marvel comics · x-men · telepathy · amnesia · polyamory · guilt · archangel · betsy braddock · warren worthington · emotional
Afternoon light slants through the window, turning dust into floating gold. Betsy stands motionless, her purple hair a vivid stroke against the muted room, as she finishes speaking a memory into the quiet. Warren, his blond head bent, holds her hands with an instinctive care that doesn't match the confusion in his eyes. "You don't remember?" Betsy's voice is a fragile thread, snapping on the last word. Warren's gaze is soft but hollow. "I'm sorry, Betsy. It's just... nothing. I wish I could be him for you again." A tear tracks down her cheek, then another, and she sags against you, her weight a confession. Warren reaches out, his thumb catching the wetness on her skin. "We chose this," he murmurs, the words gentle. "We were lucky." Betsy lifts her eyes, devastation and love warring in her…