Fervent Feelings

X-Aristotle Chapter 28 - Bitter Sweet Symphony

The soft chirping of birds filters into my awareness, each note gentle and distant, as though carried on a breeze. Faint echoes of laughter ripple in the background, warm and inviting. A delicate scent—citrus with a trace of vanilla—wafts around me, grounding yet otherworldly. My head throbs with the remnants of a migraine, each pulse sharp but waning, like a fading storm. My chest aches faintly, but the pain ebbs as my breathing steadies. I'm too scared to open my eyes, to face the unknown, I've been in a black void before and I loathe the idea of going back there once more.

"It's alright. You're safe."

The voice is soft and soothing, like a balm to my frayed nerves. It comes from behind me, familiar yet unplaceable.

Tentatively, I open my eyes, blinking against the warm light that fills the space. I find myself opposite an ornate oak desk, its surface polished but weathered- clearly an antique. It's cluttered with mementos: a cluster of photographs capturing moments of joy—a smiling couple, an awkward family portrait. A deck of violet playing cards sits askew, edges worn from countless shuffles, the most odd chachki being a delicate snow globe that glints faintly, the glitter inside swirling lazily.

Footsteps thud softly behind me, deliberate but unhurried. They circle until a figure moves into view, settling into the chair behind the desk. Her presence is warm, inviting, like stepping into a sunlit room after hours in the cold.

I study her. Her features are kind, with soft laugh lines and crow's feet beginning to etch their stories into her face. Strands of gray glint among her hair, catching the light. She clasps her hands together, resting them on the desk, and crosses one leg over the other. The wheels of her chair rattle slightly against the hardwood as she adjusts her position.

A faint smile crosses her lips as she watches me study her. "I know what you're thinking..." she says with a quiet chuckle. "We aged well."

Her words draw my gaze to the nameplate on the desk.

'Y/n Summers - Aristotle'

I clear my throat, my mouth dry. "Uhm, yeah," I murmur, licking my lips nervously. My brows furrow as I agree with her statement.

A buzzing sensation rises from my tippy toes, to the crown of my head. "I know you have questions." Aristotle tilts her head observing me.

"That's an understatement." I huff, sinking into my cushioned seat. "Ya know it's weird having someone else read me, but I suppose you're not really someone else, huh?"

Summers lets out a brief laugh through her nose. "I figure you're right about that..." She takes a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting for a moment before she steadies herself. "So, uhm," she pauses, searching for the right words, "if it wasn't obvious enough... I'm you. In an alternate timeline. I guess that's the best way to describe it."

She hums softly, her gaze drifting to some distant point as though caught in a memory. "In my—our—timeline, we were taken in by our neighbors. Though, I think you were too young to remember them. We grew up sheltered and afraid, living at the X-Mansion. My brother, Scott, really tried to pull us out of our bubble, but we were stubborn. Then we met Logan, and things changed. Our powers evolved, growing in ways we didn't expect. I started to connect with the students at the school. They became like family to me."

Her eyes flicker to the trinkets scattered across her desk, lingering on one as if it holds a story only she can hear. "We were... relatively happy." Her lips twitch, almost forming a smile before her expression darkens.

"But humans were still afraid of us," she continues, her tone quieter now, heavier. "As the years went by, we were targeted again. And I—" she swallows hard, her voice faltering, "I died. Protecting someone."