Chapter Text
Seungkwan’s first introduction with New York constricted his lungs from their contaminated atmosphere. He’d fallen asleep for most of the bus ride, slumping against the rattling window, whilst squeezing his eyes shut from the jarring overhead lights. He’d mostly managed not to think overly intensely about leaving his mother behind, and had instead tried concentrating on where exactly he's heading.
Xavier's welcomes uninvited mutants openly enough, as long as they get there.
It's not the first time Seungkwan needed to move places unexpectedly. But before had been alongside his mother, her wholehearted support carried on her narrow shoulders. Unfortunately, the thought of Xavier's School for the Gifted hadn't enticed her nearly as much as skipping town did. To get away, she said, to keep her son safe. But Seungkwan's barely ready to abandon society, so running away despite her grievances seems like the optimal solution.
People observe; narrowed eyes, widen eyes. They're distinctions between hostility and curiosity, and Seungkwan scrutinize every movement like some skittish cat, despite his animalistic nature leaning towards an aquatic disposition.
People stared before, when he and his mother was practically escorted out of town. When his mutation hadn’t been apparent enough to make peoples’, hair stand on edge if he didn’t concentrate enough about reining things in whenever he touches water.
Fortunately, it was safe to release himself in his new home. The money his mother acquired from the divorce settlement had allowed plentiful months for staying home and finding work. Ensuring that her son had a roof above his head.
Now Seungkwan's riding a bus, clutching his purpose without much of a direction. Next town he'll pass deposits him nearer to the city, which means multiple options for shelter. Hopefully cheap ones, because the pocket's worth of money he'd stolen is barely enough to send him through to New York. Which either means dubious motels or homeless shelters. But if he could barely ride on a bus without gathering attention with his sea-green eyes, and even greener hair, making the driver twitch restlessly within his seat, how's he supposed to manage staying in some place swarming with questionable people? Not to mention it's several days into September, resulting in continuous downpour.
Hopping onto a bus station, Seungkwan stays for as long as he's willing. Passengers did double-takes at his uncovered neck, security guards furrow their brows, shoving enormous hands inside their pockets, concealing their cracking knuckles from his immediate sight.
He's probably in the less welcoming state. Seungkwan almost forgot- sheltered as he was- people- humans, are absolutely terrifying. He figures the next bus ride isn't going to get any easier.
True to prediction, it wasn't, but at least he's some kilometers closer to Xavier's. After a couple days he manages to move from Penn Station, hitchhiking until he's finally within city bounds.
Shelters are abundant within the city, and since uber prices are expensive plus he doesn't quite understand the underground system yet, homeless shelters are his optimal choice. At least tonight, where the sun's setting lower into the grumbling sky. That's one silver lining to everything, the rain's keeping his moisture level high enough to prevent him from wasting money for bottled waters.
He bounces to several different shelters, getting scurried quickly away by either hostile looks or passive-aggressive comments. Seungkwan guesses even the shiniest cities have their shadows. He tries getting inside the Salvation Army, before being ushered to keep walking because...well, Seungkwan doesn't think he needs to reiterate. By the time he arrives at another shelter the sun's already peaking its rays and there's no need for sleeping, but he's exhausted and in desperate need of sustenance. It doesn't help that when he walks towards the nearest café his pockets jingles like it's Christmas.
So Seungkwan shoulders his backpack higher, hides deeper inside his thinning hoodie, and concentrates on reigning himself in, hoping against everything that his pocket change is enough for one croissant. There're still water droplets trickling down from above and he would hate to have his 'just add water' moment sprawling on the disgusting streets of New York.
Seungkwan barely manages to deliver himself inside without tripping over his feet, realizing belatedly he should've raided his kitchen before departing. His mother's home cooked meals are always abundant, wonderfully overstuffing the fridge. Besides, taking those along would probably comfort his mother, albeit briefly, before the realization that her son disappeared finally sets in.
With chattering teeth, fingers frantically counting coins inside his pocket, Seungkwan finally rasps. "One croissant please." Before depositing everything he has.
The woman manning the cash register eyes him doubtfully, scanning Seungkwan with her faux-lashes rimmed eyes, shifting her weight from one side to another.
He recognizes the look, panicking briefly to think. Is it his hair? Hair-dye, everyone his age has their rebellious streak. Eyes? Contact lenses, definitely, easy explanation. Gills...? Fuck.
“You're a dollar short,” she mutters, tone laced with amusement.
"Wh-what?" Four-fifty? For a fucking croissant? Seungkwan's eyes shifts a mile a minute, twitchy nature stammering some explanation of his money shortage. He's stalling, searching for something else affordable to order without angering the people queuing behind him.
That's when someone steps forward, slamming a card and yammering off two orders of something without much remorse for cutting in line. He's bathed in dark clothing, mismatching shoes and a beginning of a bruised eye. But the kid's face seems younger than his, and despite the half-emo attire his features seems more suited for smiling.
The younger turns towards him, getting a peak of what's beneath the sheltered outfit and with unimpressed eyes instructs, "Go on, find us a table then."
And Seungkwan, thoroughly taken aback by the instruction, actually follows obediently on securing a table. Somewhere in the corner, obviously.
Not three minutes later his young savior returns with a tray dotted with breakfast menu items, delivering a smile that hadn't been present before. "Sorry, assholes like that pisses me off," he says, before extending a hand to introduce himself as "Chan. Lee."
"Seungkwan."
Turns out, there are non-oppressed mutants in the city. This one having ran away from home exactly like Seungkwan, but apparently Chan made enough of a commotion that his father's sending someone to fetch him. Not returning him home like Seungkwan guesses, but actually sending him to his intended destination, which happens to be Xavier's.
"Your dad doesn't like mutants?"
Chan swallows his tasteless burger with a heaping of watered-down coffee. For something incredibly expensive it sure tastes like shit, but neither complains, it's New York after all. "It's complicated, if he really hated mutants, he wouldn't send someone to drive me to the school after I threw a tantrum and split, now would he?" The curve to Chan's lips, and his biting commentaries reminds Seungkwan of a weasel- no an otter, the youth to the other's features pulling his face towards adorable. But Chan's tougher than he appears, as Seungkwan later discovers. "How about you?"
"My mom doesn't like the idea of being apart from me long, and Xavier's isn't exactly known for its safety." The school's been targeted a handful of times already, and the recent one had resulted in several students almost getting killed.
"True, but in Xavier's you learn to fight." Which isn't completely untrue, but Seungkwan doesn't point out the fact that everyone there's presented a choice. There's a fire in Chan's eyes that makes it apparent his purpose in enrolling is for this...combat training. A hankering to prove something perhaps, because that drive certainly isn't made purely of passion.
"I'll just stick to the swimming pool thanks."
The rest of their conversation passes between the munching of unimpressive breakfast food, until their pick-up arrives and Seungkwan's jaw plummets towards the floor. But where Seungkwan's eyes widen, Chan's narrow. The slightly younger marches to the driver seat where Seungkwan tries not glancing over his shoulder to guarantee that he's not hallucinating. Chan and the driver seem to share a heated argument before something like a quiet agreement settles cordially between them. and Chan returns with his hands hidden inside pockets.
"Sorry, I thought my dad would be sending some driver and not..." Chan bites his tongue, like he's thinking twice, carefully putting his words together. "I guess he contacted the school and they sent someone to pick us up. Hope you don't mind."
And though the statement rings falsehood to Seungkwan's ears, he still nods nonetheless because...it's Choi Seungcheol-Golden boy, Hoshi, and...Woozi presumably. Seungkwan's not big on superheroes but he might faint.
The ride towards Xavier feels surreal, like he died and awaken in heaven, because only a day prior he'd been afraid of getting shank by some mutant-hater, body discarded on the side of the road. Now he's riding with mutant royalties alongside an apparently rich friend, all the way to the school of his dream.
That's how Seungkwan's school-year starts, and everything after goes downhill from there (whether that's good or not remains to be seen)
🐚🐚🐚
Vernon lays motionless on the uncomfortable rectangle, squirming from the overhead lights blinking strenuously above him. He stares until his eyes burns hotly and the whites bleeds into crimson, the shade of red like the ripe apple that he can't seem to throw away from his thoughts.
Uncomfortable, he squirms again. The mattress beneath him feels closely to those metal tables you frequently encounter at morgues. Cold and stiff, waiting for the body resting above to be flayed open, exposed for everyone's curiosity. In a way, he's about to be.
"There's nothing wrong with you Vernon," Doctor Grey's voice interrupts his wandering thoughts, the slow deliberate cadence making her intention to not aggravate the frighten student incredibly apparent.
"The apple disappeared- couldn't it be my mutations are malfunctioning?"
Doctor Grey's chuckle is barely discernable, a half-amused half-pitying sound that Vernon doesn't quite appreciate. Her copper-red hair comes to view anyways and so does her understanding smile. "You're not broken, Vernon."
And he wants to argue, it feels like he's broken, but most of everyone who roams the hallways of Xavier's probably feels similarly themselves.
I know I can attest to that.
Finally moving, neck tilting sideways, Vernon eyes Doctor Grey curiously. "How d'you deal with it?"
"You just do. Live long enough to learn, Mr. Chwe."
That seems much easier said than done.
Doctor Grey flies around him, checking if everything's amiss whilst he's here. It's a rarity for Vernon to willingly seek out help. "Now, nothing's wrong, but are you willing to do some testing?"
Looking past the stethoscope, the x-rays lining the wall, the swaying curtains separating him from the next section, Vernon let's himself fizzle into the fuzziness the phosphorescence gives the atmosphere. "Okay."
Nothing new, he thinks, inhaling, exhaling, letting his entire being escape towards the ceiling. It's a weightless feeling, his intangibility. Going too far might mean losing himself for long periods of time- but never forever.
His skin disappears first, from there goes his skeleton, stripping gradually like a stitch being pulled. Doctor Grey, to her credit, barely bats an eye when the scalpel she placed on the mattress Vernon's currently residing in, suddenly clatters to the ground.
You're going too far Vernon, you're taking the table with you.
It's difficult to concentrate when he's intangible, nothing's contributing weight. Sounds become scattered, people become blurs of colorful nothingness, and there's nothing indicating what's up and down. Vernon's just floating, a beautiful weightless nothing.
He used to believe invisibility was the worse superpower anyone could have because people literally see right through you, but intangibility definitely trumps that. Instead of seeing, they walk past through you, like you're nothing, like you're nonexistent. The worst part? Vernon takes everything along with him.
The apple he ate during lunch disappeared.
The homework he was assigned last week disappeared.
The cabinet beside his bed disappeared.
His sister...
That's enough Vernon, Doctor Grey's instruction manages to wrench Vernon from whatever dimension he existed in. Looking at the clock, thirty minutes had passed, which is nothing considering he'd disappeared for days before.
"Why can't I just disappear forever?" he whispers, not meaning to actually vocalize it, but Doctor Grey can read his thoughts anyways, so it doesn't matter. Besides, he knows the answer: self-preservation, every mutation, defective as it can be, always protects itself.
"Practice every day, Vernon, then there'll be no disappearing apples anymore."
Wordlessly jumping from the table, Vernon gathers his belonging, surprised he didn't accidentally 'disappeared' them as well, before setting towards the door.
That's when his chest bumps into something solid. Staggering backwards, Vernon sees the sheepish face accompanying the head he just bumped into. The boy's eyes- the most beautiful shade of ocean-green Vernon has ever seen- widens comically.
"Sorry," he mumbles before heading towards the door, feeling the back of his neck shivering from the attention. Nobody ever looked at him like that before, like he actually existed, like he's not intangible.
The thought of infirmary-boy carries Vernon throughout algebra like some unexpected lifeline.
🐚🐚🐚
Seungkwan limps toward Power Control with pants halfway sliding down his ass and an ankle dripping water everywhere. He would've been embarrassed, the train wreck that he is, if it isn't for the natural occurrence of absurdity around school. But he still makes his way towards the back of the class where Chan saved him a pillow, smiling sheepishly at Ms. Munroe.
It's one of those specialized classes, currently made around mutants who have trouble connecting their thoughts to their mutation, resulting in disastrous events. It's basically overglorified therapy session, mixed in with the occasional meditation, but Seungkwan isn't going to refuse the offer of more sleep. Visualizing his powers during meditation be damned.
When Seungkwan's ass hits the throw pillow, Chan breaks his perfect position to squint an eye at his friend, whispering lowly, "Where the fuck did you ran off to? And why the fuck are you hyperventilating?" When Ms. Munroe's back is turned away.
Seungkwan watched Ms. Munroe a beat longer, making sure she's thoroughly occupied with straightening the posture of that kid with the growing bones protruding from his spine, before whispering back, "Got splashed in the toilet, freaked out, twisted my ankle." So, he went to the infirmary in search of a bucket of ice, expecting Nurse Ghazikhanian to great him. Instead, the infirmary was eerily quiet, and Seungkwan ended up witnessing someone literally ghost himself in front of his eyes. That hadn't been the heart stopping part though, no, the sight of the single most attractive mutant being he ever seen had been.
And he'd face planted straight onto said attractive mutant. Then the bell rang so he barely had enough time plunging his ankle into the bucket of water Doctor Grey had so helpfully help him acquire, staying until he feels like his ankle had mend itself enough before limping, well...here.
Amused, Chan hides his teeth by stamping down the growing smirk. "Saved you a sandwich by the way."
The reminder of skipping lunch brings an immediate growl to Seungkwan stomach, cursing he eyes Ms. Munroe warily. One breath. Two...
"Close your eyes, Seungkwan," she chides, and Seungkwan shuts his eyes immediately, to Chan inaudible giggle.
The conformity doesn't last long, the classroom is always too muggy, and not the helpful kind. The windows are to open, too brightly reflective of the happenings outside, and sure it's been raining a lot lately approaching winter, but the sunbeam currently irritatingly hitting his eyes still manages to blow through thick greying clouds. Seungkwan squirms, his scales are drying and the itchiness runs all the way to his back. But he ignores it anyways, not wanting to cause a fuss.
Scratch that, this is boring. "Tuna?"
"Cannibal," Chan chuckles, peaking his eyes at his friend. "Shut up and concentrate, some of us need the work," he reprimands half-heartedly, but Seungkwan squirms to position anyways.
He still doesn't quite understand why Chan is here. Not that he's not grateful for sharing a class with his friend, but still, everyone here has an immediate goal to work on, something life threatening like spontaneously turning into an aquatic creature whenever their grip on their mutation loosens and water is introduced to the equation. Or you know, a kid unable to control the growing bones in their body.
Ms. Munroe usually instruct them on what to visualize, for Seungkwan it's a bright white ball, fuzzy around the edges, to represent the reign he has on his powers. During meditation, he does his best to smooth everything out, until the edges of the ball is clear. That's supposedly helps with controlling uncontrollable mutation, something some can't physically grasp but still feels the impact of.
There are students who willingly sign up for the class as an elective, there're no grades or levels to the class. You graduate pass the point of needing it then you're done. Chan is one of the handful of students who chooses the class as an elective. Seungkwan thinks it's because it's some good legal nap-time, but the younger always takes the class more seriously than him, and sometimes he'll catch Chan talking to Ms. Munroe after class.
Chan's telekinetic, Seungkwan knows that much, but he's not spinning out of control and pulling a Carrie every time he has a nightmare. So, the question still remains- peaking his eyes, Seungkwan stares at the concentration filling his friend's face- what exactly is his problem.
"Will you quit staring?" Seungkwan stays silent, but it's clear Chan's still aware of his staring. Peaking an eye himself, Chan sighs exaggeratedly. "Meditate and I'll doordash some starbucks to your room later."
"Fucking hell-"
"Shh, boys," Ms. Munroe chides, and the two squeezes their eyes shut immediately...before peaking again.
"Swear."
"On my life."
And Seungkwan sighs again, more discretely this time. This is what it feels like to be a sugar baby, but without the disgusting caveat of having sex with your mostly annoying best friend. "I love you," Seungkwan proclaims, in the jokiest-serious tone he can muster. "I fucking love you, your secrets, and your deep fucking pockets."
"Shut up," Chan sighs, but there's a ghost of a grin stretching his lips. "Fucking hell, it's almost like you have a crush on me or something."
And suddenly, all semblance of amusement on Seungkwan's face is sucked clean. Like a vacuumed seal opened in space and Seungkwan's consciousness is left floating through his ringing ears.
This isn't normal, Seungkwan thinks. He's play-flirted with his friends before, with complete strangers, heck, he fully embraces his homosexuality, he's crushing on that incredibly attractive boy for fuck sakes, but the thing is...those words have been worn to the bone by somebody he knew, somebody he looked up to, somebody who'd pummeled him to the ground to make sure he keeps looking up to. He and his posse had been cruel, and Seungkwan's simple slip of the tongue had resulted in unbearable consequences.
He guesses that trauma, PTSD gets to you when you lease expected.
Back pin straight, Seungkwan watches helplessly the flashes of memory rewinding behind his eyelids. The rain, beating down onto his face, and despite being able to breathe underwater, his lungs feel constricted, and his gills flap helplessly to catch breath. Then the thunder and lightning fighting for dominance above him, the piercing laughter even through the heavy downfall. The freezing feel of metal running straight on his back, the scratchy feel of the rope tied around his wrist, and the cruel smile...
You thought I was serious you disgusting fag? You fucking mutie.
Noticing Seungkwan's sudden interest in keeping his mouth shut, Chan chances a glance at his friend and sees the perspiration covering his forehead. "Kwannie?" He whispers. No response. "Hey, Kwan you o-" the bell ringing sharply jolts them awake, thirty minutes passes quickly when you're panicking.
Seungkwan still has the glazed over look in his eyes, but as he turns Chan can see the unshed tears it actually was. "Seungkwan, seriously, i didn't-"
"-Gotta go!" His friend interrupts, standing abruptly and turning away to wipe his sudden tears. "I got history on the other side of the building."
That's a lie, and incredibly horrendous one that Chan can easily call him out on, there're no classes after this, but he doesn't and Seungkwan takes the opportunity to run away.
This is something he wanted to avoid. He's fun, bubbly, outgoing. He's a normal boy with a healthy crush on an otherworldly attractive boy. And he wants desperately to return to the time where he believes all of that is true, and there isn't dreadful memories lurking inside his brain ready to pounce on every triggering word.
Seungkwan turns, not towards his room, but towards the lake outside. It's inadvisable but at least he can make himself feel better.
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Vernon lays in his bed, arms towards his side, palms flat, body directly facing the ceiling. He's hyperaware of every movement his body makes, his delicate heartbeat, the shallow inflation and deflation of his ribcage from processing oxygen, the occasional blinking eyes, the hair standing still in the darkness. Sleeping's an impossible endeavor tonight when there's something haunting behind his eyelids.
Vernon's not really an observant person, silent as he is. He treats everybody similarly as they do him, like they're intangible. But there's something about that boy who's different. His hair was blue- or, was it green? He's somewhat short- or, was he hunching? Vernon can't completely remember, but what's branded in his memories are those piercing eyes.
It's not the fact it's a peculiar shade of sea-green, or there's a thin membrane moving horizontally whenever the other blinks- it's the method in which he sees Vernon. When whoever that was looked at him, he almost felt like he existed, that he's something in this world. Like he's worth anything.
"Couldn't sleep?" The voice from across the room doesn't startle as much as it surprises Vernon. His roommate rarely speaks, and when he does its always non-trivial matters. "If it's too hot, we can open a window," Minghao continues, Vernon almost forgetting the other had presented him a question.
Instead of answering, Vernon continues staring at nothing, feeling himself slipping slowly before deciding to finally divert himself, anchoring into something, anything. "How'd you know I was awake?" The answer doesn't really matter, but now there's somebody awake tethering him to reality, Vernon's going to take whatever advantages available.
Minghao takes his time answering, flipping to face Vernon and stretching his curling shadows to see the other's location. The question seems benign, but the answer is unexpectedly loaded. "I control whatever's within the darkness." It had been a separate thing at first- the darkness, but as the years progresses, he manages to adopt every shadow he encounters without turning his mutation on. "Somebody once taught me to listen to the beating of a butterfly's wings blindfolded. Until I can locate them from further away."
There's a pregnant pause, Vernon processing that information.
"Your breathing wasn't labored," Minghao explains, cracking open the window.
The moon outside shines silver, and Vernon finally turns sideways for the first time tonight. His roommate hovers before the window, fingers deeply clutching the parted shades, back towards Vernon.
"The moon used to be my companion whenever I meditated," He says before unfurling his fingers from the fabric. There's a visible stitch to his cadence when Minghao walks back to his bed, but he reclines wordlessly, hitching the blanket over his shoulders. "Maybe It could be yours to."
Lapsing into silence, Vernon shuffles towards the window peering his head outside and hearing the still nighttime air. Looking behind he sees Minghao already falling asleep and he figures, there's no harm.
The Breakstone lake sparkles beyond the edges of the chlorine pool, alluring the restless for a midnight stroll "Maybe..." he whispers before jumping through the window.
The tracks towards the lake is further away than expected, by the time Vernon reaches the thickest forested section rimming the edges, his heartbeat increases and all semblance of tiredness he did have is all but dissipated. Pure rush of adrenaline carries his steps as he scouts the gazebo located across the water, meaning to meditate there as Minghao suggested, but that's when he sees him-
Something peaks out of the water, like moss-covered ball bobbing hallway under. Vernon thinks nothing of it at first before the ball speaks. "Hello?" The warry sound travels to the empty air, making Vernon hide behind a tree.
There's a person swimming in the lake, at night.
"Hello!" The voice speaks again, accompanied by a muttering of something under his breath. "I know someone's out there."
Wincing, Vernon knows he can't possibly return without being spotted, his position not supporting his escape plan. He doesn't know if this person is anybody hostile from outside the school, or at least a student who could get him in trouble for sneaking out at night, so there remains one option.
Vernon tries, detangling him, pulling the strings that stitches his body together until it floats, invisible in the air. Unlike before, he focuses on not breaking too far, keeping his body a mass of something invisible this dark in the night. Then he begins to walk, out towards the open space he previously trekked.
"I can see you."
Vernon pauses, the voice, deadpan, shocking him enough to knock him back into his solid form. Sprawled on the damp grass, Vernon's caught wide-eyed. Somebody just saw him, whilst he's intangible.
Mustering bravery, Vernon finally turn towards the unfamiliar person bobbing in the water, realizing the person isn't as unfamiliar as he thought.
The boy from the infirmary floats inside the water, face pinched and scrutinizing. The sea-sick color to his scales, hair, eyes prickles at attention similarly to when he'd barreled into Vernon. But there's something different about the familiar student, that something being the five-feet long fish tail swaying just below the surface of the water.
Vernon freezes, his self-preservation instincts are telling him to escape, whatever mutation the boy has is clearly unfamiliar territory, one unexpected encounter in the infirmary won't change that. His teenage boy instincts however, is repeating 'pretty, pretty sparkling tail' over and over. What actually happens though, is a squeak of, "You- You...saw me?" The question posed sounds more like he's questioning himself, and the boy in the water tilts his head in confusion, like he just said something stupid.
"Obviously."
"No- I mean- it's- I was invisible." Intangible, really, not even telepaths can detect him sometimes.
Eyerolling, the mermaid- merman swims further from the edge. "What part of mutant school, full of people with different mutations don't you get?" His statement comes out passive-aggressively, but from the way he's shielding his body with his arms, figure retreating further into the water, Vernon knows the boy's scared. That's when he realizes he hadn't stop staring. "So? Here for something? Rat me out to the professor? Call me Ariel or some bullshit?"
Hostile. Vernon thinks. Very hostile for somebody who'd stammered his way out of the awkward situation at the infirmary. Ill-equipped with answers, flabbergasted still, from the situation he'd somehow stumble himself in, Vernon flops to his feet. "No-no, moon- outside shining- I-" The merman laughs, something small and quickly stifled, but Vernon smiles from the noise, finally relaxing. "I couldn't sleep," he tries again.
The boy floating in the water contemplates this, eyes scanning, scrutinizing, before settling on a neutral expression. Regardless, the expression is swiftly wiped when Vernon takes a step forward.
"Seungkwan," The boy introduces finally.
"Vernon."
There's a ghost of smirk on Seungkwan's face that Vernon obsessively follows, he knows the other's not an actual mermaid, but seeing someone who has a mutation that presents himself similarly is quite a dumbfounding sight to see. "So, Vernon...you can disappear."
"You saw me."
Eyerolling again, the arms covering his chest becomes something of a posture more than a protective stance. "Well obviously, I have eyes," Seungkwan scoffs, swimming closer to the edge of the lake. Whether the motion is intentional or not Vernon doesn't know, but for somebody so cautious Seungkwan sure is sassy.
Seungkwan takes his time wading the water before stopping just meters away from the edge. There's some debris, algae, and branches caught in the water.
"I can see that." Vernon hasn't stop seeing it since he laid eyes on it, the beautiful colors sparkles differently whenever the moonlight hits the wavering water. "It's just...nobody's been able to see me when I disappeared before," he explains, using the boy's vocabulary.
Seungkwan still doesn't look impress. "Told you, didn't I? Different mutations. Different abilities," he explains slowly, like Vernon's dumb. He should be offended but really the word endearing comes to mind instead. "Can't be too careful. You don't know people's intention, and I always keep an eye out on my surroundings."
"That's smart."
"Didn't ask for an opinion." There it is again, the hostility. Vernon doesn't think Seungkwan's trying to be rude, but it can come across that way. Recognizing this, Seungkwan clears his voice, asking, "You look familiar," softer this time.
There's a moment of silence where Vernon sees the gears turning in Seungkwan's head. The slight twitches between his eyebrows, the barely there pout on his bottom lips, and his gills prickling in attention. All of that amounts to- "Oh shit" Eyes widening, Seungkwan flails in the water, head bobbing underneath in shock and tail splashing as erratically as his other limbs.
The movement sends Vernon a step backward, avoiding the rogue splashes. Tonight's forecast might've accounted for the smoggy night, but he's not too eager on getting soaked either. That's when he sees it, a particularly large branch sticking from underneath the water, and before he can warn the other it's already too late.
"Fuck!" Seungkwan's shout roars through the branches and for a split-second Vernon's caught in running away or staying to help. Getting in trouble isn't written in the list of things he plans om doing tonight. But that's when blooming red taints the water and Vernon realizes Seungkwan's in bigger trouble than he thought.
Bending down, Vernon rolls his sleeve up, plunging his entire arm into the freezing water, feeling around for the branch.
"Ow-oww, fuck it's stuck- just-" Seungkwan winces, yelping when something tugs. "Careful!"
"Hold on." There's a lot of blood, Vernon thinks, the already dark water is exponentially darker now, and without visibility, he can't exactly predict which section of Seungkwan's tail is trapped where. "I-I can't see, I could get somebody else t-"
"-No!" Seungkwan frantically shakes his head. "Look, okay, if my mom finds out I got in trouble by getting hurt she'll make me move again, I can't-"
"-Okay!" Vernon sighs "okay." There's only one other option, he realizes, it's neither pleasant nor safe, but-
He grabs the branch, feeling the roughen texture of the bark and making sure Seungkwan's tail isn't part of the equation. "Don't move," he instructs, reaching within between the particles that makes up the solid object before breaking it down on a molecular level. First is the bark, the textured exterior creating friction and abrasions on Seungkwan's tail. Then the cambium, protecting its rigidness. One by one everything dissipates up to the center and then-
Vernon can feel it, the moment he's losing grip. With a sharp gasp he wrenches his hand, hoping that'll be enough. He feels lightheaded, like he's not entirely there himself.
Splashing away, Seungkwan swims towards the docks, hitching himself up and Vernon follows suit, helping the other get into dryland. "Help me to my room, please, I can't change form if I'm wounded like this."
From what Vernon sees the wound isn't as horrible as he'd imagine, as the blood suggested, but there's a visible tear from the left fin, slashing up to three inches. Without thinking much, Vernon bends down, stripping his outerwear (thanking god it's black) before wrapping it around the tail. "Slowly- slowly, please," Seungkwan hisses, and Vernon has the inappropriate urge to laugh before the feeling is wiped by the reminder of the severity of their situation. Supporting Seungkwan under where his knees should be and on his back, carrying him bridal-style. Sighing a breath, but not of relieve. Things could've gone so wrong
Seungkwan's cheeks flood with red, but Vernon's mind's still reeling from what could've happened, what was about to happen if Seungkwan hadn't swim away, if Vernon lost a little bit more control, if he hadn't ripped his hand away...he doesn't want to think about it.
The journey to the Seungkwan's room is filled with haphazard knowledge of stealth mode. Hiding behind corners and whisper-shouting horrendously like they're in some sort of spy movie. "Careful," Seungkwan chides when Vernon almost trips on an uneven lump on the carpet.
They eventually made it safely, the door opening up to a tall figure bathed in a dark hoodie, and without any permission Vernon shoulder his way in, putting Seungkwan on the nearest bed and kneeling to unwrap the wound.
The dark figure- the roommate, Vernon guesses, stands in the corner, wide-eyed and speechless. In fact, all Vernon can see is his eyes, glowing bright-yellow and surprised. "Mingyu, Vernon-Vernon, Mingyu," Seungkwan quickly introduces, breathing heavily and wincing with every movement. "Mingyu, could you get me the usual?" The usual being water, ice, and salt, poured in a bucket, and with the tension of meeting somebody new under such unfortunate circumstance, Mingyu complies, running away without saying anything.
With only the two, Vernon delicately raises Seungkwan's tail, raising it higher to stop the blood flow. The redness to Seungkwan's cheeks is still present, shifting from pain to embarrassment. "This isn't how I picture us meeting again."
Pausing, Vernon looks up in disbelieve. "So, you imagine us meeting again."
Sputtering a defense, Vernon's impressed of the other's ability to inject levity in the situation, before finally settling on, "Thank you." They share a moment of silence before it's interrupted by the return of the roommate and that's when Seungkwan gently prods Vernon to leave. "It's okay, Mingyu's got this."
With a reluctance sitting heavy on his chest, Vernon gives a final wave before returning to his dorm. Minghao is fast asleep by now, oblivious to the adrenaline rush his suggestion resulted into. Following his lead, Vernon lays on his bed, resuming his previous position of staring at the ceiling.
The happenings of tonight speeds by so quickly, it's almost impossible to pinpoint where it starts going horribly. The feeling of knowing he saved somebody today settles pleasantly on his chest, mixing horribly with the knowledge of how it could've gone so horribly wrong. "He could've disappeared," the realization curls heavily on his tongue and the rest of the night is spent with a fitful sleep.
It could've gone wrong. It could've gone so wrong.
Like before.
🐚🐚🐚
The room Vernon was directed in send dust motes every time he takes a step. The creaky floorboard indicates the elder wood that's created this part of the wing. With the sheer multitude of mutants running around, staff and teachers alike, Vernon is continuously impressed with how much Professor Xavier manages to pull out of thin air. This room for example, it looks untouched, desk strewn about, covered in delicate velvet with slivers of mirrors peeking out, and a boy who sits atop of a haphazardly balanced plank of wood.
"Here." Dr. McCoy shoulders Vernon through the door that can't open all the way, something behind barricading it partially.
After the shock the night before, the realization that he could've...disappeared somebody, Vernon realizes that unless he's willing to live in complete seclusion he's going to have to learn to use the ability. Dr. McCoy was so happy that the young mutant finally filled out the journal every troubled student was required to do that he took it upon himself to help Vernon exercise control.
Hands tucked inside pockets, nails nervously chewing his fingertips, Vernon hesitantly enters. The radical exercise Dr. McCoy talks about...he's unsure the validity nor the success rate since he's never heard anyone doing it. "What exactly am I going to be doing?" He might be apprehensive but he's willing to try.
The boy behind him had finally turn around, walking towards the too in an equally curious expression. "Are we finally doing the exercise?"
Dr. McCoy smile, gracious before guiding the two towards a bar stretching across a mirror, the kinds you'll see in a dancing studio. "I have reason to believe your problems are purely psychological," He says, fiddling with something, "Vernon well, your..."
The young mutants quickly tuned out the rambling of Dr. McCoy, knowing he does this a lot without considering the fact that they're teenagers with short attention span. Vernon turn towards the boy with the look of determination in his eyes, first thing he feels wafting is the sheer want and willingness in every flex of the other's shoulder. Already, Vernon's not sure if they'll get along. The boy looks familiar though.
"I'm Chan," the boy suddenly pipes, probably sensing the attention, "Lee Chan."
That's when it clicks, "You're the five's apprentice."
Immediately Chan scoffs, eyes darkening. "No, I just know them." For a second Vernon thinks the other's going to ramble into some strongly worded rant, before his expression softens. With a light chuckle and shake of the head, Chan turn towards him. "And your name?"
"Vernon."
"Well, hello Vernon, it's nice to meet you," Chan says brightly, no traces of the bitterness left. With a hand outstretched he waits for Vernon to take it.
Eyeing the limb, Vernon remembers the events of last night. The sheer amount of blood, though not necessarily his fault, still haunt his mind. He could've made a bad decision worse with a simple touch. He doesn't want to come across as rude though so he hesitates. Fortunately, the decision is made for him.
A hand circles Chan's wrist, blue and hairy before Vernon registers the one on his own, over his sleeve. Then he's dragged. With a sound a click and a feeling of something cool surrounding his wrist, Vernon realizes what has happened.
"Is the exercise getting out of these cuffs without abilities?" Should seem easy enough, but then he remembers the pole he's attached on is attached to Chan as well, and he's afraid all over again.
Chan to seem apprehensive, looking at Dr. McCoy slowly retreating figure, putting the keys to their escape atop a table before stopping just by the door. "Everything is at least seven feet away," Dr. McCoy addresses Chan, the boy huffing into a sit in response. "The bar's attached to somebody else," this time he addresses Vernon who slouches slowly into a sitting position.
"I'll be back in a few..." he says turning to leave, and just when he's almost out of earshot says, "hours."
"So..." Chan says, eyes unfocused, "Now what?"
Hours was no exaggeration, Vernon figures Dr. McCoy would release them just before dinner, that's the humane thing to do considering they have nowhere to pee as well. But the notion of waiting another hour feels like ants crawling under his skin, and he sought for something to do, say. "What are you doing?"
Every fifteen minutes or so Chan would be staring at the keys, veins on his temples bulging and face turning blue and Vernon would wander all over again what the other's trying to do. Now he's vocalizing it.
"Forget it, it won't work," Chan huffs, slumping over. "I asked for help for once since I got here and this is what I get."
"What's your ability?" Vernon asks, and when the other stays silent, pursing his lips he realizes that perhaps that's a sore subject. "Never mind."
Chan turns to him, eyes weighted by boredom and irritation, leaning on his outstretched arm still ridiculously attached to the bar, "Yours?" He smirks, Vernon finds himself unable to answer too.
"So, what's your diagnosis?" Chan tries again, grinning as his head lazily lulls to look at Vernon. "Or did you check yourself in?"
Vernon shrugs, there's really not a lot he can say about his ability that is easily guessed. He's dangerous, simple, and if he continues his path he doesn't know when he'll be able to rejoin society without hurting anyone ever again. "I can get out no problem. It's just that if I do, I can't guarantee you'll get outta here with me." He explains vaguely, seeing Chan's eyes widen in curiosity towards him.
His fingers are beginning to fall asleep, so is his arm. The orange glow of the setting sun's beginning to turn cold, and there's another problem. "I have to pee."
Chan bursts into honking laughter, the handcuffs clanking periodically against the metal bar serving as an accompanying cacophonous roar and Vernon feels himself turning crimson.
With the boisterous sound slowly tapering off, Chan wiggles himself until he's kneeling as far away from the bar as possible without detaching his arm. Eyes focused, he fishes something out of his pocket before throwing it towards the keys. As the white cord stretched, Chan's tongue doing backflips and face scrunching with determination, he manages to get the white cord to land somewhere near its target, Vernon realizing seconds later that Chan's using his shoelace that he hasn't realize the other's taken off. There's weight tide at the end, a pencil or something quite heavy as Chan manages to knock the keys somewhere closer towards them. By tugging, tugging, tugging, the keys clatter to the floor some meters away from them.
Chan laughs, a gasping relieved noise before he-
Hands outstretched Vernon watches as the keys fly slowly towards Chan, who still has his face scrunch ridiculously until the metal touches skin.
Vernon should've guessed. "TK?"
Chan hums, searching for the key to unlock himself, "Sorta."
"You couldn't've done that this whole time?" Vernon eyes are bugging out, he's sure.
Chan gruff, throwing away another key before trying another. "It's not that simple. I want my abilities to be better, stronger, I don't want to keep compromising," he explains, yelling frustratingly from not finding the key. "This is compromising," he says looking at Vernon before returning to his fiddling. A click finally sounded and he releases a triumphant, "Fuck yes!"
Vernon watches raptly as Chan stretch before him and he looks towards the boy and his handcuffs before nodding, "Do you mind?"
The look that Chan gives him is semi-bored, semi-mischievous before he steps a little further away, crossing his arms. "I did mine, now do yours." When Vernon frowns, squirming in his place, Chan rolls his eyes. "C'mon, what's the worst thing that'll happen?"
"You could cease to exist," Vernon shoots immediately, to Chan's growing fascination.
"Really?" Chan says, eyes bugging, "Well in that case." Turning, Chan begins to head towards the door and Vernon finds himself panicking. He really does need to pee. Without thinking much, his wrist slips through the metal restrain, parting like a hot knife through butter and he's suddenly out, running to catch up.
"Were you gonna actually leave me?"
Chan looks towards Vernon and towards the metal bar he'd escaped from, his expression is sharp, something unforgiving and yet not completely unwelcoming. "Glad one of us didn't fail," he says instead.
"I could've killed you."
"How? I was like...ten feet away from you."
Vernon squirms, eyes darting all around, maybe he's paranoid, but maybe he's allowed to be considering last night. "You were attached to the floor, that was attached to the bar, that was attached to the handcuffs, that was attached to me," he explains. "And now the handcuff is gone and that could've been you."
Chan sighs, like the motion pains him. "Well that was some mental gymnastics when you didn't even make the bar disappear, you're a piece of work aren't you?"
Well, that's the whole reason why he's here, why the other's here as well, Vernon imagines, so he shrugs, like he wasn't about to keel over from a heart attack thirty seconds before. But Chan's right, at least his ability didn't stretch far enough to disappear the metal bar, and that is a success, albeit a small one. Dr. McCoy's radical exercise worked after all, adding Chan as a list of people he knows isn't bad either.
"I like you," Chan announces before resting his arm across his shoulder. "Wanna go somewhere tomorrow?"
Sighing, Vernon lets the other lead him out of the room, resigned that he's got a new friend now. "Where?"
"I got extra tickets to the fair tomorrow, I gave some to my friend as an apology present but I don't know if he's still pissed at me enough to not go, so...but- hey do you still need to pee?"
Well, Vernon thinks, at least today wasn't a total failure. Realizing that what he probably need is someone who's unafraid of his abilities. If only someone like Chan is a dime a dozen.