ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

𝘛𝘦𝘯

You and Erik stepped onto the plane, a heavy tension in the air. Erik reached for a newspaper, but Logan stopped him with a quick glance.

"Imagine if they were metal," Erik muttered as he sunk into one of the seats. You slid into the seat beside him, your shoulders still tense, trying to avoid eye contact with Logan.

"Where did they dig you up?" Erik asked, his voice dripping with disbelief as he looked at Logan, who had just revealed something that made no sense. You could tell Logan's words had confused both you and Erik.

Logan leaned forward, his face darkening. "You're gonna find this hard to believe, but, uh... you sent me. You and Charles. From the future."

A heavy silence followed his statement. Both you and Erik exchanged looks, your brows furrowing in confusion.

The plane's engines roared, lifting into the air as Hank and Charles finished their conversation with Peter. You hadn't dared to ask Peter about his aunt, nor had you found the courage to bring up the possibility that he might be your son. You weren't sure how to approach it, especially with everything that was going on.

The silence in the cabin was thick, broken only by the hum of the plane's engines. Erik had his arm casually resting on the back of the couch. You leaned against his shoulder, the familiar warmth of his presence providing a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos. But even that comfort was weighed down by the heaviness in the air.

Charles and Erik had always been at odds, but now it felt personal. Charles stared at Erik across the aisle, his eyes sharp with unspoken emotion.

Erik broke the silence first, his voice quieter than usual. "How did you lose them?"

Charles didn't answer right away, his gaze flickering to the floor before he spoke. "The treatment for my spine affects my DNA," he said, his voice tight. There was no denying the pain in his words.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You had always been curious about Charles's decision—why he'd given up so much just to lead a life of normalcy.

Charles sighed, his voice taking on a distant tone. "I sacrificed my powers so that I could sleep. What do you know about it?"

It was Erik who responded this time, his voice filled with a strange, quiet understanding. "I've lost my fair share."

The words hung in the air, thick with shared pain. It was clear that all of you had sacrificed something to survive this war. But as the silence dragged on, it felt like there was something much deeper beneath the surface—old wounds that had never fully healed.

Charles's expression hardened, his voice suddenly sharper. "Ah. Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done."

Erik's eyes flashed with something dark, something you had seen before. "You have no idea what I've done."

A deep, almost unbearable silence followed. Charles's gaze never left Erik, his words biting as they hit the air. "I know that you took the things that mean the most to me."

"Maybe you should have fought harder for them," Erik replied, his tone cold and unforgiving.

The words felt like a slap to Charles's face, and for a moment, everything in the cabin stilled, as if the plane had frozen mid-flight.

Charles stood abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. "If you want to fight, Erik, I will give you a fight!" he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

Logan, who had been silently observing, stood up from his seat and put a hand on Erik's shoulder, his voice gruff. "Sit down."

Erik didn't flinch, but you could see the simmering rage in his eyes.

"Erik," you said, your voice soft but firm, a warning in your tone. But it wasn't enough to calm the storm that was building between them.

"Let him come," Erik growled, his eyes locked on Charles as if daring him to take the next step.

Charles's voice broke the air once more, raw and full of pain. "You abandoned me!" He stepped forward, his movements shaking with barely contained fury. "You took her away and you abandoned me!"

You flinched at the mention of the people Erik had lost, the ones who had died at the hands of the government. Erik's jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his voice trembling with rage.

"Angel, Azazel, Emma, Banshee." The names spilled out like a litany, each one carrying the weight of a loss that neither of you had been able to forget.

"Mutant brothers and sisters—all dead." His voice rose, the anger almost palpable as the plane shook in the air, as though responding to the tension in the cabin. "Countless others experimented on, butchered," Erik yelled, his eyes burning as he stared at Charles, who had stepped away.

"Where were you, Charles?" Erik's voice cracked, a mixture of guilt and fury building. "We were supposed to protect them! Where were you when your own people needed you?! Hiding! You and Hank! Pretending to be something you're not!"

"Erik!" you screamed, the words breaking from your throat as you grabbed onto the armrest, trying to steady yourself as the plane tipped.

The world around you seemed to spin. You could feel the weight of the past pressing down on everyone in that cabin—old regrets, broken alliances, and too many sacrifices.

"Erik!" You yelled again, your voice rising in desperation, but the anger was already there, unrelenting.

Erik's eyes flashed with pain as he glared at Charles, his voice a guttural roar. "You abandoned us all!"

The plane lurched violently, the air pressure shifting as it began to tip once more.

Charles turned and walked to the front of the plane, Hank beside him, not saying a word. The tension in the cabin was almost unbearable.

Logan, his arms crossed, leaned back against the seat with a grimace. "So, you were always an asshole," he muttered, his eyes flicking over to Erik.

Erik turned to him, the corner of his lip curling in a wry smile. "I take it we're best buddies in the future?"

Logan snorted, the sound almost bitter. "I spent a lot of years trying to bring you and Y/n down, bub."

"Really?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "How's that work out for you?"

Logan's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "You're like me. A survivor. You want to pick up all that shit you've done?" he asked, his voice low.

Before Erik could respond, you stood up, stepping toward the scattered papers and belongings that had been thrown across the floor from the plane's turbulence. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing. Your magic crackled through the air, and in an instant, everything was right back where it belonged—neatly organized, everything in its place.

"I'll do it," you said softly, your voice filled with an eerie calm as you returned to your seat, your eyes meeting Erik's.

Erik looked at you, something softening in his gaze. "Thanks," he murmured.

But you didn't say anything in return. You couldn't, not with the weight of everything hanging between you all.

The silence after your actions felt different. Maybe it was the calm before the storm—or the storm already crashing down around you.