AU note ~ unlike my Steve Harrington Fanfic, I have no clue how I want to end this...so chapter updates might be a little slow. On top of that fact, I just moved 3,000 miles BY MYSELF for a work opportunity so I've been busy with moving in, settling into things. Shoutout to one of my roommates 'K' who urged me to update. Love you guys so so so much.
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The warm water cascades over my worn skin, soothing my aching muscles as I lean into the comforting embrace of the steam. For a brief moment, it feels like all the weight I've been carrying dissolves with the dirt and sweat that clings to my body. I close my eyes, massaging the stress from my temples, letting the water wash away the grime of the past few days.
But the moment my eyelids flutter shut, a vision—no, a memory—flickers behind them. I'm standing across a room, my gaze locked on someone familiar. A woman stands with her back to me, arms crossed, her posture both defiant and relaxed. There's something in the way she holds herself, something I know instinctively. She glances over her shoulder, flashing a side smile, mischievous and carefree. It's me. I'm looking at a version of myself—one I don't remember but feel deep in my bones. This is one of Logan's memories.
I open my eyes abruptly, the stark white walls of the hotel shower pulling me back to the present. The memory evaporates with the steam, leaving me unsettled. I let out a shaky breath, the moment lingering in my mind longer than I want it to. I've been in here too long.
I dry off, the soft hotel towel a poor substitute for comfort, and lather my skin with the complimentary lotions, the floral scent a faint reminder of simpler days. Dressing in the new clothes Logan bought me, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The reflection stares back, wearing something that doesn't feel like mine. I'd say it's not my usual style, but the truth is—I don't remember what 'my style' even is anymore. It's been so long since I've picked something out for myself.
Laura is perched in Charles' wheelchair, her small frame almost lost in the oversized seat, while Charles sits on the edge of the hotel bed, watching an old Western on the TV. As Laura moves her small frame to move up onto the bed beside the old man, my gaze drifts to the adjoining room where Logan sits hunched over, reading through files. His aura, thick with sadness and disbelief, fills the space, pressing against my chest like a weight. A chill runs down my spine as I watch him, his face etched with exhaustion and something deeper, something darker.
He begins to rise, and I quickly shift my focus back to the TV, pretending to be engrossed in the grainy film. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him approach.
"You read these in your spare time?" Logan asks, his gruff voice aimed at Laura. He lifts a comic book in his right hand, flipping it toward her.
"She's just a kid," I huff, my brows furrowing in defense of her.
"Oh, yeah, Y/N. We've got ourselves an 'X-Men' fan." He sounds almost amused, like we're old friends like I'm part of this team—part of something I don't even remember. "You do know they're all bullshit, right?" His tone shifts, growing sharp as he flips through the pages with disdain. "Maybe a quarter of it happened, and not like this." Logan's voice drops low, his eyes darkening as he closes the comic with a snap. "In the real world, people die. And no self-promoting asshole in a fucking leotard can stop it."
"Logan—" Charles' voice cuts through the tension, a quiet warning.
"This is ice cream for bed-wetters," Logan growls, tossing the comic into Laura's lap.
"Logan..." Charles starts again, but his voice is gentler, almost pleading.
"Her nurse has been feeding her some grade-A bullshit," Logan huffs, the bitterness in his voice palpable.
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Fervent Feelings
AksiyonY/n Summers, the adopted sibling of Alex and Scott Summers, navigates life as an empath within the X-Men universe. After being abandoned by their biological parents at a young age, Y/n was taken in by the Summers family after discovering her mutant...
