Imagine Book 2

A Telepathic Christmas- Charles Xavier (X-men: First Class)

Fem Y/N

The Oxford University campus was particularly beautiful during the holiday season. Snow dusted the ancient stone buildings like powdered sugar, and strings of warm lights twinkled in the early evening darkness. Y/N walked along the path toward the library, her boots leaving fresh prints in the pristine snow. The cold air made her cheeks flush pink, but she barely noticed the temperature, too focused on the gentle presence in her mind that had become as familiar as her own thoughts.

You're late, Charles's mental voice teased, warm and rich like honey. I've been waiting for nearly ten minutes.

Y/N smiled, knowing he could sense her amusement. While she couldn't speak aloud, their telepathic connection allowed for something even more intimate than verbal communication. She could share not just words, but feelings, images, and sensations.

Some of us actually attend all our lectures, Charles, she projected back, sending along a playful mental image of him sleeping through his morning genetics class.

She found him in their usual corner of the library, surrounded by towering shelves of leather-bound books. Charles Xavier looked up from his textbook as she approached, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth. His dark hair was slightly dishevelled, as though he'd been running his fingers through it while studying.

"There you are," he said aloud, though he didn't need to. It was one of the things Y/N loved about him – how he naturally balanced their silent conversations with spoken words, never making her feel different or out of place.

Y/N settled into the chair beside him, pulling out her own books. As a fellow mutant studying genetics, she shared many classes with Charles. Their friendship had begun several months ago when he'd first sensed her presence – not her voice, but the unique resonance of her mind and her mutation. While others might have found her silence off-putting, Charles had been fascinated by the way she could manipulate and control sound waves, even if she couldn't produce vocal sounds herself.

They worked quietly for a while, their minds brushing against each other comfortably like cats sharing warmth. Occasionally, Charles would share an interesting passage from his reading, or Y/N would point out something in her notes, their thoughts intertwining naturally.

As the library began to empty for the evening, Charles suddenly sat up straighter. "Oh! I almost forgot." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small package wrapped in emerald green paper with a silver bow. "Happy Christmas, Y/N."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected a gift, and the realization that she hadn't gotten anything for Charles made her stomach twist with guilt. He must have sensed her distress because he quickly shook his head.

"Don't even think about feeling bad," he said softly. "Your friendship has been gift enough this term. Go on, open it."

With careful fingers, Y/N unwrapped the present. Inside was a beautiful leather-bound journal, its cover embossed with intricate sound waves in silver. When she opened it, she found the pages were filled with staff paper – musical notation paper.

I thought, Charles explained, a slight nervousness colouring his mental voice, that just because you can't speak doesn't mean you can't compose. Your understanding of sound is more profound than anyone I've ever met. I'd love to hear the music you create.

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion. She ran her fingers over the pages, already imagining the compositions she could write, the way she could use her mutation to bring the notes to life. Charles had given her more than just a journal – he'd given her a new way to express herself.

It's perfect, she projected, letting him feel the full depth of her gratitude and affection. You're perfect.

The intensity of her feelings made Charles catch his breath. He looked at her with those piercing blue eyes, and Y/N felt the familiar flutter in her stomach that always accompanied such moments between them. Their connection hummed with unspoken possibilities.