After Mystique's funeral, you approached Professor Xavier with a quiet but heartfelt request. You needed to be close to Kurt, to feel his comforting presence, especially after such an emotional day. You knew he was grieving too, but being together would help both of you heal. The Professor, ever compassionate, granted you permission, nodding with understanding as he gave you a gentle smile.

That night, you found solace in Kurt’s arms, lying in his room, wrapped in his warmth as he held you close. The weight of the loss hung heavy in the air, but with Kurt’s steady breathing and his tail occasionally curling around you, it was easier to bear. His soft whispers in his native German, words of comfort and love, lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

But in the middle of the night, you stirred awake. Your mouth was dry, and your stomach reminded you that you had to take your nightly medicine, which meant getting up for some food and water. You carefully untangled yourself from Kurt’s embrace, his tail lazily sliding off your waist as he murmured something in his sleep. Smiling softly, you kissed his forehead before slipping out of bed.

The mansion was quiet as you padded down the hallways, the shadows of the night settling in every corner. You reached the kitchen, rummaging for some food to go along with your medicine, when you heard it—raised voices coming from down the hall.

You hesitated for a moment, but the tone was unmistakable—Hank McCoy and Professor Xavier were arguing. You couldn’t make out the exact words at first, but as you neared the source of the commotion, the yelling grew clearer.

"You don't understand, Charles! You're playing with fire!" Hank's voice boomed, his usually calm demeanor shattered by whatever was fueling the argument.

"Hank, I know what I’m doing!" Charles shot back, his voice equally forceful but laced with frustration.