"That is all for this session." The male, middle-aged teacher spoke as he looked up at the entirety of the class, his voice reverberating throughout the gargantuan classroom. His hands carefully placed the plastic lid on the marker which he used to draw and write on the board, rendering it a collection of black symbols and arrows onto a white canvas. Everyone instantaneously got up as soon as those words were spoken, but he was yet to be finished.

"For next session, I advise that you read Othello once more, especially focusing on the tragedy of the protagonist and what causes it to be a real tragedy. Those are the topics that we will explore next." His coarse voice flew through the air into the ears of the students, causing them to groan and mutter quietly under their breaths.

Matthew did not understand why they were so disgruntled with the notion of additional work; they had chosen the course, they had been coming to lesson for a long while now, they knew how difficult it could be. Regardless of those thoughts, he did not judge them, being very well aware that the paths that he and they had travelled had varied tremendously. One could not pass judgement without having lived what someone else had, or, at least, a relatively similar experience. He certainly did not want others to judge him for whom he had once been, or forced to be, and what he had to live through.

As always, he remained seated until almost all of the other students had left. It had been difficult to be completely natural and comfortable in such a large crowd of people that he did not know, nor did he had a chance to know. In a sense, he was still getting accustomed to the outside world, and to the sheer amount of people that roamed its each and every corner. In order to maximise his time, he kept on taking a few notes prior to gathering his objects in a hurry and walking towards the wooden doors which signified the exit. As he did, a quick glance behind him made him stop, suddenly aware of the teacher's solitude.

In a moment, the thought of interacting with the lonely teacher had darted through his mind, wondering if he could have helped relieve him from his solitude or apparent misery in any way. However, his introverted and socially awkward nature made him change his stance on the matter just as quickly as the thought had entered his mind, ultimately opting against it. The young mutant shook his head, his brown locks bouncing swiftly, leaving the room and venturing onto the hallways.

He was still quite new to New York University. A student, in his first year, which had developed little to no interpersonal connections, and had not attended any parties so far- that was a rarity by any normal standards. Matthew smiled softly as he looked around, his footsteps guiding him in places that he had not been before. It seemed as if he was once more exploring another facet of the world that he had yet to fully understand. And it was exciting.

His black satchel hung lowly from his shoulder, matching the black jeans and black boots that he had adorned himself with, and contrasting the dark grey T-shirt he currently had on. The semi-conscious exploration of the world around him led to a large park, filled with individuals. There, he chose to establish temporary roots, sitting down on the green grass as he looked up at the sun. As he did so, his eyes closed, his strong arms allowing Matthew to lean backwards in a stable and persistent manner, bathing in the rejuvenating rays of the sun. A distressed voice disturbed this temporary bliss.

"Come on, guys. This is not fun at all! Just, give me my phone! Come on!" A male cried out as he tried to get his mobile phone from three other individuals, which seemed to be throwing it from one to the other in a circle around the significantly smaller individual.

"Come on, guys. No funny!" One of the larger, more stronger mimicked his target. The others laughed out in the exactly same manner, as if they had been clones of one another. The only thing that was missing was the sports jacket, and they would have filled the stereotype of the jock, bullying those that they believed to be inferior to him.

"Is bullying a thing in college?" Matthew wondered as his eyes perused the distressing sight in front of him. Suddenly, the imagery of his father punishing him for various deeds as a child blasted into his mind, coming one after the other, and culminating with the final act- the whip. This had shocked him, realising that the emotional scars were just as present as the physical ones, perhaps never to go away. The attachment between the current events and his past made him wonder if he would have been capable of using his ability in order to restore some form of karmic balance to the universe. He could not have protected himself from being harmed, but, perhaps, he could mitigate the harm caused to others. However, he was not certain whether this came from a place of vengeance or one of justice, so he refrained from the time being.

"Look at this midget, guys, trying to reach for the sky!" Another one of the hulking specimens exclaimed, causing laughter to erupt between the three of them. They still seemed to retain control over where they had thrown the phone, which was unfortunate.

"Screw this." Matthew initially thought, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he focused on the incident. He wondered if he could use his abilities. Ever since the night that he had caused his father's whip to wrap around his very throat, he had banned himself from using his abilities. The mutant was uncertain if his abilities were a gift, or a curse, but he knew very well that he had been raised believing that such things were wrong- and he did not want to be wrong. But, then again, he had gained freedom. Perhaps, justice was worth using his powers over. Perhaps, his mindset could be changed and expanded to include more than what he had been raised with. Such prospects gave him an enlightening and positive outlook, causing him to attempt to use his abilities.

His open palm, close to the ground, subtly motioned at the phone as he looked at them, but nothing happened. It was evident that it had been a very long while since he had used his abilities. Matthew's eyebrows narrowed ever-slightly-more, his eyes attempting to keep contact with the object that he was trying to control. It was moving so fast. Eventually, after what seemed to be an eternity to the mutant, he felt confident that he could punish those that deserved to be punished. The muscles in his arm tensed slightly, and, as the phone was being thrown from one 'jock' to another, Matthew's telekinesis caused the speed of the phone to suddenly intensify, smashing against the face of the one that had spoken first, only to mimic gravity and coincidentally fall back into the hand of the victim.

While the large men were arguing amongst themselves as to the nature of the event, the victim decided that shock and surprise were not enough to keep him still, speeding away in a flurry. A smile came over Matthew's features as he allowed his body to relax, exhaling deeply.

Liquid. A rather odd feeling came over the mutant, causing him to sit, instead of lay, and touch one of his pointers against his upper lip. A small quantity of blood poured from his nose for a short while.

"Shit." He said to himself quietly, prior to looking around, hoping nobody else had noticed what had happened.

“Here,” a clearly taller, possibly older young man offered a small package of tissues as he came up beside Matthew. It was a fresh package, still sealed closed.

The older student had striking blue eyes somewhere near azure. Long dark hair was pulled back though a few locks fell around and over his brow. While Matthew wore black jeans and a dark grey T-shirt, this guy’s jeans were a boot cut dark blue denim with a black turtleneck. His sport coat matched the T-shirt though, a grey as dark as winter storm clouds. He had a small leather briefcase, clearly not overly burdened by many books.

“Make sure to lean your head back. It’s the dry air,” he added, “It gives everyone a nose bleed if they aren’t used to it. You must be from somewhere warmer, yeah?” He nodded, smiling gently and gestured to the grass. “The school invested in some quality grass to keep it this green year round.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to relax here. Pretty chill spot,” he nodded again. “Oh I’m Devon, by the way. How’s the nose doing?”

He believed to have been safe, but, when the voice behind him spoke to him from such a close proximity, the young male jumped ever so slightly. Matthew realised how embarrassing that must have been, and was rather insecure about it, but he was also very much aware that he was not going to stop there. It had not been his fault, but he was going to keep on being awkward, with whomever had addressed him, until he would become accustomed to the other's presence and the extent of the social interaction between the two. Somehow, he was thinking about socialising and how awkward he looked, when someone had a serious chance of discovering a secret that he had done his best to keep hidden for so long. His most precious secret.

"Thanks." The novice mutant's glance was redirected to the sealed pack of tissues before he could clearly look at the one that had come to his apparent rescue, his body twisted so that he could keep at least some form of contact between himself and his social assailant. One of his hands extended and softly took the pack of tissues, prior to opening it and applying one of them to the base of his nose, squeezing his nostrils together with it. His head titled back at the directions of the male helper, allowing him to naturally look up at the one that had volunteered to help him.

The intruder that had kept Matthew socially active was, well, attractive. While the literature student did not have any homosexual tendencies, to his knowledge, he could appreciate physical appeal when he saw it. The other man's physiology was rather stunning, accompanied by attire which seemed to fit the overall vibe that he sent off, finished only by the thin suitcase. All business.

"Actually..." Matthew paused, subtly queried about his origins, before proceeding with a normal and rather informal tonality, albeit ever-so-slightly withdrawn due to his innate introvertedness "I am from around here." Lies were something that were unethical, unjust, and that he would not have partaken in. Also, it took a lot of effort and work in order to keep lies tied together in such a way that they made sense and the other did not realise that they were lying. If anything, Matthew would have only lied with his pen on paper.

The conversation did not stop there, much to Matthew's surprise. The other proceeded to give him some relaxed information about the grass, and the overall spot. He seemed almost absent-minded as he spoke, but he quickly returned to the conversation, introducing himself and requesting an update in regards to Matthew's nose. Why would he have done that? Either he was being extremely friend, or he had found Matthew attractive, or he knew.

"He knows." Matthew thought in a tonality that was both ironic and doomed, but chose not to show this and continue what seemed to be a normal conversation. Perhaps he was wrong.

He squeezed his nostrils tightly once more, folded the tissue and wiped it around his nostrils to ensure that all the blood was gone. The mutant's eyes checked the side of the tissue that he had used to wipe his nose at the end, and it was perfectly white, while the other sides were relatively red, showing him that the bleeding had stopped.

"I'm alright." Matt spoke softly, extending his arm upwards to show the tissue before getting up himself, sealing the pack of tissues once more and handing it to Devon. "Nice to meet you, Devon. I'm Matthew, but friends call me Matt- I think." An eyebrow rose as he questioned his own words. Was he being weird? He felt as if he was being weird.

“Welcome.”

Devon shifted as Matthew did, stepping forward so the younger student didn’t have to twist quite so much so that they could maintain eye contact. He kept it confidently, though was gracious enough to glance away briefly as if to prevent a long awkward stare. The friendly smile and casual words certainly helped; Devon at least was clearly at ease.

>> "I am from around here."

“Oh, sorry. Thought maybe you were from down south,” Devon shrugged a shoulder. He went on about the relaxing nature of the grassy area, asked how Matt was, and introduced himself. All was fairly normal – so it seemed – and if he’d noticed something unusual he certainly didn’t bring it up.

>>"Nice to meet you, Devon. I'm Matthew, but friends call me Matt- I think.”

“Keep the tissues,” Devon said with a grin though he did take Matt’s hand and helped pull him to his feet. “I’ve got extra. In case you get another nose bleed,” he nodded. “Dry air and all,” his cadence slowing slightly before picking right back up into a single laugh, “Well okay then. It’s nice to meet you, Matt.”

“What are you studying?”

It certainly seemed as if everything was alright. The other individual seemed to be relaxed, talkative, and nice- aspects that Matthew looked for in conversational partners that helped him grow out of his shell, if not for the peculiar circumstances in which the two of them had met. It seemed as if Devon had approached him for the male's worrying physical symptom, but if he noticed the nosebleed that occurred within a mere moment, then chances were that he had noticed him using his abilities as well.

The more Matthew pondered it, the more paranoid he became. Or, was it paranoid? The young adult had never experienced the feeling, but it felt just as the literary texts had described it, which was a clear indication that they had not exaggerated the feeling of impending doom and uttermost mistrust of others in certain circumstances. Brothers Karamazov knew nothing of paranoia. To alleviate his worries, he pushed those thoughts to the corners of his mind, a feat that was far more difficult than he would have initially thought. While they were still incessantly present, they were sublimated to a great extent, instead mitigated with wonder and joy that he was able to communicate with others and learn more about the human condition. His soft smile persisted.

As Devon clarified that he had believed Matt had been from the south, and proceeded to discuss the grass and other matters, Matthew listened and observed carefully, not interjecting at any point in the conversation. But, as Devon helped Matthew get up to his feet and told him that he could keep the tissues, Matthew had been socially granted the opportunity to communicate.

"Thank you." He nodded, taking the pack of tissues and placing them into his bag at a rather relaxed pace. As he did so, he heard the other man's cadence slow down whilst mentioning other potential nosebleeds due to dry air, 'and all', possibly meaning other potential causes. Matthew redirected his glance at his conversation partner and nodded once more, lips reflexively puckering up ever so slightly for the briefest of moments.

"Nice to meet you too, Devon." Matthew extended his hand in order for it to be shaken by the other male.

"I'm studying 'Literature and Creative Writing', with more of a personal emphasis on the latter. What do you study?" The mutant replied in response to the question regarding his current academic pursuits, assuming that the other was also a student. Realising he had made a sudden assumption based on no evidence, he immediately attempted to correct himself- in his usual awkward manner. "I mean, if you are a student. Are you a student? I mean, you could be a student, or not be a student, so my question wouldn't be relevant if you weren't, really." Yeah, if he hadn't been awkward before, he was definitely being awkward then.

What had started out as curiosity, partially about who the kid was but also because he’d clearly witnesses some mutant power at work, was becoming a genuine interest for Devon. Matthew was feeling pretty familiar at least maybe a few years ago. He dressed like Devon in those dark tones and relatively simple fashion. There was some struggle with that mutant power; the nose bleed was clearly linked to it. Matt was fairly awkward, a little scattered, but overall friendly.

Well a few years ago Devon wasn’t so friendly. He’d been warned about his tone more than once and he’d avoided most people. Things had gotten under control though; he’d changed. NYC was part of that transformation and now hopefully Devon could offer that to someone else.

Devon was fairly certain Matt had picked up what he was laying down. Devon had tried to do it in the most non-threatening, friendly manner while suggesting a bit more. He did pucker those lips back at Devon’s words. Matt didn’t normally seem the puckering type, but Devon had just met him… The fact he went from that to fumbling over his words asking if Devon was a student studying something or whatever it was.

Yeah, that was cute.

Devon grinned back at the lit major. A single chuckle escaped his lips. He licked them briefly before speaking; the air was a bit dry. “Yeah, I’m a student. About to graduate actually. Psychology, though I’m a literature fan; I read quite a bit. I’m mostly a Classics guy, older cultural pieces but,” he laughed again, “Forgive me if this sounds cliché but I’m a huge Shakespearean.”

Before a moment could pass something seemed to trouble him. His brow furrowed as he glanced down his body before looking back to Matt, “Do I really look too old to be a student now? It’s the sport coat, isn’t it? I’m trying to dress up most days ‘cause of work and everything. No wonder people get quiet when I sit near them.”

Things were going far better than Matthew had initially anticipated. There were no accusations regarding his mutant ability and nature, there was no intention of public exposure, and no overall confrontational feelings between the two. Their conversation did appear to be awkward in the slightest though, undoubtedly due to Matthew's scattered and erratic social nature and understanding. Nonetheless, the interaction provided him with a good chance to socialise with a type of individual that he had not socialised with so far, someone that appeared to be relatively wise, intellectual, and had a good grasp upon societal norms and standings. While these were merely initial assumptions, loosely based on facts, Matthew's first opinion of the individual had been quickly formed, and it was evidently a largely positive one. The label had been attached, and it would take the slightest amount of work to alter it; something that he was open to during his first interaction with the other student.

What made the situation better, and the inexperienced mutant more relaxed, was the fact that the other did not seem to mind his awkward nature. It appeared as if he was enjoying it, even if in the slightest, smiling, or even allowing a succinct laughter to emerge. That had been a reaction he had not received up until that point, and he was glad that such individuals existed. Perhaps there had been hope for him to socialise effectively in the real world yet.

The other was a last year student in Psychology. Matthew did not have much knowledge about the matter, other than what he had read in passing on the internet, and what some of his favourite authors had stated about the 'science of the mind' or the 'understanding of behaviour'. From the knowledge available to him, as well as his inherent desire to understand the world around him and other individuals, he understood the appeal to Psychology, and he nodded with a smile.

"I don't really know much about Psychology, but, from what I know, it does sound pretty interesting." He smiled as he spoke, looking down slightly and rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner during the initial part of the sentence, reluctant to admit that he had little to no knowledge about the topic.

However, the issue of lack of knowledge dissipated into thin air when the other mentioned that they were a fan of literature, especially classic cultural pieces. Devon had regarded himself as a fan of Shakespeare, an author whose works Matthew had explored in-depth on more than one account. Being secluded helped you develop the ability to immerse yourself even deeper in a fictional world, gaining an understanding that would not otherwise be inherently available to you. Or, at least, that was what Matthew thought.

Matthew's chuckled briefly, his facial features reforming into a grin shortly afterwards.

"N-No, it does not make you sound cliche. What would make you sound cliche would be saying that you prefer Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet', when we can all agree that it pales in comparison to 'Othello'." The literature major explained with a smile on his face that seemed to radiate as much as his eyes did when discussing literature, something that would have been evident even to those that would lay their eyes upon him in passing. If anyone's passion truly burnt within their soul, it was Matthew's.

But, of course, the conversation, just like any other conversation that Matthew had been a part of for the last half a year, had to turn awkward and comedic due to a reason or another. Devon had questioned if he looked too old to be a student, and, if the sports coat had been the reason that was so. Matthew put his hands up in a defensive manner, palms facing Devon, shaking them slightly as he spoke.

"N-No, no. Like... well..." His hands had stopped shaking, his lips were pressing one against the other as he his eyes looked up and to the side, shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

"Well, yeah, kinda." Then the shaking of the hands continued as he certainly had to explain himself, looking at the other as he did so.

"But that does not mean that you look old! You-you don't look old, but, losing the sports coat would definitely- definitely- make you seem less official." He stopped, his eyes looking around as he recollected what he had just said, before letting a last, soft, quiet, and awkward word escape his lips.

"...Yeah."

If he had not made the situation awkward up until that point, he was absolute in the belief that the current situation had just exceeded any conventional limitations of awkwardness, potentially scaring the other into leaving the- rather riveting- conversation. Matthew only hoped that the other had retained their previous beliefs of him, choosing to smile and laugh at his nature, rather than dismiss him as a ranting lunatic. His hands dropped next to his body as he waited for a reaction.

What mattered was the smile and the nod before the words:

>> "I don't really know much about Psychology, but, from what I know, it does sound pretty interesting."

Yeah, not everyone reacted so positively to psychology. Granted, Devon hadn’t either in his teenage years but that was also because he’d had a combination of rampant, widespread, dangerous mutant powers couple with legitimate mental illness. You lose your parents, you think you’re responsible… But yes, Matthew was right. It was interesting. It wasn’t only about treating illness either.

It was about understanding and bettering oneself as well as others.

Devon also recognized some fairly familiar body language. He did the awkward neck rub thing too! This was getting to be something. If nothing else, Devon had to back this guy up. Numerous people had supported him in the past and ignoring any help this guy needed would literally feel like ignoring helping himself.

Thankfully Matthew wasn’t a lit snob. Serena would be happy if Devon ever introduced the two, which clearly he was going to have to. Romeo and Juliet was great, sure, but Matt was right. Devon gave a quick nod at the response but held his tongue as Matt explained, rather awkwardly, that sure Devon seemed old but that doesn’t mean he looked old.

A wry grin turned up Devon’s lips. This kid was adorable. The Shakespearean love was a huge plus. As the rambling went on a bit Devon studied him a bit closer. Interesting, and a mutant. That was a bonus of course. But yes, well, Matt clearly needed help what with the moving things and the nose bleeds…

“You’ll have to help me pick out my shirt next time,” Devon said with that same grin brightening. “But I appreciate the honesty. It was a bit much, yeah… It’s like I’m playing adult dress up isn’t it?” He laughed, setting down his small briefcase. The sport coat slid off shoulders and he folded it over one arm before picking up the briefcase again.

“As for Shakespeare. I agree, though I prefer A Midsummer Night’s Dream or The Tempest. The romantic comedic elements of Midsummer are always entertaining. Both have important themes of understanding the human soul, while certain the whole as they are spirits in Midsummer are bewitched and bewitch them. But I guess it all comes down to the magic. That always fascinated me about those plays, Macbeth too of course with the Wyrd Sisters.”

Devon’s smile softened, his brow raising over those azure eyes in question. “What about you?”

The other individual had not run away, which was... surprising. Matthew was not particularly certain that Devon was, in fact, a benevolent individual. Why else, but for a contrived, malicious ploy, would he put up with such awkwardness and inability to communicate things in an accurate and socially acceptable manner? These thoughts were, in no way, fixtures in his mind, as the initial image that he had formed regarding the other had been highly positive; but he had to ensure that he would not allow himself to fall in the trap of guises and false imagery, something reminisce of the topics they were discussing.

Nonetheless, the other seemed to be very positively affected by Matthew's presence and mannerisms, something that had not been lost on the inexperienced mutant. He had noticed the corners of his lips form into a smile, or a grin, and had been pleasantly surprised that was the case. Others would have run for the hills by the second time that the literature major had managed to embarrass himself- which was understandable.

The clash between his positive belief in the other and the negative potential that was innate in all beings was oddly akin to the intrinsic struggle the Moore had felt in one of Shakespeare's most controversial plays- Othello.

Devon told Matthew that he should be there to help him pick out his shirt next time. Wait, what? Was he being flirtatious? His eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly, as he was taken aback, but chose not to show the full extent of his surprise. It was still quite difficult for Matthew to wrap his head around that aspect of socialising, deciding to simply smile and dismiss any potential meaning behind the comment itself.

As the psychology student explained himself, Matthew reached the evident conclusion that his previous comment had been more of an aimless joke, rather than an attempt at flirtatious interaction. He listened as the other stated he was grateful for the honesty, and joked once more that it may have seemed that he was attempting to play adult dress-up. Matthew laughed briefly.

"I wouldn't say that you're playing adult dress up. Most likely you have things that you need to do and that require a certain etiquette. One which surpasses-" He stopped, his lips pressing against one another once more as he motioned around them and then to himself, his body and head turning and twisting slightly as he did "A student's. So, it's understandable."

Shortly enough, Devon had taken off his coat. Matthew's eyes inspected the motion curiously, noticing that they seemed to flow from one act to the other, akin to a river's perpetual and uniform motion. His mind automatically compared those to himself, taking a note of how he could reduce some of the rigidity in his body when moving. The young adult knew that the key was confidence, of which Devon seemed to have enough, but he was uncertain whether he could gain true social confidence- rather than resort to faking it.

In regards to Shakespeare and the facets he explored, Devon professed that he was a particular fan of the exploration of the human soul, as well as the magical aspects which were exhibited in many, if not all, of the Elizabethan writer's works. That seemed befitting for the older male, as he was studying psychology, which made the link between his interest in the human soul, and the mind, logical. However, the certain emphasis on magic led Matthew to wonder if he were a mutant as well. No, that had been too much of a cognitive jump to make, and he was not going to take such blind leaps.

"I, uhm... I would agree with the intrigue of magic and the exploration of the human soul, but I find that the most interesting aspect regarding Shakespeare consists of his ability to twist and turn information, characters, plots, in an unexpected manner, which is always represented by the environment or the setting- in one way or another. So, yeah, the pathetic fallacies, and the foreshadowing, basically..." Matthew replied as soon as he was posed with a rather ambiguous question. Given the fact that the question was both ambiguous, and followed the topic of magic within his works, he had been inclined to believe that the other had subtly queried him about his mutation, but he, once more, chose to disregard that as a mere coincidence and proceed with giving a regular answer regarding one of his favourite authors. During the inception of his reply, he was uncertain and rather erratic, but a certain stability was gained as he progressed in his explanation, his voice only drifting off at the end of it.

>> "A student's. So, it's understandable."

Devon grinned. Interesting to hear him make fun of himself and some younger guy stick up for him. Devon knew he was trying a bit hard to look good between school and work, but there was always this concern that he wasn’t doing a good job of it. Of course, hearing Matt indirectly fumble through compliments was fun too. He didn’t mean to compliment hunt though again, it was nice to hear.

Maybe Devon’s grin brightened a bit more feeling the eyes on him as he slipped his coat off and swung it over his arm.

The lit-loving mutant didn’t quite take the opportunity Devon had hoped with the talk of magic, but that was okay. He still appreciated a discussion on Shakespeare. Apparently Matt liked the twists, the surprises the author used. In his comedies, Shakespeare often used confusion of love, gender, and again that magic to form those twists. The tragedies often revealed betrayals, typically out of jealousy revolving love or revenge.

“There’s a comment on human nature even there,” Devon said with a grin. “What causes us confusion, makes us bend, or even break. Yet also enthralls us to see it in others. Your right the environment around the characters often reflects that,” he nodded. “Something unexpected happens to interacting individuals resulting in an outcome likely neither expected. Getting one’s phone back while your bigger, bullying aggressor gets a black eyes from that phone is probably a good example.”

He laughed, but didn’t push that topic, instead moving on. “I guess that makes those who evoke these twists something above the rest of the characters, tools of the plot certainly, but usually spectators rather than the actors. The audience can have that affect. It was apparently common for audience members to call out such things back in those days. Shakespeare draws us into his work. I guess that’s why it’s so engaging.”

Devon explained, almost philosophically, that those things that confused us, those things that made us bend and break, those were the things that we wanted to see in others. Matthew pondered over that very comment in a quick manner, attempting his best to attach it to a concept that he had not long studied, having finished an essay which centred around it. Links formed in his mind; semi-transparent clouds, connected by twisted raindrops which defied all laws of physics, transporting information from one topic- one concept- to another. Lightning struck a few times between those clouds of information, passing in an instant from its inception to its destination, allowing the literature major to recall the concept that Devon had been addressing.

But, why? Why was he making an effort to remember such a distant concept? Was it his love for what he studied, or was it, perhaps, his attempt to impress the other male? Why would he want to impress the psychology student? It did not seem to make any sense...

"Yeah, catharsis," Matthew began as soon as Devon paused in his explanation of the term, and how it was reflected through the environment; awkwardly explaining something that he found interesting. He knew that he was perhaps going too in-depth, and being too academic regarding the matter, but it was not often that he discussed Shakespeare with someone else at an equal level, Devon joining the shortlist alongside Matthew's teacher.

"... basically, the tragic concept is that we need something, in a play, book, or movie- but that is especially represented through tragedy- for us to purge our emotions. This purging of emotions can only be done through the inspection of the human nature, as you called it, and it is at its emotional peak during Shakespearean plays due to the intricacy of tumultuous emotions. But... yeah..." Whilst his speech began at an awkward pace, it gained velocity and fervour, shaping into a passionate expression of Matthew's feelings and knowledge. Once he realised how much he was discussing one concept with someone that, perhaps, was not that interested in it, Matthew coughed, his voice trailing off as he nodded awkwardly. There was not anyone, in this world, that was as awkward as Matthew Hughes- he was certain of that.

The next words that made acoustic contact with Matthew shook him deeply. Whilst he was suspecting that the other was aware of his abilities, the example that he gave regarding the aforementioned topics just served to cement that fact. The void that Matthew attempted to swallow remained stuck in the crevices of his throat as he looked at the other, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It seemed as if he had grown slightly pale since the surprising comment.

Whilst he listened to the other comments regarding Shakespeare, and gave a weak smile in response to them, perceiving them to be new and extremely interesting, his mind was trying to figure out a way outside of the conversation. Devon had been the first person, other than the novice mutant's parents, to witness Matthew's ability, and the very first to allude to them, or even be open to talking about them. Images of being whipped, as well as of being ignored henceforth, invaded the young adult's mind like an ever-growing virus.

He cleared his throat.

"I need to go. Sorry." He whispered, walking past the other male as quickly as possible, his eyes fixated upon the ground. He needed to get out of there, fast. The student's pace accelerated, as he tried to escape the crushing feeling of anxiety that plagued him when near Devon. Damn, why did it have to be so? The other seemed to be interesting, mature, and knowledgeable- a potential friend.

Oh well that had done it.

Devon had spooked him. First Matt was giving an encouraging review on catharsis through art, then he was getting a bit awkward fumbling through his words once ‘intimacy’ and ‘emotions’ had come up. After that the kid seemed to literally choke. A darkness consumed him and he made a weak showing of interest. Then off he went! But hey, he apologized.

Oh man, Devon would have laughed if he hadn’t immediately felt bad. This guy wasn’t just awkward; he was an infant in terms of talking mutantcy. Maybe he figured Devon was testing him? Well yeah, in a way he was. Now Devon had a few theories about this sort of immaturity and discomfort aversion tactic. Many young men and women matured more slowly than others when large facets of their personality were stunted or neglected. Mutant powers were an example; homosexuality was another…

It wasn’t that too, was it? No, no, Devon was fairly certain it was his oh-so-clever musing on the phone throwing. Dang it. They’d be lobbing metaphors and all back and forth. Wasn’t it obvious he was okay with it? Maybe it was and simply the young telekinetic wasn’t.

“Matt! Wait!” Devon took off after the freshman. He was jogging every day and sometimes even went to lift some weights. Had to keep in shape for those dangerous META-bots and the occasional public appearance. It wasn’t only that of course. He wanted to be strong, healthy… And catch a few glances here and there. He was doing well enough for that wasn’t he?

Oof, yes. “Matt!” Devon yelled again, running past the kid before holding out his hands. One grabbed the coat on his arm in time to keep in from falling. “Hey, I’m sorry! I pushed too hard. Really, sorry. Everything’s cool. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t either at first, really, I had a hard time when I was first learning control over my abilities.”

Provided Matt was slowing even a moment, Devon slowed too. “Please, just take my number or something. Call me and we can talk book club or whatever. I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I can get pushy.”

This was more than Matt could take. The discussion had been nothing but pleasant- especially regarding literature with someone that seemed to enjoy it, and be aware of it as much as Matthew was- but the constant allusions towards his mutation and his abilities as a result of said mutation had made him uncomfortable. More than that, it had caused him a form of intrinsic pain that he had not experienced before. It seemed that every single time the topic came up, the thinnest of blades would pass through his stomach in a rapid fashion, leaving the mutant emotionally scarred. Was that normal? Why could he not even think about it, or talk about it? Why was everything so difficult for him? The tonality in his mind fluctuated from helpless to enraged, reflecting his current psyche; confused and uncertain as to whom he was... what he was.

The presence of the intrinsic questions seemed to create the most peculiar dichotomy. The more questions he asked, the more clear the path towards the answer seemed to be. At the same time, those very questions seemed to inhibit the literature student from finding the truth, hidden behind mirages and psychological walls. As he had begun running, he was left to wonder if every single mutant was met with such difficulty when initially addressing their mutation, or if it had been just him. No! That was yet another question, and he was not going to allow his own mind to trick him into believing, or dismissing, something that he was yet to fully grasp.

The other was calling out to him, asking for him to wait, but Matthew could not willingly do so. If he were to wait, what would the other have done? Possibly just stop him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, and that he did not need to talk about it if he did not want to. Possibly, that he needed to power through it. Too many concepts went through his mind for him to focus on any one concept, on any one thought, on any one action. Right then, he did not even care that some eyes seemed to follow the two running students, despite being petrified of being the center of attention on most accounts. God, what was happening to him?!

In a few moments, Matthew found that Devon had appeared in front of him, clearly a faster runner than the confused young adult. At that point, Matt stopped and looked at him, his jaw clenching slightly. A pool of water started to form in his eyes as he heard the other talk, and he did not reply. Ashamed of his natural emotional reaction, he looked down at the ground, letting a few tears be pulled by gravity onto the stone slabs, crashing and dissipating as if they were nothing.

"You don't get it, do you?" Matthew whispered, almost mumbling- so slurred were his words in that very state. He felt as if he were trembling, but he was not certain of it. Come to think of it, he was not certain of anything at that point, something he wished to express in full to the other, which seemed to make assumptions about how the two of them were so inherently similar. The mutant's fists clenched.

"I don't know what I want to do! I don't know if I want to talk about it, or not talk about it! All I know is that I feel this... pain, whenever I think about it! Whenever I think about talking about it, all I feel is pain! And it doesn't stop!" Matthew shouted, his eyes meeting the other's as tears flew from his eyes in a rapidly cascading manner. It did not seem as if his small pause was permanent, as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting another trembling whisper out as his gaze once more redirected itself towards the ground.

"All I am is a monster. And pain... pain is the only thing I feel when I think about what makes me nothing but a wretch." A few seconds afterwards, pain jolted through his very being, causing him to groan as he grabbed at his chest. The pain was not metaphorical in any way.

Matt was crying. S***, Devon immediately felt worse. The younger man mumbled something and then clenched his fist. Devon’s eyes widened though he consciously fought down the need to react.

This was more than being angry.

Matt started shouted. Devon resisted interrupting, instead choosing to maintain eye contact and nod slowly, considerately. The psychologist in him told him that Matt was having a panic attack, but the volunteer in him said you need to help this kid. There was a friend in the middle there somewhere, right?

Then he declared himself a monster. Who had gotten to this kid first? Who had put these ideas in his head? It made Tempest’s blood boil and the temperature nearby suffered for it, rising a few degrees almost immediately. Then Matt clutches his chest, groaning in pain and Tempest leapt forward, dropping his coat and bag to position himself close to Matt.

“Wow, Matt, please breath,” he said quickly. “I won’t grab you, but you need to relax. I think you’re having a panic attack and that can impact your heart. Relax, or you could faint.” The elder mutant kept his arms out just in case. “Please, take more of those deep breaths.”

“You’re neither a monster, nor a wretch. You’re a person with a gift, but let’s focus on that breathing. I can get a doctor?” he asked, eyebrow lifting. “Or we can sit. I’ve got water. I’m really sorry; I thought we were testing the waters there about talking about it and-“ He blinked, “Really, I’m sorry. We don’t need to talk about that now. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

And they’d take care of the internalized hatred causing panic attacks and possible cardiac arrest later.

As soon as the pain emerged, it had become evident that the other had the intention of helping the inexperienced mutant. That, or Devon was peculiarly proficient in disguising his true motives, which could have easily been malicious rather than benevolent. Despite the persistent questions which plagued Matthew's cognitive processes, especially now that he was suffering from a panic attack for the very first time, he chose to trust the other individual- especially because he was nearing a complete knowledge in the psychological field, and the literature student proved to have more psychological issues than he had previously been aware of.

The pain was still there, plaguing his upper body by wrapping its thorns around his lungs, prohibiting him from taking deep breaths, and pressing against the surface of his heart, causing an unbearable throbbing pain. What was happening to him? Matthew struggled to breathe as his hand kept tugging at his own shirt, carefully listening to the instructions laid out by Devon. Too bad that he could not do any of what he was recommended to, as the venom that resided within his bloodstream prohibited any physical improvement. F***, just because he the other had felt the need to openly address his mutation. Just because he thought that he himself could talk about it.

This had been evidence to the contrary.

An evidently ironic laughter escaped from Matthew's throat as soon as he heard the other's claim that he possessed a gift. If not for the largely positive interaction between them so far, and the pain that he was experiencing at that moment, he was sure that he would have struck the other for saying something as perversed- especially in the current circumstances. Did he not see what was happening?

"N-No. No doctor." He said between the grunts, gasping for air before his pain started decreasing in intensity. That had been exceedingly odd, as the mutant had not attempted to calm himself past Devon's instructions, focusing on his breathing rather than anything else. His views of himself, his memories, his feelings, had all paled in comparison with his current desire to live a life without pain. Perhaps Devon had been better than the Shakespeare aficionado expected, or, perhaps, there had been something else at play.

In less than a minute, the mutant had grown capable of inhaling deeply, and of relaxing himself. Yet, the other had kept on conversing as to how he wanted to ensure that the other was alright, which was partially irritating at that moment in time.

"Look, I'm sorry, but... could you shut up? Please?" His eyes met the other's, his eyebrows raising as the intensity of his voice decreased towards the end of his initial sentence, becoming more of a murmur by the time the reinforcing question surfaced. Matthew did not mean to be rude, and his apology was expressed informally through his stance and tonality. He felt as if he had been close to death. Past the literal help, all the other explanations from someone that was in very close proximity to him did not help him physically, emotionally, or mentally.

He needed space. He needed to relax. More than anything, he needed to figure out why that had just happened. Matthew could not bear to lose his composure like that ever again.