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The door to her dorm room SLAMMED the force of a hurricane. Tears cascaded down Jean's face as she collapsed face down on her bed, sobs wracking her body. She felt pathetic, like the 17 year old girl she pretended she wasn't as she replayed the events of a mere few minutes ago through her head.
Her being unable to focus her stupid powers to pass some stupid assignment. Scott, her sweet Scott, approaching her to try to calm her down. Him making the fatal mistake of touching her arm. An eruption of a yell. Pink light everywhere. Scott on the floor, unconscious. Charles looking at her like she's some kind of monster, a look she never expected from him of all people.
Everything else is a blur— all she knows is one second she was watching Ororo help him to Scott to feet as he roused, and the next she was making her pillowcase wet with salt water. Why was she like this? Why was she so emotional, so out of control of her abilities?
She laid there for what felt like days, though it was probably at most twenty minutes. Sobbing, allowing her mind to spiral and tell her all the ways shes a fuck up. Her brain even managed to throw in a scattered "your mom was right to leave you", a true classic. She felt pathetic, she felt weak. This school, these people were making her soft. Softness isn't a luxury people like her can afford—
Jean was startlingly broken from her self deprecating thoughts by the buzz of her phone, groaning to see who dared to disturb her sacred self loathing time. She felt a pang of annoyance as 'MENACE' flashed across her phone screen; an inside joke between her and Peter. God, she loved him, but his optimism sounded nauseating right now. So, she declined his call and slammed her phone down. However, she should have known how persistent her pseudo-brother is by now and just let the phone ring. At least then he wouldn't have clued into her purposefully declining his call after two rings and could reasonably assume she was just busy. Instead, the man held together by nerves and anxiety started worrying, something that never ends well for anyone. Peter called another six times (man, did she regret making 'Spider' by Bo Burnham his ringtone) before she finally answered. "What do you want?" She bit out, voice wetter than she would have liked it to be.
"Woah, hey, let's just…" Jean could almost see Peter scrunching his face up, choosing his words carefully. "I was calling to see if you wanted to do lunch and catch up tomorrow, but now I'm worried about you."
Jean let out a dry laugh at that. "I don't need you to worry about me. I don't need anyone worrying about me! I was doing just fine on my own…"
"If you call reckless body hopping and freezing the fine people of New York 'doing just fine' then yeah you were doing fantastic." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable, so very Peter. "And besides, I'm your brother, it's my job to worry about you."
"You're not my fucking brother, Peter!"
She could sense his wince through the phone and felt bad for a second. She knew it was a low blow, knew how much this pseudo-sibling thing meant to him (and to her when she isn't overtaken by the unbridled rage of a teenage girl). But ever the mature adult, it rolled off his back. He knew she didn't mean it, that she was just upset. "And Tony wasn't my fucking dad and that didn't stop him from baby proofing my suit out of worry."
Jean just groaned into the phone, but as usual Peter was undeterred. "Now, do you wanna tell me what has you so upset? You know my mind is gonna go worst case scenario if you don't."
A hint of a smile danced on Jean's face. Only a hint. "Are you guilting me, Parker?"
She could hear a dance of a smile on his face too. "If that's what it takes for you to open up. I just… I wanna support you, Jean. I can't do that if you don't let me in."
She sighed. This was Peter, someone who took a bullet for her after she terrorized him and his girlfriend. Someone who treats her like pure stardust in spite of her wrongdoings, someone who took a chance on her before anyone else. If anyone was going to be non-judgemental, it's him. "I uh… I hurt Scott in training."
There was silence on the other end of line. But not harsh silence, just giving her space to take her time. "I was frustrated, I wasn't getting it, and he… he went to comfort me…" Tears were welling in her eyes again. Pathetic. "But I was so in my own mind, I lost control. He was knocked out for a second. Because of me, Peter."
"That's awful, Jean. I'm really sorry that happened. It wasn-"
"Wasn't my fault? Yes it was, Peter! Because I have no self control, because I'm a damn atom bomb people would just be better off without!"
She could feel Peter making his move to speak, to tell her how untrue that is, say something about how his life is better with her in it, but her word vomit cut him off with something terrible.
"I just… I sometimes wonder if I should just do what you did."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, something shifting. "And what is it I did exactly?" There was a somewhat foreign edge to Peter's tone, as if he was daring her to elaborate.
But, too caught up in her own turmoil, Jean never fully picked up on that, and elaborate she did. "I have telekinesis, Peter. I can access memories, and maybe things would be better for Scott if he just… never knew I exist—"
"Stop." The seriousness of Peter's voice stopped her dead in her tracks, sending a chill down her spine. "It's insulting that you are treating the four worst years of my life as a choice you can make willy nilly when shit gets tough but I'm not… I'm not even touching that right now." He sounded genuinely hurt as he took a steadying breath, and continued. "Jean… what I did to MJ was unforgivable. I thought I was doing the right thing, and that I was protecting her… but I was only protecting myself. What I did hurt her. I took away someone important to her and didn't even let her grieve. I took away her choice, and we are both still learning to forgive me for that. So Jean Grey, I swear on May, if you do this to that boy… I will never speak to you again."
She wasn't sure what it was about it. The breakdown of what exactly it is she was talking about doing and how batshit insane it sounded, or Peter being more serious than she had ever heard him, a nerve so evidently hit… but her mind cleared. "I wasn't… I was just thinking out loud."
A sigh. "I know you weren't going to do it, Jean. But please, God, don't even talk about it. I've been there, I know what it's like to be afraid of yourself. I know how our minds love to convince us that people are better off without us, but they're not. You know they're not."
"I'm not sure I do…"
"Maybe not right now. It took me four years of isolation to get it drilled into my thick head. But there's a reason people stick around us, Jean."
A real smile crept up on her. "How is it you know exactly what to say?"
She could practically see her brother's cocky smirk. "The group home hired me for a reason! I'm apparently a teen whisperer."
"You know Charles still has a position open for you here if you want it. You wouldn't have to hide your other half!"
A chuckle. "It would take a billion dollar salary to get me out of the city, especially since I just settled in to Ned & MJ's."
"Xavier is a billionaire. He can make that happen! Your girlfriend and whatever it is Ned is to you can come, too."
That breathy laugh Jean loves so much danced over the airwaves connecting their two devices. "Convince me over ice cream tomorrow? One mint chip one chocolate?"
"You got yourself a plan, Pete. See you then."
"Love you, Jeanie."
Another soft smile, one that was finally starting to feel right on her face. Someone loved her. People loved her. "Love you, too."
She hung up with beep, the world feeling suddenly a little lighter, and when Scott knocked on her door to talk about what happened, she didn't feel completely terrified.
Peter Parker had a way of doing that for people.