fade away.

five.

. chapter five

It was a beautiful day. The sky was breathtaking, the earthly smells swam in her mind, and the cool breeze calmed her warm skin. It was odd that today was actually wonderful, because almost everyday after her mother died it had been dreary weather all day long. It was strange witnessing such a thing.

It's been a full week since August's mother faded away, and she felt that her father was next. Only, he wasn't physically leaving her, unlike her mother. His mind was losing a battle it produced on its own, and August could do nothing but sit and watch him slowly fall apart.

She rubbed the blades of grass between her fingers. Her focus was on something other than her parents, because she wanted her mood to match the weather for once. August hated the sadness that still echoed in the corridors of her house. She could barely call it a home anymore. It resembled more like a prison to her, and her father was the stern gatekeeper that always glared you down.

"August!" her father shouted, his head poking out of his bedroom window, where he usually stayed nowadays. "I do not recall giving you permission to go outside on the lawn!"

August hurriedly stood up on her feet, her knees wobbly as she stared up at him in fear, and a tad bit of anger as well. What ever happened to calling her chéri? Or smiling warmly at her in the early morning, right before kissing the crown of her head? She would never know that man again. He died along with August's mother. He wasn't her father anymore. He was her worst nightmare.

August jolted awake, the memories of the lashes and the scornful looks she received from her father still plagued behind her eyelids. They all made her shiver. He was a hateful man. August couldn't help but be afraid whenever he would look at her, or be upset with her. She couldn't even imagine a quarrel with him. She could picture the flames inside his eyes as he would hit her, claiming that he was doing her good, giving her something she deserved. He broke his promise.

Perhaps that is a reason why August felt so vulnerable when Charles ridiculed her last night. He reminded her of her father, and that is a place she never wishes to return to.

Then, there was a knock at the door. She was unsure whether to tell them to come in, or get up and answer them that way. She settles with a mutter, and the door slowly creaks open.

August couldn't make out a figure, because the candle by her bedside wasn't lit, and the only light on the wall wasn't turned on. Their silhouette shifts as they close the large door, standing there as still as possible.

"Yes?" August called out, becoming irritated that the person hasn't uttered a single word despite being in here for a span of two minutes.

"You were having a nightmare."

The familiar accent could never be mistaken. Charles had a unique sort of accent that August could never compare to anyone else's. She has never heard a British accent in person before, but if they sounded the way Charles' did, she wouldn't mind listening to it all day long.

"How do you know that?"

Charles comes to her bedside, taking the chair from the desk on his way. He placed it next to her, reaching over to light the candle. Once it was lit, the glow illuminated his features greatly. His crystal blue eyes reflected the candle perfectly, making them glimmer. He was dressed in his nightwear, with a robe hanging on his shoulders. It reminded August about how cold she was.

"Your thoughts aren't exactly the most quiet," he whispered, staring at her as she stared right back at him.

August looked down though, breaking the eye contact. She realized how Charles can read minds, now. It's not willingly, but he just hears them around him. "I apologize. Have I kept you up?"

Charles shook his head, but didn't say a word that answered her question. Instead, he brought up a new topic.

"Your father," he muttered, playing with his fingers, "why do you still fear him?"

August sighed. "I'm scarred because of him. I could never be that naïve little girl with the perfect life, not after what happened with my mother. Everything in my life goes downhill, and you just have to accept that."

Charles grunted, lifting his eyes away from his fingers to stare at August. "I can't accept that he hurt you, August. You have become a friend of mine, whether or not you think of me the same. I couldn't bare to see you hurt."

"You already have, though," August insisted. "You've seen me hurt, because that's how I am every day of my life. I'm always going to be hurt, can't you see?"

Charles took hold of August's hand, gripping tightly. Though he has no idea where the sudden courage came from. "As long as you're here, I promise to make sure that there won't be a passing day where you don't smile a real smile."

"You can't promise me something like that."

"Of course I can," he protested. "Because I care about you, August."

August just shook her head. "No, no you don't."

Charles scrunched his eyebrows together, making an adorable confused look. His blue eyes reflected the gentle and warm flame of the candle, and it made August feel content inside. But something still stirred.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Charles questioned, his hand still clasped around hers.

"You can't care for me," she explained, closing her eyes in frustration. "Everyone that has ever cared for me has left me. My mother, my father... I don't want you caring for me. I will do anything if it means that you will not fall into that hurtful state of loss that you'll be in when I am gone."

Charles sighed, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into her hand. It chilled her to the bone. "You are a friend, August Moran. You aren't going to leave, because you know you need this. You are afraid, but we can help you if you let us."

"Don't you see, Professor?" August whispered harshly, her green eyes glaring daggers. "After this is all over, after everyone has done their part, what will we do? We can't just stay here forever. Sean and Alex, they're so young and have so much to accomplish. Darwin and Angel, they can follow their dreams, whatever they may be. And what about Hank and Raven? You can't possibly force them to stay, just like you can't force me. You cannot choose what stays in your life and what fades away."

"What, like how you couldn't when your mother died?" Charles snapped, his eyes filling with rage. "Or when your father left you all alone? Or when you hurt yourself because you thought that you were done; when life was worthless? You think you're so wise because your parents abandoned you, without any explanation as to what the hell happened. You can't always be the strong one, August."

August stared at him, tears well on their way down her hollow cheeks. There was so much she wished he didn't know, and it's everything that's happened to her. Charles just insulted her. How could she possibly stay after what he's done?

She averted her gaze, looking wide-eyed down at the blanket in her lap in order to stop the tears, though her actions were done in vain.

"How dare you?" August whispered, not even blinking as she muttered the words.

Charles's muscles loosened slightly, suddenly aware of the mistake he committed. "August, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"I shouldn't have come with you," she mumbled. "That was a terrible mistake. I should've declined while I had the chance. I don't need you, just like you don't need me. I'm worthless, not even wise. I won't and never will be a mutant, so I can't help you. I would like to go home now, please. Right now."