𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 || 𝐗-𝐌𝐄𝐍 ||

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟎

Milo sat on the edge of the bed in her and Hank's room, a glass of Coke and Rum in her hand. She stared at the empty spot beside her where Hank would normally be, his absence palpable. He'd been gone for days now, off on one of his long business trips, and the room felt unusually quiet without him.

She sighed, taking a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the rum settle in her chest as she glanced around the room.

Milo missed Hank more than ever. The empty room was a constant reminder of his absence, but it wasn't just Hank she missed. Harper, who had disappeared from the X-Mansion without a trace, weighed heavily on her mind too.

Feeling restless, Milo decided to leave the room and wander the mansion. She still clutched her glass of Coke and Rum, the familiar comfort of it in her hand as she descended the stairs. She walked slowly, her thoughts swirling, when suddenly, she saw a figure at the bottom of the staircase.

She blinked. It looked like... Harper? Maybe it was the alcohol messing with her, or maybe it was real, but there she was—Harper, standing in the dim light of the hallway. Milo froze, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Harp?" Milo called out softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. Harper turned around, a gentle smile tugging at her lips—but as soon as her eyes landed on the glass of Coke and Rum in Milo's hand, that smile faded.

"Why are you drinking, Lo? You never drink?" Harper asked, her eyes filled with concern. Milo glanced down at the Coke and Rum in her hand before turning back to Harper.

"Oh, this? It's nothing—" Milo began, but Jean cut her off with a sharp remark.

"It's because she misses Hank," Jean said, crossing her arms, her tone edged with confidence.

Milo glared at her, anger flashing in her eyes. "Fuck off," she snapped at Jean.

Jean's expression didn't falter, but Charles intervened, his voice calm yet firm from his office. "Milo, that's not nice."

Milo shifted her glare toward Charles before defiantly taking another sip of her Coke and Rum, clearly not in the mood for anyone's judgment.

Milo shook her head, exhaling deeply as she turned and started walking away, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment. But then she heard a familiar voice, gruff and dripping with sarcasm.

"Sabretooth? Storm. What do they call you? Wheels?" Logan's voice rang out. He scoffed loudly. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Milo paused in her tracks, her eyes widening. Logan? she thought. She spun back around, looking toward the door, her heart pounding. "Logan..." she whispered softly, almost in disbelief.

Logan began walking toward the door, but Scott was standing in his way, his expression stern and unyielding.

"And Cyclops, right?" Logan said, his tone mocking as he grabbed Scott by the collar, pulling him close. "You wanna get outta my way?"

Scott glanced over his shoulder at Charles, unsure but standing his ground.

"Logan, it's been almost 15 years, hasn't it? Living from day to day, moving from place to place, with no memory of who or what you are," Charles said, his voice calm and persuasive.

Logan's grip on Scott loosened, and he let go, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Shut up," he growled at Charles, clearly agitated.

But Charles wasn't deterred. "Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find some answers."

Logan stared hard at Charles, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How do you know?" Logan asked, his voice gruff, tinged with frustration.

Charles met his gaze, his expression calm and unwavering. "You're not the only one with gifts," he said—but his voice echoed through Logan's mind instead of coming from his lips.

Suddenly, a flood of voices swarmed Logan's mind.

"Where are you going? Where's he going? Over here!"

The words rang out, disorienting him as he glanced around the room, trying to locate the source. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the invasion of thoughts in his head.

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

Asher and Marlow exchanged a quick glance, silently acknowledging their shared concern as they sat in the kitchen with Milo.

"M, that's your second glass of that today," Asher said gently, his eyes watching Milo as she brought the drink back down to the table.

Milo's brow furrowed slightly. "So?" she responded, her voice defensive but tired, as she looked between the two of them.

Marlow gave Milo a skeptical look, her arms crossed. "You are missing Hank, aren't you?" she asked gently.

Milo scoffed at the question, brushing it off. "No," she replied quickly, though her fingers fiddled with the rim of the glass in her hand, betraying her unease.

Marlow exchanged a glance with Asher, who sighed softly before speaking. "Milo, you know it's normal to miss—"

"I'm not missing Hank," Milo snapped, cutting him off. Her voice was firm, but the frustration in her tone hinted at something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to admit.

Milo stood up abruptly, grabbing her glass from the table without a word. As she turned to leave, her movements were sharp, frustration radiating off her. On her way out, she accidentally bumped into Scott, who had just entered the kitchen.

Scott watched her leave, then looked over at Asher and Marlow, who exchanged another worried glance but remained quiet.

Once Milo was fully out of sight, Scott turned to Marlow and Asher with concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong with Lolo?" he asked, his voice low but filled with curiosity.

Asher sighed before Marlow responded, "We think she's missing Hank more than usual."

Scott glanced back at the door where Milo had just left, his expression softening. "Makes sense," he nodded thoughtfully. "She's been off lately."

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱

The door to her and Hank's room closed softly behind her as Milo placed the glass down on the nightstand, the quietness of the room only amplifying the emptiness she felt. She lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Lately, this was where she found herself most of the time—either here, lost in her thoughts, or wandering the Mansion, helping out with the students or anyone who needed her. Anything to keep her mind busy.

Her eyes drifted toward the calendar on the wall. It had been days—days without a call, a text, or any kind of message from Hank. A sinking feeling formed in her chest. She'd told everyone she wasn't missing him, but the truth weighed heavily on her in the silence of their room.

 She missed him more than she wanted to admit.

˗ˏˋ꒰🃏꒱