Archive of Our Own

Tears were threatening to expel from his eyes, sniffing furiously, the nine-year-old kid willed himself not to cry even though the pain on his knee and head were agonizing. He couldn’t stand up, his skinny legs wouldn’t be able to carry himself especially with these wounds, and he felt dizzy even from slight movement. He knew he shouldn’t have taken the stairs, the big kids tended to hang around there a lot.

As snot slowly dripped down his nose, Scott wiped at his face heatedly before looking around, searching to see if anyone was coming to get him. Sighing, he leaned back and waited. Maybe by then the pain would lessen and he could go home, or maybe they would know that he was at the back of the school, hiding, and they would come and get him.

He’ll just have to wait, no need to call out his name yet. That would be for later when things got worse.

“The hell ya doing there?”

Looking up, he saw Logan standing a few feet in front of him. Scott tried to ignore the sudden relief that flooded through his veins.

“The fuck are ya doing here?”

Scott jolted awake, looking up, he saw Logan glaring down on him, freshly cut flowers hanging limply from his right hand.

He must’ve slept on her grave again.

Sitting up straight, Scott wiped any dried saliva on his face, if there was any, before realizing his right leg had temporarily gone limp due to his uncomfortable position.

“I was just visiting,” he told the older man.

Logan’s eyes wandered briefly from her grave to his grave before looking back at Scott, the scowl on his face was once a comforting view knowing that it wasn’t really what it meant. Now, however, Scott didn't know where he stood with him anymore. The look on his face might be for real this time.

“How bold of ya to even set foot here,” he told him instead, “Go the fuck away now, before the others see ya,” Logan ordered with a quick jerk of his head, “Their reaction once they see ya ain’t gonna be as nice as mine.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice, standing up, he stilled himself for a moment just to get a good feeling on his right leg before patting his jeans clean and turning around to leave. He didn’t look back, there was no reason to, besides, he learned the hard way that looking back would just make everything much more complicated.

Scott was already at a faraway distance when he heard their voices, telling stories to their grave as if the dead could hear them. He wondered, if things went differently, maybe he didn’t have to keep his distance away from the others, and maybe no one had to die. Scott’s footsteps didn’t falter, not once did he take the temptation to turn his head. He just continued walking until he got out of the cemetery.

His phone was on silent throughout the day, so it wasn’t really a surprise when he found Winters inside his dingy apartment. It wasn't like security was great at this dump of a place and it wasn't like he was even paying for his own rent. As much as he wanted to live his own life away from them, resources weren't that easy to have come by. For now, he just had to deal with it and endure everything life threw at him.

“Been calling you the whole day,” Jack said, sitting on a folding chair while nursing a glass of brandy, “Nathaniel ain’t happy about it. And neither am I, leaving me to deal with his annoying ass,” he was pissed, it was obvious. Why else was he here in the first place?

Scott calmly closed the door behind him and placed the keys on the counter top, “Does he even know you’re here?” he asked instead, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack.

Jack didn’t reply in an instant, instead, he took his sweet time finishing off his glass before looking at him, wiping any excess alcohol off his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression menacing but it did nothing to Scott. “No,” was his short response before leaning back and tipping his chin up. “But you’re not going to tell him are you? Or else we’ll both be in big trouble,” he said, voice intimidating, “You don’t want that, right?”

Scott didn’t say anything. Instead, he went towards his mini-fridge and took out a bottle of water. He wasn't in the mood to see O'Diamonds today, or any other day. But, he had no control over it. It wasn't like he could just tell him to stop, or make a person tell him to stop because even if he did, Essex isn’t a nice guy to see reason, he’ll just be furious and Scott would only get dragged into this.

As much as he didn’t want to play safe, there wasn’t a variety of options for him laid out on the table.

“Strip.”

Scott stilled but didn’t do anything.

“I said strip,” the voice was louder this time as if showing his dominance.

Slowly, Scott returned the bottle inside the fridge and closed it shut before starting to unbutton his clothes, starting from the bottom of his shirt.

“Do it in front of me,” another order.

He didn’t disobey, even if there were a million reasons to, he couldn’t. With light footsteps, Scott walked towards the older man in the room and continued slowly disrobing himself. He could feel the intensity of those brown eyes staring at him, it would’ve been enough to make him stop before, now, however, he had gotten used to it.

Later, he would find himself bent over, pants pooled at his ankles while Winters had his way with him, hand gripping tightly on his hair while he pushed his face on the tabletop. Scott couldn’t do anything but grip the sides until he couldn’t feel his fingers. He didn’t want to make any noise; he didn’t want to give the guy that satisfaction; he just wanted him to finish up quickly.

The table creaked louder and faster as the older man’s release started to come closer. Scott’s dick was swinging limply between his legs as the intensity became greater.

There wasn’t any aftercare once it was over. Once Jack was done, he pulled out and pulled up his pants, zipping them shut before telling Summers that they would meet again next time as he leaves. Scott only laid there, breathing heavily while he felt thick liquid drip down his thighs.

There was nothing on his mind. He didn’t want to think. Thinking made him sleepless. It was only a hassle.

He didn’t know how long he stayed that way - bent over a table - but he knew he should start cleaning up soon. As much as he didn’t have any dignity left in him, hygiene was still necessary. Standing up, Scott stretched his arms and back before heading towards the shower.

If he scrubbed his skin raw again, no one would notice anyway.

The ointment that the nurse was putting on his wound stung causing Scott to flinch and hiss, gripping the edge of the bed tightly.

“What a baby,” somebody said at the corner of the room.

Pissed, Scott briefly shot him a glare before returning his gaze down on his knee, watching as nimble fingers treat his wounds. He wasn’t a baby, he didn’t ask for help, it just so happened that Logan found him at the back of the school, nothing but pure coincidence. He was the one that practically carried him all the way to the nurse’s office without Scott telling him to. How was he a baby?

“Stop it, Logan,” Jean fumed before slapping the older boy’s left forearm, “You’re being mean.”

“Did I lie though?”

“I am not a baby,” Scott seethed, “I didn’t ask for your help, jerk.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan mocked, “Even if it wasn’t me. Yer still gonna need some older kid to carry ya here, because yer such a baby.”

“You could’ve just left me alone.”

“Maybe I should’ve because you were this close to crying.”

If Jean was about to interfere, Scott didn’t give her a chance.

“Shut up, Logan!”

“Why? Because ya don’t want to hear how much of a baby ya are?”

“I said—!”

“Children!” The school nurse suddenly bellowed, causing two nine-year-olds and one ten-year-old to flinch and shut their mouths. Noticing her sudden outburst, she took a deep breath and tried composing herself, “No arguing in my clinic, okay?” she told them before turning to look at the two kids who came with Scott, “Why don’t you two go and wait outside? We’ll be done in a jiffy.”

Jean nodded politely while Logan only shrugged and muttered something about how it worked for him.

Scott remained silent and tried not to look at them as they left, but at the last minute, he couldn’t help but take a peek as two retreating backs vanished as soon as the door closed.

“You have a pretty deep gash on your knee,” the nurse suddenly said, catching the kid slightly off guard, “Why didn’t you call for help?”

“I don’t need it.”

Not yet.

Scott woke up from the alarm blaring through his phone. Stretching out his arm on top of his nightstand, Scott turned it off with a simple swipe of his pointer finger. He laid there for only a second longer before sitting up and rubbing his sore neck. His bones ached, but mostly on the lower part of his body. The skin on his forearms also stung but that was to be expected.

He should probably start heading out soon, if Jack was telling the truth. Nate was probably fucking pissed.

After quickly finishing his breakfast, Scott double-checked that the door was locked before heading downstairs. The apartment he lived in wasn’t all that grand. On the contrary, it was this close to being demolished. Mold was everywhere and some rooms had this foul odor making him wonder if there was a dead body hidden somewhere.

Stepping out the front doors, Scott was greeted with the usual streets of this downtown area. Some people were already drunk first thing in the morning. The streets were littered with dirt. A robbery was probably happening at the back alleys, and other more depressing activities that Scott could do nothing about but walk away.

He was used to this. Even though he wanted to do something about it, what power did he have?

The travel from his place to the bar wasn’t that much of a distance. It had only taken him ten minutes to reach his destination. Since winter was just around the corner, the heat that enveloped Scott inside the bar felt nice. Although being greeted by a guy blowing some stranger on table six wasn’t something he was really looking forward to seeing right now.

It’s too early for this.

“He’s at the back,” the guy tending the counter informed Scott. He wasn’t looking at him, too busy wiping the tabletop clean.

Scott didn’t say anything, but he gave him a curt nod that the guy probably didn’t notice before heading towards the curtain of beads that connected to a private room. Only a few people could enter here, and most customers dreamed to step foot in this place. Scott, however, dreaded that room.

He found Essex sitting on a long sofa, holding a glass of whiskey with his right hand, his legs spread in front while his arms were placed at top of the backrest. Even with the dim yellow lighting of the room, his pale skin was still as prominent as ever.

“I couldn’t get a hold of you for hours,” was his first words to Scott.

Scott only placed his hands inside the pocket of his jeans, “The battery died,” he lied professionally.

Eyes that almost looked crimson bore on him hard, as if trying to read through the lie. Scott never knew if Essex believed him or not, but based on the fact that he hadn't thrown his lifeless body out on the street yet, Scott could confidently say that all of the lies he told before had worked.

“Where were you?” Another question as the interrogation continued.

“If I said getting my ass fucked in the back door alley, would you believe me?”

No reaction, nor a simple quirk of an eyebrow. Slowly, Nathan finished his drink and stood up. Scott didn’t move, he only watched as the older man in front of him came closer, and closer, until there’s almost an inch of distance away from them. Scott didn’t break eye contact, even when the older man slowly raised his hand, attempting to caress his face possessively, but changed his mind in a split second to grab a chunk of Scott’s hair, forcefully pulling at it to bare his neck.

“I don’t care how many men touched you,” he whispered against his ear, “As long as you know who owns you.”

Maybe Scott was grateful that Winters didn’t put any mark on him, or maybe pissed that he didn’t. Either way, he would only find himself pinned against a wall or bent over a table or couch. With familiar faces having their way with him, using his body for pleasure and only thinking about their release.

Scott would only watch as his dick hung limp, enough indication of what he truly felt while doing this. Words like ‘No!’ and ‘Stop!’ wouldn't work. It never did from the start anyway, not when the owner of those red beady eyes watched from the corner - the only person who could give commands in this place.

Later, he would take his turn alone once everyone had finished up, filling him with those disgusting sensations that wouldn't ever go away no matter how hard he scrubbed his skin raw. He would take his turn when his skin feels clammy and hot, when he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. He would continue doing it over and over again until Scott felt like throwing up.

Again.

He found himself bent over in the back alley, puking up his breakfast until his eyes felt hot and jaw sore. Legs shaking and hand gripping the wall too hard, Scott pushed himself until he felt his back land against the cold damped wall, breathing heavily as he wiped his quivering mouth.

His legs felt sticky, and his ass felt like it was swollen, something that he had gotten used to through the years. The bathroom at the bar was temporarily unavailable, putting Scott in an uncomfortable state. He needs to clean up soon, leaving the semen up in there would only be a bigger hassle later.

Gulping in a deep breath, Scott pushed himself away from the narrowed space when he noticed a girl, not less than ten years old, with red hair looking up at him, watching.

He didn’t know how long the kid had been standing there, had she been observing him the whole time he was emptying his stomach?

If Scott was about to apologize, an older woman, probably her mother, furiously grabbed her hand and pulled her away from him. Seething words between her teeth, reminding her not to leave her side again before shooting Scott a quick glare, then proceeded on telling the kid never to come close to him ever again.

Ah.

It seems that he was still popular with the folks around here. He just didn’t know if it was about being a whore or the one where two people ended up dead.

Without further ado, Scott started moving his feet in hopes to clean himself up soon.

“Gimmie my stuff,” Scott fumed attempting to make a grab for his bag but missed when Logan made a side stepped to dodge him, “LOGAN!”

“No,” was the older kid’s short response, “I ain’t carrying ya if ya tripped yer butt trying to carry yer bag.”

Scott shot Jean a look, but she only shrugged her shoulders in response. He hated this. Scott didn’t ask for help. He was doing just fine until Logan made a big deal out of it. Sure, his knee hurt a bit and the gash on his forehead still stung, but it wasn't like he was completely helpless. He was already nine years old - a big boy. Logan was just a year older. It wasn't that even big of a difference.

“I can carry my stuff just fine,” he huffed.

“Yeah, right,” Logan scoffed.

“Scott, you’re limping,” Jean told him as if to point out the obvious. “Let him help you. It won’t bruise your ego you know?”

“I don’t need his help,” he seethed through gritted teeth, “I’m not like someone who needs help on his math homework from a person younger than him.”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

Both Scott and Jean flinched, surprised from the sudden curse word that came out of Logan’s mouth. It took them at least a second before they started laughing, having no idea what was so funny in the first place.

Out of muscle memory, Scott marched towards the back end of the convenient store and skimmed through the last aisle, looking for his usual go-to brand for douching. The first few times he bought this kind of stuff, embarrassment reddened up his face. Now, however, it was like purchasing a box of gum.

The new kid manning the cashier gave him a once over. When Scott noticed this, he only raised a questioning brow causing the poor kid to turn red and punch in his purchase. Either the kid’s still inside the closet or had been thinking about experimenting, either way, Scott wouldn't get in the way of that.

He added a bottle of water at the last minute.

After paying for the stuff, Scott pulled his hoodie over his head, preparing for the cold wind slapping his skin once he went through the doors. Stepping out of the convenient store, Scott was met with the flickering light of the street light. That thing had been barely hanging on for days. It still astonished him that it was still trying to work.

Looking over to his right, he saw a couple of loiterers passing each other a small plastic package with a red diamond printed at the front. He only stared at it for few unnecessary seconds when the wind brushed against his exposed skin.

With a quick shiver, Scott shoved his hands deep inside his pocket while still gripping the plastic bag. He watched as clouds formed in front of his mouth whenever he breathed, oddly finding it satisfying to watch. Scott was a few buildings away from his apartment when his phone started ringing, pulling it out, he saw Nathaniel calling him.

Scott stared down on his phone for a few silent seconds before taking the bottled water he just purchased and started drenching the small device until it died.

He stood there, staring at his phone as if waiting for something to happen, no idea if he was dreading for it to work or the exact opposite.

“Aren’t you Scottie?” A voice said behind him along with a big hand being placed on his left shoulder.

Scott instinctively whipped around and created a huge distance away from the stranger. He gave him a quick once over before realizing he was one of Nathaniel’s acquaintances at the bar, a familiar face that Scott had grown accustomed to. He should know; they’d seen too much of each other, much to Scott’s disliking.

It was funny - he still couldn’t remember the man's name.

The guy smirk, taking a step closer while devouring Scott’s appearance in front of him, not to mention the guy also reeked of alcohol, “Well this must’ve been my lucky day,” he said, showing one of his silver teeth.

“Lucky day?” Scott repeated.

“Didn’t have the chance with you this afternoon,” he explained, taking another step before extending a hand to tuck a stray hair behind Scott's ear, “And I’m pretty pent up right now.”

Scott shook his head, “I’m not in the mood.” He really wasn't. He knew he shouldn’t decline the offer, but sometimes he just couldn’t give a shit.

“Aww, c’mon, baby, let’s have some fun,” the guy persuaded, whispering words in his ear while pushing his shoulder towards a narrow alley. “I heard you can do it anywhere, anytime.”

“Seriously,” Scott continued, about this close to pushing the guy away from him, “I don’t want to.” The older man only ignored him, kissing his neck and licking the skin behind his ear, palming Scott’s jeans as if wanting him to get hard, “I said—”

“Hey, Bub, he said he doesn’t want to.”

The man froze, along with Scott suddenly forgetting what he was supposed to say. It didn’t take him a minute to determine who owned that voice because he grew up with it. Scott found himself tipping his head low as if trying to hide his face while the stranger turned and looked at Logan. Scott could feel that he was pissed from the sudden interruption.

“Why don’tcha mind your own business, punk,” he spat, “This is between me and him.”

He took a peek, and he knew he shouldn't have because Logan was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Scott tipped his head even lower and refrained himself from opening his mouth.

“I got business with him first, Bub,” Logan answered instead, almost making Scott look up at him. Almost. “Got a problem with that?”

The guy scoffed, but let go of him after a second or two of them fighting dominance, “Whatever,” he said before turning to look at Scott and groping his ass as if the idea of Logan standing beside them didn't bother him. “Keep this ass tight by tomorrow then,” he whispered, licking his lips before leaving, bumping Logan’s shoulder forcefully as he did so.

Silence.

Scott knew Logan was staring down at him, probably realizing something that would only worsen his already fucked relationship with the older man. Why did he have to be here of all places? Logan knew where Scott lived. Wasn’t he supposed to be avoiding this area?

“That yer way of earning money now?” Logan asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

“I don’t get paid,” was Scott’s honest reply.

Logan scoffed, “Right.”

If the older man didn’t believe him, there was no point in trying to change his mind. It wouldn't happen. “What are you doing here?” the younger man asked instead.

“Cyclops!” Jean called down the aisle, “Cyclops!” she called again.

Scott raced down the walkway, running towards Jean as fast as his ten-year-old gangly legs could go. Suddenly imagining what kind of problem she got herself into, only to find her trying to reach for a bag of potato chips, “You called me, Cyclops, just for that?”

“What?” she replied innocently, “It works every time.”

Logan stilled, probably already expecting the question, but wasn’t ready to have an answer to it. Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, he opened and mouth and snarled, “What is it to you?”

“Probably nothing,” Scott replied, taking his back off the cold cemented wall before moving his left shoulder circularly to ease up the strained muscle there. “What are you doing in the neighborhood? Last I check your house is quite far from here.”

“It’s none of yer business.”

Maybe it was only wishful thinking, that Scott would be able to make a decent conversation with Logan again, even with the current circumstance. It was unlike of him to save him out of all people in the streets. Or probably it was. Logan’s heroic tendency never grew out of him; something that they had in common.

But that was before Scott changed, he knew that even himself. He wasn't the same person as before, and it was definitely not for the better. When the silence stretched longer between them, Logan huffed and turned, about to take his leave since there were no other more reasons for him to stay.

“Thanks,” Scott hastily said out of impulse. Even though he and Logan weren't the same as before, he should at least thank him for his earlier actions, “The guy was pretty persistent.”

Logan turned and stared at him eyes slightly narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, staring down on him as if he was trying to make sense of something. Things may have changed between them, but Scott knew how sharp Logan’s senses were, especially his reflexes. Scott grew up improving his, Logan was just born with it. It made Scott wonder if Logan noticed something, but also knowing him, he probably didn't give a rat’s ass about it.

“That’s not necessary,” he finally answered with a scoff. “Ya will be getting fucked by him tomorrow anyway.”

Ah, Logan heard that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Scott noticed a familiar presence a few feet across them, at the other side of the street. Logan also noticed the unexpected company and had turned his head to take a look at the pale person watching them, eyes beady, almost the color of crimson against the dark surrounding.

“You should go,” Scott informed the older man, earning his attention back on him again.

Scott had a short feeling that Logan wanted to ask him a question, but held it back and decided to just heed along with the request. Scott dared not to watch the older man go, he kept his gaze on the ground, knowing that a pair of eyes were watching him closely, a reminder to Scott that he was back to his reality.

Scott could feel the rough thrust inside his body, in and out while pain shoots from the bottom half of his body His head was slammed against his apartment wall while the remaining shards of his broken mug crinkled on top of his foldable table. A hand gripped his hair tightly, pulling at the strands until his scalp started to burn.

“Who was he?” Essex whispered harshly against his ear, tongue sliding disgustingly against the back of his ear as the constant rhythm of his thrusts didn’t falter.

Scott didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he didn’t want to or that he just really couldn’t. Instead, he bit his lip and tried to repress the pain, his legs shook while his fingers tried to find something to hold against the wall, nails scratching the cold barrier, trying to sustain balance.

“I said…” a harsh pull on his hair sent Scott’s head bending backward, sweat dripping down his Adam’s apple and forcing Scott’s mouth to fall open with a grunt, “… Who was he?”

Scott let out a couple of harsh breaths before taking air in deeply to reply, “I thought it didn't matter to you which guy I played with?”

The response got his head slamming against the wall the second time, much harsher than the first, managing to take most of his breath away, and not a good thing. Scott internally winced knowing that there was going to be an obvious bruise later. Covering it would make his morning routine take longer.

“But he didn’t fuck you, did he?” the older man said threateningly, “Who, is, he?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Scott didn’t mean it to sound defensive, a mistake that he shouldn’t have done. Suddenly, the older man pulled out and the pressure on his head vanished when two strong hands lifted him up and slammed his back on top of the table. Scott wasn’t able to notice the harsh slide-in of Nathan’s length when numerous broken shards pierced and went inside his skin.

The constant rhythm of his thrusts made the sharp fragments move deeper into his back, Scott gritted his teeth and refrained himself from groaning out in pain.

“You’re mine,” he seethed, tight hand wrapping forcefully around Scott’s neck, “You understand that?”

The grip tightened and Scott found himself clutching Nathaniel’s hand, trying to send him a signal that he couldn’t breathe. Instead, the older man thrust deep inside him, shaking Scott’s whole body making it obvious he was almost close to his release, “You understand that?” he asked again.

Scott nodded.

Hot liquid was released inside his body.

“Pssst, Cyclops,”

Nothing.

Scott didn’t look up nor made any movements, he just continued on reading a book that was probably too old for his age.

“Cyclops,”

Still nothing.

Pissed, Logan grabbed his pencil case and threw it across the table, hitting Scott square in the face. The force surprised the younger kid, making him lose his balance and fall against the cold floor. Almost. Scott managed to place a hand on the table at the last minute to sustain his balance before shooting a glare towards Logan’s way.

“I called for help ya jerk,” the eleven-year-old kid almost bellowed.

“Sh!!!” Scott furiously said, pointing a finger at Jean who was sleeping peacefully between them, “I am not helping you with math homework,” he whispered haughtily.

“Hey, the three of us had a deal,”

“Take the nicknames seriously, Logan,” Scott retorted.

“Oh boohoo, who stuck a stick up yer ass?”

With Essex gone, Scott found himself trying to reach for the broken fragments embedded on his back, he only managed to pull out three huge pieces but couldn’t seem to take a hold of the smaller ones. He was only pressing most of them even deeper, he felt a few were pushed under his skin.

Scott scoffed and let out a shaky breath, he’d been doing this for hours, and yet there was still a couple stuck under his skin.

It was frustrating.

Gripping the bedsheets hard, Scott bolted up and went towards his landline before punching in a few numbers. He knew he shouldn’t be calling him at this hour, actually, he shouldn’t be calling him at all, but given that he’ll probably be much preoccupied tomorrow, Scott should at least give a call.

On the third ring, the call was answered.

“Hello?”

“Reed,” Scott greeted, “It’s me.”

The reaction was instantaneous, “Summers?” then a few seconds of silence, probably looking around if there was somebody nearby, listening to him, “Didn’t I tell you not to call?”

“I did, but I may be in a difficult situation,” he explained, “I don’t think I’ll be able to visit later.”

A groan was heard from the other end. “Then don’t” he answered. “It’s not yet finished, you can come on the next day and check it yourself,” he said furiously, “I don’t care if you’re in a difficult situation, I’m already in big trouble just by talking to you. Do me a favor and never call again.”

Silence.

A sigh, an exasperated one.

“Look,” Reed stated, “My wife is expecting, and I still took the gamble to help you, the least you could do is to not call this number,” he said, “You’ve waited for what? Six years? Can’t you wait for at least two to three more days?”

“I can.”

“Then I see no problem. I’m hanging up.”

If Scott was planning on adding something more to say, the line ended. Scott sighed and sat down on his couch. He was still naked, but his skin was moist after taking a shower to clean himself up.

Two to three days, that’s what Reed told him, he can wait long enough for that. He can still do it. Feeling a sudden migraine, Scott ignored the pulsating pain on his back and went towards his closet, pulling out a new pair of clothes and a hat to cover up the bruise forming on his face.

In situations like these, Scott usually spent his time working out whenever he could feel his migraine coming, but he doubted he could do at least five sit-ups with the situation on his back. He should probably go head towards the hospital, but it wasn't like he could pay for the bills. Scott found himself taking a walk. He didn’t feel like sleeping, nor lying stomach-down on his bed.

His visits to the cemetery had started to become frequent, not that he started using it as a gateway from his reality. As if knowing the place by heart, Scott found her grave and sat down beside the tombstone by the left, seating between Xavier’s and Jean’s burial place. How many times had he visited this place without saying anything? He brought flowers, that much he could do, tonight, or today depending on what time it was, was the only exception since he came here.

Scott had always visited their graves, from once in every two months to three times a week. If he could only come here every day, he would. But not everyone wanted his presence here, not everyone wanted to see his face set foot on their graves, especially since most of them would rather him be the one buried six feet under.

Maybe it was a cruel thought and he was the only one thinking about it, but he wasn't deaf. He heard people say things behind his back, people he once called friends.

Life could turn a hundred and eighty in just a blink of an eye, and Scott wondered if there was any chance that he could reverse that.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the immovable gravestone as if waiting for something to happen, ignoring the ache on his back while droplets of blood trickled down his skin. The sweater he was wearing was thin, making him completely feel the cold breeze from head to toe. And yet he only sat there, staring.

This reality of his, it sucked.

“The hell are ya doing here again?”

Scott turned and saw Logan, looking down on him.

“This is stupid.” James grouched but didn’t say he wouldn't join nonetheless.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Scott said instead with a shrug, feeling the cast on his right arm started to itch the second time this day. He knew it was a bad idea to wrestle James off his bed, it’s just that the older boy sometimes got on his nerves… most of the time.

“Only you would think it's cool,” James scoffed.

“I think it’s cool,” Jean piped up from her spot, laid down on the long sofa.

James was startled, “What?”

“I mean, calling each other alias names when we need help seems cool,” she explained. “Feels like we’re superheroes.”

“What are we? Kids?”

Scott’s face scrunched up, “We are kids, James” he answered, “We’re both six and you’re seven, we’re only halfway towards our adolescent period.”

Jean nodded while Logan stared at him, probably wondering what in Cheetos name is ‘adolescent’, but it’s not like he’s going to ask, he still have his pride for that. “Don’t call me that,” he growled instead, “I told ya to start calling me, Logan.”

Scott stared, suddenly understanding why Logan was in the neighborhood at this time of hour. He probably took a quick leak when Scott arrived, although he’d rather not ask why the guy took so long. Scott was not a stranger to the knowledge about the older man having trouble finding sleep. However, he was a stranger when it came to what Logan does when he couldn't sleep.

“I wanted to pay a visit,” he answered, not giving any indication of standing up.

Logan shifted his weight on his right foot before pocketing both hands, “I think yer forgetting the fact that ya ain’t welcome here.”

Scott would say that this is a cemetery, he could visit anyone who died here and pay respect as much as he could. How many times had he already said that? He lost count. It might have been unfair, but sometimes there was no other choice with the situation he was in.

Standing up, Scott patted his jeans and replied, “No, I remember,” before adding, “My memory isn’t as bad as yours.”

Logan’s left eye twitched.

Scott didn’t know what came over him, somehow he just felt like saying those words as if where he stood with Logan wasn’t as dire as it already was. Maybe deep down he just missed the old banter, something that he didn’t expect he would wish to happen again. It’s quite funny how he wanted to have the things he hated before back.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” Logan said, voice low, sounding almost like a growl.

“Right,” Scott replied, sobering up, tipping his head low, unconsciously trying to cover the bruise on his face that now started to throb loudly, “Can I stay here at least for a few minutes?” he said instead. Scott wasn't going to apologize. There was no point to it anyway.

Logan didn’t say anything. He only kept staring as if that answer was enough.

“She was my friend too, Logan,” Scott tried, knowing that it wouldn't make things better, quite the exact opposite actually.

“Was,” was the older man’s reply, voice gruff and already pissed and tired at the topic. Because this had happened more than once before. More than his fingers and toes could count.

Unnecessary anger spiked up within him, gripping his hand into tight fists, Scott almost seethed, “You weren’t there, how would you know what happened?”

“But ya were,” Logan spat, “Two people dead, except you.”

“Are you implying that you also wished I was dead?”

“I didn’t—”

“Cut the crap, Logan, just—”

“Alright,” Logan bellowed, “Maybe I did,” he confessed and Scott found himself being rendered speechless, hearing from others that they wanted him gone was different, but to hear the words directly coming out of Logan’s mouth was a whole different thing, something that he found hurtful. “Maybe I wished ya just died with them because I’d rather not know what ya did.”

There were a lot of things Scott was, but a killer was not one of them, “I didn’t do it, Logan.”

“Do we have to argue about this again? Really?” Logan snapped, hands balling tightly into a fist, Scott noted.

“As long as I can prove my point.”

Face suddenly grim, Logan growled, “Get out of my face.”

Scott stayed rooted in his spot, not backing down. Usually, he would just let this happen, leave as soon as possible because he didn’t want to fight Logan, not anymore. But maybe he was just really tired now, he couldn't stand the fact that no matter how he tried to keep quiet or lay low, his name would never be clean, not to him.

Ever.

Maybe the friendly banter before would never happen again, only this kind of argument was possible. And Scott wanted to take what he could get, but not this, he didn’t want this. He hated this.

Maybe they exchanged more words to each other, waiting for at least someone to snap first. Logan did, pushing Scott roughly, forcing him to leave the place because his disgusting presence wasn’t wanted here. Scott blamed it on his unhealthy diet, the way he lost his balance from a simple shove, making his back fall hard on the corner of Jean’s gravestone.

The shards on his back moved deeper and Scott swallowed a cry. He completely forgot about that.

“C’mon,” Logan spat, “Stand up ya motherfucker,”

Due to the fact that he hadn't slept well and that he was just thoroughly fucked a few hours ago, Scott didn’t notice how burnt out he was. His body was sore and everything just felt so heavy. Nails digging through the skin of his palms, Scott willed himself to roll over and tried to stand up.

He was breathing hard, but he did manage to carry his weight again to fight back. He knew he couldn’t win, no matter how hard he tried with his current situation, Scott could never win against Logan. Due to his cap, decreasing the accuracy of his vision, he wasn’t able to notice the change of expression on Logan’s face.

Before Scott could aim a right hook, the older man had immediately wrapped a hand around his wrist and roughly swiveled Scott around, the sudden bone-cracking maneuvering almost made him lose his balance. Almost. If it weren’t for the fact that Logan got a hold of his shirt before pulling it up, revealing wounds he hoped had long dried up.

Suddenly self-conscious, Scott immediately dislodged himself and turned around to stare at Logan’s furrowed eyebrow while pulling his shirt down.

“What was that for?” he asked.

But either he was talking to a brick wall because Logan only reached out his hand and flicked Scott’s cap off. Scott found himself looking anywhere else but the older man, staring at a gravestone a few feet away from them. Logan only stared, no idea if he wanted to ask where he got that or tell him how much of a fragile pussy he was. Either way, Scott wouldn't be able to answer any of that.

A heavy sigh made Scott look up, Logan was scratching his nape.

“C’mon,” he said, and Scott wondered if he was indicating on continuing the fight because if he was, his face said otherwise. Scott’s expression must’ve shown a lot because the older man added a few words irritably, “I ain’t beating ya up with that shit show of a back ya got there,” a pause, “And ya better have tweezers at yer place.”

Sometimes, Scott couldn't understand what was on Logan’s mind. It had been years since he last did.

Scott hissed and gripped the sheets of his bed tighter.

“It hurts cuz yer squirming,” Logan snapped, pushing in deeper, trying to find something, “Stop fucking moving,”

“I’m squirming because it hurts,” Scott snapped back.

One last shove, and then a slow pull, the last tiny broken glass was finally drawn out of his skin. Scott wasn’t given a second before Logan rained almost half of his newly purchased rubbing alcohol on his back. The burn made Scott double over and grit his teeth, but he tried not giving Logan the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt like a sonvabitch.

“Yer place stinks,” Logan commented a moment later after a few poorly placed band-aids across his back.

If the situation was different, Scott might have brought up past memories about Logan’s garbage of a room, “It’s not like there’s a lot of options for me.”

“Right.”

Was Logan about to say comment? Scott wouldn’t know, he only watched as the older man left without another word, leaving Scott alone as if the earlier events didn’t just happen. Somehow, this felt worse than waking up with sore hips and thighs, and an empty space beside him.

A lot had happened within the day. Scott was tired, bone tired. But he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep. The sun would start peeking through the clouds soon, he would have to start the day that he always dreaded in a few hours. Letting out a deep breath, Scott went towards his shelf and pulled out an old VHS tape.

Losing count on how many times he had watched this.

“I want to change my codename,” Jean announced suddenly popping up between Scott and Logan who was sitting quietly in the living room. Originally, Scott was supposed to help Logan with his math homework but when the time where it was the older kid’s turn to answer the third question, a staring contest had begun.

“Why?” Scott questioned, turning to look at her with a scrunched-up nose, “You’ve already been Marvel Girl for three years,” he added.

Logan leaned back and stretched, it wasn’t obvious but Scott knew he was relieved to have someone interrupted them. The silence had been almost going on for fifteen minutes after all.

“Because I just realized it sucks and it’s too long,” she explained as if that was enough of a reason. Maybe it was, they were only ten years old and Logan’s birthday was coming up soon and he would be eleven. They were just a bunch of kids who had been playing superheroes for quite some time now.

“What do you want to change it into?” he asked instead.

Jean’s eyes sparkled brightly, “Phoenix,” she said dreamily.

Logan’s eyebrow scrunched up between his forehead, “Ya mean, like a bird, or somethin’?”

Scott’s head tipped slightly to the right, “Well, it is a bird but technically it’s a mythical creature that doesn’t—”

“I know what a phoenix is, shut up, Slim,” Logan bemoaned.

Scott sat quietly on the bar stool nursing a glass of whatever the bartender gave him.

Customers (though he couldn’t say it that way since he was not getting paid doing this dirty work) were pretty low today since the bruise on his face didn't look too appealing for sex. Maybe Nathaniel visiting him last night was a blessing in disguise, no matter how sick it seemed to be.

“Dat looks like it hurt, eh?” Gambit asked refilling Scott’s glass once it was finished.

He didn’t know if it was some sort of comfort, but it was the closest he would get. Gambit, he could’ve been in a better place than here - working for Sinister because he owed him a big deal in his life. They never talked about this, but they had both wanted to leave this place for a long time, they just couldn’t. Both of them had different reasons.

Scott shrugged and tipped his head lower. “I didn’t see where I was looking,” he reasoned, they both knew it was a lie. Something they pretended not to notice.

“Mr. Sinister ain’t in a good mood,” he pointed out, as if the fact that Scott’s busted face was the reason for his bad mood, “Gambit’s gonna lend you some stuff to put on your pretty face,” he said, “We don’t want a fache Nathan, no-no.”

Scott huffed a small smile that he tried to hide behind his glass. Remy could make bad news quite fun sometimes. Looking down on his drink, Scott was about to gulp it in one go when the door chimed open, The mumbled ‘Pauvre ti bête‘ that Remy muttered told Scott that whoever had arrived wasn’t good news. Biting the bullet, Scott turned around and saw Winters marching towards them, pissed.

Pauvre ti bête indeed.

Sighing, Scott thanked Gambit for the drink before a hand-pulled him roughly away from the counter, dragging him to the back room with as much care a predator gives to their prey.

“You fucking slut,” he spat as he threw Scott harshly on the sofa.

Thanks to the alcohol, the ache on his back didn't seem to bother him as much as before, “If you’re mad at Sinister, leave me out of this,” Scott snapped while rubbing his forehead.

“Oh shut the fuck up, you fucking whore,” Winter snapped before grabbing Scott’s chin and forcefully making him look at him in the eye, “That guy did a number on you, didn’t he?”

And for a moment, Scott wanted to correct him that Logan didn’t put this bruise on his face, didn’t fucked him like there’s no tomorrow, didn’t shove broken shards on his back, and leave him alone to bleed. He was tempted, but would Jack believe him if he did? So instead, he spat on his face and pushed the guy away. The anticipated yell from Jack was to be expected and the incoming punch on the face.

Was it worth it though? Definitely.

“I told you to stop trailing me,” Scott said instead, wiping the blood off his mouth. He knew Nathaniel’s obsessive tendencies, but he didn’t like the idea of having people like Jack watching him. The fact that he jumped to the conclusion that Logan was one of his boy toys may have seemed like a blessing in disguise (because now, at least Sinister was not going to assume that they were flirting), the fact that they now knew Logan was the problem.

“Tell that to the boss, let’s see if you can change his mind,” Winters rebutted, before taking a whiskey on the cupboard and drinking it straight from the bottle.

Scott didn’t say anything, instead, he just stared at how pissed the older man looked, “You looked pretty pent up,” he said.

“I ain’t fucking you with that kind of face,” he snapped.

“I should have my face beaten up more, then,” he scoffed, it may have sounded like a joke, but Scott was actually considering it.

Scott stared blankly at the isle, wondering if instant noodles for dinner would be enough for him or were protein bars better? Gambit was true to his words and lent him a few cheap make-ups to cover his bruise, apparently, getting fucked with a bag over your head doesn’t sound so romantic nor hot. If Jean were here, she would probably teach him how to put a concealer on.

Actually, if Jean were here, he wouldn't have to deal with any of this in the first place.

“A lifeless female body was found floating at the bottom of the bridge, news about her family is yet to be announced. According to some witnesses, she has been revisiting the area for…”

Scott looked up to watch the news being shown on the screen. That was the second time this month. Apparently, that poorly remodeled bridge now became a hot spot for suicidal people. It was not a bad place either, maybe the bridge itself was worse than dog shit, but the overlooking view was nice, Scott had been there a couple of times.

Sighing, Scott decided for a couple of protein bars instead because lately, he didn’t like how skinny he had started to become, even though others preferred it that way. Paying for the food he bought, he immediately opened one to take a bite of. Scott was just stepping out of the store when he saw a familiar kid crying silently under the flickering street lamp.

He knew this girl, she had watched him puked his guts out a few days ago.

Scott gave himself a second to think before deciding to take a step forward and crouch down in front of her, he waited for her to notice him, he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable as much she already was. Giving her candy seemed to be a red flag, but it wasn't like he had any candies with him. Scott’s not a fan of sweets, never has been.

Once the girl looked up, green eyes met blue.

“Want me to help you find your mom?” Scott offered.

Logan’s fist came crashing down on his face. They had fought before, countless fights that Jean had long grown tired of dealing with. But this was probably the first time that one of them was aiming for someone to break a bone, and it was certainly not Scott.

He fought back. What else was he supposed to do? Take all of Logan’s anger? That wasn't fair, he didn’t know the whole story, so why was it that Logan still wasn't listening?

“She needed help!” Logan bellowed grabbing Scott’s collar and shaking him furiously, “Where were ya?”

Flashes of yesterday’s breakdown resurfaced inside his head that he quickly pushed away. No one needed to know that, no one had to know. Instead, Scott swung his head backward and slammed his forehead against Logan, giving him enough time to dislodge away from the older guy’s grip.

“Where was I?” Scott yelled, “Why don’t you look at the mirror and ask the same question, Logan?” he snapped, “I wasn’t the only one she called, why are you only blaming me when you, yourself, weren’t there to help her!”

This time Scott saw Logan’s fist, but he didn’t do anything to avoid it. Because maybe, deep down, he wanted this, he wanted the pain, he wanted the punishment.

“Mom told me not to trust strangers,” she said the minute the tears had stopped falling.

“Then, if I tell you my name, I won’t be,” he offered.

“I already know who you are.”

Scott found himself sheepishly scratching the back of his head, “That doesn’t make it sound less bad,” he said looking down on the pavement. The facts that kids knew about him proved that his reputation was far from getting fixed. Though it wasn't like he had any reputation from the start.

“Did you really do it?”

Scott stilled, “If I did, would you still be talking to me?”

The girl showed no change of expression. They sat there quietly, making Scott wonder how old she was in fact. She didn't seem to act like young. “I think you didn’t, but that’s just my opinion,” she finally said.

Scott had nothing to say to that. What did a kid know about the issue? They’d met once and none of it seemed to show how innocent Scott was. It was actually the exact opposite. Just because someone so young didn't think low of him would change a lot, so why is it that Scott felt like his voice would crack if he spoke up? Maybe out of all of the people who wouldn’t believe in rumors, it has to be a kid.

“You remind me of my dad,” she added when the silence stretched too long between them.

“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” he replied once he knew his voice wouldn't break.

“Rachel!” a voice of a woman was suddenly heard behind them, turning around he saw the kid’s mother hastily running towards them. Looking closely, the woman reminded Scott of Jean, red hair and pretty. The kid—Rachel—was suddenly pulled away from Scott as if he was some sort of person with a contagious disease, “Don’t do that again!” she scolded before side-eyeing Scott.

Scott gave her a light nod that was completely ignored.

And just like that, Scott was alone again. He wondered if he would get to see Rachel again, but the odds were very unlikely. They lived in two completely different worlds.

Staring up, Scott saw an airplane gliding freely into the night sky. Scott was suddenly reminded of a warm afternoon at a hilltop, where the sun didn't feel so hot and the wind didn't feel that cold. Jean was sitting quietly beside him, reading a book while Logan snored loudly under a tree. Hank was babbling about a new experiment, while Warren extolled the woes of his current fling.

And Scott, Scott stared up at the sky, watching the airplane fly by, wondering if he could drive one someday.

Reed was true to his words, on the third day since their last call, although his arrival was unwanted, he gave Scott what they had been working on secretly for months, and in return, Scott was to never bother him again. He didn’t really have any other options but to agree.

The small package felt heavy inside his bag, but at the same time, it was as if Scott was this close to achieving the end he wanted to have for so long. How long had he been waiting for this? Six years, the idea that he was so close to the finish made him restless. Was it in a good way? Maybe.

The odd shuffling at the corner of his eye made him turn around and witness a familiar face cornering a girl towards the back alley. One of Nathaniel’s many acquaintances that he bothered not to remember. Usually, Scott would only walk away, and stress over the fact that he didn’t do anything back in the dark confinements of his room. Now, however, he’d question himself later why, after so many years of trying to keep his head low, did he finally decide to take a step and do something about it?

Scott was never the one to look past these things, he never liked turning a blind eye on stuff that shouldn’t be ignored.

“She said she doesn’t want to,” he spoke up, hands deep inside his pockets, trying to keep his fists from shaking.

The guy turned, his face was painted with irritation before it slowly turned into a smirk, immediately recognizing Scott, and probably remembering more of him that he would rather not know. Ignoring the change of attention, Scott signaled the teenager to leave with a quick jerk of his head.

The old geezer was kind enough to let her leave, but that didn't mean that was good news, not to Scott at least.

“You just made me lose a nice catch.”

“If you’re planning to start fucking minors, at least try to be a little discreet,” Scott informed him.

The guy shrugged. “She ain’t really my type. Too whiny.” Scott tried not to wrinkle his nose, the statement completely contradicts the fact that she was just a nice catch a second ago.

“If you thought you got lucky that I came across you, then you thought wrong,” Scott immediately pointed out, just realizing what he actually placed himself into. He knew, at the far back of his mind that it would end this way. His mind was just too preoccupied with the fact that he should be saving the girl.

The expectant frown on the old man’s face was instantaneous, “Playing hard to get ain’t really sexy on you right now.”

Scott tried his best not to frown, “Go home, your wife’s probably looking for you right now,” he told him instead before turning around to leave. He would be lucky if he managed to get out without any more problems, but that was the thing, Scott wasn't that lucky.

A rough and calloused hand suddenly shot out to take a firm grip on his right wrist, if it hurt, Scott didn’t whine, “You’re really pissing me off tonight,” the guy seethed, Scott could smell his rotting tooth and he wanted to award himself from managing not to gag.

“Let go, I’m not in the mood tonight,” he said instead, pulling his arm away to no avail.

“Then you should’ve just walked away in the first place,” he pointed out before pulling Scott and shoving him against the cold wall.

Pissed and tired from having countless encounters he never enjoyed, Scott managed to push himself and actually tried his best to get away. If it weren’t for the fact that he was freakishly unhealthy, he might’ve been successful, instead, he found the older man’s hand pushing his face against the cold cement that would probably leave an obvious mark on his skin later. Scott was breathing hard, he really didn’t want this right now.

“I heard you also did this to that Johnson guy,” the old man whispered hotly against his ear, “What happened to anywhere, anytime? You think Sinister’s going to like it?”

Scott didn’t know who this Johnson guy is, and he couldn’t give two shits to remember. But it’s true that he had been avoiding sex outside the bar, and people were starting to take notice. Did he think Sinister would at least be nice for once and let this messed-up business between them be overlooked? No, he didn't.

For now, Sinister owned him, and the fact that he let countless strangers touch him inside and out is enough for Scott to know that even his own body wasn't even his.

The reminder made him sick.

If he felt hands grabbing his belt buckle, Scott didn’t do anything to stop it anymore. He couldn't make any more mistakes, he was close, he just needed to endure this a little longer.

Maybe he felt like vomiting when hands kept on touching his skin and he felt sick whenever he could feel the continuous thrust in his body. He couldn’t do anything but to wait and grip his hands into a tight fist against the wall, he didn’t care if his nails had torn through his skin, didn’t care if his teeth sunk too deep on his lip, and didn’t care if his right hand was throbbing painfully.

He was just being too emotional today. It was annoying. It usually didn't matter if guys like this touched his body or complete strangers got an eyeful of him, so why now?

“Gonna come…”

Scott felt like vomiting again.

Just as he felt hot sticky liquid shot inside his body, Scott’s mouth moved in its own accord, uttering the words that he always says inside his head, safely unheard by anyone around him.

“I hate this.”

There was a loud thunk and Scott immediately felt the body pressing up against him fall down on the ground. Taken aback, Scott slowly turned around to see the older man lying unconscious beside his feet, his dick slowly softening down while it hung freely for everyone who passed by to see.

“Yer just gonna stand there? Pull yer pants up already.”

Scott’s head snapped towards the voice to find Logan looking directly at his face, holding a metal bat that he placed casually over his shoulder, head tipped slightly to the right and a cigar halfway finished hung on his lips. Scott didn’t wait to be told twice and hastily bent over to pull his pants up, feeling oddly strange when it was Logan staring at his junk. The slight sting on his right hand told Scott he probably had a mild wrist sprain.

Nothing big.

The involuntary hiss that passed through his mouth wasn’t left unheard by the older man.

“The fuck was that for?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine,” Fisting his hand, he continued buckling up his pants, feeling the slow trickle of hot sticky liquid roll down his thighs.

“Yer hand told me it’s not,” Logan suddenly pointed out, staring blatantly at the mild swell of Scott’s wrist. It wasn’t obvious, but the stiffness of his hand movement made it perceptible.

Scott didn’t say anything. He wondered if he should probably just thank him and leave? That seemed to be the right choice, only that his mouth felt like it was glued together.

Scratching his head, Logan let out a sigh through his nose before looking around, as if to reassure that it was only the two of them here before staring back at Scott, ignoring the fact that the guy was having some minor troubles on buckling his belt, “If ya hate it so much, why do ya keep on doing it?”

Scott stilled, “You heard that?” he asked without making eye contact, the light shuffle told him the older man only shrugged as a response. Sighing, Scott leaned against the wall and looked down on his feet, “Why do you always get to show up at times like this?”

“It ain’t a coincidence this time.”

The response earned Scott to look up, he didn’t say anything. He just waited.

Logan looked away, as if the mere fact of staring back felt uncomfortable, “That kid ya helped earlier, she was my neighbor.”

“She told you?”

“Told, heard, what’s the fucking difference,” he snapped.

If a smile was threatening to break across Scott’s face, he hid it by tipping his head low. An odd and foreign feeling was spreading across his chest, and he didn’t mind it, “You and your superman tendencies make me confused,” whether you hate me or not was left unheard.

“Oh fuck off, Summers, a thanks would be appreciated.”

“But,” Scott added, looking up and staring directly at Logan’s eyes, completely ignoring his complaint, “Can you at least be a hero to me one more time?”

Scott was lying down on the floor, his room a complete mess due to the sudden impulse of throwing everything he saw away from him. He had everything under wraps these past few weeks, but that didn't mean he wouldn't reach his breaking point. At age eighteen, never did he think that he would lose his parents this early.

He managed to pretend that he was fine, that he could take care of himself. Repressing the pain that kept on piling and piling up by keeping himself busy. He could take care of himself, he was fine.

Was.

Scott didn’t know how long he stayed staring at the ceiling, he knew he had to clean up soon. Sitting up, he saw the screen of his phone blinking through the darkness. Reaching out and unlocking it, Scott noticed a number of missed calls from Jean and one voice message.

Suddenly having a bad feeling, he pressed play.

Jean’s plea bellowed through the speakers, she sounded desperate, her voice cracking at every word, calling him Cyclops over and over and over again, but not telling him what was wrong.

Then the line went off.

Scott had long stopped feeling embarrassed showing his naked body to anyone at any age (minors weren't included) or gender, he lost all feeling of being ashamed after having numerous pairs of eyes bore through his skin as if trying to leave a mark there. But somehow, the feel of Logan’s fingers trying to clean his ass made him want for the floor to open up and eat him whole.

Turns out, there really was a mild sprain on his right wrist, the muscle was tender and he couldn’t make it twist around without hissing through his teeth. After receiving a few words about being fucking thin, Logan brought out a few ice cubes and a warm clothe to place it on his wrist.

They were situated on his bed when Scott was reminded of the thick liquid that was still coming out of his ass, he found himself uncomfortably adjusting his sitting position, the older man noticed this and stared at him with one of his eyebrows quirked.

“It’s still dripping,” Scott explained, staring down on his apartment floor, suddenly feeling hot, “It’s also uncomfortable if I keep it inside for too long.”

That’s how he later found himself, with both arms braced against the wall of his bathroom while Logan stood behind him, holding the shower head directly at his passage while three fingers wriggle up inside, trying to scoop out any body fluids that the other guy left.

Scott wanted to do it on his own, but after realizing that his dominant hand can’t work properly, it wasn't going to be so easy. He didn’t know if he should feel thankful that Logan immediately got the gist of the problem or be mildly irritated that Logan immediately got the gist of the problem.

He didn’t know that receiving aftercare could be this…. humiliating.

“Almost done,” Logan informed him, not at all fazed by the sudden turn of events.

The last time Scott saw Logan naked or even vice versa was a long time ago, back when they were still kids and innocent. Never did he think that the future could turn out this way.

“Just get it over with,” Scott said through gritted teeth, “I—” Logan did something with his fingers that made him involuntarily jerk his knee, the movement was quick and light, and the older man didn’t seem to notice it. But Scott did, and he remembered that quick foreign feeling down there, and he was sure that he didn’t not like it.

In an instant, Scott dislodged himself and kicked Logan’s gut due to instinct. The older man landed on his ass as the shower head fell on the tiled floor, sprinkling water everywhere like a broken hydrant.

“The fuck was that about, asshole?” Logan suddenly yelled, standing up and cursing under his breath, probably pissed at his suddenly soaked clothes.

Feeling his own face heating up, Scott averted his gaze on the flowing water slipping down the drainage, “I think I can manage finishing on my own now.”

There was a pregnant pause, the longer it went on, the more uncomfortable Scott felt.

“Really? You’re getting embarrassed now?” the older man asked, sounding slightly dubious, “You fuck strangers daily,” he added as if to point out the obvious.

“There’s a difference,” Scott snapped, “Please get out.”

Logan stared at him, calculatingly? Maybe, Scott didn’t want to know. The silence went on for probably at least a few seconds before the older man let out a tired sigh.

“Whatever, One-eye,” Logan mumbled and Scott realized how much he hated that nickname. When was the last time he heard that?

“Don’t call me that,” like we’re friends, because last he checked, Scott had no friends, he had been alone for a while now.

“Right.” If Logan seemed surprised that he called him with that name, it didn’t show, “Ya got any compression bandages around here?” he asked instead, stepping out of the shower stall while jerking the water off his hair. Scott made a mental note to mop the tiles later.

“Behind the mirror, top row,” he instructed.

Once the door closed with a soft clunk, signaling Scott that he was all alone inside his bathroom, he found himself sliding down the wall and staring up at the ceiling, ignoring his suddenly half-hard dick.

“This is dangerous,” he told himself.

After telling Logan that he could wrap the bandage on his own and failing miserably, Logan roughly pulled his injured hand and took the bandages with one swift tug before adamantly doing the job on his own. The quick movement made Scott hiss under his breath, but the older man completely ignored him. The progress was rather pleasant. Although it looked like a child slapped the whole first-aid kit on his arm.

Scott concluded that Logan sucked at first-aid.

They were situated on Scott’s moth-eaten sofa while Logan was busy finishing up when Scott suddenly suggested something completely out of the blue.

“Do you wanna do it?”

It wasn’t like there was a mood, or earlier events were still making him hard. No, there was nothing special. Unexpectedly suggesting that idea completely came out of nowhere, perhaps only to Logan.

Logan stilled before letting go of Scott’s hand like he was infected by some contagious virus, “What?

“Do you wanna do it?” Scott repeated, the older man only stared at him eyebrows furrowed, mouth slowly forming into a scowl, but he wasn’t declining the offer, in retrospect, he was thinking about it, but not yet contemplating. Scott leaned forward the minute Logan leaned backward, “I’m pretty good at it,” he added, starting to crawl his way on top of the older man.

Logan was leaning away, trying to put as much distance between them, “The fuck are ya doing?”

“Don’t you know,” Scott continued, “I can do it anywhere, anytime, free of charge,”

Finally completely snapping out of it, Logan pushed Scott away with such force, he hit his back pretty hard on the armrest.

“The fuck is wrong with ya?” Was Logan’s last words before standing up to grab his things and leave.

Entirely alone, Scott sat there, looking down on his thighs. His face a complete blank.

Within the twenty-four years of his life, Scott never smoked, didn't like the idea of it, but today seemed like an exception. After asking Gambit for a stick, he went out back and tried it for the first time. Within a second, he found himself coughing vigorously while puffs of smoke constantly escape of his mouth. His eyes watered and the bitter taste lingered on his toungue. He didn’t like it.

Without any second thoughts, Scott threw the horrid stick away and decided that that would be the last of it for him.

Shaking his head, he went back inside, and immediately having been told that there are a few people already waiting for him in the back room.

It had been two days since he last saw Logan, not that he was expecting to meet the older man after the shit he just pulled on him. Scott liked to think that it was for the better, although that didn't answer why he tried smoking just a few minutes ago.

Maybe he was curious. Everyone always seemed to enjoy the pleasure of sex, but he never did, never had, even though he was being fucked right now like some slutty whore. Maybe he wanted to know how it felt without feeling disgusted; without thinking of scrubbing his skin raw whenever he took a shower.

Maybe that’s why he made a move on Logan.

Curiosity.

He’d gotten used to the sticky looks he received whenever he walked out of the bar. Everyone knew what happened in there; it’s not like that was a secret. If they were lucky enough, they could join or wait in line to have a turn. Sinister and his obsessiveness over him never ceased to amaze Scott on how fucked up he showed it.

It had been two days since his last visit from Reed, and he hadn’t done anything yet. He just needed an opening, and he had been waiting for that chance, one wrong move and he might ruin everything he’d been working for the last six years.

Noticing a billboard, Scott looked up to see one of Nathaniel’s many faces plastered for everyone to see. Last he heard, he was trying to win the mayor’s trust, probably promising him a list of things that would help this city, but put him in an advantage. Scott knew it was only a front. If there was anything that guys were obsessed with other than him, it was power.

The need to be superior to everyone.

He didn’t care what sacrifices he had to make, he didn’t care about other people. He didn’t give a rat’s ass even if a person would go crazy and kill themselves just because of something he’d been selling at the black market, why should he care? When he’s inhaling money at every second, giving him the power to step on every peasant he sees on his way.

Nathaniel Essex was crazy.

Someone was suddenly standing in front of him. Blinking, Scott looked away from the billboard and stared at the man in front. And for a moment, Scott’s brain buffered.

“I’m taking that offer,” Logan told him.

Distantly, Scott could hear the countless blaring of the sirens.

Logan’s apartment looked surprisingly nice, if Scott didn’t know any better it looked like—

“Did you clean?” He asked, turning around to look at the older man who was putting his coat on the coat rack.

The question probably took him aback because he wasn’t able to give out a response quickly, “What? Ya think I don’t clean my own place?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.

“Not unless there’s a reason,” he answered, He didn’t wait to hear Logan’s reply to that, nor see his reaction, but instead he looked around and asked, “Bathroom?”

He felt sticky and dirty, somehow he didn’t feel fair to do this with Logan when a bunch of people had already touched him a few hours ago. And even though they'd lost touch years ago, Scott was still aware that Logan’s sense of smell was pretty much above average. His senses are the whole reason why his nickname was Wolverine.

Somehow, remembering that made an odd churn on his stomach. Scott didn’t like it.

Logan stared at him for a couple of seconds before jerking his head towards the right, as if to indicate which direction to go. “Down that way, next to my bed, you’ll notice it right away.”

With a curt nod, Scott slipped his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and started heading towards the direction the older man told him. It was easy to distinguish. It was the only door that was colored white, and it looked out of place since the room had this wood-ish theme going on.

The bathroom was clean, too clean. It was as if Logan had done a last-minute general cleaning before seeking Scott out to accept the offer. Somehow, the idea made him snicker a laugh, then frown as soon as he noticed himself doing it.

He cleaned himself precisely, making sure that he didn't smell of anyone, washing his hair thoroughly while trying not to question why the shampoo bottle looked newly purchased. The realization just dawned on him once he was looking at his reflection, hair dripping wet, looking clean and crisp.

He was going to have sex with Logan.

Somehow, the idea didn’t sit well with him. Not the doing it with Logan, but doing it even with the current situation. Maybe he’d like it more if there were no Sinister and no Winters. Scott wondered why, how is doing this with Logan different from doing it with others.

Is this what it feels like to have cold feet?

Strange.

With a sigh, Scott grabbed the towel that was conveniently hanging beside the shower stall and wrapped it around his waist. Once he stepped out, Logan was standing rigidly beside his also conveniently clean bed, arms crossed over his chest as if patiently waiting. This time, Scott’s eyes narrowed.

“You know it doesn’t bother me if you didn’t clean,” Scott pointed out, “I don’t mind,” he actually did, but getting fucked over and over again on public areas had gotten him used to it.

Logan only side-eyed him and grunted, “Right,” he said before jerking his chin, “How’s yer hand?” he asked instead?

“It’s not that bad,” he answered.

“Yer back?”

Scott sighed, “What are you, my shrink?”

The older man didn’t say anything to that, instead, he grunted and marched towards the bathroom before slamming the door shut.

Realizing that there was nothing for him to do, Scott sat down on the bed and waited, not knowing if he was dreading what was going to happen.

Looking around, it didn’t look like Logan was living with anyone, just the usual essentials you commonly found in a normal household. Knowing the guy, he probably just stayed here for the sake of having a place to sleep. Logan wasn't really the type to coop up indoors.

Turning, Scott noticed a frame faced down on Logan’s nightstand. He didn’t want to pry, but his curiosity was taking the best of him, was it an old girlfriend? Maybe a group picture of his colleagues, or… who knows, his parents. Logan’s family history was complicated, he didn’t make it an issue, but he knew it bothered him. It was why he started calling himself Logan even though that wasn’t his name.

Without realizing it, Scott was reaching out his hand towards the frame, the itch to see what picture it held was strong.

“The hell are ya doing?”

With a jerk, Scott pulled his hand to himself and turned to see Logan in all naked glory while rubbing his hair with a clean towel. Scott was trying his best not to look down, because usually, seeing someone’s manhood spurned him.

“Don’t you have any modesty left in you?” Scott asked instead.

Logan scoffed, “That’s rich coming from ya,” he said and it’s not like Scott had anything to say against that, “Besides, yer going to see all of this anyway, what’s the point?”

If Scott was about to give a response, the older man was already coming towards him, leaning down and Scott only had half a mind to turn away, “No,” he said, staring at the rug on the floor.

“No kissing?” Maybe it was just him, but it sounded as if Logan was a bit disappointed.

Scott said nothing.

With a shrug, he stood up and threw the towel across the floor, Scott followed it until it reached the ground, his nose scrunching up because he would like it if the older man had hung it somewhere to dry off. The floor would be inconveniently slippery and the towel would smell bad after this.

“Lean back,” Logan ordered and Scott did as he was told without another word.

Scott expected for a quickie, a rough release, something that would just relieve the older man’s stress. Bent over the bed as Logan pour out his frustration. He wasn’t expecting this, having the man kneeling in between his legs, Scott had never felt more vulnerable and exposed in his life.

Things suddenly went off-script—that is if they were following a script in the first place. Hands were touching every part of his skin, leisurely exploring his body starting with his neck before moving downwards, mapping every line and curve with his mouth and fingers. Scott was panting and his hands were fisting the bedsheets, everything felt hot, especially Logan’s tongue. The sensation felt new and Scott didn’t know if he should enjoy it or not. This wasn’t what he had planned.

Logan continued kissing his skin, licking him at certain parts that made him shiver and bite his lower mouth. One of Logan’s hands found its way down on Scott’s inner thighs, rubbing him there until he noticed that his dick was hard and heavy. Scott tried to suppress the moans threatening to come out of his mouth, instead, it sounded more like a whine at the back of his throat, which to Scott, sounded much worse. He hated the little noises he kept on making, the quiet moans and quick reactions that for sure Logan had noticed. He wanted so bad to turn around and bury his face on the mattress to muffle the sounds.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott finally snapped, breathing hard and heavy as he strained his neck to look down on Logan.

The older man stilled and looked up, eyebrows furrowed “Don’t’cha know what foreplay is?”

“Can’t you just stick it in and be done with it?”

Logan stared at him, the expression on his face made it look like he was talking to an innocent kid, “I don’t think ya know this, but I prefer it if we’re both enjoying it,” he answered almost in a snap before continuing his work.

Scott pressed his head back down and moaned, turning his face as if the action itself would make a difference. When he felt the older man’s tongue run a hot strip down his dick, Scott’s hips hardened and his hands immediately flailed to grab a hold of Logan’s shoulder, gripping him there, not knowing if should push the face away or pull it closer.

Logan was definitely taking his time teasing him, nipping his skin, and biting his inner thighs making Scott grit his teeth and arch his back. It felt good, really good, but it also felt new. He wasn’t used to this, usually, he would just lay there and let them do as they please, or if they were kinky as hell, he would ride them until they orgasmed.

He didn’t know if he should let himself be vulnerable like this.

Without any warning, Scott pushed Logan away, putting an abrupt stop to what they were doing.

“The hell was that for?” Logan bellowed but was suddenly rendered speechless when the younger man started to crawl on top of him.

“You’re taking too long,” Scott answered as if to point out the obvious.

He braced himself by sitting on the older man's lap, holding his shoulder with his right while aligning Logan’s dick towards his passage with his left. He was already slick, loose, and ready due to his previous encounter, years of experience made him slide down with one swift move, feeling himself full of Logan’s girth.

Logan threw his head back and hissed, “Fuck,” he breathed, “That felt good,” he panted while his hand skittered around Scott’s waist as if having no idea where to place them.

Smug, Scott smirked, “I told you I’m that good,” he said before he started rocking back and forth, knowing all too well what felt good for the older man, “Ask anyone and they’ll agree with me,”

He didn’t know what part he said was wrong, but Logan’s expression suddenly changed, his eyes turning sharp before surprising him by pushing him back down on the bed and grinding his hips against his ass, successfully taking Scott’s breath away.

Slowly, but firmly, Logan started moving, thrusting in and out with such precise movement, hitting something within him that made him arch and gasp. It started slow and caring, fingers moving across his skin while his teeth nipped at the sensitive part of his neck, then it started to get faster, harder leaving Scott breathless, feeling every movement the older man-made.

He was moaning through gritted teeth, as if daring himself not to let loose to the feeling, controlling himself like someone was watching him closely.

Suddenly, Logan slowed down, making Scott shiver and the whine at the back of his throat was threatening to come out, “Arms around me,” he ordered. Almost out of it, Scott swallowed and did as he told, “Tightly,” and that was the only sign he gave before strong hands took a firm hold of his ass as Logan braced himself to stand up.

Scott moaned and buried his face at the crook of Logan’s neck, breathing in his scent and oddly finding it comforting. Choking in a sob, Scott could feel everything deep inside him, his legs immediately tightened around Logan’s waist.

Standing on the bed, Logan pressed him against the wall, pressing their foreheads together before starting another rhythm. The position made him hit Scott’s prostate all the way in and all the way out, running along the sensitive walls as Logan move at a constant pace. Scott was panting, his face felt hot and his tongue was jutting out of his mouth. His legs were slick with sweat and his ass burned deliciously.

“Please…” Scott begged, but he didn’t know what for.

He was rock hard, the mere idea of jerking himself hurt so good, but he couldn't, scared that he might fall from Logan’s tight hold. His toes curled from the pleasure and his thighs started to shake from the tension, he was moaning this time, unfiltered and loud, he couldn’t help himself anymore, everything just felt so good.

Opening his eyes that he didn’t know he closed, Scott was immediately greeted by how intense Logan was looking at him, making him feel aroused even more. He didn’t know what came over him, it wasn’t his intention, but the intensity of Logan’s eyes made him do it, made him lean forward and slot their lips together.

And it felt like Logan planned it all along with how he just went with it and kissed him back, tongues meeting with ease as if they’ve done this before. Pulling him close, Scott opened his mouth and deepened the action while Logan’s rhythm started to quicken, hitting just right. Something hot was building at the pit of Scott’s belly, the burn, the pleasure and the constant pressure on his prostate was making him feel how close he was to coming. As if knowing exactly what was about to happen, Logan slowed down in a torturous manner, keeping the pleasure, but not enough for him to finish.

Scott tried to ignore the high-pitched groan his mouth made, “Please…” he breathed, his voice close to breaking, “I need to… I’m close, I really— ah…”

Logan thrust his hips and Scott involuntarily tightened his arms around him, fingers scratching on the thick skin leaving welts that became red in an instant. One strong thrust wasn’t enough, Scott started to contemplate if he should just start jerking off, he wanted to come so badly just thinking about it hurt. As if reading his mind, Logan grabbed Scott’s dick tightly, preventing him from releasing.

Scott sobbed, tears of frustration were starting to build up behind his eyes. If this continued, he wouldn't be able to carry himself anymore, he was already trembling, his frame taut from unreleased tension. He tried moving his hips but Logan only pressed him hard against the wall, preventing him from any more movement. Scott thumped his head against the wall and bit his lip.

“Please…”

Scott didn’t care about dignity, he wanted to come, he couldn't handle the torture anymore.

“Look at me,” Logan whispered.

Swallowing, Scott blinked back the hot tears from his eyes and looked back at Logan. Just like that, they were kissing again, hot and needy. He didn’t care if it was messy or sloppy, Logan’s tongue felt so good against his that he lost all reasoning. Logan started jerking him off, moving his hips while mouthing Scott’s lips, his head started to feel dizzy from all of the sensations. He didn’t notice Logan placing them back down on the bed again, his tongue was too busy tasting Logan’s mouth as if forging it to memory.

“I’m gonna—” he tried to warn the older man, but Logan only kissed him harder, thrust faster and pumped his dick over and over until Scott felt himself tense up, his legs shaking while he pulled Logan closer, spilling jets of white liquid in random squirts, “Ah— ahhh…”

Logan stilled his movements, waiting for Scott to go down from his high, but still continued to tongue and milk him dry. As soon as he got a hold of his bearings, Logan started to thrust in and out again, asking if this was okay.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t orgasmed in a while or the fact that Logan asked for permission, but his eyes suddenly felt hot. This time he was sure it wasn’t from frustration. He knew that he couldn't trust himself to talk without his voice breaking, so he nodded instead and let Logan finish off.

Scott didn’t know how many times they did it, he was counting at first, but at one point his brain was too muddled with lust that he lost track. Scott didn’t know what time it was already but based on how the sky was slowly turning into a lighter tinge of violet, they had been at it for hours.

It felt good, Scott had forgotten how sex could be pleasurable, something addictive. It was strange that out of all the people that reminded him of that, it was Logan. His body was aching, but in a good way. He didn’t feel as dirty as he usually did, which was also strange, he was not used to this.

Sitting up, Scott was mindful not to make too many movements and wake the older man, especially since the guy could easily be roused by anything. He stared down at Logan’s sleeping face, it wasn’t pretty. His face looked like it was frowning, drool was drying up at the side of his mouth, his hair looked a mess and not in an attractive way, and he snored loudly.

But even after pointing all those flaws out, he didn’t mind them one bit.

It wasn’t a reflex, but when Scott started to reach out and caress the older man’s face, he caught himself a second early and realized what he was doing. Hand raised mid-way, he snatched it back to himself and hastily stepped out of the bed, searching for his clothes that were neatly folded inside Logan’s bathroom.

He wasn’t thinking, somehow his hand moved on its own accord.

Scott managed to clamber out of Logan’s apartment even with a sore ass, he wasn’t fully clothed but the need to leave felt stronger than the need to cover himself, it’s not like there was anything to hide anymore, not when a bunch of people already had an eyeful of him.

He didn’t notice that his heart was beating furiously inside his rib cage, and he couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing. Somehow, the realization of his earlier action made him realize something. And it sounded funny inside his head because he couldn't let that happen. This had to be some sick joke.

That was really dangerous.

Nathaniel threw countless printed pictures across the table. Looking down, Scott immediately noticed that each and one of them had Logan in it. He suddenly felt his blood run cold.

“James Howlett,” Essex started, “Also known as Logan,” pulling out papers under the table and flipping each and every one of them for show, he made it very obvious that he wanted Scott’s eyes on him, “Mother, Elizabeth Howlett, deceased. Father, Thomas Logan, also deceased. He doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with his stepbrother who is also now dead,” he continued before strewing the printed copies on the table, “He seems to have a lot of dead relatives.”

“What is this about?” Scott asked.

“Currently works at a number of part-time jobs that involve physical strength, and is also actually trying to apply as a teacher for self-defense. Usually out of the house and is found drinking at a bar a few blocks down the street from here. Also has an animalistic pattern that usually is the sole reason for his countless bar fights,” he continued, making it obvious that he memorized everything, “He seems to be an old friend of yours that you lost touch with over the years. Why the sudden reconciliation?”

Scott was gripping his hands into a tight fist. He knew Essex saw it but he didn’t point it out, “What does Logan got to do with anything?”

“You tell me,” he said threateningly, standing up and slowly pacing his way closer to Scott, “Is he going to be a problem soon?”

Scott wanted to say no, wanted to reassure him that Logan was nobody important, but he didn’t know how much Sinister knew about him. He wasn’t able to give out a response, no matter how hard he wanted to give at least one.

In an instant, Nathaniel grabbed a hold of Scott’s neck and threw him over the table. The glass beneath him cracked and his back felt like it would snap. Groaning, Scott suddenly realized the hold the older man has on him began to tighten around his neck, he felt like coughing.

“I said,” he gritted, “Is he going to be a problem?”

Unable to speak, Scott nodded his head, hands holding and hitting Nathan’s strong grip as if the mere action would make it lessen the pain.

The older man climbed on top of him and leaned down against his ear “You think I’m stupid?” he hissed, “You think I didn’t know how you two flirted these past few weeks? I’m not blind, Summers,” he seethed, tightening his hold causing for Scott‘s voice to croak.

“You think I didn’t know your constant visit to their graves?”

Scott started to flail, he couldn't breathe.

“You think I didn’t know how Logan played nurse with you?”

His knee jerked and he tried to kick his way out, but couldn’t. He could feel himself slowly slipping away.

“You never offered your body, what changed?”

Short little gasps, that’s all he could muster as his eyes started to flutter close. Immediately, Essex let go of him and Scott’s instant reaction was to take in a deep breath and cough furiously from the sudden air feeling up his lungs. He wheezed and panted, trying to get a hold of breath as quickly as possible.

“I’m going to keep my distance starting now,” Scott said, voice rough and heavy, “I’m going to stay away from him and never meet him, and if that doesn't work, I’ll tell him to back away, and leave me alone.”

“Good boy,” the older man said, suddenly nuzzling Scott's face at the crook of his neck, “Now, who do you belong to?”

Scott swallowed, feeling as if he was pushing sharp razors down his throat, “You.”

Later, he would be reminded of how much he hates sex, how much it made him feel dirty and wanted to throw up, scratch his skin raw until he couldn’t remember those sickening touches that he never seemed to wash away. He would later find himself laying down on the sofa, alone and naked, looking at the door as if dreading for more people to come in.

He was almost done, he just needed to wait a little longer, just a little more. And by then, he would be free.

Jean was raped.

Jean was drugged and raped by people who until now weren’t found. The only evidence was a small empty plastic package with a red diamond printed over it. And of course, they couldn’t find anything with it, the police closed the case after that.

She wasn’t herself since then, carving her own skin and reasoning that it wasn’t her, it was the Phoenix’s fault, that it made her do it. She would scream at night, hurt herself and the people around her. Then apologize constantly, telling them it wasn’t her, it was the Phoenix. She would set things on fire, and even live animals, watching them burn with her own two eyes, she would tell them it wasn’t her, that it was the Phoenix.

The Phoenix that was never real, the Phoenix that they only made up when they were kids, now became something that Scott never wanted to hear.

Scott blamed himself for what happened.

Logan blamed Scott for everything.

Then they met Xavier.

It was cold, maybe because the cold season was approaching soon.

Scott was contemplating if he should buy instant noodles for dinner or soup. Soup sounded good for him. He felt himself shiver when a cold breeze passed through him, rubbing his forearms, he wondered if he had enough savings to buy a new jacket; his old one already had holes in it.

Scott was about to make a turn when he saw Logan a few feet away from him, leaning against a lamp post, waiting. He didn’t want to assume, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Without any second thought, he made a quick turn and started marching towards the opposite direction.

Scott wanted to curse Logan and his fucking senses because that older man seemed to notice him right away, head jerking up and immediately calling after him, but not by his name.

Out of all of the places he had to show up, it had to be here, near Nathaniel’s area. Did the guy have a death wish? He’d been avoiding him for the past couple of days. Couldn't the guy get the gist? Maybe he did, and he was just too stubborn to back down.

Scott continued to march away and he could feel Logan jogging up to him. Groaning, Scott pocketed his hands and tried to walk faster, leading them both far away until he was sure Sinister’s many goons wouldn't be within hearing range. Knowing Logan, the guy wouldn't back down soon, it was better to stir him away from danger. Strangely, Scott felt bitter. He'd been talking about how he knew the other man but their relationship had been down in the dirt for years now.

If anything, he wasn't supposed to know anything about him anymore.

“Are ya fucking deaf?” Logan bellowed, pissed.

“Are you fucking dense?” Scott snapped, turning around sharply, “Don’t you have heightened senses or something?”

“I ain’t that dense,” Logan spat, “I wanna ask why.”

And Scott felt like laughing, was the guy really serious? “Nothing, there’s no reason,” he answered, “We had sex, that’s it, what did you expect? I’d stay until you wake up? Cuddle with you? I didn’t think you were that kind of person.”

“Why are you being so fucking defensive?” Logan didn’t sound pissed, he just looked tired, and that was not was Scott was aiming for.

“I’m not,” he answered, “You’re the one acting all attached,” he pointed out. The statement pulled a sudden reaction from the older man, an odd one, something that Scott couldn’t put a finger on. The expression came as fast as it went, giving Scott not enough time to ponder it.

Logan sighed heavily before scratching the back of his head, “So this is what ya are now?” he said, “A fucking tramp.” It wasn’t a question, and Scott realized that that actually stung.

There was a pause.

Is this was Scott was now? Did he want to be like this? It’s not like he had any other choice anymore anyway, what was the point of telling the truth?

“Yeah,” he answered, tipping his head high, “What else?” He’s a whore, a slut, everybody’s favorite toy. He wouldn't complain no matter what you did to him, choke him, gag him, he could and would do anything because that’s the only thing he could do. “Don’t follow me,” he ordered before turning around to leave.

Logan didn’t.

The last thing Scott saw was the older man’s face, and it looked like he knew he was lying.

He was just waiting for the right moment, that’s all he needed.

He just had to endure this a little longer.

Maybe it was the fact that he now had it made, Scott feel impatient, anxious, scared or any other negative emotions that were mixing together at the pit of his belly that made him want to puke. He had waited for six years, six agonizing years to get to here. All those times where eyes would either judge or strip him naked, he endured it. Endured the fact that people were either disgusted or sexually aroused by him.

He didn’t make any mistakes as far as he knew.

But he almost did.

Maybe it was his mistake to approach Logan, a mistake to offer his services to him, but who was he kidding? There’s a reason why he did that, but he couldn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t want to.

He was doing fine, just visiting their graves and leaving without anyone seeing him there, but the moment he let himself be found by Logan, he knew he was the one who made the crack at the dam he’d been protecting for years.

Scott almost made a mistake dragging Logan into this, what was he thinking? No, he wasn’t thinking at all. He should’ve put a distance between them, should’ve avoided him as soon as he noticed a change in their relationship. But he didn’t, because the dam was cracked and his emotions were about to break loose soon.

Now Sinister knew Logan.

And it was all his fault.

Scott stared at the ceiling, bent in half with his ass up, having no idea who’s turn was it to pound him, not that it mattered knowing. How long had they been going at it? They should’ve been hungry by now.

The sticky feeling against his skin and the rivulet of sweat dripping down his legs usually made him feel disgusted, but right now he felt numb. He just wanted this to be over, and he was not just talking about the part where he had a dick up his ass. He wanted everything to be over; he just wanted to take a rest and not think about anything.

He could do that once he was finished.

He was so close.

“How come you never called Logan, Wolverine?” Jean asked as soon as they saw each other.

“I don’t have any reason to,” was Scott’s instant answer.

“Says the person who always calls me Marvel Girl just to ask what shirt goes well with what pants,” she reminded him.

“You think Logan has a better fashion sense than you?”

She tipped her head to the right and gave it a second thought before shrugging, “Understandable,” she agreed, “It’s just strange that you never called him that, even when we were kids,” she added, leaning back down on her headboard.

“I just don’t need his help, yet,” he replied, emphasizing on the word ‘yet’.

Jean seemed to be getting better, she was far different from the last time he visited her here, almost as if she was getting back to her normal self. It was the right decision to put Jean under Xavier’s care. He was not going to lie. He was quite skeptical at first - Scott didn’t want Jean to be sent off to this kind of institute no matter how many people agreed to.

Guess he was wrong about that.

It was agonizing at first, no one was able to visit her until her doctor said so. Scott had never felt lonelier since then. He and Logan weren't currently on good terms. Their group of friends tried not to take sides thinking it was the better choice, but that only led to more adversities.

“Right,” she said, raising one of her eyebrows, “So when is he coming?”

“I don’t know,” Scott replied before pulling out the take-out he brought with him and shared a hamburger with her.

Jean wasn’t aware of his current relationship with Logan, for all she knew, they were still on good terms. Not letting her know about this was the only thing that they agreed on.

Scott was at the bridge known as a suicidal hotspot. He came here only to appreciate the nice view of the sky, nothing else. So when he saw a girl no more than twenty years-old, standing rigidly behind the railings, Scott knew she didn’t come here for the same reason as him.

“Are you going to jump?”

The girl spun around and gave him a look that obviously showed that she didn’t want to be interrupted right now. Scott noticed the front part of her hair was bleached white. “Whatever you’re going to say, you’re not changing mah mind,” she snapped.

Scott blinked and shrugged. “I’m not planning to.”

The response must’ve taken her aback; her eyes grew and she blinked twice, as if trying to process what he just said, “What?”

“I’m not planning on changing your mind,” Scott repeated before walking towards the railings and rested both his elbows on top, looking at the sky laid on top of them, “But maybe I could delay it,” he added.

The girl scoffed then paused, as if realizing something, “Ah know you. You’re that Scott Summers guy.”

Scott winced. “Guess I’m still famous,” he joked, “Tell me, is my name used as a bad example or something to scare the kids?”

“Would you prefer to know?” she challenged.

Scott gave it a serious thought, tipping his head slightly to the right while humming silently under his breath. “Probably not,” he answered because it felt more like her answer would be ‘both’ and Scott would rather not hear it from some girl who was planning to end her life then and there.

“You said delay,” she started after a second of silence stretched between them, “How?”

“I also said maybe,” he reminded her, earning him a narrowed gaze. “Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to run away from something or if you’re just tired.”

“What if it’s both?”

“Then endure it a little longer.”

This time she laughed bitterly, “Right,” she said, “You’re doing a really bad job at this.”

“I’m not getting paid for this. What did you expect?” he joked, which felt nice. It had been a while. “Disappearing right now wouldn’t make any big difference,” he told her, looking at the sky and watching as the sun slowly go down, “I’m not an expert, but, if you leave now, you’ll just pass your problems to other people. Don’t you think you should at least fix those broken strings first before you leave?”

Silence. Scott dared not to look back at her. He didn’t want to see her expression.

“I just think it’s selfish, to die and force your problems on others instead,” he added, finishing his speech.

She didn’t say anything, and Scott didn’t want to ask her if she was still planning on going through with her original plan. The exasperated sigh she let out told him that somehow, his little pep talk worked.

“And you?” she asked instead, steering on him, “Why are you here?”

“Rest assured, I’m not here to kill myself,” he said, “I’m here for the view.”

“This place is a dump,” she pointed out, which was true, but that’s not why he was here.

Scott shrugged, “Sunsets and sunrises aren’t that bad,” he told her. “Like right now.”

Just then, the sun was at that certain position where the sky would change the color from orange to blue, slowly altering its tints with different kinds of soft colors, from bright to dark, from hot to cold. That short moment where they could see the tips of the orange sky touching blue and clashing together where the new color sits between them. Where the light slowly diminishes across the horizon like flame going out, it was beautiful.

Scott wondered, if the colors are just as.

Because he never saw them as they were, he couldn’t see colors as accurate as others, but he knew the diffrence. In his head it was the most beautiful thing he saw - pigments that were vibrant and full of life, just as how Jean first explained it to him.

“Ah guess it’s not,” the girl beside him finally spoke, pulling Scott back to reality, “Who knew you would find a beautiful thing in a place like this.”

Scott knew it wasn’t a question, so he saw no reason to reply to that. The silence continued between them. He didn’t know if it felt comfortable or not, but he knew that he didn’t mind it. Just two pairs of eyes, watching the clouds slowly move towards the place where the wind took them.

“Marie,” a familiar voice suddenly called behind them.

Both heads turned around, one head slower than the other, not wanting to see the owner of the voice.

“What the hell are ya doing here?” Logan asked, probably already knowing the answer to it. Feet braced on the ground while he balanced himself on his motorcycle. How Scott wasn’t able to hear the engine boggled him, maybe he just too preoccupied to take notice of his surroundings, which was uncommon.

Scott gave her a second, but the moment he saw her stuttering over her words, not knowing what to say or should say, he decided to open his mouth, “She was just leaving,” he said, looking back and returning his gaze to the clouds up high.

The girl—Marie—made a slight jerk before nodding, while Logan looked at him, finally taking notice that Scott was there, “Ah— yes.”

“Lemme bring ya home,” Logan proposed, but was immediately cut off.

“No, ah know mah way back,” she told him before moving her feet as she left.

Scott didn’t watch, but the crumple of her shoes signaled him that she went towards the opposite direction he came from. Scott wasn’t looking, he didn’t want to, but he knew that Logan was still standing behind him. How long was it since he last spoke to the guy? Two? Three days? Maybe a week? Scott stopped counting, never did. He was just waiting.

“You should keep an eye on her,” Scott said, breaking the silence, but still not looking back, “If I wasn’t here, she’d be at the bottom of the bridge by now.”

“What are ya doing here?” Logan asked instead, ignoring his statement.

This time, the question was obviously for him, “I’m not going to kill myself, Logan, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Silence, then a heavy sigh.

“That doesn’t sound like a lie,” he grumbled, “But the at that time, it was, wasn’t it?”

Scott said nothing.

“Ya didn’t mean what ya said, did ya?”

“What makes you think that?” Scott scoffed.

“Maybe because I started paying attention.”

And what was he supposed to say to that? He was used to people having their eyes on him, watching his every move, but each and every one of them would only look at the bad parts and turn a blind eye at the good ones. Scott never complained, never whined that it was unfair. But now, out of all of the people who could notice and see both the good and bad about him, why did it have to be Logan?

“That was a lie, wasn’t it?” Logan repeated, “Wasn’t it?” he egged maybe persisted.

Scott took a deep breath and released it slowly, did it sound exhausted or defeated? He didn’t know. His eyes landed on a certain cloud shaped like a bird, watching at it slowly fly by above them, “Let’s say that it was,” he finally answered, voice leveled, “Let’s say that it was all a lie and everything that I said was forced.”

A pause. But the kind where he didn’t let the older man say another word.

“Then what?”

The silence that stretched between them told Scott that Logan suddenly couldn’t think of an answer.

“This isn’t a children’s comic book, Logan,” Scott continued, “You can’t always be a hero. In the end, I might only drag you down with me.” Because this is real life, you don’t always get to have a happy ending. “This thing between us,” Scott paused, “If there were anything between us, I’d like to put a stop to it before it grows into something, please.”

Logan said nothing.

Maybe he considered it, maybe he didn’t. Maybe the word ‘please’ had more meaning to it and Logan knew everything. There were other possibilities why the older man said nothing, and one of them may have been because he just didn’t know what to say. Scott didn’t want to know, wouldn’t look at his face, because, maybe, just maybe, he would take it all back if he did.

“It’s getting dark,” Logan said instead. “Do ya need a ride home?”

“I can manage.”

Scott didn’t know how long he stayed there, he wasn’t counting and his phone was broken so he didn't have any means of knowing the time, and it wasn't like he had any money to buy a cheap watch.

He stood there until the streetlight turned on; he stood there until the cold wind started to hurt his skin; he stood there until he could see the stars shining brightly in the sky, and he stood there because he could.

“Fuck.”This is pretty painful.

Everyone thought Jean was getting better - she seemed to be getting back to her normal self, and even Scott believed it. He was glad, at first, that everything was working out fine. He trusted Xavier. Everyone did - something about the guy made it feel like everything was going to be fine.

Once Jean returned back to her normal self, maybe, just maybe, his relationship with Logan would also be fixed.

Scott knew that this little feud of theirs only had a little time left before their group of friends would start taking sides, no matter how hard they tried not to. Scott could see it happening more and more as the days went by. And the odds were not on his favor.

So he trusted Xavier, trusted him that soon everything would be alright.

Scott was young back then - he didn’t know that believing in someone was a lot scarier than it seemed.

Jean was never getting better - she was getting worse. Her emotions were being suppressed and it only ended up burdening her. Her medications weren't helping. They were just making her inner thoughts dormant. The longer it stayed that way, the worse it got. It was like a balloon that you slowly started to fill up with water. No matter how strong the rubber was, sooner or later it was bound to explode.

And it happened at the night where Scott decided to pay an unplanned visit. Sneaking in the institute just to hide away from reality, even for a short minute. Being with Jean tended to be like that.

Jean wasn’t in her room, alarm bells started ringing at the back of his head, but he didn’t want to assume. The hallways were empty as he trudged down from one hall to another towards the Professor’s office. That was when he heard voices. Whispering. Seething. Pleading.

“You lied to me,” a voice that sounded so much like Jean’s.

“I didn’t lie. You and I can discuss this,” Xavier said, voice soft and calm, “Let me help you.”

“You’re not helping me - you’re manipulating me,” she seethed, voice cracking at every high note.

“You’re not being yourself today, Jean,” he pointed out, “Take your meds, everything will be alright.”

“Alright?” she started, voice turning higher and angrier, “You think I feel alright whenever I take that shit? I don’t even feel like myself, and you’re only making it worse!”

“Calm down, Jean,”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” she screeched, “I am tired of you always controlling me, always telling me that you’re helping me fix myself when you do the opposite—“

“Jean—”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” She bellowed, voice breaking down the hallway, as if she was yelling in front of Scott and not inside the Xavier’s office, “You can’t control me anymore.”

“Jean-!”

With sudden panic, Scott barged inside, just in time to see Jean pushing the crippled doctor through the window. He didn’t hear the sound of broken glass as he ran towards them, his ears only managing to hear the strong pulse of his heart as he reached out his hand for the Professor to grab hold. Maybe he was yelling his name, maybe he was telling him to grab hold.

But he was too late.

He could only stare down through the broken window, hand outstretched as he look over Xavier’s unmoving body five stories down.

The guy was dead.

Jean pushed him.

Turning around, Scott saw Jean slowly taking a few steps back, smiling menacingly, until she noticed him looking at her. He didn’t know what expression he was wearing, but it made the eerie smile drip away into a sudden realization of what she had done.

“It wasn’t me,” she managed to say.

Scott wanted to believe her.

A scream was suddenly heard from outside, telling him that somebody had found the body. Scott frantically stepped away from the window and hid from view. Heart beating fast, he came towards Jean who backed away towards one of the shelves.

“Scott, you have to believe me, I didn’t do it,” she reasoned, eyes unfocused.

He didn’t know what he should do, what choice he should make. But, Scott was certain of one thing, Jean shouldn't be alone - she needed help, more than ever. Grabbing both of her shoulder, Scott told her, “We need to leave,” he swallowed, “Before they find us here.”

“What?” she breathed, sounding confused, “Scott, Xavier’s dead, the Phoenix killed him.”

“Jean, there’s no Phoenix.”

She stared at him, skin pale and eyes unfocused, before slowly turning to look at the window, “The Phoenix pushed him,” she mumbled, voice low, “It wasn’t me.”

Scott could hear countless footsteps coming up the stairs, frantic, he stood up and tried to search for the hidden VHS recorder that the Professor always used whenever Jean had a session with him.

“The Phoenix has to go.”

Scott ignored her mumblings, looking from one shelf to another, in search of the device. It wasn't guaranteed that the Xavier recorded everything today, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Scott needed to throw away the evidence that Jean was the one who pushed him to his death.

“But the Phoenix is in me.”

She only breathed those words out, the chances of Scott managing to hear that was low, but he did. And he knew what she meant by that.

By the time he turned around, Jean was already thrusting a huge shard of broken glass inside her chest. Scott yelled, he didn’t know if it was her name or telling her to stop, he forgot. His feet already moving to reach her, but he knew he was too late. Jean’s head was already falling forward by the time Scott arms surrounded her.

“I’m sorry,” were her last words before closing her eyes and security barging inside the crime scene.

He felt numb. Scott’s emotions were spiraling out of control and he only managed to be numb with shock. He just wanted this night to spend time with Jean, someone who he knew would never turn their back on him. Escaping the ugly reality only to jump into another one.

“I didn’t kill them.”

The VHS taped ended as the security guards dragged his younger self out before it rewound back to the start of the day. Scott stared at the screen of his small television with a blank expression, he lost count of how many times he had already watched it. He never told anyone about the video. The police never found it, Scott did, so he hid it, watched it countless times because it helped remind himself of what he was supposed to do.

Even though he was proven not guilty by the end of it, everyone thought he was the murderer. Logan never visited him. It wasn't like he was expecting it anyway - proof that they were no longer friends. Words were already going around the place, mothers pulling their children away from him whenever he’s close, police officers eyeing him suspiciously whenever he so much as breathed, judging eyes always on him wherever he went.

Scott realized he didn’t care. Couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He contemplated once, what what his purpose was. Why was he still here? There was no reason for his existence - a lot of his friends wanted him gone, hoping that he had just died along with Jean. And maybe Scott once thought the same, but there must have been a reason why he was still here.

Maybe there was a reason why he wasn’t put in prison - not because he was underage, or that there was no proof that he killed them, or that his fingerprints weren’t found on the glass that Jean used to kill herself. But to have revenge. Revenge on the person who made that incident happen, revenge on the person who caused not just Jean's life, but countless other more that he probably doesn’t know about, revenge on the person who wanted money and power, who was willing to sacrifice anyone just to achieve that.

Maybe Scott was lucky that Nathaniel Essex was easy to track, but he needed a plan to bring the man down.

Maybe Scott was lucky that he didn’t need to try too hard to get the man's attention.

Or maybe.

Just maybe.

He wasn’t lucky at all that it was that easy.

No matter, he was almost done, and then, he would’ve served his purpose.

Glancing towards his wall clock, Scott stood up and walked out of his cleaned apartment (he didn’t sleep, he decided that a little dusting wouldn't hurt). Locking the door, he went and left, leaving his television screen open, the video playing over and over again without an audience.

Scott wouldn’t say it was easy to find who was behind those drugs, he’d say he was lucky. It was by complete coincidence that the person who found him lying unconscious on a rainy night was the person behind Jean’s insanity. Scott had no money that night, no place to stay and no one to call. Nathaniel managed to find him and actually had the heart to take him in.

But that was too good to be true.

No money, food or any materialistic thing could make him pay it with sex, except maybe just for one reason. If it had anything to do with Jean’s demise, then he would gladly take the opportunity. Essex was smart, cunning, and very sinister. It would’ve been hard to be on his good side - he was just lucky that the guy grew obsessed with him. Although he didn’t want this, he sure would take advantage of it.

By public knowledge, Essex ran multiple businesses, but only one thing mattered the most: the bar at the downtown alley. On the outside it was nothing more than an adult gay bar, where straight married men could secretly experiment or pent up guys could find a quick relief. But behind all that, was a factory that created unprescribed and illegal narcotics, from mild to strong, from dangerous to life threatening.

Sometimes, it even depleted one’s own sanity.

Everyone knew it was a product of his when the package had a taunting red diamond printed on the casing.

Scott knew what he was getting into, what road lay up ahead, what sacrifices he would make just to achieve the closure he wanted.

The USB in his pocket felt heavier than the gun with only one bullet underneath his shirt. Every step he took was making his heart beat louder and faster. He couldn't back down now, not when today was one of the few chances that Sinister wouldn’t be able to breathe down his neck.

Gambit greeted him when he entered, but Scott said nothing, he continued marching towards the back room where everyone’s fantasy came to life, in courtesy of his ass. Without hesitation, Scott pushed the out of place shelf to the far right corner of the room, behind that was a door and opening it would display a staircase that led downstairs.

Cold sweat dripping down his skin, Scott pulled the shelf back into place and climbed down the staircase. He knew the underground area quite well. He spent most of his time memorizing the place, knowing what rooms are behind each closed door. Two years ago, Essex relocated the production of his business to a bigger place, completely out of Scott’s reach, but when this place became the guy’s main office, he realized that the odds were starting to be in his favor.

Turning left, he found the locked door at the end of the hallway. Pulling out a hair pin, Scott fiddled with the door knob, thrusting and pushing at the keyhole as sweat dripped down his chin. Hearing a soft click, the door was unlocked, Scott was about to push it open and head inside when he heard someone speak behind him.

“Scott?”

He stilled his movement and slowly turned around to see Remy standing a few feet behind him. Watching him with a blank expression.

“Leave,” was the first thing Scott said, “And don’t look back, take this as my last request.”

They looked at each other, Scott didn’t know what kind of expression he was making, but maybe Remy saw the determination on his face because he only nodded and turned around to leave. Not once did he look back and not once did his steps faltered.

Taking a deep breath, Scott entered the room.

Essex came barging in the back room, face contorted with rage while Scott sat prettily on one of the sofa, twirling the USB over his palm.

“You fucking bitch,” he snarled.

Scott had grown accustomed to people calling him words way worse than that, he didn't care anymore, “That was a quick business trip.”

According to his resource (the television), the factory up in the outer area had been scouted by law enforcements. Scott couldn’t help the smile that crept upon his face when he saw Winters being pinned to the ground and dragged towards the backseat of the police vehicle.

“How long have you planned this?”

Scott stared at him, he always imagined how this would happen. It was strange that it was happening right now and not just some part of his imagination, “That doesn’t matter, it’s all over now,” he answered before pulling the gun out under his shirt and pointing it at the older man’s face.

Essex scoffed, “You’re gonna kill me? Is that it?”

“No,” was his flat out response, before placing the gun down on the coffee table, “All of those murders you’ve committed and illegal purchases you’ve made are all out in the open,” he informed him, calmly and evenly as he stood up and pocketed his hands. “I’m not gonna kill you, but there’s only one bullet in there, so I suggest you choose wisely.”

Essex only stared at the gun laid in front of him, eyes unmoving, “You were mine,” he whispered, voice shaking but not in fear, “You were fucking mine.”

“I was never yours.”

He said before walking past him. There were only two outcomes that would happen as soon as he stepped out of the room. Either he dies, or doesn’t. Maybe there was a small part of him that hoped Essex wasn’t that obsessed to let him get out alive but he was and he did. He didn’t hear any gun shots as he left the now deserted place, only the bustling noise of the street.

Scott looked up the sky and noticed that it was almost nighttime, and realized with sudden great relief that he was done.

He was done.

Scott noticed Logan first, standing at the foot of Jean’s grave. The older man felt his presence and looked up. Scott couldn’t read the expression on his face, he realized that he didn’t want to.

“Hi,” was the only thing he managed to say.

Logan stared at him for a full second before exhaling tiredly, “Yer usually here first whenever I pay a visit.”

Scott shrugged, “I fixed a few loose ends,” he told him.

The older man only nodded before staring back down on her grave. The silence that stretched between them was deafening.

“I’m leaving,” Scott finally said, digging his hands deep inside his pockets.

If Logan’s breath hitched, he didn’t notice, “Where to?”

“Somewhere far,”

Silence.

“Fresh start?” Logan asked, still not looking.

Scott shrugged, “You could say that.”

Another silence.

“When?” He asked again.

“Tomorrow.”

Logan scoffed, although Scott didn’t know if it was out of bitterness, tipping his head up as if the answer would fall down his face from the heavens., “Can’t ya leave any sooner than that?”

Scott gave it a thought, “I’d like to see the sunrise here one last time.”

“What, don’t they have sunrises at where yer goin’?”

“I like the view here.”

Then they fell into silence again. The conversation couldn’t get any more awkward than this, but Scott wanted to stay, even just for a few minutes. Maybe he wanted closure, maybe he wanted reassurance that everything really was over, or maybe he wanted Logan’s presence. He wasn't sure anymore.

The sudden exhale from the older man took him by surprise, “Hank and the others ain’t gonna visit any time soon,” he told him, “Ya can spend yer time here as long as you want before ya leave,” and with that, he turned and walked passed him.

Maybe it was one last final plea, or maybe just a request. Scott never said it in his life, he didn't even know if it still worked, but maybe this time, just this time, there would be an exception. Scott knew it was childish, but deep down in his head, this was the only comfort he could have, that there would be one word that could make the all pain go away.

“Wolverine,” Scott wondered how he managed to make his voice sound so calm.

Logan stopped on his tracks and stilled. Scott’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, waiting for the older man’s reply.

Every second felt like an eternity.

Turning, Logan stared at him, “Aren’t we too old for nicknames?”

Scott laughed.

He laughed bitterly, but not maniacally.

Because he was right, they were too old for nicknames. How long had it been it since the last time they called each other that? But how come every laugh that escaped him mouth hurt so much. It was annoying. He didn’t like it.

“You’re right,” he said, refraining himself to sound somber, “I guess we are, thanks for reminding me.”

Scott didn’t want to look at him when he left. He knew that all the walls he had built around him were slowly crumbling down, and he didn’t want Logan to see that.

Logan entered his apartment only to see Jubilee, kitty and Marie playing poker on his dining table and drinking the beer he had been saving up for next week. The television screen was wide open with no audience, informing the viewers about the recent location of an allegedly unknown drug lord from an anonymous sender. A familiar face was shown on the screen with the name ‘Nathaniel Essex’ labeled at the bottom. Logan just couldn’t remember where he saw that face.

“Ya kids should start paying rent with the amount of times ya spend yer ass here,” Logan snarled, marching towards the fridge only to find that he didn't have any booze left, or cola. Cursing, he slammed the fridge closed and drank from the faucet instead.

“You’re here early, what gives?” Jubilee said instead, eyes still on the cards she was holding.

“None of yer business,” he grouched.

“Yeesh,” Marie said, left eye crinkling, “What died up your ass?”

“My missing booze, that's what,” he grumbled before marching towards his bed and falling face down. Somehow feeling uneasy, but he didn’t know why.

“Ooh, almost forgot,” Kitty announced with a sudden chirp, “Mr. Mccoy, paid a visit a few hours back, said he wanted to talk to you.”

Logan let out a grunt indicating that he heard it. Ever since he took the offer of having his way inside Scott’s pants (after he thoroughly gave it some serious thought) Hank had been wanting to have a private conversation with him just because he saw Slim leaving his room at god-ass o’clock in the morning.

It was fucking annoying.

It was none of anyone’s fucking business who he decided to sleep with - besides, the guy made it fucking clear that it meant nothing.

Logan didn’t know when he fell asleep, he just later found himself being tapped awake by Marie because they were leaving and he should lock the door since it was already eleven.

“Lemme walk with ya,” Logan grumbled, head still fuzzy with drowsiness.

“We’re just down a few doors,” she deadpanned, “Just lock the door, Logan.”

With a grunt, Logan pushed himself off the bed and led Marie out the door. He was scratching his jaw, feeling the rough edges of his beard, when he noticed that the kid wasn’t going out. He turned to see her standing a few steps behind him, staring pensively on the ground.

“Somethin’ wrong, kid?” He asked.

Marie looked up, stared at him with her lips pressed together before saying, “There’s something that’s been bugging me since yesterday,” she told him.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head slightly to the right, “What is it?”

“It’s about Mr. Summers.”

Logan grunted, not this again, “Look kid, he—”

“Ah know, ah know, “ she said exasperatedly, “Ah know what other people know about him, but I just have this feeling—”

“A feeling?” he asked, unimpressed.

“You guys were close friends, Logan,” she said, as if that made enough sense.

“He hasn't been my friend for a long time, kid.”

In all honesty, Logan had been having second thoughts about Scott for a while now, he didn’t know when it started, the hate was still there, but somehow something opposite to that started growing. Maybe that was just how time worked. He had thoughts, fantasies, that they could possibly be something, but it was a futile attempt. A childish and brash idea, but it was just his fantasy. No one would know. It was hard liking a guy and hating him at the same time

So maybe, Scott leaving was the better idea. Fresh start, in a place where no one knew him. He could start a simple life there, even start his own family in a suburban house, probably would have two children and a dog or cat, whichever he preferred. It was well better off that way.

Marie stared at him, and he hated that expression on her face. It was as if Logan’s too hard headed to understand what she was trying to bring up, but instead of feeling pissed, she felt pity.

Logan exhaled, “What is it?”

Marie took a second, she swallowed and stared at the floor underneath her feet, as if trying to remember something, “When he stopped me from jumping off the bridge, he told me to fix loose ends first before ah leave.”

“Yer telling me yer gonna do it?”

Marie grunted, pissed, “That’s not the point here Logan,” she almost whined, “What if he’s projecting? What if that stupid advice he told me was originally for him, Ah dunno, a fucked up reminder whenever he wanted to off himself by visiting the bridge?”

“He likes the view there, don’t think too much about it.”

Marie grunted, fist clenching hard on her side, “Look, has he ever tried fixing his relationship with you? Because it felt like he did.”

Logan scoffed, “Nothin’s fixed, kid, nor has he tried fix anythin’. Believe me, I would know if he tried fixing lose—“

He froze.

“Logan?”

“Do ya mind staying here for minute? I need to be somewhere,” Logan didn’t wait for her reply, he just started running down the hall.

”Logan I have nowhere else to go,” Scott pleaded, drenched up in the rain in the middle of the night, standing in front of his doorstep, but Logan couldn’t care less. He didn't know the guy anymore.

“Not my problem,” he snapped before pushing the door when a foot was squeezed between the space to avoid it from closing.

“Please,” he almost sounded desperate, kinda nice, but it wasn't enough, “I didn’t kill them.”

Logan said nothing.

“I can’t sleep,” he said, mouth quivering, he didn’t know if it was all an act or the cold rain was making him shiver. “I keep seeing their faces.”

“Must be the guilty conscience.”

“I didn’t—!” he stopped midway, blinked, then his shoulders dropped down, as if finally realizing something and accepting it at the same time, “You’re never going to believe no matter what I say, are you?”

“Now, yer getting it,” then Logan slammed his door shut on his face.

Nathaniel Essex, Logan didn’t know the name, but he knew the face. Especially those red beady eyes that were staring hard at him when he encountered Scott one night. Logan didn’t know what kind of relationship they had, but he was sure that they knew each other.

Was Essex the loose end he just fixed?

For what? Because that shit didn't make any sense. It had nothing to do with Jean’s death.

On his way towards Scott’s apartment, Logan came across an electric store where numerous sizes of television screens where displayed against the glass, all of it showing a single news report in which Essex was known to sell unprescribed products with a package design of a red diamond printed on the case. The same damn logo from years ago when Jean was held down against her will.

It had something to do with Jean, and it was something big.

Logan continued running.

He still didn't understand what was happening, but he sure as hell couldn't just stand there and fucking think about it.

Logan slammed his fist continuously on Scott’s door, loud and hard. Yelling his name over and over again, but he heard no response. He slammed his fist again, louder and longer.

“Scott!” he yelled.

Still nothing.

Pissed, angry and frustrated, Logan kicked the door open with a loud crunch, breaking the hinges off the door within the process only to find the room completely empty, and suspiciously clean. Logan had been in Scott’s place before, he knew the difference between clean with someone living in it and the clean where someone was leaving it.

Although everything was still here, clothes respectfully inside the closet, empty coat racks, polished floor, aligned utensils and many other more, the placed just looked too clean.

“You lied to me.”

Logan’s head snapped towards the television screen that he didn’t notice was left on. He knew that voice, knew fucking well who owns it. A video footage was playing right in front of him, it was a bit blurry but he knew that place. He visited it more times than he could count. It was in an odd angle, maybe by the bookshelf, but it was enough to see everything inside the room.

“I am tired of you always controlling me, always telling me that you’re helping me fix myself when you do the opposite—“

“Jean—”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

It was quick - the events happened quickly - and Scott was there, witnessing it. Witnessing everything. Everything that had happened that night that no one knew about, the night where they pinned all the blame on someone who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

How come he never told them this? How come he had to hide this fucking video? What was he trying to prove? That he was some strong shit? He chose not to tell anyone, that was on him, but now he was acting all broken, enacting stupid revenge on someone all alone just because—

You’re never going to believe no matter what I say, do you?

Because.

No one would believe him.

Logan ran.

He still couldn't make sense on a lot of things, and his too small of a brain was still having a hard time processing everything he just realized and found out. But he was sure about one thing; Scot needed him, called his stupid fucking nickname for the first time in years, and then what? He said they were too childish.

Looking at his wrist watch, he noticed it was already a quarter to five in the fucking morning, the sun will start rising in a few minutes. It was probably a good thing that he knew where to find him, he just didn't know if he would have enough time to he could reach him.

Logan found Scott sitting on the railings of the bridge, staring calmly at the sky in the distance

He looked fine, peaceful in a way where Logan thought there was nothing wrong. That’s when he decided to stand, feet lying flat on the narrow edge. But Logan was still too far away from him, too out of reach, the sun was already rising and he could feel the heat slowly touching his skin.

He kept running, panting, breathing harder. His legs were sore and his feet hurt, but Scott was just right there, so fucking close but so damn far. Just give him a few moments, He just needed time, a few minutes, a few moments to make it to him.

He needed Scott to stay still.

Logan was out of breath, but he manage to yell at the top of his voice, “CYCLOPS!”

For a moment, Logan thought it worked, but the minute Scott turned his head to look, he slipped.

“How come ya never call me Wolverine?” Logan grouched the minute Jean left for a glass of water.

“What?” Scott spluttered, because the topic was so out of the blue.

“Ya always call Marvel Girl but not me,” He pointed out “What’s your deal?”

Scott paused, then blinked at him twice, “I just don’t think I need your help.”

Logan’s face scrunched up, “Yer in third grade, yer supposed to need a lot of help since yer so skinny.”

Scott frowned, brows furrowing and nose scrunching up, “What, how would a fourth grader like you be of help?” he retorted, “No thanks, the amount of times you piss me off will probably just do a lot worse.”

“Is that why you don’t call me, Wolverine?”

“No.”

“Then what gives?!” He yelled, arms going up like the dramatic fourth grader he was.

“Are you jealous that I only call Jean Marvel Girl?” Scott asked instead, trying to confirm something.

Logan’s instant response was to deny, defend, and accuse, “What? No! Says who? Maybe that’s just you.”

Scott stared at him before chuckling lightly at the back of his throat, “Don’t worry, Logan,” he started, “If I ever call you, it means I would really need you,” he told him, and for a moment, the atmosphere around them felt nice, “And not just for some shallow science homework,” he added.

“Oh fuck you!”

“SWEAR JAR!”

The first thing Scott felt was the constant press on his chest, then he could hear Logan’s voice, saying ‘C’mon’ over and over again like a mantra or a broken record player. After that, everything either hurt or felt too cold. He was drenched from head to toe, and every part of his body ached - Logan pressing continuously on his chest was making it worse.

Slowly, Scott raised his hand and placed it on top of Logan’s, making the older man still his movements. Scott opened his eyes and stared up at him.

Opening his mouth felt like a chore, but he managed and the voice that got out sounded hoarse, “You called?” he wheezed, and even that hurts like a bitch.

Logan exhaled loudly, before pressing his whole face on his chest, his whole body shaking. Scott assumed that the guy was probably shivering from the cold, winter was just around the block anyway. Was this gesture out of relief? Scott’s not sure, he’s not sure on a lot of things, especially when his whole body was screaming at him.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he said, “Yer not to leave my side, got that?”

Scott didn’t know what’s happening, why the sudden change of Logan’s behavior towards him. He realized that he didn't really care, well, for now. Logan’s request was asking a lot. It’s not like he had anything planned ahead after he finished his business with Essex. There was nothing for him to do anymore.

For six years he never really gave his future much thought since he supposed he won’t have any. Scott only gave himself one goal, what comes after that was just nothing. But nonetheless, he found himself saying, “Okay,” Logan give him another goal, or he could be his goal

They would have to talk about this, sooner or later, but there were a lot more other pressing matters than that.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“If I’m planning to stay, you need to bring me to the hospital because everything hurts.”

It had been a year, a very messy year.

Within the time Scott was confined in the hospital, Essex, or more commonly known as Sinister in the black market, was wanted. Scott didn’t know if the man was still alive or got caught somehow by the police because he stopped watching the news ever since his name had gotten involved, and not in a good way.

Other than his alleged murder back in his teenage years, he was also known as Essex’s lap dog. It wasn’t public knowledge, but everyone knew it. The fact that he was the only one left unscathed by the police force had left a pretty bad impression on most of the netizens - how come he wasn’t punished like every other underling that had worked for Essex, while the minority of them just either didn't care.

Scott never disclosed the issue that he was the anonymous sender, which was odd when Logan seemed to know that it was him.

“It was pretty easy to connect the dots,” he answered and Scott really had a hard time believing him.

The whole time Logan was with him in the hospital, his behavior changed from zero to a hundred within the small amouth of time. Sometimes he would just sit beside him and scroll through his phone, and sometimes he would pace around the room like an anxious mad man and stare intently at Scott, as if trying to make sense of something but couldn’t.

Scott waited three days before saying, “You watched the tape didn’t you?”

Logan froze and stared at him alarmingly before exhaling and leaning back down on the visitor’s chair, “I did,” he answered, “Ya left it on replay, what do ya expect? For me not to watch it?” he added, sounding endearingly defensive, “Seems to me ya planned it all along.”

Scott shrugged, “Not planned per se,” he said, suddenly remembering that short moment where he let himself dream, just even for a moment, “I just had this childish idea that, even though it’s too late, you’d try to be this obnoxious hero to save me,” he told him, staring down on the hospital’s bed sheets because talking about this was a bit embarrassing, “But I guess you’re not late, huh?”

Logan stared at him that Scott couldn’t decipher. Then the older man blinked and cleared his throat , probably having no idea what to say next. Communication wasn’t really their forte. Logan’s eyes roamed around the room first while tapping his fingers continuously on his left thigh before saying “Why didn’t ya show the tape to anyone then?”

Scott gave it a thought, a thorough one. Honestly, there’s only one obvious answer as to why “I hated watching that video,” he confessed, “I hated seeing Jean in that condition,” The pain in her eyes never left his memory, it always haunts him in his dreams, “That by the end of the video, you don’t know what Xavier’s real motive were,” he continued, “And I thought,” he shrugged, “They were already dead, you guys didn’t have to know about it, I didn't want to change the way you think about them.”

Logan knew what he meant by that. In their eyes, Jean was doing well, that she didn’t kill herself and that Xavier was this trustworthy person you could always count on.

“That’s pretty selfish,” Logan commented.

Scott’s head snapped up, offended, “What?”

“Ya heard me, that’s pretty selfish,” he repeated, “Look, Slim, they’re dead, and nothing will change if we watch or don’t watch the video. You on the other hand aren't six feet under. Ya gotta stop dealing everything on yer own.”

“I don’t have anyone, Logan, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“Ya still don’t?”

A pause. Scott found himself gripping the bedsheets tight under his grasp.

“No.”

Logan leaned back and stared at him for a full second, probably contemplating something really hard. Either it’s something good or something very, very stupid, “Wanna give it a try?”

Scott’s eyebrows scrunched up, “Give what a try?”

“Relationship, is what I heard they call it.”

The minute the word left Logan’s mouth, Scott stilled. He probably also stopped breathing for a second. He could come up with a million reasons how entering a relationship would be a bad idea for the both of them, starting with communication, which is saying something because that was the most crucial part of a relationship.

Scott opened his mouth but no words came out, he closed and opened it again as if retrying, but his brain kept on buffering. The result was only broken noises escaping his lips.

“Look, I know it is probably a bad idea. But kinda sounds pretty good to me,” Scott stared at him, hard, unimpressed, dissatisfied, dubious, it’s a continuing list, “Look, if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t, “ Logan added when Scott man doesn’t seem to be changing his mind any minute, “Yer still gonna be stuck with me.”

Maybe it was the fact that Logan was so adamant with the idea, or that for once Scott wanted to fall into temptation, or that deep down he also wanted this, he knew it’s a stupid choice but my god he wanted this. Agreeing to enter a relationship was a risk, especially since they had a long and ugly history behind them. Scott knew that he’s not really the best candidate to manage a relationship, even now and it’s not like Logan’s any better.

But then Logan has this look, almost hopeful and desperate. Scott realized that Logan wants him, and not in a way like Sinister’s. Swallowing, Scott said, “Okay.”

Their relationship didn’t start off great, but maybe they could manage. The first few months into it was rocky, very rocky. Not everyone accepted Logan’s relationship with Scott, and it didn’t help that Scott preferred not to tell anyone about the misunderstandings in his past if they don’t want to listen.

Logan, on the other hand, was this close on shaving his own head due to frustration. It was quite charming when his boyfriend cares more about Scott’s well-being than Scott himself. But it’s not like Scott’s going to tell him that, he has enough ego to live a life-time.

A year later, they moved in together in an apartment complex, and with Scott still struggling to find a decent job that didn't involve stripping down. It was a lot harder when you couldn't just run away from your old reputation. Scott was skimming through his laptop, looking at a job as an elementary teacher when Logan arrived, looking dead beat tired.

“Fucking Erik Lensherr, working me to the god damn bone,” he grumbled, discarding his overcoat on the sofa. Scott mentally reminded himself to hang that later.

“You’re obviously in a good mood,” Scott commented, from his place by the window sill. He liked the view, the clear sky reminded him of dreaming to become a pilot once, it was a bit nostalgic but it felt nice. “Want to join me for a shower later?”

Logan stilled and looked over at Scott, clearly interested in the offer; it wasn't every day he heard those words from Scott. Sex wasn’t really a sensitive issue, but Logan tried not to step over a line considering the events that had happened. Scott however, just wanted to have a normal (as normal as it could get) relationship. He always enjoyed it when he did it with Logan anyway.

Which he would never say.

“I’ll take yer word for that,” he answered shortly, “Hank invited us to celebrate his promotion by the way,” Logan added so casually that it sounded as if nothing was wrong.

Scott stilled, his pointer finger hovering about the mouse pad. He blinked once, “Us?”

Logan exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair, “They’re trying, Scott,” he said.

Within the first few weeks they were dating, they had an argument, mainly because Logan showed the VHS tape to Ororo after getting an intervention just because he was dating Scott. Obviously that didn’t end well. Logan lost touch with them for a couple of weeks until Hank tried reaching out, and it had been like that ever since.

“I can decline for ya if ya want?” Logan offered instead.

“No,” was Scott’s instant and frantic response, “I… I know, that they’re trying, that is,” he said, “I’ll go,” because it had already been a year and he just wanted to move past the issue. What’s done was done, there was no going back. He’s tired of distancing himself from others. Why push them away when they’re the ones reaching out this time? The only thing left to do was to look ahead and hope that tomorrow would be better.

Logan stared at his face calculatingly, as if trying to read and understand what was going on inside Scott’s head, searching if there was at least any hint of discomfort with the idea of going to the party. It felt nice to know that someone now cared this way, “Hey,” Logan started, “Ya okay?”

Scott gave it a thought.

He had a fun childhood, although looking back would only bring sadness, he would never want to let that go. Those memories might not be happy anymore, it’s still important to him. These past few years, he never thought that he could have those same contentment he had when he was a kid. Scott gave up on a lot of things, gave up his innocence, gave up on his future, gave up on the fact that he can still have those blissful time with Logan, and gave up his life.

Scott looked at Logan who was waiting for his reply, standing in front of them in their apartment. Had Scott ever imagined he’d get to have this? Get to wake up every morning with someone beside him? Get to eat freshly cooked food and share it with someone on a clean table? Never.

Sure his life was still far from sunshine and rainbows, his past kept on visiting him through nightmares or sudden flashes of memories, but at least he’s not alone anymore.

“I’m more than okay.”