Oliver felt terrible. That nagging little voice in his head, the cold feeling in the pit of stomach, electricity shooting up and down his back making him edgy and scared. He shouldn't invade Kurt's privacy. Especially on the word of a guy like Azazel. But then again he only knew about Azazel because he had been reading something he wasn't supposed to. And what did it hurt? He knew so much now and Hank never found out he went snooping on his computer. In fact Hank would applaud his pursuit of knowledge. He always felt like everyone at the institute was keeping things from him. His father told him everything, full disclosure so he was never unprepared - granted somethings he should've kept to himself. He needed to know this. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he wasn't ashamed to admit that. If he ended up finding nothing then he could rest easy.

He had been to Kurt's room before. To return DVDs or a video game he borrowed. He had a nice bay window with a padded seat - they'd play cards there sometimes and if he felt so inclined he'd spend the afternoon there doing his homework. Kurt didn't have a roommate so there was no chance they'd walk in on him. And he was currently more than two miles away - on a mission investigating something about a mutant cure. Oliver briefly wondered if Kurt would take it if it were true. He had caught the older man 'contemplating his naval' a few times while staring at his hands. Oliver thought it was foolish, even more so now that he was staring at a picture Kurt had on the wall of him and Logan out by the pool. "He's so handsome already." Oliver shrugged. He couldn't imagine Kurt with pale skin and no tail - it just wouldn't suit him.

Oliver tried not to get sidetracked as he walked around the room. Kurt's scent was so strong here. His soap and shampoo mixed with the smokey smell from his teleporting. Plus something else that Oliver assumed was his natural smell. Warm and inviting. Like the hottest of summer days - even though you sweat it feels damn good to be in the heat. It saturated everything. Oliver bit his knuckle as he looked at Kurt's neatly made bed - desperately resisting the urge to bury his face in his pillow. He was here for a reason. The book. He opened the bottom drawer and moved the clothes aside. He took out the already messy piles of shirts just to make sure - there was nothing there. Azazel had lied.

Oliver put the clothes back in and shut the drawer. He was about to leave when a thought struck him. He found himself checking the other two drawers as well. His heart stopped when he found the leather bound book in the top slot. He looked around as he picked it up. It wasn't so dissimilar to his bible which sat on his nightstand with a handful of change and a clock radio. Oliver wasted no time opening it to see what was inside.

It was a journal. Nothing as elaborate as the notes Hank took and catalogued on every event in his life. It was little doodles, important dates, birthdays he wanted to remember. As Oliver flipped through he noticed there were a few lengthy entries. His first encounter with his mother. His confusion over his family history. Excruciatingly detailed passages about a woman he was in love with. Oliver tried not to tear it up out of sheer jealousy. It was so beautifully written - the way he described having sex with her— Oliver skipped ahead. He wrote about his anxieties and insecurities and Oliver found they were so much alike. It was like someone had written down what was in his own mind when he looked at 'normal' people. But Kurt's self loathing was so fleeting - it was evident in how confident he was that despite the people who didn't like him he loved the way he looked.

When he finally reached the entrees about him, Oliver's gut clenched. Kurt described him as sweet and endearing. But in the same paragraph called him deeply troubled. That he was having a difficult time trusting him after their first incident in the gym. How he thought Oliver was confused about his sexuality - how he sought out Jean-Paul simply because he craved the approval of older men. How the abuse at the hands of his father often made him a victim of more abuse. How emotionally stunted he was. He was unsure about Oliver getting closer to Logan or anyone else because of his violent tendencies. How sometimes he wished Ororoe had picked someone else to be his handler.

"Handler?"

"Oliver!" Kurt said as he came in the room. "What a pleasant surprise…" He trailed off when he realized what Oliver was reading. Oliver had never seen his face darken like that - he was glaring, his body language shifted and he went on the offensive. He was across the room in three steps. Oliver flinched when he snatched the book out of his hands. "Sie wagen! What do you think you're doing?!" Kurt bared his teeth and Oliver's mind snapped over to attack.

"Finding out what you actually think of me." Oliver said before he shoved Kurt back. "How can you be so cruel—"

"Private thoughts! These are extremely private thoughts, Oliver. Do you not know the meaning of boundaries? It falls along the lines of 'inappropriate' - which this very much is. You're invading my privacy and you've got the nerve to be angry with me!"

"You invade mine every day! Plying me for information on my father. Never giving me a moments peace - always checking on me like I'm going to start slitting throats the second you leave me alone. Well now I know why! You are such a liar! You are not my friend - the only reason you spoke to me at all is because you're being ordered to. Well I don't need you 'handling' me anymore!"

"Well that's good because right now I just don't even want to look at you. Get out!" Kurt yelled as he pointed to the door. When Oliver stomped towards it he was mortified to see their argument had attracted a crowd in the hall. They parted to let him through. He made his way back to his room and got his hoodie.

"Hey man, are you okay?" Anole asked when he noticed how rushed and jerky his movements were.

"This place sucks. Jean-Paul sucks, Kurt sucks, classes suck! You think they're trying to help you but they are just watching you to make sure you don't fuck up!" Oliver fumed. "I'm getting out of here before they lock me in a cage and ship me off. If you have a brain in your head I suggest you do the same." He flung the window open and climbed out leaving Anole bewildered in their room. Instead of going down he went up to the roof. Oliver suddenly felt like someone had sunk a knife into his chest. Jagged ridges ripping him apart from the inside. He fell to his knees and tried to keep his lips from quivering but there was no stopping it this time.

His father let him cry once in his presence. When he got tired of Oliver's blubbering he had back handed him, told him to suck it up or he wouldn't stop hitting him. After three more smacks and punch to the gut Oliver pulled himself together and hadn't cried since that day. As he sat there alone of the roof he couldn't stop himself. Years of suppressing his sadness and fears came flooding out of him. He was alone. So alone he didn't even have his father anymore. The thought of actually wanting his father around made him even sadder. Victor was the reason he was this way. The reason Kurt didn't trust him and why nobody wanted anything to do with him. He had always wanted to interact with more people but now he couldn't bare the throught of how they looked at him. Silently judging and fearing him all the while smiling to his face. Xavier wanted him to explore who he really was and the sad truth was that all he really was…

"Nothing. I'm nothing. All I know is how to kill. There is nothing else inside me."

"You don't believe that do you?" He jumped when he heard someone up there with him. Azazel stepped out of the shadow on the chimney stack. He pouted when he saw the tears streaming down Oliver's face. He teleported closer and reached to wipe them away.

"What do you want?" Oliver asked as he batted his hand away.

"I told you - I want to help you. I can y'know. In ways they never could." Azazel said.

"Yeah you helped me alright!" Oliver snapped. "I read that stupid book of his. He hates me now! And I hate him! Are you happy!?"

"A little." Azazel confessed. Oliver couldn't stop himself - his fist was connecting with Azazel's face before the other man could dodge it. But instead of hitting back Azazel just laughed. "I'm happier now."

"Just get away from me."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Azazel asked. Oliver snorted - now he knew where Kurt got that trait from - insistent, pestilential optimism. It was like the two of them didn't know the meaning of the word 'leave'. "You were looking for a way out just five minutes ago - contemplating your next move, where you could possibly run to to escape your latest string of mistakes. Somewhere mutant haters wouldn't find you… somewhere your father wouldn't find you… somewhere these judgmental jerks can't follow." Oliver looked at him.

"Why would you do that for me?"

"Because unlike the rest of these simpletons I see your full potential."

"As a killer?"

"As what ever you want to be." Azazel shrugged. He reached out his hand and Oliver eyed him for a minute.

"Oliver!?" He jumped when Kurt teleported on to the roof. He panicked - Kurt still sounded angry. "Oliver I want to talk to you—" He stopped short seeing Azazel there. "Get away from him!" When he jumped towards them Oliver grabbed Azazel. As soon as he made contact Azazel smirked.

"Too late." He taunted Kurt as they ported away. Kurt landed in the smoke he left behind.

"Look here, tell me what you see." Azazel said as he positioned Oliver in front of a mirror.

"Myself and some red dork." Oliver snorted.

"So charming. It's hard to believe you have no friends." He retorted.

"I had Kurt as a friend until you tricked me into betraying him. I got so worked up that I screamed at Anole so he probably hates me too."

"But now you know that's not true, don't you? Kurt wasn't your friend - it was his 'job' to talk to you."

"I guess."

"Want to get back at him?" Azazel asked as he put his hand under Oliver's chin and tilted his head up.

"Yes, now take me back so I can collect enough scorpions to put in his bed." He jumped when Azazel laughed. It was so deep and there was a dark rumble behind it.

"You are a mean little one aren't you?" He asked. "Got that nasty streak from your father. While I would love to actually see that…" Azazel chuckled - undoubtedly imagining Kurt waking up in a panic as he gets stung over and over in the dark. "… I had something more subtle in mind. You see you weren't the only one benefiting from your 'friendship'. My son is very… odd to say the least. Between me and his mother it's a mystery where he gets his pleasant nature and altruistic tendencies. He loves helping others, he feeds off it like some kind of weird, nice-ness parasite. It makes him feel good about what would normally be a shitty life. Even in his anger - yes even now he's regretting being mean to you. You totally deserved it, you deserved even more of his rage but he restrained himself because even now he's probably thinking of how to apologize. Especially since he saw you leave with me. Protecting you is so important to his ego that when you do go back he'll put on his 'kid gloves', give you a stern talkin'-to and round it off with a hug and an overly sappy speech about how worried he was. I'm getting cavities just thinking about it."

"Why do you hate him so much?" Oliver asked. He wasn't really interested in Azazel's relationship with Kurt or where they went wrong. He wanted insight into what seemed to be a trend in mutant paternity. Abandonment, abuse and hatred of ones offspring was common place amongst most of the students and even the staff. And it seemed like the cycle was inescapable. Nathan, David, Pietro, Jason, Marie, Gambit - hell even Xavier himself - the list of mutant children that hated their parents and whose parents in turn hated them went on and on. Oliver thought he was alone until he went through Hank's files. Turns out his dysfunctional upbringing was commonplace.

"You think I hate him? I guess coming from where you do it looks that way. But where I'm from this kind of mischievous needling is normal. If you ever get the chance look a little deeper at what Kurt says - you'll find his jokes have a mean edge to them. He has barbs and jeers he just hides them behind his charm."

"Which he clearly got from you." Oliver commented. Azazel just shrugged and smirked at the backhanded compliment. He looked Oliver up and down.

"It appeared all you got from your father was animalistic predisposition. I've seen Sabortooth— Victor he doesn't have an ounce of your… appeal."

"… Are you coming on to me?" Oliver asked.

"I appreciate beautiful things." Azazel answered simply. He turned Oliver back towards the mirror. "Just look at your eyes - I've always been fond of blue." He pinched Oliver's cheek and purred. "You're so soft - you're still got baby fat. Fuzzy like a little peach… and speaking off." Oliver followed his line of sight down to his thighs. "You definitely don't get your… assets from Victor. And you have so much potential. You could really devastate Kurt with little to no effort."

"I—I don't want to hurt him." Oliver said. "I was wrong - he's right. I shouldn't have gone through his things. I need to be better at controlling my impulses."

"Oh great… you love him." Azazel said like he was utterly disgusted by the aspect.

"What? No I don't."

"Embers, kid. Is there any man that's paid attention to you for more than five minutes that you don't fall for?"

"Yes… I'm not very fond of you." Oliver's face flushed as Azazel stared him down. "I'm not going to let you use me."

"I don't want to but whether you like it or not they're not going to trust you. No matter what you tell them happened here they'll think what they want. They might welcome you back but if they don't…" He trailed off as he touched Oliver's ear. He hissed when a sharp pain shot through it. He looked at the clip that now adorned the tip of his ear. The little engravings on it glowed red for a second before they faded. "You can call me with this."

"Thanks…" Oliver growled as he checked to see if he was bleeding. Azazel suddenly looked around like he heard something.

"You better get back. Word on the wind says something important is about to happen." Azazel said as he put his hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"What?" Before he could even get one word out he was landing on the floor in Kurt's room.

"Oliver!" Kurt was sitting in the window seat when the loud thud startled him. He helped Oliver up and took him completely by surprise when he hugged him. "What did he do to you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Oliver said as he squirmed out of his arms. As much as he wanted to stay in his embrace there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head - not unlike how it felt when Jean-Paul kissed him. "I told him I wanted to come home and he sent me here— Kurt I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got so angry and went with him in the first place. I'm sorry I read you journal I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"Shh it's alright." Kurt hushed him. "For all my note taking I never learned anything about you. I never really talked to you. I hope you know I don't view talking to you as an obligation. It's taken me a while but I actually enjoy your company. You're trying, you really are and I can see that. But if you wanted to know what I was thinking why didn't you just ask me I would've told you. Oliver—"

"Oh!" He gasped and wobbled back from Kurt when it felt like the room shifted beneath him. He suddenly felt like someone was running an ice cube along his brain - a telepath was attempting to read his mind. "Emma? Is that you?" He meant to think it but he said it out loud as he steadied himself on Kurt's bed. He looked at the other man and the cold feeling suddenly spread to all of his nerves. "What's happening?"

"Oli—" The room went full tilt before it was engulfed in a blinding white light.