It had taken him a while, but Alex finally managed to find his way back to the only place he considered to be home. A lot of things are different now than what Alex had grown accustomed to, but he supposes that was inevitable. Too many things have changed and happened in Alex's absence and walking up to the big, once glorious entrance was surreal enough to keep him grounded in reality.
What was even more surreal was knocking on the front door with the distinct lack of chatter and footsteps like there had been before this war had started. It was disheartening. Alex stood back with his luggage slung over one shoulder, waiting patiently for someone to answer the door. He didn't have much when leaving and he sure as hell had a whole lot less upon returning.
The door eventually swung open, as rusted as it's hinges were, to reveal the once proud leader of the X-Men. Alex was greeted with a small, but not entirely weak, smile that followed with a motion to gain Alex entry. Walking in through the archway left him with an oddly warm feeling despite the overdubbing heaviness in the atmosphere.
"I was hoping to see you again, Alex," Charles greets him as warmly as he can considering the circumstances.
Alex only nods because he doesn't know what to say exactly, half-expecting that Charles would have shunned him the moment he opened the door. There had been a lot of mixed signals and things were said in the past, both good and bad, that would lead Alex to believe that he wasn't welcomed here anymore. But that wasn't the kind of man Charles was. He was a forgiving man, for the most part.
"It's great to have a friend back," Charles says softly, extending a hand out to Alex as if to make his return official. Alex takes his hand and they shake briefly. "Let's hope it stays that way this time."
The remark isn't meant to mock or chastise, it's not meant for anything really, but it does strike a nerve inside of Alex. Despite his obvious effort, Charles looks and sounds like hell as if he's trying extra hard to remain optimistic about the recent turn of events. Charles isn't the only one, though. Alex had met many people like that while he was in Vietnam. Hoping for a better tomorrow.
His hair is longer than it had been before Alex left and he hasn't shaved in a while, not to mention he was wheelchair ridden again.
"Your room is the same as you left it," Charles informs Alex, prompting the young mutant to get settled in once again. Alex begins to ascend the stairs taking his leave from Charles' presence. "And Alex?"
"Yes, professor?" Alex inquires, turning around and dropping his gaze down to the foot of the staircase.
"Hank is different now," Charles warns lightly, creasing his brows in concern. Charles is more than familiar with Hank's and Alex's somewhat strained relationship. He didn't need telepathy for that. "He's moved on and he may not be as forgiving as me."
"I never expected him to be," Alex acknowledges with a latent response. Alex sighs as climbs the rest of the stairs, adding, "He has every right to be upset. We all do."
The walk to his old room is quiet, but to his surprise there are a few mutants who quietly roamed the halls, suggesting that Charles is attempting to revive what's left of the school, though none of them were familiar. Alex admires Charles' determination especially after all that's happened from Erik to Vietnam to Trask. Everybody across the world, both human and mutant alike, have been afflicted by this war and are attempting to rebuild their lives once again.
Alex was gone for too long and that looming fact was enhanced when he finally reached his room. It was the same as he had left it before he went to Vietnam, but the atmosphere wasn't as sterile as he figured it would be. Perhaps his room had been routinely cleaned or maybe someone frequently came in here just because.
Hank was the only person who came to mind on that matter and why shouldn't he? There were many nights when Hank would stay with him in his room over the night as they laid in each other's arms. Many nights in which they claimed each other's bodies, both when Hank was Beast and when he wasn't.
Alex wouldn't be surprised if Hank came in here occasionally to reclaim something of his or possibly re-live the so called glory days when everything seemed easier. Alex vaguely wondered if Hank came in here and slept in his bed from time to time, but Alex doesn't suppose Hank would. Not after everything was said and done.
He set his military issued duffle bag on his neatly made bed, watching as the dust settled and dissipated into thin air. The sunlight coming in through the window illuminated just how vacant and depressing this room now was and the occasional ominous shuffle of feet outside his door was enough to haunt anyone. Alex likes to think he'd be less depressed if there was a better vibe going on instead of being shaken to the core with melancholy.
But he knows it wouldn't make any difference. He'd still feel empty inside. Erased. The war had changed Alex in more ways than one. In ways that would constitute great concern from anyone who knew him well enough. He thought going home would do him some good and help ease the ache inside him a little, but it didn't. Not even a little when he stepped off that plane.
A new ache had formed in the pit of his core and it was one of dread and yearning. Dread that he wouldn't be able to readjust to the new world and yearning for the battlefield because it was all he knew anymore. Alex felt out of place being back in civilian life, having grown accustomed to explosion and bullets and war.
He shuts his eyes and tries not to think of those things as he breathes in the slightly stale air that consumes the space around him. Alex opts to open up the window to get some fresh air to circulate and push out all the bad vibes. Maybe that'd be enough to purify the tepid atmosphere of his vacant room.
It takes Alex couples of tries to unhinge the window until it slides free from where it sticks to the sill. He looks out over the courtyard, spying a couple sitting together on a stone bench. They're both boys from what Alex can tell and one of them looks strangely familiar. He leans out the window slightly, trying to get a better look, and stares intently at the two men laughing.
It's too far away to pick up on any major characteristics, but the laughter is as clear as day, leaving Alex to ultimately distinguish who it is. Without even registering it properly, Alex moves away from his window almost immediately and is out the door before he can stop himself. He takes long strides down the corridors and nearly trips as he races down the staircase.
He hadn't put much thought into what he was doing and by the time Alex makes it out to the courtyard, it's too late. It was Hank's laugh he heard drifting across the courtyard. A laugh he hasn't heard in such a long time that it almost sounds foreign, like a distant whisper of a memory. But the thing that unsettles Alex is the overwhelming realization of what Charles had told him.
Hank is different now. He's moved on and he won't be as forgiving.
Alex suddenly came to a stop, catching himself before he could fully reach the proximity of Hank and his silver haired counterpart. Alex wasn't familiar with the boy Hank sat with, but the way they communicated and played off of each other's body language was unmistakable, causing the blood in Alex's veins to run cold. There was no denying that these two had an obvious connection and it made Alex fume.
Their backs were facing Alex and the space between where they sat shoulder to shoulder was practically non-existent. They were so close to one another that it warranted some curiosity on Alex's part and perhaps a little bit of jealousy. Alex didn't like how this guy casually wrapped an arm around the width of Hank's shoulders or how he occasionally leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
It made his blood boil. The thought of someone else picking up the pieces Alex had inevitably left behind, only to be replaced by a feeling of inadequacy, sent him reeling with a false sense of self-worth. Had he really been gone that long? Had Hank really moved on without waiting for him to return? These thoughts, and more, have haunted Alex since before the war. Ever since his falling out with Hank and Charles.
In that moment, Hank had picked up on a scent from a distant life but deviated by the elements of war. Still, it was undeniable about who it was. Hank had an acute sense of smell and it didn't take long to notice that a third party had joined him and Peter. Alex could see how Hank visibly tensed, almost as if he was afraid to turn around, but the overwhelming curiosity got the better of him in the end.
Hank turns his whole body a fraction so he can glance sideways at the company. His blue iris gaze drifts over to the form that is Alex Summers, causing his heart to stutter to a stop before re-igniting again by the impartial and bitter taste he had left in his mouth the last time they spoke. Hank didn't appear to be elated by Alex's return, that much was obvious, but what was worse is that Hank was incomprehensible in every aspect of the word.
Peter stopped in the middle of his sentence, leaving it unfinished as his attention joined where Hank's blank gaze rested. Peter looked between Hank and Alex for a moment, assuming quickly that there was more to this than meets the eye. The way they held each other's undivided attention was uncanny and left Peter to believe that it was personal.
"Who's your friend, Hank?" Peter asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence after another long and pain shift of eyes between the two men.
"No one," Hank deadpans, neutrality turning into resentment which turned into hurt. "What are you doing here?"
"The war's over," Alex replies, letting Hank's comment wash away like he hadn't heard it. "Didn't you hear?"
"You don't belong here anymore," Hank says, casting a hard glare at Alex.
They may not officially be together, but Hank is still undoubtedly sexy when he's all red and fuming with resentment.
By this time, Hank has turned completely around to face Alex fully. Peter has kept his mouth shut throughout the duration of their exchange, knowing that this wasn't his business and to intervene would prove to be fruitless. Still, Peter was nonetheless itching to put in a word or two.
"That's not what Charles thinks," Alex states, standing his ground against his would-be lover. He can see the fire raging behind Hank's stormy eyes. "You don't have authority over me. I'm not leaving."
"Why not? It's obviously what you're best at," Hank quips, standing up abruptly and walking up to Alex to get in his face. "Running away from your problems."
"And you hide behind science and little potions," Alex mocks, taking a step closer as if to provoke the Beast.
Both men are in each other's faces with only a few inches to keep them from touching. Alex doesn't know why he's trying to provoke Hank, or start a fight for that matter, because that's the last thing he wants. Maybe it's just a habit, or perhaps a reflex from his time in Vietnam. Either way, Alex loves to see Hank on the verge of turning into the Beast.
Before everything went to hell, Hank and Alex would spend hours arguing over the smallest things, testing each other's patience to the point where it ended in sex. This, however, wasn't one of those times.
It's probably not appropriate considering where they stand, but Alex wouldn't mind taking Hank right here and now if it were truly up to him. He can see the same battle raging inside of Hank as if he's willfully restraining himself from just grabbing Alex by the face and claiming his mouth.
Alex finds himself openly staring at Hank's lips, wishing he can just lean forward and nip at them. He almost does too, that is, before Peter comes between them suddenly. Alex is knocked for a loop momentarily because the other mutant's power is something he wasn't quite expecting.
"Okay, fellas. Calm down now," Peter intervenes, placing a firm hand against both of their chests to keep them from going at one another. "I don't know what's going on, but I think we all need to just chill out and relax."
"Who the hell is this guy?" Alex asks, sparing a glance down at where the quickster rested a hand against his chest.
"Oh, I'm Peter," he quickly responds before Hank has time to come up with a smart ass remark.
"Peter?" Alex echoes with an inflection.
"Yeah?"
"Get lost," Alex threatens, swatting the quickster's hand away and giving him a solid glare of contempt.
Peter looks to Hank for a second opinion and receives a reluctant nod for him to leave them alone. Peter is a little discouraged by this, but he figures they do have a right to privacy. Peter brushes Hank's arm gently with affection, causing a surge of jealousy to rise up inside him, before speeding off in the blink of an eye.
Hank looks back at Alex, crossing his arms over his chest as if he's waiting for Alex to explain himself or do something. Alex doesn't say anything, only stares intently at Hank as he does the same. Neither man really wanted to be the first to speak, but Hank eventually took on that responsibility.
"So, what? Is he your boyfriend or something?" Alex mocks, feeling himself cringe internally at the word boyfriend.
"Screw you, Alex," Hank spits, scoffing at the accusation.
"What? I'm just curious about who you left me for," Alex says nonchalantly.
It was only meant to rattle Hank's cage a little, but the more Alex dwelled on it the more he began to feed into it.
"You left me, Charles, and Sean to fend for ourselves when we needed you the most," Hank rebukes, raising his voice to make a point and trying, in vain, to suppress his more primal instincts. "And look what happened to them."
"What are you talking about?" Alex inquires at a loss.
"Not soon after you left for Vietnam, a war of our own broke out over here," Hank begins to explain, tasting the bitterness of the memory on his tongue as he retells it. "The ones who weren't drafted stayed behind to try and defend our humanity. A lot were killed, but even more were captured and tested on."
Hank takes his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose, pinching the corners of his eyes as if he were trying to prevent tears from falling. Alex was gone for so long that he hadn't realized what he left behind or what could happen in his absence. Still, Alex didn't appreciate the way Hank made it sound.
"After Sean, Charles just-"
Hank has to stop mid-sentence to swallow past the lump forming in the pit of his throat. His emotions are in knots over the memory of Sean and how it inevitably affected the ones close to him. It made Hank furious that Alex hadn't been there or wasn't even aware that Sean was dead up until now.
"Everything fell apart and I had to pick the pieces up again and hold Charles together all by myself," Hank bit out with bitterness, voice cracking ever so slightly. He raises his head to glare at Alex with contempt, hating him for leaving and making him go through all that alone. "And where were you?"
This news of Sean, otherwise known as Banshee, wasn't entirely an eye opener. It was tragic and unfair and Alex was upset about losing his friend nonetheless, but Alex had grown so accustomed to losing his friends that it no longer warranted the right emotions anymore. All Alex could hear was Hank blaming him for something he had no control over.
"What are you trying to say? That I'm somehow responsible for Sean's death?" Alex demands, seething with anger that Hank would dare accuse him of doing so. "Don't you think I have enough on my conscience after what happened to Darwin?"
"That's not what I was implying at all," Hank asserts, getting in Alex's face once again and pointing a finger at him. "But you should've been there. If not for Sean, then for Charles' sake."
He's only a breath away and he struggles to resist the urge to kiss Alex. As much as Hank's angry with Alex, he still feels that temptation weakening him.
"Charles told me everything," Hank goes on to say. "You were never drafted, were you?"
"I had no choice," Alex murmurs, letting the regret get the better of him in the end.
"You always had a choice," Hank protests, shaking his head in disbelief. The expression on his face actually looks pained, like he's been stabbed in the back. "And you ran."
"I wanted to protect people."
Hank just laughs at him weakly, sounding as if he doesn't know whether it's a mock or a sob. Alex frowns internally at this reaction, causing him to see the fault in all his decisions up to and including now, regretting each and every one of them. Despite everything, Alex knows that Hank is right, but Alex is far too stubborn to admit it.
"Yeah, I can tell," Hank huffs with bitter sarcasm. "You did a bang up job, Alex."
Hank lets out a weak laugh again, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes before putting his glasses back on. He turns to walk away, leaving on that note to leave Alex stewing in his own self-pity. Maybe Hank hears a soft sniffle as he leaves the courtyard, but he could be mistaken. It hurts to walk away, but Hank wouldn't be able to spend another minute around Alex without caving in and forgiving him.
And that's something Alex doesn't deserve. Not yet.
"Welcome back," Hank calls out over the courtyard half-heartedly and it's bitter at best. He waves a lazy hand in the air as a gesture before disappearing into the mansion.
The words rang in Alex's head as he tried to decipher if this was genuine or just another mock. Alex never had any pretenses for a warm homecoming, but this was just depressing. Alex suddenly questioned whether or not coming back was the best idea after all. He came back for Hank more than anything, not just because he had nowhere else to go.
Things had been rocky before he left, but Alex never thought this would happen. Hank was angry, sure, and he had every right to be, but Alex could see how hard it was for Hank to keep up that façade when he wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Alex knew this because he too felt the same exact way about Hank.
Hank is different now.
He's moved on.
That, of course, was bullshit.