A/N: A short ficlet I wrote a while back, so I'm not too excited about it. But here it is.
Knitting. A nice little pastime that most wouldn't attribute to belong to a telepathic male mutant, but that was Charles' coping method. Day after day he would sit in his wheelchair, with a needle and string, away in his own little world.
After time, everyone in the mansion could feel his presence in the back of their minds less and less. Most understood, because, of course, the Professor had just been deserted by the love of his life. Whatever coping method kept him from breaking down and going utterly mad was a good one. But he was slowly disappearing.
Raven missed the happy feelings her brother always brought when they spent time together. She decided to creep into his room one day and take a peek at his knitting progress. Charles and knitting, the only thing that was left of him. The minor padding sounds her feet made on the floor could have made his head turn to her direction, had it been a few months before when Erik was still here and he was glowing from happiness almost constantly. Today, he could never sense her presence. He could never sense anyone's presence anymore.
She finally made it to the doorway, and squinted her eyes.
I thought Erik left. The tall man in a pink and purple cape stood towering above his friend in a wheelchair, casting an almost eerie shadow. His presence was surreal. Charles was hastily eating… yes, devouring his new magenta, knitted project. Erik ruffled his hair. "Charles, I am not made of string. You can stop trying to eat me now."
The telepath drunkenly smiled up at him, soppy and absent-minded with his mouth full. "Sgiafffdufghgag".