Claws and Heartstrings: Logan Howlett | Wolverine ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Chapter Four

- Logan

Lalia led me into the room I was supposed to be staying in, her eyes avoiding mine. "I think you'll be comfortable here," she said softly.

I couldn't help but smirk a bit. "So, where's your room?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

She glanced up at me briefly, then turned on the lamp beside the bed. "With Simon, down the hall," she replied, her voice distant.

My eyebrows furrowed as I recalled the conversation I overheard earlier. "Y'know, I heard your chat with him earlier. Is that your gift? Putting up with that guy?"

Lalia scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure you remember what my gift is from our first meeting," she said, referring to her magic stunt in the lab. Finally, she met my gaze, her eyes a mix of frustration and determination. "I'm also telekinetic. I can move things with my mind."

I turned toward her, intrigued. "Really? What kinds of things?"

She stared into my eyes, and I heard the doors behind me slam shut. I turned around quickly, realizing she had done that herself.

She now had a confident smile on her face, "All kinds of things."

I looked at her, a bit taken aback. I remembered her blasting that hot red energy through her stomach into mine, but I didn't know her powers extended beyond that.

"I'm sure you know I also have some telepathic ability," she added, a hint of challenge in her eyes.

I nodded, recalling the first time I heard her voice in my head when Charles introduced us. "Yeah, I remember. Like your professor, huh?" I said, keeping my tone casual but firm.

She nodded, "Nowhere near that controlled, but he's teaching me to manage it."

I walked up to her slowly, closing the space between us. A smirk played on my lips. "I'm sure he is. Go ahead, read my mind."

She met my gaze, her expression softening. "I'd rather not," she replied gently.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Come on, afraid you might like it?"

Her lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile, her eyes narrowing sharply. "I doubt it," she said, her tone defiant.

I couldn't help but enjoy the way she met my challenge head-on, not backing down for a second. I just stared into her eyes, moving my gaze to her lips. "You might find something interesting in there. Something worth your time."

She tilted her head, a playful smirk forming on her lips. "Or I might just find a mess of confusion and ego." She took a step closer, the air between us charged with tension. "I think you overestimate your charm, Logan."

"Maybe," I said, my voice a low rumble. "Or maybe you're just too stubborn to admit you're curious."

She retreated a step, her eyes growing more piercing. Hesitantly, she extended her arms and gently placed her hands on my head. Despite her evident nervousness, I didn't stop her. She slowly closed her eyes, her hands remaining on my head.

I felt a gentle pressure in my mind, like a door slowly creaking open. Her presence was there, tentative but insistent. I closed my eyes, letting her in, hoping she could help me piece together the fragments of my past.

As she delved deeper, I could feel her hesitation, her curiosity mingling with caution. Her breathing suddenly accelerated, and she opened her eyes wide, fear etched across her face. I quickly took her hands in mine, concern flooding my voice as I asked, "What did you see?"

I let her arms rest on my shoulders, but before she could respond, she quickly removed her hands from me and turned her attention to the door. "Simon," she said out loud, noticing him standing there.

I turned around, meeting Simon's gaze, and noticed the suspicion in his eyes.

Lalia looked up at me with a soft smile. "Goodnight, Logan," she said gently, then walked past Simon and out of the door.

I turned around slowly, letting the tension build as I locked eyes with Simon. A small grin spread across my face. I took a step closer, maintaining eye contact, my grin widening as I saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?" I asked, my voice low and gravelly.

The air between us seemed to crackle with unspoken challenges, he met my gaze without flinching, his voice steady as he replied, "If I had to do that, she wouldn't be my girl."

I started to walk closer to Simon, my hands behind my back. "Hmm. Well, then, I guess you've got nothing to worry about, do ya? 'Wonderman'?" I said, dripping with sarcasm.

Simon smirked, his voice dripping with cockiness as he said, "It must burn you up how a boy like me saved your life and has the girl you could only dream of having, huh? You might want to catch up because I'm already up two on the scoreboard."

My smirk fell from my face as I started to close the door. Before I could shut it, Simon held it open, with a grin on his face, "Oh, and Logan, stay away from my girl."

Simon stepped back from the door, his eyes never leaving mine. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and slowly closed the door, the click of the latch echoing in the now silent room. The Professor's mansion was a far cry from the places I'd been before—so much quieter, so much more... civilized.

My new bed creaked slightly as I sat down, and I couldn't help but let out a small, weary sigh. Lying back, I stared up at the ceiling, the intricate patterns on the plaster barely registering in my mind.

Rogue. I couldn't help but think about her. She was tough, no doubt about that, but this place was a whole new world for her. I hoped she'd fit in here, that she'd find some sorta peace. She'd be alright here, I told myself. She had to be.

Then my thoughts drifted to Lia. Simon might be mad at her for what he saw before she left. Hell, I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. But there was something else that gnawed at me. What did she see in my head? What kind of memories had she unearthed? I desperately wanted to know what happened to me before I got these damn claws.

The fragments I had were like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together. Maybe she had seen something that could give me a clue, something that could lead me to the truth.

The ceiling above me blurred as my eyes grew heavy. The thoughts swirled around in my head, a chaotic dance of faces and places, of questions without answers.

Slowly, the exhaustion of the day began to take over, pulling me into the depths of sleep. My last conscious thought was a silent plea for some clarity, some understanding of the life I'd been thrust into. And then, finally, I drifted off.