The phone calls started when Kurt was seventeen. He answered by mistake; only half looking at the screen, he saw a 'T', and thought it might be Tabitha. At the time, she was the only person who called him at 3 in the morning, and he was groggily excited as to what late night mischief she was going to spring on him. Only, it wasn't Tabitha. It was Toad.
Despite being incredibly deflated, Kurt asked what the other mutant wanted, and at such a time, nonetheless. Toad wasn't exactly forthcoming. He mumbled into the phone, his voice a soft buzz in Kurt's ear, small and far away. Kurt considered hanging up, or at least laying back down, to fall asleep during the meandering conversation that never really said anything. Then, after a few minutes, Toad quietly asked if Kurt could teleport over to the Boarding House, so they could watch tv or hang out or whatever. Kurt snickered, unaplogetically telling Toad what he could do with himself at three thirty in the damn morning.
Before Kurt could hang up, Toad whispered, "Please."
Something about the way he said it, made Kurt sit up in bed, a cold feeling crawling over his fur. He told Toad that he'd be over in a minute. The phone went dead a second later and Kurt quickly pulled on some pajama bottoms. He didn't bother finding his jeans. He went in his pajamas, because the silence on the other end strangely terrified him.
In a moment, he was standing on the porch of the Boarding House, and he knocked loudly. There was an unending pause, before the door creaked open, and Toad let him inside. The house was dark, empty, and full of pause. Kurt entered slowly, looking at the malicious shadows stretched between the dim living room and the blackness of the foyer. He followed Toad's footsteps into the living room, where the television was tuned to a muted old Hollywood movie, and the coffee table was littered in crushed soda cans and stubbed out cigarettes. Toad took a seat on one end of the dilapidated couch, Kurt took one on the other side.
An uneasy blanket of noise descended into the room when Toad clicked unmute on the film and the dead actor's continued their conversation. Toad watched the pictures move across the screen, his red-rimmed eyes milky and almost blind, his body hunched up so his knees touched his chin, and his arms wrapped around his thighs. He didn't say anything. He just stared, swallowing dryly every now and again, his body trembling slightly in the cold.
Kurt leaned against the arm rest and cautiously examined Toad. The two had gone to high school together and had been notorious rivals when mutants were exposed to the world, some two years beforehand. But, that had been then, and they hadn't seen much of each other in the past several months. Kurt had been busy with school, with applying for college, and deciding if his future lay with the X-Men or in the real world. He wasn't sure what Toad had been up to, other than he hadn't been involved with the Brotherhood, since they had disbanded. As far as Kurt could see, Toad hadn't changed much; he'd gained a little weight, but was otherwise the same weirdo Kurt had met the first day he came to America.
Which was why it was so bizarre that Kurt was even sitting there. Yet, the lingering tension in the air made him stay, even as he yawned continuously into his hands. Kurt didn't change the channel, because he thought Toad might actually be enjoying the old timey flick, for longer than he'd like to admit. It wasn't until the next movie started, in fact, that he realized Toad wasn't watching. He was only staring in the direction of the tv set. Kurt swallowed hard this time, as he nervously asked if there was anything to drink.
Toad answered in a monotone, flat voice, "Water."
He made no move to go and get it, though, and Kurt felt like he shouldn't get up. Instead, he sat where he was, growing steadily more concerned as the second film transitioned from frame to frame, and Toad continued to not move, speak, or acknowledge Kurt's presence. Kurt considered asking what was wrong, but those were words he'd never exchanged with the mutant before. So, he didn't. He resigned himself to sitting still, his eyes glancing between the screen and Toad.
After the second film, day light had broken, and the living room was filled up with faded sunshine coming in through the dirty, cracked window behind the ratty couch. Toad slowly unfolded himself, his actions methodical, but seeming sudden and rapid due to the stillness that had over taken the two. Kurt jumped slightly. He quickly composed himself, stretching, and saying what a good movie it had been, despite not having really liked it, and knowing Toad hadn't watched it. Toad bobbed his head up and down, his eyes turned down to his socks, and the holes in the toes.
Very quietly, Toad said he was going to bed, and thanked Kurt for coming by. Kurt told him it wasn't a problem. Then, Toad heaved himself up and wandered out of the living room, his arms wrapped around his body, and his head hung low. The stairs creaked the whole way he went upstairs, followed by the ceiling crying as he went over to his bedroom; a room that Kurt had never seen.
Kurt lingered in the living room, while the house grew still again. It occurred to him only then that no one else was home; that the other Brethren had moved out and gone off to other places; that Toad was living in that decrepit cesspool of a house by himself. This silence was what Toad listened to every morning, afternoon, and evening, with only the hum of the television to break up the deafening quiet of loneliness.
It was a harrowing thought, to belong to such an empty home, and it made Kurt shudder uncomfortably. He decided to stay, to perhaps sleep on the couch, and at least be there in the later afternoon when Toad woke up; to provide one day of companionship. Kurt felt a flare of pride in himself for the decision, but he quickly extinguished the thought, and instead, teleported into the kitchen for some water before laying down.
The kitchen that greeted him was a disaster area, with sinks full of decaying dishes, the table bent on one side, and the cabinets bare. Kurt cringed when he opened the fridge and saw nothing but mold growing along the walls. The whole place was filthy, stinking of rotten garbage, and dim from a blinking light bulb. Kurt considered just bagging everything up and throwing it outside for Toad, until he saw a clean glass on the counter by the trash can. It was filled up to the brim with water.
Sitting beside it was an orange bottle, overturned so it's white oval contents were spilled out. The label said they were sleeping pills. There were dozens of the sinister things piled up like a little snow covered hill among the ants.
Kurt swept the pills, the bottle, and the glass into the trash can, grabbed the slimy bag, tied it tight, and dragged it to the curb.
Kurt spent the day at the Boarding House, his heart pounding in his ears, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning up the trash that clogged up the downstairs. He emptied out the trash, the sinks, the cabinets, the bookshelves, any place he could squeeze into and scrub with disinfectant. He polished up the window to let in more light and rearranged pictures and posters over cracks in the walls. His fur matted to his body as he feverishly sweat, dragging the moth ridden carpet outside, and fixing the kitchen table so it sat upright again. He worked and cleaned and washed until he could hardly move a muscle, his tail flicking angrily, as he collapsed back down on the couch. He tiredly stared at the screen, all squeaky clean and vivid, as another old timey movie rolled it's credits. He gratefully watched the next feature film, his heart still aching, and his body joining in with it's numerous complaints, all of which thankfully blocked out his desire to go upstairs and say things he couldn't even understand.
It wasn't until nearly dinnertime that Toad came down the stairs, his footsteps uncertain and then outright bewildered. Kurt listened to him shuffle into the kitchen, around the pantry stocked with new food, and then he heard the footsteps coming over to the living room. It unnerved him that Toad didn't hop; that he walked and moved like anyone else would. He squelched that feeling underneath a blank, indifferent stare, which he hoped Toad would take to mean that none of the cleaning, shopping, and staying had been any inconvenience.
"Yo, you cleaned the place?" Toad asked, his voice still flat and hollow.
Kurt nodded, rapidly, trying to stare nonchalantly at the tv screen. When Toad didn't say anything, however, his eyes betrayed him, and locked on frantically to the other mutant's expressionless face. They stared at one another, Toad leaning against the wall, his body half hidden in shadows, and Kurt sitting on the couch, his face illuminated in the sunset. Slowly, Toad blinked, and he mumbled a thank you into his shoulder, turning his head away to hide behind the wallpaper.
The uneasiness threatened to take over the room again, but Kurt wouldn't allow that. He teleported from the couch to beside Toad, which startled Toad into jumping back slightly. Kurt rested a hand lightly on Toad's shoulder, and with all the underlying care he could muster, he asked, "Wanna watch a movie?"
Toad eyed Kurt's hand uncertainly, for several moments, before he nodded stiffly. Kurt teleported the two of them into the living room, on the couch, where they both dropped back down on the cleaned cushions. Kurt leaned back, forcing himself to resume a carefree, undisturbed nature, while Toad sat like stone on the edge of the couch.
As the beginning to the film unfolded, Toad began to cry. The sounds were choked and muffled, as he hugged himself, and tried to explain the night before. There were no words for it and Kurt understood the shame better than he would ever admit. He didn't let Toad struggle for an excuse. He just slid over and draped an arm over Toad's shoulders and let Toad sob into his shoulder, their hands tightly interlocked, until there were no more tears and the numbness had returned to the room. Yet, as Toad quieted down and wiped his face, Kurt continued to embrace him, and as such, they leaned into one another as the movie filled up their ears and left them deaf to the world.
When dark came again, Kurt slept on the couch, and Toad retired to his bedroom, up in the dead quiet of the upstairs. The evening was a toss and turner for Kurt, who woke at every little sound, teleporting to the kitchen, even though the pills were in the trash can outside. But, no one tried anything, and by morning, some of the playful mischievousness had returned to Toad's voice, if not to his empty eyes. They ate breakfast together, at the dining room table; gutbombs that Kurt nervously popped out to get. Lunch was eaten in the living room, in front of the tv screen, and dinner the same.
As night approached again, though, Toad insisted Kurt go home, because it wasn't fair to have interrupted his life so completely. Kurt protested and Toad continued to insist the entire time Kurt defiantly made up his bed on the couch for another night. He insisted back and his resolve was stronger than Toad's. Kurt stayed another night, sleeping and waking and sleeping and waking, assuming Toad probably spent the night listening to the teleporting, listening to the quiet finally broken by someone.
The next day, however, Toad put his foot down. Kurt was going home; was going back to his life as an X-Geek and senior student and all the things that existed outside the Boarding House. Kurt angrily chewed over the command during breakfast as Toad caught flies by the new trash can, his eyes refusing to meet Kurt's.
Before Kurt left, he told Toad to call him if he ever needed him again for anything. Toad danced around accepting the offer for a moment, before he rubbed the back of his neck, apologized, and said he would. Then, as Toad stood in the doorway and Kurt stood just outside it, they both said good bye, and Kurt disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Afterwards, Kurt paid Toad a weekly visit to watch old timey movies neither of them really liked, because it filled up the void in Toad's empty house and eased Kurt's worrisome mind.
And whenever the phone rang, Kurt answered.