I roll left to right, then right to left, flipping my pillow over in a futile attempt to convince my restless brain to let me sleep. With an exasperated huff, I flop onto my back, the bedframe groaning softly under my weight. Today was a disaster. So much for having my mutation 'under control'. No wonder Charles stuck me with those three. If I'd been with the younger students, who knows what could've happened.
Warm, wrinkled sheets twist around me, and I clutch the edge of the blanket with white-knuckled determination, hoping that cocooning myself tightly enough will somehow lull me into unconsciousness. A sliver of moonlight sneaks in through the curtains, catching my eye, and I groan inwardly.
Giving up, I fling the covers aside and stride to the window nook, dropping onto the narrow bench with a soft thud. The cushion is so thin it barely softens the wood beneath, and I already know my backside will ache if I stay here too long. Tugging at the curtains, I find them stuck on a notch in the rod, and it takes a few sharp yanks before the fabric finally slides free. The moonlight floods in, and I let myself bask in the pale glow.
The wooden frame creaks as I nudge the window open just enough to let in the cool night air. Resting my forehead against the cold glass, I gaze at the night sky. The stars shimmer like tiny jewels scattered across black velvet, and the moon—just shy of being new—hangs like the sly grin of a Cheshire Cat. Waning or waxing? I can never remember the difference, so I settle for simply appreciating its beauty.
Should I talk to him?
The thought creeps into my mind unbidden, and my brows knit together as my heart races at the idea. When we shared those fleeting days together three years ago, he was so overwhelming I didn't even get the chance to judge his character properly. Yet now, when I think about Rogue standing in the foyer after he left, a strange emptiness gnaws at me, like my life is missing something.
I should be grateful that not everyone affects my mutation the way he does. But when it's him... it's exhilarating, like an addict chasing a high.
Why am I thinking about him?
Warmth floods my cheeks, spreading to the tips of my ears. Acting on impulse, I grab my slippers and slip out the door, carefully pulling it closed behind me to avoid waking my newly returned neighbor. The mansion is silent as I weave through its hallways and out onto the damp lawn, the grass freshly trimmed and cool beneath my feet.
The pond—or maybe it's a lake; I should really look up the difference someday—comes into view, its surface reflecting the glowing moon and shining stars. I drop onto the old wooden dock with a dull thud, letting the stillness of the water attempt to calm my racing thoughts.
It doesn't work. My hand instinctively reaches out to trace the weathered wood grain, but my fingers find a small pile of stones instead. One of the kids must have been skipping them earlier.
The stones plop and skitter across the water, each ripple distorting the reflection of the night sky. Sitting cross-legged on the dock, I rub my eyes in frustration before leaning over to scoop up a handful of the cool water, letting it trickle through my fingers.
"Something on your mind?"
The voice startles me. I whip my head around to see a familiar figure approaching with steady strides, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. Logan.
"Yeah, uh..." My words falter as I try to steady my voice. I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly. "You missed it." The admission feels heavy on my tongue.
Logan settles beside me, his posture is as casual as ever, one leg crossed over the other as he leans back on his hands. Even though his expression is gruff, there's a quiet warmth radiating from him that wraps around me like a blanket.
"But everything worked out, didn't it?" His tone is low but firm, urging the truth from me without coddling.
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, Charles showed up," I mumble, tracing patterns on the planks beneath us. "But what if he hadn't? I just... I froze."
Logan doesn't respond right away. His silence feels deliberate, like he's giving me space to untangle the knot of thoughts in my head. Finally, he hums softly, his gaze fixed on the water.
"You're too hard on yourself, bub. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."
I rest my cheek on my knee, pouting like a child. "What's it like?" My voice is softer now, barely audible. "To have people depending on you all the time?"
His jaw tightens for a moment, the question clearly hitting deeper than I intended. His hazel eyes narrow, thoughtful, as he finally speaks. "Stressful," he admits, his tone blunt but honest. "But it keeps me going. Makes me fight harder. When you know people are counting on you... it's hard to walk away, even when you want to."
His words settle heavily between us, and I find myself nodding, unsure what else to say.
For a while, we sit in companionable silence, the cool night air wrapping around us. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the way his hazel gaze seems to flicker with unspoken thoughts as he watches the moon.
"You're different," I murmur.
He snorts softly, a flicker of amusement in his smirk. "Oh, yeah?"
I nod, shifting to face him fully. "When you asked me to read your emotions that day... I didn't just feel them. I saw the memories tied to them. That night, I dreamt your nightmares like they were my own."
Logan's smirk fades, his brows knitting together. There's something raw in his expression, but he quickly hides it behind a shrug. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
The tension in the air thickens as his emotions seep into mine, blurring the line between us. My heart skips, and I roll my eyes, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping in.
"You always do that," I huff.
"Do what?" His smirk widens, teasing now.
"Make everything feel like a game."
"Life's already too damn serious," he replies. "Gotta balance it out somehow."
The air between us shifts again, heavier this time, and I feel that familiar pull, the one that always seems to draw me closer to him whether I want it or not.
My head drops, eyes fixed on my lap, as I let out a shaky laugh. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to ground myself before finally lifting my head to meet his gaze again.
"Did I wake you?" I ask, shifting the conversation, embarrassment lacing my tone. My voice feels too loud against the quiet night.
Logan furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly, the gesture oddly cat-like. "No," he hums, his voice low and curious. "Why d'you ask?"
I shrug, playing with a fraying thread on the edge of my sleeve. "I was tossing and turning, moving around my room. I'm not really sure how your powers work. Heightened senses, right?"
Logan nods, the motion slow and deliberate. "Yeah, I heard you," he admits, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "but I was already up."
A tight-lipped smile forms on my face, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes. The conversation feels heavier than it should, like we're both dancing around something unsaid. My gaze drops again, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. With a sigh, I push myself up from the dock, the wood groaning softly under my weight.
"I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep," I say, brushing off invisible dirt from my pajama pants.
"Good luck," he replies, his tone dry but not unkind as his gaze drifts back to the moon.
He must like it, too.
YOU ARE READING
Fervent Feelings
FanfictionY/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...
