It took Logan almost a week to really notice.
At first, he had left Kurt alone, figuring he probably didn't really want to talk to him considering he was the one to dole out the punishment. Besides, Logan didn't want to face any teenage moping or snide looks.
Then after a few days of letting any lingering resentment simmer down, Logan figured he'd venture forth to test the so-called waters. Except whenever he stopped by Kurt's room, he wasn't in there. Logan just chocked it up to missed connections, but the Professor said he also hadn't had a 'talk' with Kurt in some time either. So the next time Logan dropped by Kurt's room and found it vacant, he didn't let it go. Instead, he scoured the mansion - asking Hank in his lab, checking the Danger Room, Ororo in the kitchen – and wound up with nothing. He ended up back inside Kurt's room, at a loss. Had Kurt still been sneaking out despite his punishment?
That's when he saw a sliver of blue peeking above the bottom window of the French doors. It was a blistering 20 degrees outside with a fresh fall of snow sleepily cascading down. Logan had never checked outside the doors, figuring it'd be too cold for anyone to want to remain outside. Looks like he was wrong.
The shuffling of his feet spoke a broken rhythm to the snow drifting past the windowed doors. A weighty feeling settled on his shoulders and seeped into his bones. He shook and squared his shoulders, willfully shaking off the permeating feeling that something was amiss.
Opening the French door, he spied Kurt sitting just to the left -a book clutched a little too tightly in his hands. There were light sprinkles of snow decorating his hair and fur, like desperate fairies drowning at sea. His gaze was off in the snow-coated woods. Impenetrable. He had a red, plaid blanket spread across his lap but the dark blue one that closely matched his fur had fallen from his shoulders. He hadn't seemed to notice. Nor had he even acknowledged Logan's presence.
Hesitating for a second, Logan eventually reached forward to move the blanket back up, but as soon as he touched Kurt, Kurt shot straight up and away from him. His eyes were wide, like a startled rabbit while the book was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, forgotten about.
"Hey, it's just me," Logan reassured, dropping his arm away while stepping back to give Kurt some space.
"Oh." Kurt put on a good show, as if nothing strange had just happened. He casually dusted off the snow coating his fur, before picking up the fallen book and throwing the blankets over his arm.
Logan, though, wasn't fooled. Kurt's movements were stilted, like an actor unsure of his lines. Still, Logan knew that if he tried to lunge straight to the heart of it, Kurt wouldn't open up. A roundabout approach it was.
The cold had taken advantage of their interlude, seeping through Logan's woolen sweater and sinking into his bones. Kurt's escapade in his reading nook hadn't done him any favors as he shivered around the pile of blankets in his arms.
"It's cold as an angel's tit out here." Logan held open the door, a silent gesture to change location. Kurt wordlessly took him up on it, leaving the cold behind with the shut of the door. "What were you doing out there?"
"Reading."
Logan held in a sigh at the monotone and uninformative answer.
He watched as Kurt dropped the blankets on the bed and deposited his book on his bedside table. The snow quickly melted to nothing from the cozy cocoon of the warm house.
Figuring he'd try again to jump start the conversation, Logan asked, "Want anything hot to drink?" He gestured to sit down which Kurt ignored.
"I'm good. Did you want anything?"
Frustrated, Logan was tempted to leave but he was well aware of the brusque tactic Kurt was employing, having mastered it long ago himself. Instead, Logan pulled out the desk chair and sat, sending a clear message they were going to have a conversation, whether Kurt stood the whole time or gave one word replies. "To talk. We haven't gotten to in awhile."
"Oh… I thought those were done."
Kurt's surprise was not what Logan had been expecting. The familiar weight of guilt crept over him while a niggling realization wormed its way through his thoughts. His complete halt to all communication between them had sent across a clear message to Kurt. Not intended, of course, but all the same. Logan hoped their burgeoning but tenuous bond hadn't been completely unwound by his inaction.
"No. I just…" Logan sighed and dragged the desk chair over near the bed. He gestured for Kurt to sit down again.
This time, Kurt took him up on his offer – on the far end of the bed, body shifted away. It was a start.
Logan leaned on his elbows, the chair creaking in protest at the shift in weight. "I'll admit, I haven't really gone out of my way to seek you out. I'd look in your room, see you weren't there and then just go off and think next time. This isn't easy for me to say, but I probably wasn't looking forward to being brushed off."
"Why would I brush you off?"
"I grounded you."
"Well…" Kurt hesitated, "at first I was kinda avoiding you too, but then I figured you had had enough of me and my problems and me screwing up."
"Stop. That's not it," Logan practically growled. The niggling thought from before bloomed into full realization. All that spare time, nothing to distract him – no school, no homework, no Lance or Mark. Kurt's thoughts must've constantly spiraled around Trieg, agonized over what had happened. Kurt remained unconvinced that he wasn't at fault. Logan knew that. But still he'd fucked up anyway. It was like starting all the way back at ground zero. "Miscommunication. That's all."
Kurt nodded dutifully in response.
Logan closed his eyes a second and let out a frustrated sigh through his nose. Looks like he'd have to ease back into the swing of their conversations. He glanced around the room while racking his brain for something to break the ice, as it were. A hushed, rhythmic fluttering sound caught his ears. He watched Kurt idly run his thumb along the pages of his book. Each pass wafted a brief burst of air that ruffled Kurt's hair.
"What're you reading?" Logan asked, figuring it was a good enough conversation starter as any.
"Shakespeare." Kurt held up the book quickly, but not long enough for Logan to read the title.
"Yeah? I thought you said Shakespeare was hard; and besides, shouldn't your class be done with A Midsummer's?"
"We are. It was actually pretty good once I understood it. The English English helped." Kurt hesitated for a second before finishing his thoughts. "Thanks for that." He blushed, as if embarrassed over reading for fun. "So I… got another one. Hamlet."
"Yeah? Saw the movie. Not bad."
"Ja? Maybe I'll watch it when I'm done."
The conversation petered out. Logan stretched his hands up above his head and his legs out in front of him while leaning back to look at the ceiling. They both knew they were skirting the real issue. In fact, that was the overall problem with all their talks. While he felt that a bond was growing between them, the real impetus for starting the talks had been, for the most part, shunted aside. Partially because Kurt didn't want to address the issue and partly because neither did Logan.
Logan thought back to their last real talk. It was before the tournament. Things had happened so fast and he'd been somewhat resentful at Kurt for breaking the rules. Maybe it was because there was that growing relationship between them that he felt more let down that Kurt would go out and so blatantly break the rules, which was hypocritical in itself considering Logan lived a lot of his life bending rules to his will. Maybe it was an unfair expectation he was putting onto Kurt, but either way, letting an incident like what happened at the tournament go by with but a cursory effort to address it was unacceptable. Logan figured he'd dive in now. Kurt at least seemed somewhat willing to hear him and talk.
With one last stretch, Logan stood up and moved the chair back to its place under the desk. In the mirror, he caught a flash of dejection flicker across Kurt's face before he flipped through his play to where he had left off. Obviously, Kurt thought that they were done. That Logan was just going to leave it at that. That wasn't happening.
Logan settled down next to Kurt on the bed, amused by the shock on Kurt's face before holding out his hand in a silent gesture. Kurt handed the play over to him, a curious look on his face. Logan thumbed through it for a second before putting it down behind them. "I don't like apologizing, so I'm going to say this once. I didn't mean to… I shouldn't have dropped our conversations like that, especially after what happened at the tournament."
Kurt shook his head. "No, it's okay. You were angry and- "
"No, that doesn't excuse anything." Logan wanted to offer more reassurances, but he held back. "You been doing okay… otherwise. Since Trieg?"
"I'm good." A weightless statement Kurt delivered to the wall.
Logan clasped his hands between his legs and stared down at the carpet. It was so hard to know what the next step to take even was. He'd been partially successful at getting Kurt to open up but sometimes it felt so fruitless – like Sisyphus. For every step of progress, the weight of the problem inevitably pushed back.
Time for a different approach. No more futzing around the issue. "Outside, you jumped a mile when I touched you."
"…You surprised me."
"Were you thinking about Trieg?"
Kurt shrugged in response.
Logan didn't say anything, hoping that Kurt would take the cue to expound. He didn't. "Alright. Then, do you think about him often?"
Kurt just shrugged again.
"You know, I'm trying. I really am. But I can't do this on my own."
He let the silence fill the air as he gave time for Kurt to think and make his choice. He took to studying the outside. The light snow from before now mutely thundered in curtains of white. Millions of white specs smashed into stars against the windows - an instant melting in time only for a replacement to meet the same fate. The extremities of the windows were decorated with bursts of frost that encroached towards the ill-fated snowflakes.
"Sometimes… when something reminds me of him... Like in the locker room at school or someone touching me the way that he…" Kurt trailed off there for a second, not wanting to complete that thought.
Logan looked over and saw that Kurt's hands were gripping his arms in a tight hug while his gaze was directed outside. Somehow, Logan doubt Kurt was enjoying the whispered snowfall.
"But sometimes, even when there's nothing around that should even make me think about him… about what happened. I just can't stop going over it. I just want it all to be done and over with. I mean, shouldn't I be over this already?"
"This isn't a broken arm that'll heal or tiff with a friend that'll be forgotten about next week. This will stay with you forever. I know it's not what you want to hear. But I'm gonna be honest with you. You aren't ever gonna stop thinking about." Feeling the palpable disappointment and despair radiating off of Kurt, Logan shifted on the bed. He didn't like opening up about himself, especially to the students, who didn't need to know all of his gritty past. But in this case, if he expected Kurt to be open with him, perhaps he should return in kind.
"You know I got my adamantium skeleton from being experimented on, right?"
Kurt turned to face Logan fully, surprise written all over his face at Logan willingly bringing up his past. He nodded in response.
"My time at the Weapons X facility was no walk in the park. Every day was torture. Whether I was being experimented on that day or not. It was constant." Logan stopped short of revealing the agony that ran so deep it was like a bass string, continuous reverberating through his bones and body. Forcefully, he pulled himself away from those feelings before they could take over. "After I escaped, those days were always there on the surface. I was not in a good place. I was a danger to everyone around me, including myself."
"How did you… get better?"
"Two things. Two good friends* and time. Lucky for you, you have plenty of both."
"Ja."
Logan frowned at the apathetic response. "Don't get discouraged. Time helps. There is no cure. It'll always be there. But little by little, it'll fade like an old scar or wound that might sometimes ache, but it'll be bearable."
Kurt only nodded this time, once again facing out towards the window.
Logan sighed and stood up. While he knew there wasn't going to be some sudden complete one-eighty, he had hoped that Kurt would've responded better.
"Alright, well tonight-"
"Thanks. For telling me about that." Kurt shifted his gaze over to Logan. "I appreciate it." He smiled – small and quickly gone – but it was there.
Logan felt relieved. Perhaps he had done some good after all. "Anytime. Now tonight, it's New Year's. You gonna stop holing yourself up here and come join us?"
Kurt looked confused. "But I'm grounded."
"Doesn't mean you're in isolation. I'll even let you send a text."
"Ok." Kurt stood up. "But how about a phone call instead."
Logan had to admire Kurt's cheek. "I'll think about it, but first, how about some of Hank's pot roast? I made up some black-eyed peas with some bacon and pork."
"Bacon and pork?" Kurt asked as he replaced his book back on the bedside table.
"It's New Years. Gotta get all the meat in tonight."
"Well, then what about chicken?"
"Ororo made some chicken pot stickers. Hope you're hungry."
"Starving." As they headed down the stairs, the smell of delicious food and warm laughter eased away any remnants of tension and doubt.
QQQQQ
Lance was relieved. Winter break was finally over. He never thought he'd think that, but he found it difficult to not see or talk to Kurt for almost two weeks. Whoever wrote "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was onto something there. The one thing that kept replaying in his mind was Christmas Eve…. He'd almost done it - he'd been so close to just leaning over and kissing him. It was at the last second that he chickened out. It didn't help that Kurt seemed oblivious to his overture. He should've drunk more to calm his nerves.
But maybe he needed to start small. Baby steps to work up to … to he didn't know what. Sure, kissing was good. It was always good. But he was still hesitant about embracing that side of himself fully. It was, simply put, scary. It was a side he had put so much effort into burying, that facing and acting on it was daunting. Perhaps it was good he didn't kiss Kurt that night. He'd probably have freaked himself out and inevitably push Kurt away.
Still, he knew he liked Kurt. Had come to accept it. Even wanted to act on it. He just needed to build himself up to it… oh and see if Kurt actually liked him back.
First, he took Mark's advice and started eating with Kurt and him everyday. Mark was right, or his parents. Lance wasn't sure if the advice originated with Mark or was something he was parroting. Either way, he no longer sat with the Brotherhood, longingly look over at Kurt and Mark's banter.
Next, he took Mark's other suggestion – to just act. Not worry and think too much about what he wanted. Did he want to do it? Then he did it. He tried not to be bothered with labels and such. He found himself reaching out and touching Kurt more often. Grabbing his hand or arm. Maybe sitting a touch closer than necessary and letting his thigh rest against Kurt's. He noticed that any more of a direct touch along his leg – even a hand on his knee – made Kurt uncomfortable and pull away. It was small reminders like that that made Lance extra cautious and nervous. He didn't want to be the one to remind Kurt of Trieg. But so far, for the most part, Kurt seemed receptive of his touches. As an added bonus, it also seemed to help him accept his own feelings. Sure Mark had talked him through it before, but being with Kurt, wanting to be with him – like that – really cemented it.
Now all he had to do was confess.
"What're you doing, twat?"
A hard shove against the lockers broke Lance's train of thought.
Pietro stood inches away with Todd just behind him. The Brotherhood, needless to say, were not quite as pleased about Lance's recent choice in companions.
"Where's the jockstrap and furbrain? They wise up and ditch your loser-ass."
"Ha, good one," Todd piped in.
"You know," Pietro continued. "I used to think Mark seemed like a cool guy, but obviously he's just as much as a loser as you. And we all know that Wagner has kraut and hairballs for brains."
"Really, those are the best you can give?" Mark's voice from behind had Pietro and Todd spinning around like twin idiots. Mark towered over them, arms crossed, his height and musculature adding an overt intimidation to his insult. "Run on back to grade-school before I drop kick your ass."
"I could take you and you wouldn't even know what hit you." Pietro leaned up into Mark's face, his fists balled tightly.
Even though Mark was oblivious to the underlying threat, Lance was not. "Wanna try it?" Lance challenged back. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He thought about sending a small tremor but didn't want to escalate the situation any more.
Pietro sneered at Lance before backing down. "Whatever. Let's leave these two fuckwads alone. No need to contaminate ourselves any further."
As they sauntered away, Todd got in one last parting threat. "See ya at home, Lance."
Flicking off their backs, Mark turned to Lance. "Want me to beat them up?"
"Nah. They're mostly all talk. Besides, I have to go home and live with them."
"Sucks."
Lance shrugged. He mostly shut himself in his room since the summer, fed up with the rest of the Brotherhood's immaturity, so now he just used their current spat as all the more reason to follow the same routine. They didn't really bother him in there. Freddie didn't seem to even care. Or probably even notice. He had better friends anyway now. Friends he could fool around with, but also depend on too. He'd never be able to have a conversation about his sexuality like he had with Mark with any of the Brotherhood or receive a gift as kind and thoughtful as the one from Kurt. He was almost of two minds of getting his own place and working for Magneto solo. Just hadn't come up yet.
"Anyways, where's Kurt?" Lance asked.
Mark cocked his head behind him. Several lockers down, Kurt was chatting amicably with Jose and his girlfriend, Marissa. Whatever Marissa was telling them must've been funny as Kurt and Jose were laughing and smiling. Lance felt a ping of jealousy. But then saw the bright side of the situation. It was a perfect time to ask Mark what he thought about confessing, and if he had any inklings on whether Kurt liked him. The din of the hallway covered up their conversation anyway as people milled around after lunch.
"Hey, um so." Lance found it hard to just come out and ask.
"Whatever it is, just say it. It's cool."
That was one benefit of having Mark as a friend. He always went ahead and said whatever it was he was thinking and pushed Lance to do the same. Why not give it a go. "So, you know I like Kurt."
"Right."
"But only you know?" Lance couldn't help but tilt his sentence as a question. He trusted Mark, but was worried that somehow his secret had been discovered by others.
"Unless you grew a pair and told him, then yeah."
"Shut up. I have a pair. They're fucking huge too."
"Then tell him, Mr. Big Balls."
Lance crossed his arms and scoffed. "How?"
"You go over to him and say…." Mark grabbed Lance meaningfully by the shoulders and furrowed his brow. "Kurt, I have serious something to tell you..." Mark broke into a grin before continuing on in a baby voice, "I wuuuuv you."
Lance shoved Mark away. "Oh fuck off, you know what I meant. I can't just tell him. What if he doesn't like me that way?" Though if Lance was going to Mark for love advice, maybe Kurt was doing the same thing. With hopeful eyes, he asked, "Does he like me that way?"
"I dunno. Though, he doesn't seem to mind you being all touchy-feely recently."
"I was acting on your advice!"
"Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing. No need to be defensive."
Lance sighed and rubbed his forehead. "But it could just be him being nice."
"Then make some more overt advances."
"Like what?"
Mark start ticking off ideas on his hand. "You could stare uncomfortably long at him, write a mushy poem, buy him horrible cafeteria food, send a dick pic."
"You are fucking terrible at this. How in the hell did you ever get Shelly to go out with you."
"I'm just spitballing here. I don't see you having any ideas."
"Well… I did almost kiss him."
"Next time, don't make it almost. Just do it."
"It'd be really helpful to know if he'd like it first…. Otherwise, it might be kinda, you know, forceful and bring up bad memories." In most of their conversations, they had avoided discussing Trieg, but for Lance, it was something he couldn't help but bear in mind.
Mark nodded. "Lance, if you want me to ask him if he likes you, then just say so."
"I mean, I don't want to come on to him and then him reject me. That'd fucking suck."
"There's always that risk. I took a risk with Shelly."
"Yeah? How are things with her?"
"I'm still seeing her every now and then. I wasn't going to since she's not interested in a boyfriend, but she's just so –"
"Fucking hot."
"No. Well, yeah, but I was going to say funny and smart. Did you know she wants to be an astronomer? She has this awesome, long telescope-"
"I bet you showed her your awesome, long telescope."
Mark rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Really, Lance."
Lance smirked.
"Anyway, she has it set up in her backyard, and with it she showed me-"
"Her celestial orbs?"
Mark threw up his hands. "Come on."
"You know, the telescope is your dick and the celestial orbs can stand for her-"
"I got it, thanks. No need to mime it out. You know, if Kurt does like you, then I have no idea what he sees you in."
"And that's the thing. What if he doesn't like me? I'm glad things are sort of going well for you and Shelly. That's cool. But with Kurt, we're all friends. If he says no, then it'll make it everything awkward."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Now you're just going round and round. Stop making it so complicated. I'll ask him if it makes you feel any better."
"Yeah, ok. But don't make it obvious why. Be smooth."
"Stop worrying about it. In fact, let's get it over with. I'll ask right now." Mark gestured over to Kurt, who was heading their way.
"What? No. Not with me here. Ok, just act normal." Taking his own cue, Lance leaned casually against the lockers, doing his best to pretend they weren't just talking about him. It was hard to smile and nod as Mark greeted Kurt when all Lance really wanted to do was to grab him right there and push him against the lockers and he'd press himself against him and he'd feel the sharp points of Kurt's fangs as his tongue-
Mark banging the locker next to his head broke him from his daydream. "As I was saying," Mark restarted pointedly, "so I think tomorrow'll work after school."
"What? What's tomorrow?" Lance asked, completely lost.
"Sorry, man, but Kurt and I gotta finish up our History project. Too bad you're not in the same class. But, you'd be too much of a distraction if you just sat around watching us work."
"I wouldn't be a distraction. Jerk," Lance grumbled not quite under his breath.
"Well, Kurt and I have a lot of research and questions to go over, so." Mark's accompanying pointed stare clued Lance in.
Trying to play it cool, Lance nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. I'd be bored watching you two nerds do work anyway."
Kurt looked between them, knowing he had missed something but completely clueless as to what. Shrugging, he moved on to answering Mark's original question. "Should be good. I'll need to ask to make sure I'm allowed to leave my cell."
"Man, how many more weeks left do you got? It feels like forever."
"Three," Kurt sighed dramatically.
"We should celebrate when it's over." Lance mimed drinking and waggled his eyebrows in suggestion.
"What? So I can extend it another five, six weeks? Or why not just make it a solid year."
"Stop being so dramatic. This time you won't get caught."
"I'll think about it." Kurt hedged, trying to appease Lance without completely giving in.
Whatever retort Lance was going to say was cut short by the bell.
"We'll make celebration plans later." Mark heaved his backpack by his feet over his shoulder.
"Come on, Kurt. Time for another rousing History lecture."
"Hooray…" Kurt monotonously intoned before turning to Lance. "See you after school?"
"Definitely," Lance said, already counting down the hours until the last bell.
QQQQQQ
Mark lay on his stomach on his bed. One hand cradled his head as his other fished for another Cheeto out of the bag on the floor. He felt like the foreman from his comfortable position, surveying his minion doing his bidding.
"I think your two S's are too close together."
Kurt finished drawing the last letter of the title on the poster before sitting back up. "They're not that bad. I can read it."
Mark raised an eyebrow at him. "They look like some deformed balloon animals getting it on. What will Ms. Vicente think about our project?"
"Ugh, fine." Kurt glared up from the floor at Mark before taking an eraser to fix his mistake.
"And the N looks like it's out of line with the rest-"
"Do you wanna come down and write the title?"
"No, no. You're doing a great job. Carry on."
Kurt rolled his eyes before turning back to the poster laid out before him. He surveyed his handiwork before sighing and erasing and redrawing the N. Mark smirked in satisfaction.
He crunched on a few more Cheetos as he watched Kurt futz around with the rest of the lettering – erasing, redrawing, and then erasing again. After a minute more of watching Kurt imperceptibly change the same straight line, Mark caught on.
"Now you're just doing it to annoy me."
"Maybe." Kurt grinned.
"Jerk." Mark waited for Kurt to turn back to the poster before throwing a handful of Cheetos at him.
"Hey! I'm trying to actually work here, and you're getting Cheeto dust everywhere." Kurt brushed aside the few stray Cheetos that landed on the poster board, which left in their wake a large orange streak smeared across the top half of the poster. "Now look what you've done."
Mark waved away his concern. "We can work on it later. We just got out of school, let's take a break."
"The only reason I can be here is because we're working on a project." Despite his protests, Kurt put down the pencil, leaned against the bed, and grabbed a handful of Cheetos.
"Yeah, five weeks totally blows."
"Tell me about it."
"Like Lance said, we need to do something awesome when you're free."
"Ja, as long as it doesn't get me grounded again."
"No promises." Mark laughed while he thought of ideas. Perhaps a double date wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. Just depended on what Kurt thought of Lance. All he needed to do was whittle the conversation over to said topic.
Kurt ate his last Cheeto and wiped his hands together to get rid of any dust. "Here, toss me that orange marker and I'll fix our poster."
Mark did as asked and watched as Kurt expanded the 'p' in Depression to cover the orange smear. "Now it looks fat."
"Ja, cause it ate one too many Cheetos." Kurt gave the 'p' a tiny mouth and dropped some Cheetos nearby. "Perfectly accurate representation of the Great Depression."
"While everyone starved, the rich ate Cheetos."
"The stock market crash was due to a dearth of Cheetos."
"We're almost in a Cheeto shortage." Mark dug down into the bag and grabbed the last few chips left.
"Very depressing. I now know how they felt. Let me add that fact to the poster." Kurt bent down as if to write.
"What?" Mark shot up from his prone position, for a second his gullibility getting the better of him.
"I'm not seriously going to –" at that second, Kurt's watch went on the fritz, the ersatz image blinking in and out for a second. He tried to recover and pretend nothing happened by continuing his sentence. "-going to write that."
Mark blinked. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
Mark stared unimpressed at Kurt. "You are a terrible liar."
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
Mark, though, could see the nervous way that Kurt fiddled with the marker and how he avoided his gaze.
"See, there it is again!" Mark reached forward as if he could grab onto what he knew he saw to prove his point.
Just as he reached out, Kurt pulled away and stood up, causing Mark's hand to graze across Kurt's. "Mark, you're acting really weird. I'm going to go to the bathroom and maybe when I come back you can not be crazy."
Mark stood wide-eyed for a second at the touch before focusing on what Kurt was saying. He was not having that and stood up to block Kurt's way. "No. I know something is up, and I think it's really strange. What I saw…. But I dunno. You're acting all weird. You're not part of some X-files, government mind control thing, right?" Mark laughed uneasily. He knew what he saw, but his mind couldn't rationally explain it. He liked order and logic, and he wanted needed an explanation now.
"There's really nothing."
Feeling pissed at Kurt's continued denial, Mark took a step forward, ignoring the crunch of a Cheeto underneath his foot. "Look. I saw it, felt something different. So don't try to tell me otherwise."
Kurt didn't say anything but the tension rolling of his body spoke volumes.
"You're my friend, in my house here. I think you should know by now you can trust me. So just tell me what the hell is going on."
For a second, Mark stood brimming with anger and determination, but it all washed away as he watched the hopelessness spread over Kurt's face and took in his defensive stance. Realizing he had almost backed Kurt up into a corner, and was possibly coming on a little strong, he moved to take a seat on his bed again. He petted his cat, Andre, nestled in the pillows, as he watched Kurt struggle to a decision. There were a few more flickers between images – between what Mark readily accepted as reality and something more fantastic.
"I… I haven't always had good reactions."
Mark smiled. He didn't quite understand what Kurt meant, but he was glad that he was willing to open up to him.
"Try me."
"I don't really look normal. I look… different. Scary? It's just how I am. And so I use this watch to… blend in?"
Seeing how nervous Kurt was, Mark tried to allay his fears. "I'm not easily scared."
"Coming from the guy who hates horror."
"Hey, it's not the scariness. It's the gore, ok."
Mark waited a second for Kurt to respond or do something, but obviously he still needed to be encouraged.
"Show me." Mark's tone brooked no argument. He knew he could be forceful sometimes, but he felt, in this situation, he was right. They were friends – good friends. He knew Kurt, knew that whatever it was he was masking on the outside didn't veil his true self.
"I haven't had the best of luck when people see me…"
"That's what you said."
"And I promise I'm not some evil demon or anything."
Now Mark was getting worried. All this buildup and delay. What if Kurt was some hideous creature with a drippy eyeball or festering, bloody skin. He swallowed down his nerves. "I like you for you, right. It's what matters on the inside."
Kurt looked down at his watch. The screen flickered from dim to bright. It was only a matter of time until it shorted out again. He'd rather it'd be on his terms than the watch's when to reveal himself. With a heavy sigh, he raised his hand to the switch. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."
"Of course. I promise." Mark stood up off his bed, preparing himself.
The tension was palpable as Kurt silently triggered off his inducer.
Mark stared, dumbfounded before, without thinking, he let out an extended "Holy fucking shit." It was one thing to talk about it but actually being face-to-face with reality…. It's not that Kurt was grotesque as he feared. But he certainly was different. Feeling voyeurish but unable to help himself, Mark circled around Kurt before coming back to stop in front of him. Kurt – his arms cradled in front of him - exuded discomfort.
"I don't mean to stare. Ok, no, actually I do. But holy shit! I mean, you have a tail and all!" Mark's eyes widened at his declaration. It was true, but hearing himself say it was so strange. "I mean you're-. Just what? I mean. What? Wow." He shook his head and nervously laughed. "Is this real?"
Kurt just shrugged and nodded.
Mark was having a difficult time processing it all. His heart was beating fast – not out of fear, but out of disbelief, excitement, and curiosity. If there was someone like Kurt out there, then who knows what other possibilities might exist. He needed to confirm to his mind that this was actually happening. "Ok, I don't mean to be rude and all, but can I touch you? Cause you're covered in fur. You're all furry. That's… wow. Something." Mark felt a bit like an idiot, babbling on and repeating himself, but it was all so surprising-out of this world-overwhelming-shocking.
A bit taken aback, Kurt clutched his arms tighter before shrugging. "I guess."
Mark stared, wide-eyed and eager. Kurt stared back. After waiting several long seconds, Mark felt he was participating in some awkward staring contest. Exasperated, he held out his hand to prod Kurt into acting. Kurt didn't follow through as Mark hoped.
"Well, come on, then. Give me your hand."
"It looks like you're asking me to dance."
"Think of it as practice for prom then." Mark smirked before bowing low and humming a few refrains of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."
Rolling his eyes, Kurt uncrossed his arms and put his hand in Mark's.
Bringing Kurt's hand close to his face, Mark ran his thumb across the back while turning it back and forth. Flashes of insight began trickling in – so Kurt didn't really have some hand birth defect, the insults from Lance's old friends made a lot more sense, and now that he thought about it, Kurt never let anyone touch him and always wore long sleeves. While his mind was preoccupied, his mouth voiced one of his stray thoughts. "Wow. You know, you're really soft. Makes me think of Andre." From his bed, the fat, grey cat meowed at the mention of his name.
"Yes, Andre I know you're here," Mark answered back. The mundanity of talking to his cat drew Mark out of his rambling thoughts. Realizing he was still looking at Kurt like some bizarre creature while simultaneously petting him, Mark quickly dropped Kurt's hand and stepped back. "Hey. Sorry. I don't mean to treat you like some lab specimen." Mark felt ashamed. He had been confident that he would handle this with aplomb and not treat Kurt any different and here was, within minutes already acting like Kurt was some space alien. "I'm just kinda thrown off. But I didn't mean to be all in your face and saying holy shit and being all creepy scientist like."
"Well, the petting was weird. But you weren't too creepy. More Emmett Brown than Dr. Jekyll."
Mark smirked at Kurt's joke. "Thanks, I guess. I'll get used to it and all…" While Mark could tell Kurt was playing it off, the way he rubbed his hand and held his body still radiated insecurity. He needed to get his reaction under control. Later on, he could freak out, but now it was more important to reassure Kurt that nothing had changed.
First, he needed to curtail his need to hover over Kurt and somehow ease the tension. Casually, Mark sauntered over to his bed, flopped onto his back, and gestured over to his desk chair for Kurt to use. Andre meowed in displeasure at the disruption before settling back down. Luckily, Kurt took his invitation and sat down, hesitating a second before propping his feet onto the end of the bed near Mark's.
Now that they weren't standing around awkwardly, Mark was able to organize his thoughts. His best friend was different. Really different. Ok. Mark was different too, being biracial. So it was similar, in a way, right? Nodding to himself, Mark reached into the bag of Cheetos only to rediscover the few crumbs piled into a corner of the bag.
"Damn, we're still out of Cheetos." Mark sucked off the orange dust that clung to his fingertips before crumpling the bag up.
"That's because someone ate them all while someone else, someone more diligent and clever and smart, was doing all the work."
"Diligent my ass." Mark took the crumpled Cheeto bag and threw it at Kurt. They watched as it whiffed out and fell a few feet short onto their poster. Kurt smirked at him. "Whatever. And I'm helping. I have our research all right here." Mark reached behind him and patted the tablet on his bedside table.
"Ja, very helpful."
Stretching out, Mark kicked Kurt. Thinking back a second, he added a second kick for good measure.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"You had me fucking scared there for a second. Here I was picturing some grotesque monster thing like the Thing or Alien or something. You're more Disney than Wes Craven."
"Was? Disney? But that's so lame."
"Well, I'm not saying they'll make a plush toy out of you, but they would totally make a plush toy out of you." Mark chuckled to himself as he pictured it in his head.
Kurt furrowed his brow in mock anger. "I think you are the worst reaction I've ever had."
"Hey, I just mean you're not actually scary looking. Just different." He hadn't meant to steer the conversation back to Kurt's appearance, but he just couldn't help being blown back and wanting to discuss it. After bouncing the idea around in his head, Mark decided to go for it. "Mind if I ask some things?"
"…ok."
Countless questions vied for attention. Figuring he'd get around to the most yearning ones eventually, Mark blurted out the first that came to mind. "Are you really German?"
"Was? Is that really your first question?" Now Kurt was looking at him as if he was the one with fur and a tail.
"Hey, give me a break. This is kinda mind boggling here."
"No… I studied German so I can fit in with ze huuumans."
"You're an ass," Mark shook his head in disbelief.
"You ask stupid questions."
"And you have stupid answers. So, you're really German then."
"Ja, I'm really from Bavaria." Seeing Mark's blank expression, Kurt expounded, "That's in southern Germany."
"Hey, geography is boring. So, are your parents … different?"
"Well…" This was a sticky question. "My real mom doesn't have fur or a tail or anything. But she is blue and has yellow eyes. And my adopted parents are normal looking. I dunno my real dad."
"Huh." Mark crossed his arms behind his head, absorbing it all. "I didn't know you were adopted. That's cool. So you were always this way?"
"Ja. Genetics, I guess."
"So if you got your blueness and eyes from your mom. Wonder what your dad looks like."
"I dunno. I've thought about it, but I just hope he's not like my mom. She isn't very nice."
"That blows."
"Yeah."
Mark still couldn't fathom how it was possible. Perhaps Kurt was right, and it was all genetics. Maybe some type of weird genetic deviance. Figuring he wasn't versed enough in science to explain it nor was Kurt forthcoming if he knew anymore, Mark mentally shrugged. "Anything else I should know. Like, do you suck blood or anything?"
"Was!?"
"Hey, I'm just covering my bases, and you have fangs, so…. If you said yes, I'd be cool with it."
"I'll have you know my diet consists of only fresh children under the age of 3."
"Oh shut up." Mark scoffed at the ceiling before mindlessly reaching over to pet Andre. It was actually kind of funny. Sure, his mind was going a mile a minute – how was this possible, what else did this mean – but he was already finding himself adjusting. After all, it was definitely still Kurt with his weird humor. And somehow the way he looked suited him better. "Are there others?"
"That look like me? Not really. Though –" Kurt cut himself off, wondering if he said too much.
"What?"
"Nevermind. There's a little more to it, but let's just take one thing at a time, for both of us?"
Mark nodded, figuring maybe small steps would be best for both of them.
"Does Lance know?"
Kurt nodded.
"Hm." Mark nodded back, thinking about his other line of questioning he wanted to pursue. That was one barrier down to setting up his two friends. Though, he couldn't help but feel a flash of jealousy. How come Lance knew but he didn't?
Trying not to linger on that, Mark scooted to sit up on his bed again while weighing what to say next. Turning his head, he studied Kurt. Even though he had his feet up on the bed, the tenseness in his posture and the way he would only briefly meet Mark's eyes said it all. He had so much to ask but in the end none of those questions were that important. He either accepted what was before him or he didn't. Without question, it would be the former.
"So, you ready to actually work now?"
Surprised, Kurt sat up straighter and shifted his feet to the floor. "Oh. Are we done with the interrogation?"
"I'm good."
"Ja?"
"Ja," Mark repeated back with a smirk.
Kurt slightly smiled before turning to look down at the ground. "And... you won't tell anyone?"
"Kurt." The seriousness in Mark's voice caused Kurt to look up at him. "I absolutely won't tell anyone. Even if people wouldn't look at me crazy, I'd never betray you."
The gravity behind Mark's words hung in the air.
"Thanks."
"Alright." Breaking the sober atmosphere, Mark reached over and grabbed his tablet. "So, are we gonna work on this project or what?"
"Yeah," Kurt said as he slid off the chair next to the poster. "All we have so far is a half-colored title and a large Cheeto stain."
"Then we better get cracking." Mark pulled up their research doc while sneaking a few glances towards Kurt. He didn't want to stare, but couldn't help it. Luckily, with Kurt on the floor, hopefully his spying would go unnoticed. "So what do you think we should start with first? The stock market crash or all the economic shit before that."
"Right, so first subheading, '1920s Economic Shit.'"
"Now who's goofing off."
Kurt ignored him. "Let's go in chronological order. Probably easiest."
Mark made some noise of acquiescence as he flicked through the pages on the tablet. Still, his mind kept straying. He had so many more questions, and he hadn't forgotten his deal with Lance. Lance knew… all this time. Mentally shrugging to himself, Mark decided to just plunge right in. "Do you like Lance as more than a friend?"
Kurt froze.
"W-What? I thought we were trying to work on this." He gestured towards their empty poster.
"Evading the question?"
"No."
"So? Then, do you?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I dunno. Just the way you two interact and all. Just a thought."
Kurt leaned back against the bed before looking up at Mark. "You know, if you keep trying to dig up all my secrets, we're just going to have a Cheeto stained poster to turn in."
Still, scrolling through their notes, Mark waved Kurt on. "Stop avoiding the question. I'm still looking at our notes. And while I do that, all you gotta do is answer yes or no. It'll take like five seconds."
Sighing in resignation, Kurt flopped onto his back. "It's not that simple."
Mark looked up from his tablet and waited for Kurt to expound.
"I've been… I guess, thinking about him more like that. Sometimes I get this feeling around him - it sounds so stupid - but you know all fluttery."
Mark nodded. Being with Shelly made him feel that same.
"And I've thought about… kissing him too." Kurt ran a hand over his eyes and through his hair, as if to wipe away his embarrassment at his confession.
"Sounds pretty simple to me then. You feel goofy around him, want to kiss him. Kiiinda straight forward."
Kurt sighed in exasperation before leaning his head back again. He fiddled with the end of a scarlet sheet poking out from the overhanging comforter. "I guess."
"Why just you guess?"
"I mean, we're friends. I really shouldn't be thinking about him that way."
"Why not? Friendship can lead to relationships sometimes."
Kurt shook his head and sat up. "Yeah, but this can't. And it doesn't matter anyways. Lance is straight, and I don't want to ruin our friendship. It's just a small crush. It won't last, so please don't mention it to him."
"I don't think it's so one-sided."
"Lance told me himself that he's straight."
Mark wanted to cradle his head in his palm. It was just like Lance to indulge in self-sabotage. "Lance is an idiot sometimes and doesn't know what he wants. Besides, don't you think he's been more touchy-feely towards you recently?"
Kurt shrugged. "Maybe."
Obviously, Kurt didn't believe Mark. He desperately wanted to tell Kurt that Lance likes him so they could both stop pussy-footing around each other. He paused a second, wondering why the hell not. If the whole point was to tell Lance whether Kurt liked him, then wouldn't it be fair to disclose Lance's feeling to Kurt?
But... both had requested Mark to keep hush-hush, which put him in a spot. He couldn't very well relay to Lance what Kurt said without betraying Kurt and vice versa.
Mark internally groaned as he realized he only had one choice – don't interfere.
Lance probably wasn't going to commend Mark on his discretion, but he'd have to deal. Mark was going to suffer the most any way. As the middle man between his two best friends, he was probably never going to hear the end of recriminations and whining from Lance. Luckily, Kurt seemed more disinclined to share his feelings without further prodding from Mark.
Mark sighed to himself, resigned to his fate. He should write a damn romantic chick flick script out of this.
"Well, just think about it." Mark could only give a vague sense of encouragement and hoped Kurt could see past Lance's defenses.
Then next few hours, they kept the distractions to minimum, throwing all they had towards their project until Kurt announced he better head home to stave off any additional punishment. As they got into Mark's car and started heading towards the mansion, Mark couldn't help but be amused at Kurt crouched low in the passenger seat away from passing eyes. Yet, after several streets and a shared quiet, the reality of it sunk in. It was actually pretty shitty and sad that Kurt had to hide like that – like an outsider. But perhaps that was what had drawn them together and made them such good friends. Mark felt like he didn't fit in with most of the student body. With Kurt and Lance, though, there was a sense of belonging. Kinda cheesy, but accurate.
They passed the car ride with idle chatter until Mark pulled up to the imposing, wrought-iron gates of the mansion. Luckily, the mansion was isolated, with the next house - if one can call them houses - located a few streets over.
"Here, hand me the project," Kurt said as he opened the car door and collected his backpack.
"You sure you don't mind finishing it up?"
"We got all the information down, so the hard part's done. And I have so much free time. It'll be like a Christmas tree – all decked out."
"Just go easy on the glitter," Mark teased as he passed the poster over.
Kurt paused a second, arm resting on the top of the door. "Hey, um… thanks for, you know, being cool about this and not freaking out."
"Yeah. I mean it's gonna take a bit for me to get used to. So I might stare. You do look kinda…."
"I know…" Kurt cut off Mark, not wanting to hear him finish that sentence.
"Hey," Mark leaned closer. "You're still you. I know that. We're still friends. I just gotta get used to blue you. Besides, I might be a little jealous."
That was a first for Kurt. "Jealous? Of what?"
"You got this whole demon-elf thing going on. Girls dig that shit. Glad you're in a different competition group."
Kurt half-smiled in return.
While somewhat reassuring, it was obvious that Kurt suffered from some self-confidence issues. Perhaps it wouldn't be amiss to chat to his parents about it – of course leaving out the true reason why.
"See ya Monday, then?"
"Ja."
Feeling pretty good - he now had some more insight into Kurt, and he had a plan to help him – Mark drove off with a last wave.
QQQQQ
The soft rhythmic sounds of his feet and the intermittent thrum of passing cars. A permeating chill that was familiar and stirring. A grey sunset and shrouded yellow. Kurt breathed in the sting of winter, held in the sharp bite before exhaling. He watched as his breath swirled momentarily before dissipating in the air.
A bright red scarf waved to him as he passed a playground. The lilting laughter faded in the distance as the quiet settled in again.
He could've teleported straight back to the mansion to make his walk home from school faster. But he needed this small taste of freedom. He wondered if Logan understood his need to be out like this. In Germany, he had the whole woods to explore by himself – which while sometimes was utterly lonely, also held a sense of release. To be confined to the mansion for week after week was dispiriting to say the least.
Not wanting to focus on the confinement awaiting for him back at the mansion, he let his thoughts rove over the week. Mark now knew thanks to the faulty, irreparable inducer. In a way, it was a relief. Of course during that moment, he was petrified; his heart beating a rapid dance. But he should've known Mark wasn't the type to let appearances dictate his thoughts. He was one more person he didn't have to carefully waltz around or invent excuses for unanticipated problems.
And it was thanks to Mark that Kurt could suss out his feelings and openly admit that he really did like Lance. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but somehow his feelings towards Lance had changed again. Not that it mattered. Mark was delusional. There were no hidden undertones to Lance's recent actions. Mark was reading too much into things, and Kurt just needed to put a lid on his emotions. Smother them until they died away. He definitely didn't want to make their friendship awkward or jeopardize it with his stupid crush.
While Kurt ordered his thoughts, his path now led him past dense tree copses that shielded the increasingly lavish houses from the public streets. The skeletal branches, deprived of their usual foliage, threaded their spindly fingers through one another. Casting his eyes down at the latticework of shadows on the sidewalk, Kurt made a bit of a game as he walked, challenging himself to step only on the light patches.
As he progressed from patch to patch, a slow feeling of unease began to encroach over him, like a heavy weight depressing on his shoulders. He stopped for a second in a spot of the late afternoon sun, suspiciously scanning any passing cars. Traffic lights changed, birds fluttered, and cars drove by. It was just a typical, mundane neighborhood. Feeling irrational and paranoid, Kurt took a breath before resuming his path, his game abandoned.
Despite his dismissal of his concerns as foolish, the feeling still pervaded and deepened. It was like a dagger was slowly being run over his back. Aching to pull out his confiscated phone and call someone, he watched another car go by. But he still had three weeks left of his punishment. He hugged his arms around his chest as he again checked his surroundings. He didn't notice anyone behind him, but he felt a sudden rise of fear in his throat. The street was busy, but if he left the sidewalk – just a few yards – he'd have a clear spot to teleport.
Spotting a house with no cars in the driveway and hoping that meant no one was home, Kurt scrambled over the fence to the backyard. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he teleported.
After a few more bursts of power, and Kurt was in the safe confines of his room. He didn't even have time to let out a shaky breath when his door swung open. Seeming just as surprised as he was, Logan stood in the doorway.
"I was just looking for you. We got training in 15."
"Ok." Kurt gripped tight to his backpack, trying to keep his cool after being so tensely wound up.
Logan started to close the door before pausing a second. "You okay?"
"Ja, why wouldn't I be?" Kurt forced his voice steady.
Logan nodded before closing the door.
Kurt let out a sigh, releasing some tension, before throwing his backpack on his bed and changing into uniform. He told himself to get a grip, that there hadn't been anything but his imagination. But he still couldn't help but feel a deep gnawing worry. What if Trieg was following him around? He felt queasy to his stomach.
He looked at himself in the mirror and tried on a smile. He didn't want to raise anyone's concern. His smile looked strained and fake. He let it drop and figured maybe acting tired was best. He had just come home from school. And deep in his bones and heart that tiredness rung true. Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, he ported to the Danger Room.
Notes
*referring to Heather and James Hudson who help Logan after he escapes Weapon X
"Another inducer on the fritz? If he didn't know any better, he'd think some author was using a contrivance to have Mark find out about his true self. Ha, no."