「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(342) Your Best Friend

Lynn's POV

"Forgive me, my love; but I find it hard to believe you're not entirely sadistic," Charles commented cheekily as he delicately combed his fingers through my hair.

"Shut up, you idiot," I snapped, laughing, and mindlessly shoved myself face into his.

Wretchedly before our lips met, my violent momentum accidentally shifted my casted leg and another insanely overpowering throb throttled through like horses of a stag race. I yelped intermittently, choking down the phlegms of pain, as I clung onto Charles but he staunchly, though gingerly, peeled me off him.

"That's enough, Lynn," Charles urged in spiritless tone and cautiously withdrew himself from our marvelously entwined engagement.

"I might not have ascertained you are but I am certainly not one," Charles stressed in mild frustration that rapidly melted the moment he glimpsed my reluctance as I whimpered, warped and indisposed.

"Oh, don't do that, please," Charles consoled, caressing my face and grazed his fingers over my shivery sullen lips.

"I'll let you have my shirt, alright?" Charles coaxed in a sincere tone, effectively arousing my candid chuckle even amidst the torrent of adversities.

"I love you," he whispered flirtatiously.

Simply pampering my lips with the softest kiss, Charles sauntered off in that threadbare piece, the epitome of solitaire perfection no one could rival in centuries. I watched, admiring, his flawlessly contoured figure as he casually strolled towards the wardrobe and whisked a plain V-neck over that lean yet muscular chest.

As he hopped into his underwear in the most adorable and practically kiddish fashion, he elegantly retrieved the rest of our strewn clothing. A neatly assorted stack was piled atop the fuchsia velvet-upholstered bench at the foot of our bed as he returned with just his blazer and what he earnestly promised.

"Easy, love," Charles appealed anxiously as I struggled to prop myself up on my elbows.

Carefully, he cradled my torso and slowly guided those pristine white sleeves around my arms. With due prudence, he caped his jacket over my shoulders when a long, humiliating, rumble emanated conspicuously from my stomach.

"Did you want me to feed you now?" Charles taunted in a whimsical tone and given the temperature of my face, it was possibly redder than a basket of freshly picked tomatoes.

"Yes, please," I replied bashfully, sinking my head into his shoulder, wishing it was a hole I could very well bury myself in.

Nevertheless, Charles graced my temple with an unconditionally generous peck as he nestled me into the unparalleled comfort of his embrace. Once we were properly cloaked under the warm fluffy quilt, he fetched my basically untouched portion of breakfast and the television's remote control. I snagged over the latter, inadvertently clicking on something unwanted in my eager attempt.

The inanimate screen immediately sizzled to life, albeit with just a soundless clip playing back. Upon closer scrutiny, I realized it to be the live feed of one particular security camera situated around the school premises.

Winter had come but not yet in all its usual grandeur. It was not the typical New York blizzard that shrouded the earth under a meter of snow or the gentle rain of flaky crystals that transformed the landscapes sparkly and magical.

It was approaching noon but everything was dreary and it seemed no exaggeration that the skies—clouds and environment merged into a seamless sheet of slate—were duller than my current condition. Just as miserable, definitely, was the incessant drizzle that showered upon the front gates.

A motionless silhouette stayed—kneeled—on the muddy terrain. His hoodie was not exactly tattered like one would expect of homeless beggars but in this weather, anyone donning just a regular pullover was underdressed, not to mention the grime-stained apparel was totally drenched.

"Is that-" I murmured but before I could fathom any more from the blurry scene, it switched into the coincidental beginning of a classically romantic movie.

"The wrong channel," Charles stated sharply and stowed the infrared device back to the nightstand—where it was absolutely out of my reach.

"Open up," he instructed in a calm, outwardly unaffected, tone and I obediently obliged. 

"It is out of propriety that you should not speak with your mouth full," Charles rehashed, readily grasping the intention that brewed in my mind as it merely hatched.

Receiving the spoonful of yoghurt-dipped granola bits and his brusque hint of relinquishing the topic, I munched on the nutty cereal quietly. The next three hours passed with intense emotion and a great deal of sobbing despite having enjoyed the renowned film on countless other occasions.

"It, honestly, never ceases to amaze me how you always manage to cry at this scene," Charles joked, offering me a couple more facial tissues as he conscientiously cleared the mucus-soaked heap accumulated before me.

"It never gets any less heartbreaking," I whined, heaving frantically, as I discreetly blew my nose.

"I know," Charles avowed kindly as he finely stroked my mane.

Promptly tuning off the midday broadcast of Titanic, Charles held me snugly and diligently rubbed my chest as he patiently coaxed my composure back. As the streams finally discontinued, I peered up at him and lethargically leaned in, pressing my lips onto his sweetly.

"Forgive me, my dear," I whispered in a shaky tone and he caressed my face with a worried frown.

"But I find it hard to believe you really have the heart to leave him," I confessed sheepishly.

"That man is undeserving even of my pity," he claimed with a cool expression.

"It is not your pity he is asking-" I fervently debated but grudgingly swallowed the balance of my argument as I spotted his uninterested demeanour. 

"I know you seek for him to taste punishment; I know you wish him to learn from his predicament; But is this not all too harsh, and cruel?" I posed in a hesitant tone.

"He has betrayed—hurt—us, time and again. Why do you speak as though he's-" Charles contested, his face flushed with resentment.

"Your best friend," I boldly retorted but my insides shuddered slightly as he glared at me, ostensibly riled.

"I know that, after all this time, your care for him has been forced deep-seated but I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it is still somewhere in here," I convinced, pausing my palm atop his fiercely pounding heart.

"I know how much it took you to disarm him. But if we never grant him a chance, he will never be able to honour us with change," I persuaded as I agonisingly examined his eyes rigidly anchored with hate.

"Or be cursed with the ability to harm us again," Charles grumbled indignantly.

"Can you live with that?" I challenged, staring at him solemnly.

"Truly, and without regret?" I emphasised in all gravity.

"I will truly regret if he takes you away from me again," Charles lamented as he hugged me snugly, protectively, and even a little fearfully.

"Maybe he won't," I encouraged, massaging his back soothingly.

"I know he has destroyed almost everything we have dedicated to promote the coexistence of humans and mutants but maybe, he could help us build it back again," I suggested with a keen smile but Charles just scoffed.

"Faith is, after all, built upon 'maybes', isn't it?" I reiterated in compassion as I tenderly cupped his face.

"What if he bails?" Charles denounced with an afflicted expression, evidently anguished by his own skepticism, and I awarded his disgruntled lips a kiss, hoping to lift his spirits.

"Maybe he won't," I repeated, rose-colored.