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━━ A TRIP TO PARIS
WHEN I WAKE UP, LOGAN'S shaking my shoulder roughly.
My hair juts out from where I've been lying awkwardly on the couch, blanket still curled around my scrunched body. The book I was reading has somehow been placed on the table in front of me, bookmark sticking out of it. I yawn and groan as my tired body stretches out, frozen limbs cracking. Logan smirks and moves to the other side of the plane while I struggle to stand.
"What time is it?" I ask, my voice hoarse, throat dry. I need water.
"Time to go." Logan answers, and I give him a disapproving look before he disappears out the open door to the plane. I shoot up, realizing we've somehow landed, and I didn't hear it at all. I must have been exhausted, because the last thing I remember before falling asleep is watching Erik and Charles reconcile with a game of chess.
Life is never a fair fight.
I take a deep breath and run a hand through my matted hair, then whirl around when movement behind me reaches my ears. Erik has come out of the bathroom, fully dressed. He stops mid-stride when he sees me standing in the middle of the room.
"Good morning." he says cautiously, and I simply nod, moving out of the way to let him pass.
"Are we leaving now?" I blurt out as he nears the open door. I wrap my arms around my waist, biting the inside of my cheek.
"Yeah." Erik answers plainly. "Better hurry." I nod as he exits the plane and curse under my breath, hitting my side into the corner of the wood table, making me curse louder. I can already feel a bruise blossoming as I run into the other room of the jet, taking out the small pack of clothes I decided to bring last minute. I rush into the bathroom and hurriedly change, banging different body parts accidentally against the wall some more, sprouting more bruises along my side.
I try to change as quickly as I can, brushing out my tangled hair, shrugging on a long cardigan, flared jeans and a short t-shirt. My style these past few years has been whatever feels comfortable. The only source of information I have on what's in and out is the magazine I forced Charles to pay a subscription for. I told him it was only about clothes, but I really just wanted it because there was a news section at the back, and I was able to keep up with what was going on in the world, as after watching Erik on television, I wouldn't let myself turn one on again.
It's silly, now that I think about, how I let such a little, useless thing determine how I lived so much of my life, all because I saw the man I looked up to as a father encased in the small screen.
