Kurt curled up in his bed. He didn't bother about the covers. He wasn't going to sleep anyway. There was an odd number of boys in the mansion, so lucky him, he had his own room, and right now, he was grateful for it. He needed the privacy. He just couldn't keep this act up without a little down time every now and then.
Not that his cheeriness was an act, of course. No, Kurt Wagner was a genuinely happy person, but lately, it had been coming in waves. He would feel desperately sad, and he knew why. Everything kept reminding him of what he didn't have. At least, what he used to have.
It had started in October, when the anniversary came. One year. Just one year ago, his whole life was shattered. Now, he was having nightmares again, reliving everything that happened, everything. Sometimes, he even woke up crying, but would quickly hush himself lest someone with sensitive ears heard his nocturnal whimpers.
Kurt had started to move past it some, but then it was his birthday. Another year without his family. No cake, no gifts, no well-wishes, at least not from his mother, brother, or sister, and certainly not from any member of his circus family. Sure, he got all of those things from the other students and teachers here at Xavier's, but they couldn't replace the gaping hole in his heart where his family had fit.
Not long after his birthday came Thanksgiving, which he had never celebrated before, being European, but the holiday really seemed to center on family and togetherness. He'd had a lot to be thankful for over the past year: he was alive; he had a home, and a good one too - a mansion, with other people like himself; he had friends, people so close to him that he considered them family; he was getting an education, one of which the quality he had never dreamed; he had all the food he could want; a warm bed; clean clothes; a bathroom; and daily showers. People don't realize what luxuries those things are until they are gone.
He was thankful.
Now, it was Christmas. Again, he should be thankful. Last Christmas, he was curled up in a cage, not a warm bed. He had been drugged and mistreated, humiliated for all to see. It had been horribly lonely and cold. He hadn't had a decent meal since he left home in October. He also hadn't had a real bath since then, either. In order to keep his fur from becoming to disgusting to display, the circus workers occasionally took him out of his cage and bathed him with cold water from a hose, merely washing the filth that clung to his fur instead of removing it, and then threw him back into his prison. It was miserable.
But those horrors, even the atrocities he encountered in Stryker's base at Alkali Lake, were not what was plaguing him now. He was so terribly homesick it hurt. He could feel it in his chest. He wanted to curl up next to his mother, have her stroke his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that this all had just been a bad dream, just like she used to do when he was little. He wanted to tease Jimaine and make her laugh like he used to. He wanted to play with Stefan: have races, climb trees, and arm wrestle, but he couldn't do those things anymore. His family was gone, and he was never going to get them back.
Stefan was dead.
His family hated him.
Kurt had been trying to hold back the tears threatening to flow, but they slid out of his closed eyelids and pooled on his pillow, leaving dark streaks on his fur. He opened his mouth in a silent cry, finally breaking down the barrier and allowing himself to feel it all: the anguish, the hatred, the betrayal and abandonment, the loneliness, the desolation, the humiliation. The loss. Everything.
Sobs wracked his whole body. He fought to keep quiet. He didn't want anyone to hear him cry.
No one in the mansion even knew he cried. He did his best to keep it to a minimum, always staving off the tears or calming himself quickly when they prevailed. It didn't happen often. No one ever thought Kurt Wagner was anything but happy.
He should be happy. Those things were in the past. Life was better now. He shouldn't be feeling this way.
But, oh, more feelings poured forth now that he had finally stopped trying. More betrayal, more hurt, more abandonment and hatred. He'd dreamed his whole life of meeting his birth mother. He always imagined she was a gorgeous woman, perhaps giving him up for some romantically tragic reason. The story Mama always told matched right up with the deluded wish of an orphaned child.
She had abandoned him too. Tried to kill him. Even with her own strange appearance, his was too much. He was too much of a burden.
Which was exactly how he had been for Mama: eating her food, taking her time and effort, making her spend money to clothe and care for him. And for what? So he could kill her only son? He hoped Jardine at least paid her for him. She deserved some compensation for having to put up with him. He didn't know if she got it.
But why should he be surprised that Mama had given him up? His own birth mother, mutated as she may have been, didn't want him either.
Was it his looks? He didn't know, but he did know he didn't want to change them. If he were honest with himself, he was scared of what life would be like if he looked normal. What would he do without his tail? It sounded silly, but the idea of looking normal was strangely terrifying. He would lose himself. He wouldn't know who he was anymore, wouldn't recognize himself.
He just wanted someone to care about him despite his looks, or better yet, for his appearance not to even be an issue. He wanted someone to love him. Could it ever be possible? Even here, at Xavier's, surrounded by mutants, could he ever be truly accepted? If his mother and adoptive mother had both given him up, how could he expect anyone else not to? What would he have to do in order for Professor Xavier to show him the door? Or would he simply grow tired of the ugly orphan boy too?
Whatever it was, whatever had pushed Mama to the breaking point, Kurt wondered if she ever really loved him. All of those times she held him, dried his tears, praised him, and made him truly feel special, was it really love? He sometimes felt maybe she loved Jimaine and Stefan more than him. They were after all, her children, her real children, and normal. He was just a moneymaker, an attraction. She'd even dressed him up in a devil costume, even though she knew how he felt about his appearance being likened to a demon.
Kurt curled up tighter, as if somehow that would make the pain stop. He couldn't see past the present, and he felt he would die of sadness. He needed help, but he couldn't think straight enough to form the words to pray. Really, he just wanted his mother.
"Hey Kurt, can you believe what Bobby said about me? He said…" Kitty phased through the door without knocking, but her voice trailed off when she saw her best friend. Something was wrong.
Kurt jolted upright when he heard Kitty's voice. He couldn't let her see him like this. He turned his head and took a few deep breaths.
"Kurt, are you okay?" Kitty asked hesitantly. She stayed right by the door, not knowing what to do.
Kurt took a deep breath before replying and wiped his eyes. "Ja, Kätzchen. I'm fine. Could you just leave me alone for a bit, please?"
Kitty noticed how Kurt's voice shook when he spoke. She dared venture a step closer. "What's wrong?"
Kurt shook his head, still not turning to look at her. He held his breath trying to control the spasms in his diaphragm, then let it out in a slow, controlled manner. "Nothing. I'm fine."
Kitty wouldn't be deterred. Her friend needed her. Goodness knew how many times Kurt had sat and comforted her when she cried. Homesickness, boy troubles, absolutely anything, he always sat and listened for as long as she needed him. It was high time she returned the favor. She moved towards his side. "Obviously not. Something's wrong. Come on, spill. You can tell me about it."
Again, Kurt shook his head. "Kitty, please, can you just leave me alone? Please?"
He sounded so pitiful. He wouldn't even look at her. Full of sympathy, Kitty sat down next to him and hugged him.
That did him in. Kurt fought the sobs fighting to erupt from his chest. He fought valiantly, but he failed, breaking down once more, and this time, giving voice to those agonizing cries, but he still didn't turn to face Kitty. He was too ashamed, not just of crying in front of her, but of everything that had happened to him. He was ashamed of the reasons behind his tears.
Kitty nearly started crying herself. She had no clue what was making Kurt hurt so badly, but it must have been absolutely horrible. The sounds coming from him were pitiful and heartbreaking. It hurt just to listen to him. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, holding him, and laid her head on his shoulder.
He wanted to return Kitty's embrace, but he just couldn't. He couldn't face her. Not like this. He had to stop this now, but it was so hard. He was consumed with the worry that he wouldn't be able to stop. He'd cry and make a fool of himself and then tell her everything. He couldn't, but what if he lost control and did? His muscles tensed; he was about to teleport, but he didn't want to. Instead, he fought the feelings of helplessness, telling himself over and over that he could control this urge. He willed himself not to disappear, and there he remained.
Kitty started softly stroking Kurt's back, trying to calm him. She worried he would teleport away, like he so often did when his mask slipped and he couldn't manage to get it back in place fast enough, when he wasn't feeling his best. It was hard to catch, but there were a few times that she had seen it. Most of the time, he pushed through the pain and stayed positive. It was admirable, but sometimes, she could tell it was forced. Still, she knew it wasn't always an act, but sometimes, even the most positive people have bad days. Kurt tried to pretend he didn't. "Shhhh. Calm down, Fuzzy Elf. It'll all be okay." She cooed, hoping it would be okay.
Kurt managed to curl up, bringing his knees to his chin and dropping his head so he was sitting in a tight ball. He buried his face on his knees and covered whatever else was showing with his arms. It was just too much. He knew he was going to say something, and he was scared of what is was going to be.
Kitty kept rubbing his back, ever so gently. "What's wrong, Kurt? You can talk to me." Seeing him like this, it broke her heart. It hurt way more than she could have imagined. Something was terribly wrong and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she could even help her best friend.
"Ich möchte meiner Mama." Kurt sobbed. Well, he'd said something, but at least he'd said it in German.
Kitty could barely make out what Kurt said, but it sounded like it was in German. Had he said mama? Had she misheard? "Okay. Can you say it in English now?" She tried to be soothing, but she had no clue if she was succeeding.
Kurt shook his head.
Oftentimes, Kitty knew, when Kurt didn't want to lie, but also didn't want to tell the truth, he would say it in German. There was a chance that if she could remember what it was, she could try to look it up later. "Okay, that's fine. Can you just say it again?"
Kurt, however, was privy to her tricks and switched languages. "Je veux que ma Mère." He now had two languages left.
Great. That was… French? Maybe she could ask Remy? If she remembered that and could pronounce it. "Kurt, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. In English, please."
"I don't…don't need your h-help." He choked out.
Kitty had to strain to hear him, as his head was buried beneath his arms and voice muffled by his knees. "Look, I'm worried about you. Let me help you. Something's wrong. You don't have to go through it alone."
"Y-yes, I do." Kurt whimpered.
"Why?" Kitty asked, heart breaking.
Kurt shook his head. He couldn't tell her why. At least he had managed to stop sobbing, though the tears were still coming. He lifted his head and took long, deep breaths, working to calm himself. He could do this. He would do this.
Kitty sat with him in silence, letting her presence be comfort. He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at her. She couldn't see much of his face, as he was leaning forward, feet resting on the edge of the bed and arms propped up on his knees.
"I'm okay now, Kätzchen. Danke." Kurt said, voice finally steady.
Kitty was still holding onto him, still rubbing his back. "Are you sure, Kurt? You wanna talk about it?"
Kurt shook his head. "No. I'm fine. Th-thank you for your kindness." He couldn't help the hitch in his breathing.
Kitty got a glimpse of tear-soaked fur on his face. He most definitely wasn't fine. She knew he was trying to dismiss her, but she wouldn't leave. He needed her, and she was going to be there for him. She hugged him tightly and laid her head down on his shoulder once more.
He drew an uneven breath. Why wouldn't she leave? She was just making things worse. What he really needed was some time to himself, to get his head together. Her kindness just made him hurt more. Couldn't she see that?
Kitty noticed he was fighting tears again. Maybe she should go get one of the teachers? Or even the Professor? Someone needed to come help Kurt. He wasn't in good shape, here.
Kurt decided to take a risk and finally turned to look at Kitty. His normally bright, golden eyes shone with unshed tears and were red-rimmed; his face was darkened with streaks of wet, matted fur.
"Can you please not tell anyone about this?" He asked softly.
Kitty felt she should tell someone, an adult most likely, but nodded anyway.
"Thank you."
Kitty just squeezed him tighter, acknowledging his thanks. She didn't know if she should stay or go now. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."
He seemed so tired, so weary. Kitty decided to take a risk and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Okay. Merry Christmas, Kurt."
Kurt's eyes widened with the kiss. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck and burn his cheeks and ears, and he became very aware of the new purple hue the tips of his ears had taken on. "H-happy Hanukkah, Kitty."
Kitty smiled and left him alone, silently phasing through the heavy oak door.
Kurt's hand absently moved to his cheek, where Kitty had kissed him. How strange. Such an event required further thought, but he was exhausted, so let himself fall over onto his bed and closed his eyes, pulling his blankets tightly around himself, and curled up into a tight ball. Within minutes, he was asleep.