charlesfrancisxavieristhename:
Charles didn’t know what to do anymore. He was staying in his apartment at all times, unless he had a class to teach. Even then, he was lacking. It was like he wasn’t even there. He had always promised to never be the professor that never talked at his students, but only to them. Obviously his state of depression was quite serious, but he was convinced he’d eventually kick it. Just not today. He simply laid on his couch night after night, staring at nothing, reading nothing, only thinking. He would occasionally glance at his cellphone that rested against the coffee table, but rarely replied unless it was someone he cared about. His break up was affecting him more then he ever imagined.
Her head hurt /amazingly/. Whomever it was out there broadcasting, night after night, they really needed to be jerked up short. She’d tried everything she knew to get some relief, and nothing was working — not painkillers, not her strongest shields, not flying out to an empty rock and flaming up at the sky for an hour. Last night she had almost bitten her tongue trying to suppress the convulsions.
It actually wasn’t that hard to localise the source: another one of New York’s many apartments. One hand to her temple (as if that was going to make a difference), Summer lifted the other to bang on the door.