. chapter twelve
"First day of training."
It was early morning and August was just barely standing. Now that her mutation made an appearance, Charles decided that she should start training straight away. Which leads to waking up at six in the morning, wearing itchy sweats and waiting for Charles's challenges.
"Are you ready?"
August wanted to nod her head, but she couldn't find the energy.
She heard Charles chuckle, and it made her smile.
"I'm sorry, Charles," she yawned. "I didn't get a good night's rest."
Behind Charles, August saw three bodies approaching with large buckets held in their hands. Alex, Raven, and Sean were all smirking as they inched closer to Charles. It took everything in August not to laugh aloud.
Just when the three young mutants reached Charles, he shook his head and stepped away right when the three threw the water.
The coldness bit at August's skin, making her jump in surprise as she let out a loud yelp. She was now drenched in ice cold water, glaring at the laughing mutants in front of her.
"It is not funny," she grumbled, rubbing at her numb arms in an attempt to create some friction.
"Sneaking up on a telepath?" Charles teased, turning to the mischievous three. "Not the smartest thing I've ever heard."
"Hey," Sean shrugged, "it was worth a shot. I was hoping to see you sopping wet, Professor."
"Oh, did I miss something?"
Everyone looked over at Erik, who was at the edge of laughter at the sight of August.
"Not a single word, Erik," August huffed.
"Alright, come on, back to training," Charles ordered, waving the mutants off. "I'm sure you'll dry, August."
August groaned. "You're going to make me train in wet clothes? How rude of you, Professor."
Charles let out a small, playful gasp while holding a hand to his chest. "We're going back to Professor now? What's next, Xavier again? I thought you finally settled on calling me Charles."
"Oh, don't act so heartbroken," August scrunched up her nose, smiling at her Charles. "Don't friends usually give nicknames?"
"Those are hardly nicknames," Charles said, nodding his head in the direction of the gardens.
"Explain it to me, then," August requested, walking alongside Charles towards the garden.
"A nickname is a special name that you give to someone -perhaps a friend, yes- and you are the only one that can call them said name."
August nodded, stealing a glance up at him. "Does anyone call you Charlie?"
Charles cocked his head to the side in thought. "No, not anyone that I can really think of."
"That's your new nickname," August grinned, grasping his forearm in raw excitement.
"And I suppose yours can be Jade, because your eyes are a magnificent green," Charles grimaced. "Oh god, that's an awful nickname, never mind."
Releasing Charles's arm, August said, "no, no, it's fantastic. I love it."
"There's not much thought put into it."
"Oh, who needs thoughts, anyway?"
After a moment of silence, Charles stopped walking and faced August.
"We should start your training," he advised. August nodded.
"Yesterday evening -when you had one of your episodes- you said something," Charles told her. "You said the same exact words that I once said when I first met Erik. Can you tell me what you saw?"
August furrowed her eyes in concentration, thinking about last night. Though she remembers everything vividly.
"When I looked at you," she began, "you were sopping wet. You were wearing completely different clothes, and you looked panicked. You just looked different, and somehow I knew that it wasn't the present you that I was really looking at. But before I had any time to decipher what I was truly looking at, the real you returned. Dry, no more water, dressed in that day's outfit."
"When I first met Erik, it was to stop him from killing Shaw. He was so hurt, and I was trying my best to calm him, which is why I probably looked panicked in your vision," Charles informed. "It seems that you saw me at a different period of time. So, perhaps your mutation has something to do with time."
"Like my father," August muttered, looking down at her hands.
"Only better in every way," Charles grinned, setting his hands on her shoulders. August smiled at him.
There was something about Charles that made August unexplainably happy and giddy all of the time. He was always there for her; he was there to comfort her and help her realize that perhaps her mother was right. Life may be sad, but there were people like Charles to make it beautiful. Charles understood her like no one else ever has. August doesn't have to worry about opening up to him and revealing her deepest secrets, because he already knew, and he's accepted her as a friend.
There was no denying that Charles meant something to August. He meant something deeper than a simple friend. August wouldn't classify it as love, but a liking would most definitely suffice. Not a brother like, or a friend like, but a lover kind of like. It seems absurd to think now that it crossed August's mind, but it was true.
Charles stared into August's emerald eyes, and August did just the same with Charles. They were both so utterly captivated in each other's presence.
Charles's hands slid down August's arms, stopping at her wrists where he gripped. He took a small step closer, his gaze never faltering from August.
Charles halted when he was an inch away from August's face. Their breaths mingled together, their chests barely touched, and their feet grazed each other's lightly. Charles glanced down at August's lips before returning his eyes back onto hers.
August nodded, signaling that it was okay to continue, because she honestly didn't mind the unsettling feeling that rose in her stomach and chest.
Slowly, Charles's lips met hers. It was patient, and their lips soon melded together perfectly. August set her right hand on the crook of his neck, while her left gripped onto Charles's sweatshirt. Both of Charles's hands were settled on the small of her back; his fingers pressed into her spine, pulling her impossibly closer to where they could feel the other's heartbeat.
August has never kissed anyone before, and she couldn't bother herself to do so after this. She didn't have much knowledge of the subject, but she was most definitely sure that it was absolutely perfect in every way.
Pulling away slightly, they allowed themselves to catch their breaths. With eyes still closed, August wrapped her arms around Charles's neck, setting her forehead against his.
"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul."
August pulled back slightly, a smirk on her lips as she looked up at Charles.
"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.