𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗 // X-Men First Class

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

Part Nineteen: The Training Part 2

1962. Xavier Mansion. Westchester, New York.

Svet's POV

I lifted some weight inside the mansion. Raven offered to join me, but she had to practice sparring. The massive footrest I used to lay down on while I focused my strength on the weight was the most comfy thing ever. What were the beds like at this place?

Suddenly, the barbell slipped out of my grasp, I quickly braced for impact but it never came. Instead, my green eyes wandered up to the barbell, which was floating above me, it's stands were cascaded to the floor as my eyes wandered over to Erik. Rolling my eyes internally at my own stupidity. Who else (besides me and my telekinetic ass) could've lifted the barbell in mid air?

I gasped, as Erik's gorgeous German accent filled the room. 

"If you're using half your concentration to look normal, then you're only half paying attention to whatever your doing" Erik said, strutting over to me.

He wore a navy blue polo shirt and white pants. Damn, he looked good. Wait, it couldn't be? I maybe had feeling for Erik. He was a victim, like myself. We'd both suffered. We weren't that different I suppose. But then, again. The jealous person. Who were they? Hank and Raven seemed to be crushing on one another, not-so-secretively. Sean was too immature, Alex was like a brother to me. I'm pretty sure Moira wasn't a homosexual. That left one person. Charles. Charles was the last person I'd expect to be jealous.

Did Charles like me? God. I was acting like a curious teenager all over again when I lived with my grandmother, Alexandra, in Poland after Shaw let me go.

"Just pointing out something that could save your life" Erik continued, dropping the barbell, as I shifted into my true form.

Paper white skin. Deadly white eyes with midnight black pupils. Perfectly straight white blonde hair. Immediately, I caught the barbell. Erik was right. I was only using half my concentration on the weight. My pale skin contrasted deeply against the mauve coloured tank-top, grey sweatpants and white sneakers I wore.

I looked back to him, my eyes a beautiful, pure white. 

"You want society to accept you, but you can't even accept yourself" Erik finished, before taking a last look at me and turning to walk away. 

The realization hit like a truck. I didn't accept who I was. Quickly, I used my telekinesis to put the holders from the barbell back in their original places, placing the barbell onto it's holders. I sat on the footrest as I wiped a tear that stained my face. Erik was right. He was damn right. 

I didn't bother shifting back. I was going to accept myself, whether I liked it or not.

Small Time Skip. Outside.

"You truly believe I'll fly this time?" Sean asked hesitantly, looking down the large drop between where we stood and the ground.

" Unreservedly." Charles responded, trying to calm Sean down. 

Sean's grey hoodie had black straps connected over it with some black and white fabric pieces attached to his arms like bat wings. 

"I trust you" Sean responded, gesturing to Charles.

"I'm touched" Charles responded.

It was quite cold frankly, so I'd slipped a grey hoodie on like the rest of the team's. On the area where we stood was Hank, Charles, Sean, Erik and myself. I shifted back, because I got self-conscious again. Erik could tell I was scared. There was only one thing that scared me. Heights.

"I don't trust him" Sean said, pointing at Hank, who took it offensively.

"Say nothing" Charles calmly said.

"I'm gonna die!" Sean said, over dramatically.

" All right. Look, we're not gonna make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with, all right?" Charles said, like a father would to his son.

"Here let me help." Erik said, pushing Sean off the ladder, as Sean began to scream as he fell.

"Erik!" Charles snapped.

"ERIK! WHAT THE HELL?!" I screamed, as Erik looked at me, his arm wrapped around my waist, with a neutral expression.

"What?" he questioned.

"YOU CAN'T SHOVE SOMEBODY OFF A LADDER!" I screamed, clinging onto him, as my anxiety quickened, barely being able to speak as my face drained a pale white, but not as pale as my true form.

"Svetka, what's wrong?" Erik asked softly, as Sean used his screams to fly.

"S-Scared" I replied, stammering with my Russian accent going out.

"Of what?" Erik replied, slightly hugging him back

"Heights" I gulped as Erik turned his head to Charles.

"What? You know we were thinking the same!" Erik protested, with a cheeky smile.