**The Fragile Heart**

Prompt: The story is about a sick logan and acaring proffesor x

The snow began to fall softly outside, a gentle whisper of winter’s breath against the windowpanes of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. Inside, a different kind of silence filled the air—a somber stillness that wrapped around the walls and crept into its corners. Logan sat slumped in a chair, the familiar crackling energy of his healing factor subdued by a persistent illness that had swept through the mansion like a dark cloud. He hated being sick, and he hated feeling weak, but today was different. The fever had taken hold of him, and he was grateful for the darkness that blanketed his thoughts. Professor Charles Xavier, the telepathic leader of the X-Men and the founder of the institute, paced gently in front of Logan’s door, his brow furrowed with concern. Logan had always been the fierce protector, the Wolverine, the embodiment of strength and resilience. To see him so vulnerable tugged at Xavier’s heart, a weight he wasn’t particularly used to bearing. He had seen Logan fight countless battles, both against enemies and his own demons, but this illness, this unseen enemy, was something unlike any battle he had faced. Cautiously, Xavier entered the room. The light was dim, and the warmth of the fireplace cast flickering shadows on the wall. Logan lay on the bed, his usually vibrant blue eyes dulled by fever. Sweat matted his hair against his forehead, and he turned slightly, almost instinctively curling in on himself as if to find some solace from the pain he could not fight. "Logan," Xavier said softly, his voice soothing yet firm. "How are you feeling?" Logan cracked his eyes open, trying to focus on his mentor’s face. "Like I got hit by a truck," he rasped, his throat dry. Xavier approached with a steady grace, pulling up a chair next to the bed. "I know this is difficult, but you must fight it. You’ve overcome worse. Your healing factor will kick in soon." "Yeah, kid," Logan said, a shadow of a smirk crossing his lips. "It’s just taking its sweet time this round." Xavier’s heart ached at the sight of his friend so defeated. "You need to rest. I can get you some more water." "Water’s fine." Logan turned his head, closing his eyes. "Just… don’t fuss over me too much, Chuck." The professor chuckled softly, though it was a strained sound. "Fussing is my specialty. Besides, that is what friends do for one another." Logan swallowed hard, attempting to sit up. "I don’t want to be a burden to you or anyone." "You could never be a burden, Logan. You’ve given so much to others—now it’s your turn to accept some care in return." "Care," Logan muttered lowly, a challenge wrapped in the word. "I’m not made for that kind of thing." "But you are," Xavier insisted gently. "The very fact that you find it difficult speaks to how much you need it. Let me help you." With a resigned sigh, Logan leaned back against the pillows. Xavier rose and poured water into a glass, returning to Logan’s side. He helped lift the heavy glass to Logan's lips, the coolness a contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. Logan took slow, measured sips, grateful for the professor’s steady hands. "See?" Xavier said lightly. "Not so bad." Logan stared at him, the weary battle waging within him. There was a moment of silence, during which he noticed the weariness in Xavier’s eyes, the lines on his face deepened by worry. "You don’t have to stay here, you know." "But I want to, Logan," Xavier replied, his voice solid. "You are important to me, more than I can express in mere words. I want to be here for you, just as you’ve been there for everyone else." “Maybe someday I’ll be strong enough to take care of myself again,” Logan murmured, the words tinged with vulnerability that he normally kept locked away. Xavier leaned forward, a sense of urgency filling his voice. “You don’t have to wait for that day, Logan. You can lean on me now. Let me be here for you, just as you have always been here for us.” Logan closed his eyes again, the tension in his muscles easing slightly under Xavier’s unwavering gaze. Moments passed, marked only by the crackle of the fireplace and the soft pattering of snow against the window. “You know,” Logan finally said, his voice quiet, “I thought I’d seen everything—fought everything. But lying here like this… it’s a different kind of battle.” Xavier’s heart swelled with compassion. “Strength is found in many forms, Logan. Taking the time to heal is just as courageous as charging into battle. Allowing others to help you, to stand by you—that’s a strength not everyone possesses.” “Guess I never thought of it that way,” Logan admitted, a flicker of gratitude shining through the weariness. As the hours passed, Xavier remained a calm presence in the dim light, reading quietly or simply sitting in reflective silence. The temperature in the room settled, and gradually, Logan’s fever began to break. “Feel a little better?” Xavier asked, smiling as Logan’s eyes fluttered open again, the previous dullness replaced by hints of his usual fire. “Like I’ve survived a tornado,” Logan chuckled weakly, a spark of his old self returning. “Good,” Xavier said, relief washing over him. “Now, let’s talk about watching some of those classic westerns you love. That should keep your spirits up, right?” Logan grinned, the full force of it somehow illuminating the room. “You know I’d love that.” “Then let’s see if I can conjure up a little magic of my own,” Xavier replied, his heart lighter than it had been when he first entered the room. In that fragile moment, a bond forged in years of shared struggle deepened; just as Xavier had been a beacon of hope for the students, Logan learned it was okay to let the light shine in, reminding him that sometimes strength lies in the willingness to be cared for.