you haven't read him more in the first place.