Regenerate | X-Men/Avengers - Pt. 1

Ch. 18

The floor squeaks under his shoes. "Oh jeez, for my sake, don't tell---"

"I'm doing this for your sake." I turn down the hall toward Xavier's office. "That man should be nowhere near this school."

Vince grabs me by the arm. "Okay, okay. I'll tell him."

"Fine," I point, "there's his office, go tell him."

He swallows and opens his mouth to say why he can't right now, then closes it again. He looks at the door. He just asked me to come in.

I gnaw on my lip. Just tell the truth.

Wind spatters rain against the third-story window. I bounce my knee as I watch the clock. I don't know him, this kid who I've been talking to for a year. Instinct tells me to run, to push him away. You were safer not making any relationships at all. Matt pestered me before about my feelings for Vince, trying to convince me I like him more than I pretend. I brushed him off and told myself I didn't care. But you're supposed to care about a friend, and that's where I went wrong, making a friend.

---

Vince stands in the doorway for the second time tonight glowering at the small man at the center of the room, the light from a spindly floor lamp reflecting off his bald head. "Yeah, what?"

Xavier does not respond. His pen scratches over his deskwork. Vince remains standing idly.

"You aren't a stupid boy, Vincent." He continues writing. "You are in fact, a very clever young man."

Vince scoffs aloud, then blushes. Xavier merely glances at him. "As a telepath, you should know whether or not someone is being honest when they tell you that."

The boy slouches, hiding his hands in his pockets and running his tongue over his teeth.

"As a human, it's entirely up to you to decide whether or not to put faith in that opinion." He continues to write even as Vince's thoughts pinball about the room- painful, mislead thoughts. Xavier bites back his anger. Not at the boy, this is not his fault. Neither was it John's fault.

Xavier looks up to an empty room. He sent the boy away minutes ago. The grandfather clock ticks dutifully in the corner, counting down, always, till the next hour.

Vince slams the door to his bedroom, curses at it, then notices her. She appears sitting cross-legged on his bed, elbows resting on her knees, hands cradled, his notebook lying beside her. "What the hell?"

She looks surprised until he snatches the notebook away. "I never touched it."

"Get out."

Her jaw clenches. "Don't turn on me."

"No, just get out." He gestures angrily at the door.

"I just wanted to talk."

Vince holds her gaze for a moment, trying to cool off. "There's nothing to talk about, what do you want to talk about, there's nothing to talk about."

She turns her head to the side. "How did he react?"

His nostrils flare. He drops the notebook on his desk. "I don't know, pissed? He was quiet."

"Was he...well, what did he say?"

"Ace." He runs both hands through his hair and hides behind his elbows. Maybe if he can't see her, this won't be so hard. "I don't know." When he removes his arms she's still there, her gaze sharp. "What? Please, please, I don't need you mad at me too."