cir:
He watches him, and this is where the threat begins.
Parker’s animated, all of him. His hands close then open, fist up then pan out. His eyes grow then scowl, focus then relax onto something else in their distance. He talks with his words, but they are a fraction of the language of him; his body holds most of the conversation, as it changes in between his syllables.
And in his thoughts, Parker draws the scenes out for him: introduces him to his mother, showcases the bank emptied and a mess, and even paints him a detailed replica of his cousin’s face trying to get himself off the floor after his fall. In Parker’s mind, amidst these memories, Xavier stands always a foot behind, just watching — but always watching Parker, and the way he responds to the world around him.
The intent of his gaze was obvious, and he needed to stop before it became of anything more.
“Of course.”
He listens with attention, and never cuts him off. He waits another second to allow him every period to his sentences, and another second in case there is the start of another. Only when Parker looks for his eyes, is when he responds.
“Are you sure that control is all you’re missing to be able to do good?” This was the lesson Blythe had left him with; a notion he was still struggling to understand even in his absence. There was the question of intent again, and where it was placed, along with how much of it. He had always known too great of intent would burn things down — what he didn’t mean was to turn Blythe into a forest fire.
“Does it not scare you?”
The question is asked with pure curiosity. It is a query to himself, because there is so much of Xavier’s youth in Parker. It’s in his eyes, and the ambition that lies there — and Xavier knows far too well how this goes. “The power. The possibilities of it.” If Parker pays close attention, he’d see the slightest of tremble in Xavier’s hands, and the wavering of his gaze.
“I know of not much, Parker. As much as I would love to know it all.” There is a smile that lifts onto his face, but it’s out of place. “But if there is one thing I can be sure of at least in this — in our universe, Parker, it’s that…”
“Nothing is ever obvious.”
He’s starting to feel a little self conscious and nervous again with the way Xavier can say so little and yet so much at the same time. Xavier speaks and his words are concise— he doesn’t talk in jumbled up rambling like Parker does and for a minute he worries he probably thinks he’s too childish for this life.
“Oh, trust me. I’m always scared but being scared usually means you care, right?” Parker lets out a breath of air that’s a cross between a huff and an humorless laugh. “I’d rather do it afraid then be cocky and lose what little bit that makes me human.” There’s an irony in those words that he’s just spoken. Human. Something he’ll come to question if he can even call himself that in the future but for now he is blissfully unaware and shrugs. “I used to be picked on and bullied so I’m no stranger to fear but the thing is you kinda learn to live with it? I don’t know, I’ve learned how to coexist with it. The fear, I mean.”
Parker doesn’t notice the tremble in Xavier’s hands because he’s too busy holding Xavier’s gaze before he finally looks off.
A thoughtful silence falls between them before he finally confesses. “I didn’t ask for this— any of this.” Park lifts his open palms up, turns them over, then closes them. Lifelessly, he lets them drop into his lap. Now he’s slightly less animated but he continues to sit up straight and his eyes go a little sad. “I’ve learned the hard way that not using your powers can sometimes be as harmful, if not worse than using them at all.” He’s thinking about his uncle at this point and he shakes his head because he can’t let himself go fall into that pit. “When bad things happen and I don’t stop them then.... it’s my fault isn’t it?”
“I suppose the other missing factor if not control then.... love?” Parker speaks the word hesitantly but it’s the only answer he can come up to the riddle Xavier has presented him with. “And compassion?”
He scratches his head because this certainly wasn’t how he thought the direction the conversation would go but here they are. “I don’t know... why do you ask?”
