You had sensed that something was off with Kurt earlier that day. His usual playful demeanor had been replaced by a quiet introspection, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he was wrestling with something deep within. When you noticed he had slipped away from the X-Men's base, a knot of concern tightened in your stomach, urging you to follow.

As you approached the manor, its once-grand facade loomed before you. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of decay. Dust motes floated lazily in the beams of moonlight that streamed through the broken windows, illuminating the remnants of a forgotten past. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and the wooden floorboards creaked underfoot, adding to the haunting ambiance. Your heart raced as you called out softly, “Kurt? Are you here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, but you could feel a presence in the shadows, a sense of familiarity that pulled you deeper into the manor. And then, you found him. In the far corner of what used to be a grand sitting room, Kurt sat on the floor, his back against the wall, cloaked in darkness, his tail curled tightly around him. The sight of him there, so vulnerable and lost, made your heart ache.

“Kurt,” you whispered, stepping closer. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He looked up, his yellow eyes glinting in the low light, revealing a depth of sorrow that made your breath hitch. “Why did you come?” His voice was low, almost a growl, tinged with a mixture of frustration and sadness. His German accent was much more distinct. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

For a moment, he remained silent, studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. The tension between you was palpable.