>>> “Peoples’ powers get away from them in the Mansion all the time. I can’t tell you how many times I run around here like an utter basket case because teenage emotions are running high.”

Mat heard the words as they left the blonde's mouth. They floated through the air, danced around him a while, close enough for him to take stock in what they meant, but not close enough to truly take them on board. He felt deaf to what the woman was saying.

All that mattered was the destruction in front of him, and the memories of his last phone call.

>>> ”The infirmary is a long ways away thought…and Doc made the long trip up here to make sure you were alright. The least you could do is let him do his job so his trek wasn’t for naught. I know how guilty you feel right now…but you won’t be any use to the cleanup effort if you’re not completely healthy…”

Mat felt a tightness growing in his chest, an iron grip squeezing his lungs, restricting his oxygen. His conscience, maybe? He sniffled, and clenched his hands into fists, willing them to stop shaking.

”I’m Kealey by the way. I don’t think we’ve met.”

He couldn't shake the anger. The anger that had caused this whole mess in the first place. He could feel it boiling under his skin, threatening to spill over. His guilt was only fanning the flames, his anger at himself doubly intense. His breath started coming in shallow, desperate gasps. His head was swimming, the world beginning to shift and keel. His knees felt like they would buckle at any moment.

A hand gently patted his shoulder.

Mat jumped at first, like a skittish animal, not expecting any contact. The he saw Agnes standing next to him, an expression that told him that she understood. Slowly, Mat began to relax a little, until he wasn't so tense. He turned around, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the hole in the wall.

“Mat,” he replied to the blonde.

He wandered back towards the group, and sat on the bench next to the wall. “I'm sorry for before, but I'm fine, really,” he said to the old man, who was supposedly the doctor here. “It's happened before.”

The doc made his way over to the bench and settled himself down next to Mat, groaning as he did so. “Still, better safe than sorry, right? How many times?”

“Twice, before this.”

“Any side effects? Repercussions?”

“I was in a coma for about a week and a half the first time. Second time...not so long.” The doctor frowned at this.

“Okay, well, I'm going to do a preliminary check, see if everything is alright. Don't be afraid, this won't hurt. Lift your shirt, please.” Mat obliged, and lifted his shirt. The old man closed his eyes, put his hands to Mat's chest, and immediately a golden light began to emanate from them, followed by a soothing warmth. After a moment, he lifted them and told Mat he could pull his shirt down and stared at him with his knowing, doctorly expression.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“About two minutes ago,” Mat replied, not missing a beat.

The pointed glare said that the doctor wasn't amused. Mat couldn't help but relent. He'd already upset enough people.

“...I'm not sure. Four days? I don't keep track of these things.” Mat noticed his leg was now bouncing up and down, unbidden. The questions were starting to get old, the guilt, his barely repressed anger at himself...they were all beginning to come back.

The doctor fixed his glare on Mat. “Young man, your body needs sleep. Without it, systems begin to shut down. Like the ones that regulate powers, for instance...”

“I know.”

“...not to mention what it can do in the long term...”

“I know”

“...your insulin, your immune system, your blood pressure...all of these thing can--”

“I know! I f*****g know, alright!”

So much for being civil.

Mat jumped to his feet and swept his gaze across the group. Now his hands were shaking again, the tremors more intense this time around. A wash of vertigo swept across him, and Mat swayed on his feet. His eyes landed on Agnes, and all he could offer her was an embarrassed expression.

So much for being her street savvy saviour, with all the answers. As it turned out, Mat was nothing more than a sleep deprived joke, afraid of his own pillow.

With only one option left in mind, Mat turned and began walking away, desperate to get out of the building. He had known it was a bad idea to live here from the start. The world spinning, his chest tightening, Mat had to pause and double over. He was left shaking and struggling to breathe, as the world closed in around him.

Slowly but surely the anger was starting to amp up again. She was being understanding, she was being sympathetic…and she was being ignored. The blond planted her fists on her hips and glared a bit at the situation and settled for simply following the emotions as they ebbed and flowed through the assembled. This guy…Matt, was listening to her, but none of the words were really registering. Finally though…the guy allowed Doc to do his job.

Kealey listened to the conversation intently, wondering if it was eavesdropping if you weren’t being sneaky about the fact that you were following someone else’s conversation.

Mat was an insomniac too, Kealey almost snorted in amusement at the revelation…he’d have understood why she was angry about the potential of someone waking Shin up. At the thought the blond looked back down the hall wondering if her boyfriend had managed to snooze through all the commotion. She sighed…and turned back to the situation at hand when the emotions started to flow once more. Mat had calmed himself down, but was ramping up again as the Doc lectured him about sleeping.

Then, he got rude.

At first, Kealey simply watched, open mouthed, as the patient’s reactions got more and more snipped and his emotions swung back to the angry guilt that had held him while he stood by the window. Then he cursed…and not even a little…and the blonde’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in disgust and anger as the boy walked away. (Yes. With his cursing, Mat too had been reverted to a child in Kealey’s mind)

He didn’t make it far before he stopped and doubled over. Normally Kealey would have rushed to his side and done whatever she could to help. Not this time though, she held a hand up to Doc, who despite the boy’s behavior was moving to help him. The old man stayed where he was and Kealey made her way to Mat, pushing his emotions away so that he would be nice and calm.

”Stand up when you’re ready, but you’re not running away from this.” the blond said with her arms crossed and a foot tapping. ”You’re not the first one to take a chunk out of a wall because your powers got away from you. You definitely won’t be the last.”

She let the words sink in for a moment and held Mat’s emotions in check. He was not going to take out his frustration and exhaustion on her. Using her powers was something Kealey did sparingly, and rarely without permission..but she was the only X-Man in sight. The situation had to be controlled.

”What you will do…is accept help when it’s offered. Thank people for risking their own skin to take care of you. And you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth when you’re in this school.”

By this point, Kealey was doing a little shaking of her own. It had been a long time since her Irish temper had gotten the better of her, and the effect was obvious. Arms still crossed, she waited for a reply.

"Now. Do you feel better...or do you need to politely ask Doc if he'll do something to help."

It was a small gesture, to stand next to the disheveled Mat, and pat him gently on the shoulder. She was not some mind reader, but she could feel that the man was close to snapping. His anger was boiling over, his fists were clenched, he looked as if he was going to summon another one of those marble golems and start this whole mess again. But…it seemed the second she placed her hand on him, his anger melted away and all that was left was guilt and self pity. How she wished she could help…but when it came to harming someone else each person handled it differently.

Matt would need to learn to live with what he did. That would be the only way he could get over any of this.

Then he finally seemed to comply. He wandered over to let the doctor take a look at him, passing the blonde Irish and the redheaded hero who had just helped them destroy the rampaging statue. But as the examination went on, Agnes overheard exactly what was part of Mat’s problem…he was not sleeping. For whatever reason he was denying himself the one thing that all people need, no matter what.

That’s just crazy. she thought. Who would keep themselves from slee-?

Before Agnes could finish her thought, though, Mat seemed to jump up, angry beyond all belief about getting another lecture from the health professional. Agnes could only stand back in shock as Mat seemed to completely lose it. Once more he was fuming, pissed off, and stood up, ready to remove himself from this stressful situation.

Agnes could say nothing. She could only stand back and watch in awe, feeling just a pang of sorrow for Mat, but at the same time, chastising herself for feeling sorry for anyone. She hated it when people did that to her, therefore she should do it no one else.

Then he doubled over. Quickly she jogged over to see he was ok.

“Mat! Mat what’s wrong?”

She leaned down, hand on his back to see if she could help him to straight up, but the blonde then got her attention. She watched as the Irishwoman attempted to talk Mat out of doing anything and even did nothing as he looked hurt. What was going on?

Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant.

It was like his chest was in a vice, winding tighter and tighter, cutting off his air. His breaths came in shallow, and left the same way, growing faster and more urgent. It was hard to breathe...

Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant. Pant.

>>> “Mat! Mat what's wrong?”

“I can't...I...I can't brea--”

Suddenly, the tightness and weight growing in his chest began to disappear, along with the anger. Like it was melting away like an ice block in summer. Whatever was calming him down, it definitely wasn't natural.

>>> ”Stand up when you’re ready, but you’re not running away from this. You’re not the first one to take a chunk out of a wall because your powers got away from you. You definitely won’t be the last. What you will do…is accept help when it’s offered. Thank people for risking their own skin to take care of you. And you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth when you’re in this school.”

His breathing now back under control, anger and panic subsided, Mat straightened and turned to face the blonde. His brows furrowed as he watched her. The things she was saying, the way she was saying them, Mat knew that he should be getting angry at her. His skin should be prickling, his breath should be growing deeper, and there should have been a rising tension underneath his flesh that would cause him to clench his fists. But there was none of that, and it didn't feel...natural.

Anger, without the anger.

>>>"Now. Do you feel better...or do you need to politely ask Doc if he'll do something to help."

Ahh. Her.

It was a strange sensation, being aware of his anger without having the emotions attached. He briefly wondered if this was how psychopaths and serial killers felt, detached from feeling, but still having a base of hate and loathing. Either way, this woman was becoming a hindrance.

Worse. A self righteous hindrance.

Mat took several slow steps, approaching the blonde, Kealey he recalled, with an eerie calm. He stopped only inches away from where she stood. Close enough to lean forward and kiss her, had he been inclined. He met her glare with his own tired gaze.

“You think I care about your wall?” He meant for the words to come out with some venom, some bite. Instead, they came out cold and flat. That, in a way, scared him. They sounded like they came from a man with nothing to lose. “I don't give a s*** about your wall. That sculpture, that wasn't some kitty that could be ushered out the door. Those things can kill people when I'm not in control, you get that?” Those things have killed people when he wasn't in control.

Mat leant in close, close enough that he could feel the woman's breath on his face. “Now, what I will do is walk away before I do anything to hurt somebody else. I will thank those people that risked themselves by making sure I don't lose control again.” Mat's eyes flicked towards Agnes, lingered, then returned to the blonde's. “And what you will do is get out of my way and let me leave.” Mat took a step back, and let his words sink in.

Normally, Mat probably would have found a friendlier, more tactful way to approach this. But she had picked a bad time to start acting the schoolmarm. Mat didn't owe her anything. He didn't owe anybody anything. He had just cut ties with his parents, and nearly had a repeat performance of his massacre. There were more pressing things to worry about right now than hurt feelings.

“Now. Are you going to let me leave peacefully? Or am I gonna have to get a little forceful?”

And he turned his back on the blonde, a little shocked at his own words. Only to come face to face with Agnes, the girl he had met on the streets. The girl who reminded him of Bloom, of himself, of the number of kids that had perished in the fire. The girl he hoped would find her way, and not sink to his lows. Looking at her, all his resolve crumbled.

“Remember what I told you,” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper. “About not letting the streets get to you?” Mat walked towards Agnes, and made to lift his hand. To place on her shoulder, or to brush a strand of hair out of her face, or whatever. He wasn't sure why. But he stopped himself before his hand had even left his side. “I can't function in a place like this any more. But you...you still had a chance. Still have a chance. Don't--” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Don't what? Don't become like me?

Who was he to give life advice, anyway?

Instead he settled for a sad, shaky, resigned sigh.

“I'm sorry,” is all he could muster himself to say to the dark haired street rat he had found in a dark alley.

One of the benefits of being an empath, Kealey had noticed over time, was that she had a pretty good read on motivations when people did things. Bravado really didn’t mean anything to her, and neither did false pretenses. So when Mat approached her, Kealey knew he was trying to intimidate her and didn’t budge a step.

The younger man was trying hard to be angry…really hard. She wouldn’t let him though, and she knew that it was frustrating him, because she wasn’t worrying about holding that emotion in check. In return, however, she was frustrated with the situation and rose an eyebrow in consternation as he cursed again, and displayed blatant disregard for the wall.

His stone statues were apparently very dangerous. Kealey let him rant, there was no room for reply, and when there was she figured the questions had been rhetorical. She’d wait patiently, then say her piece. He leaned closer, and Kealey’s own anger started to flare up. How dare he invade her personal space. She wanted to take a step back, but again held her ground, still looking up as the height difference required.

Apparently finished with his tirade, the tired younger man took several steps away and turned to make his veiled threat a little less veiled. Both eyebrows rose at that. Partially because he’d had the gall to say the words, partially because Kealey knew that there was no real malice behind them. She was, however, glad that Shin was sleeping back in his room. He wouldn’t have been pleased by this. Not at all.

Again, Kealey was quiet while he approached and spoke to the other woman in the hallway. Their interaction was something altogether different than what Kealey had experienced so far, and even though she couldn’t hear the words, she felt the emotions behind them and her own anger dulled slightly.

Now it was the blond who closed the distance, fast enough that she heard Mat’s apology at the end of his words.

”You don’t have to leave.” she said, ”When I said before that you’re not the only one here with dangerous powers…I meant it.”

She let the words sink in, then continued in a tone far more kindly than she’d previously used, ”We’ve all got our dark side, and we’ve all had horrible things happen to us.”

Another pause, ”It’s not possible to control those things sometimes Mat….what is possible…is to control your reactions, and how you take responsibility when things do happen.”

One more pause, and Kealey spoke, ”You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t work…because I know how you really feel.”

>> “Remember what I told you…About not letting the streets get to you?...I can't function in a place like this any more. But you...you still had a chance. Still have a chance. Don't--”

Way too much was going on for Agnes to process exactly what was going on. Mat seemed to be eerily calm, and get angry at the same time, while the blonde was standing back, not buying his intimidation technique at all. The runaway really was not sure what to do, until Mat then turned and gave her the saddest look she had ever seen. Apparently he was attempting to apologize to her for whatever reason, at the same time trying to force her to not become him. It was a speech Agnes heard time and again from other homeless people, so she felt no different about it.

But apparently the blonde was having none of it. She stood her ground against Mat, stared him right back in the eyes and pretty much defied him at every turn.

Here at the mansion, it seemed that few, if any people seemed to get away with pity parties. Maybe that was why Agnes pretty much kept to herself. Her whole life story could be seen as a pity party and retelling it, an attempt to find solace from others.

But maybe that was what Mat was referring to. Maybe he did not want her to stay so enclosed, so wound up and fearful of letting anyone in. It was his attempt to tell her that if she stayed on the course she was, she was going to have just as lonely and fearful a life as he seemed to have. Though Agnes was not 100% sure.

>> “I'm sorry,”

Still though, as she stared at that earnest face, that pleading face that the victim Mat was becoming was no life for her…she could do only one thing…

Suddenly Agnes reached out and shoved Mat backwards, stormed forward, and shoved again as she angrily spoke to him.

“What?! You expect me to feel sorry for you, Mat?” Shove! “Sorry that you have a tough life?” Shove! “Sorry that is too late for you?” SHOVE! “Get over yourself! Life IS hard and I guarantee you, anything that I’ve gone through is probably worse than any night terror you have EVER had!” SHOOOOVE!

She breathed heavily as she stood there, staring up at him, her hands on her hips as clenched her teeth. It was obvious that she was not intimidated by him either. How dare he stand there, looking so pathetic and attempt to give her advice on not becoming him. How dare he! She just ended up doing something extremely stupid in order to save him the trouble of having to explain why the whole damn mansion was torn down, why innocent student lives were lost, and why he would have to get the guilt for it.

So she stood there, glaring at him for a moment, ignoring the blonde.

“You saved my life once, and I repaid that by coming here and getting help.” she said no arguing tone in her voice. “Now you owe me, since I saved yours. You let these people help you…” she growled. That familiar buzzing was emitting from her chest and before she knew it, a few flies, wasps, and couple of roaches had made their way out of her mouth and began to circle her dangerously, “…or I’m going to be worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had!” She then pointed off towards the blonde and DocProf, with a no nonsense look on her face. There would be no argument here. “Now go!”

>>> ”You don’t have to leave. When I said before that you’re not the only one here with dangerous powers…I meant it. We’ve all got our dark side, and we’ve all had horrible things happen to us. It’s not possible to control those things sometimes Mat….what is possible…is to control your reactions, and how you take responsibility when things do happen. You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t work…because I know how you really feel.”

>>> “What?! You expect me to feel sorry for you, Mat? Sorry that you have a tough life? Sorry that is too late for you? Get over yourself! Life IS hard and I guarantee you, anything that I’ve gone through is probably worse than any night terror you have EVER had! You saved my life once, and I repaid that by coming here and getting help. Now you owe me, since I saved yours. You let these people help you…or I’m going to be worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had!Now go!”

How (Not) to Make Friends (And Win Their Respect): by Mathew McGuire...

Chapter One...

The words coming from the blonde's mouth, Mat semi-paid attention to. He listened to them, acknowledged them, but ultimately didn't let himself subscribe to them on principle. He was still mad at her...only, without the mad. Mainly because she had called his bluff. Agnes, however, he did listen to. It was hard not to.

Each statement was shoved into him, literally.

Was he really that pathetic?

It's a certain kind of shock that hits you, when you realise that someone has no respect for you at all. That you're acting like a pathetic child. A self-deflating of the ego that leads to an empty sort of shamed melancholy. She was right of course. They both were. Much as he hated to admit it. Shit happens. If that's the worst thing that has happened to you today, you should consider yourself lucky, and all that... Still, wasn't he entitled to a little self-pity, just this once? Today of all days.

Apparently not.

Mat stood there, unsure of how to react. He sucked some air through his front teeth...

...And wandered back to the bench, sitting down without a word. The doctor, after a moments hesitation, joined him soon after. Mat gave him a nod, and the doctor went to work, running his glowing hands over Mat, searching for any sign of injury or trauma. The old man's hands ran lightly over Mat's arms, to Mat's shaking hands. He hovered over them for a moment, making sure there was no physical cause for the tremors. More than likely, they were shaking from embarrassment and shame. The old man gave Mat a reassuring smile, and Mat was suddenly reminded of his late grandfather. He could feel the comforting weight of his straight razor, tucked into his sock, pressing against his ankle.

Mat glanced up, saw the two woman standing there, crossed arms and hands of hips and every other indication that they were sick of his crap. His eyes quickly found the floor again. This was karma, he supposed, for interfering with Agnes' business in the first place. For butting in where he wasn't needed, or wanted. Still, at least he had been respectful of her right to make her own decisions, right, wrong or otherwise. He should have just let her be after they had taken out those thugs...

If he had been true to his old street instincts, he would have just left her to deal with the gang herself...

He had gotten soft since the commune...

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts. He remembered the days when he was alone out there, before he had met Bloom, even. Before Trip and his Merry Mutants. Days of solitude, crippling loneliness. He hadn't thought about those times since...since those times. Mat closed his eyes, and tilted his head back so that it was resting against the wall.

Kealey and Agnes. These two made a convincing argument, he had to give them that. His guilt, his sadness...who did they help? Not the dead, that was for damn sure. Not those screaming, burning kids. Not those screaming, broken anti-mutant association members they had tracked down and taken care of. Mat gave a small huff of a laugh, a single exhale of grim amusement. No. He carried all that for himself. Selfish. He had somehow managed to convince himself that playing the martyr, that carrying his baggage as best as he could, was honouring the dead. Mat's expression hardened.

What a load of crap. The dead were dead. What honouring did they need?

These two girls...they may have just delivered him from his own foolish sentimentality.

Still...

“It's really a wonderful place, this mansion. A fantastic idea. All these mutant kids running around, free to be themselves, in a place where they can be with others just like them. How horrible it would be, to see this place burn to the ground. All those little mutant kiddies, screaming as they burned to death, choking on the smoke, trapped...”

He spoke calmly, finished with all the melodrama. This wasn't for pity, self or by proxy. This was an explanation and clarification of facts. Simple as that.

“I mean, imagine. Your friends, those who you consider your family, all screaming for your help. And all you can do is watch the place burn, helpless...”

Now he did meet the glares of the girls, a weary look in his eyes. He was sick of fighting. All he wanted was to be left the hell alone.

“Could you imagine, how uncomfortable, how awkward it must feel to live in a place like that again, expecting the same thing to happen, again? No matter how illogical and irrational you know it to be?”

He closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall once more.

“You think I want you to feel sorry for me? You think I don't know that everyone has their own tragic baggage?” Mat snorted, and rose to his feet, muttering a 'thank you' to the doctor. He made his way over to the hole in the wall, ran his hand over the surface next to it. It felt like stone of some sort. He gave it a few slaps, and willed the matter to life. Emotions suppressed for now, it was a cinch to duplicate the wall material, stretching it out to cover the gaping maw. Not a perfect finish, but it would suffice. He wasn't in the mood for detail.

“I don't want anything. From either of you.”

If he was going to cop flak for the way he dealt with things, for the way he felt and acted, then he was better off on his own

Despite the fact that he’d threatened her, Kealey couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Mat as he finally gave in and let the Doc check him out thoroughly. Sure, the other girl had definitely been the driving force behind his acquiescence, but that didn’t mean that Kealey was simply going to walk away. Especially not now, when the picture had started to be come a little more clear.


People didn’t come to the Mansion because they had perfect family lives, and things were easy. Most people came to the Mansion because they didn’t have anywhere else to go and they knew they needed help. He felt bad for what had happened, or for something at least, and Kealey felt some of her own stark anger start to loosen its grip on her. Mat was exactly the type of person who needed the Mansion, and she was pushing him away.


Physical intimidation hadn’t worked, so Mat had apparently decided to try something else. His new method was more effective, but Kealey didn’t budge from her spot. What she did do, was think. She thought a lot, and she watched Mat as he went through the motions and fixed the hole in the wall. The workmanship wasn’t perfect, but there damage had been covered.


He spoke about horror scenarios, and lost love ones and Kealey didn’t fight the grim smile that spread itself across her features. She’d been there. She still dreamed about it sometimes. It was almost eerie how similar Mat’s verbalized situation was to the one Kealey had lived when she was a child. She shrugged it off and returned her attention to the present.


Mat said he didn’t want anything.


”You might not want anything…from either of us, or from here.” she said softly, but with weight.


”But…what you want and what you need are two very different things.”


The blond’s words trailed off, and she glanced at the place where Mat had patched the wall, ” Knowing that is the difference between the kind of person who fixes the mistakes they make…and someone who runs away and lets someone else clean up for them.”


Kealey paused again for the words to sink in, then shrugged her shoulders, ”I can’t do anything to make you stay…but even if you don’t, we’re not going anywhere.”

Agnes stepped back, she thought that maybe she had gotten through to him. He seemed like he was more receptive after she had shoved some sense into him. Apparently though that was not going to last. She watched as he got up, mumbled on about some of his past exploits and proceeded to attempt to patch up the damage his golem had done. All the while, she listened…angry with what he saying…

>> “You think I want you to feel sorry for me? You think I don't know that everyone has their own tragic baggage?...I don't want anything. From either of you.”

It was needless to say that Agnes had completely had enough of Mat’s self-pitying [explicative deleted]! It was a sob story that she had heard one too many times, from other people on the streets, from students, from even herself. Everyone has the toughest story ever told, everyone has suffered in such a way as people will never be able to imagine, everyone has the mark of Cain on their forehead. It was such BS that Agnes was practically fuming, red at the ears and ready to break something in half.

Yes…his story was tragic. Agnes had to admit that if whatever he was saying was true, that he was witness to such travesty and that it was even possible that he was the cause of it, then yeah, it was a sad incident. But she also knew that torturing yourself was never the answer to these types of things. The only thing one could do was struggle, accept the consequences of what you did, and attempt to live your life. There was no use in wallowing.

Right now, Mat was wallowing and that was the last thing she wanted to present for. Then…the blonde tried more reason.

>> ”You might not want anything…from either of us, or from here…But…what you want and what you need are two very different things…Knowing that is the difference between the kind of person who fixes the mistakes they make…and someone who runs away and lets someone else clean up for them…I can’t do anything to make you stay…but even if you don’t, we’re not going anywhere.”

She shook his head. Mat was not going to listen to that. She knew his type all too well. Surprisingly he reminded her of her parents: stubborn, accepting nothing else but his own logic, shunning all outside reason. It was complete and utter stupidity and foolish pride that was keep him from accept the help of this school and of these people. That meant his ears were closed to every single word the Irish mutant had said. And they would stay closed unto doomsday.

Narrowed eyes, she walked up to Mat, glaring directly into his soul. Her face was hard, set, and showed a terrifying focus that few figured that she had.

Standing before him, took a shaky breath before she spoke. “You saved my life, Mat. You saved my life back in that alley in who knows how many different ways.” she whispered. “And today…I took part in saving yours. So you know what? We’re even. And we’re done.”

And with that…she ended it. She no longer cared what happened to him and she did not want him to care about what happened to her after this. Life for a life…they had each spared each other. But she was not going to waste her time caring about someone who was just going to spend every minute of their day pitying themselves. She was absolutely done.

With another glare, Agnes turned on her heel and slowly walked away, brushing past the blonde, her hard eyes set on the dirty, carpeted floor. She could go the rest of her life without seeing Mat again…here…she was absolutely and utterly done…

>>> ”You might not want anything…from either of us, or from here…But…what you want and what you need are two very different things…Knowing that is the difference between the kind of person who fixes the mistakes they make…and someone who runs away and lets someone else clean up for them…I can’t do anything to make you stay…but even if you don’t, we’re not going anywhere.”

Damn it.

Damn it!

She was right.

Again...

The truth of it all was staring him in the face, confronting him with every word that left the blonde one's mouth. Every time things got hard, he ran. When his sister died, he ran from sleep. When he discovered that he was a mutant, he ran from his family. When the commune burned down, he ran from the country. And now, he about to run from what, deep down, he knew he wanted. People like him, who could understand and relate to him, and vice versa. Friends. Family.

A home.

It was a hard thing to hear, and an even harder thing to try and accept. Running was all he knew, was a tried and true method for dealing with his problems. Pick up, move on. No fuss, no muss. But where had running gotten him? He was alone, in a strange city, in a strange country, with not a single friend to his name. No one he could confide in, no one he could trust. No one he could love. Running was all he had. His freedom was all he had.

He had come to the mansion unintentionally, and convinced himself that nothing good could come from it. That it would all end the same way the commune had. With naught but pain. A convenient place to shelter for the winter, until the weather got warm enough for him to take to the streets again. He had convinced himself that he was here under sufferance, that he was only using these people for the practical things he needed. Food and shelter. But now that the self-deluding veil of independence and rebellious freedom was being peeled back, Mat, for all his self-denial, realised that he wanted what he had in the commune. And he hadn't even tried to make an effort to find it here. He had shut himself away, hiding behind a mask of aloofness and stubborn defiance. Andrew and Gemma. Those two had been kind to him, offered him a place to live. And he had tried to throw that back in their faces. Since then he barely spoken to anyone. A brief conversation with a bird lady. The odd chat with some of the students. That was about it. Now, he was pushing away the help that Kealey was offering. Worse, he was slapping away the helping hand of one of the only people he knew here. Agnes, the girl who reminded him. Mat took a breath and felt his indignant frustration seep away.

Maybe, just maybe, if he stopped running for once, he would find whatever it was he was looking for.

Agnes approached him, and he took another deep breath. Admitting you were wrong wasn't an easy thing, even for someone who prided themselves on their lack of pride. He took a breath, and prepared to apologise for his behaviour, for his actions. She stopped, and her gaze bore straight through him. She spoke, and her voice was a bare whisper.

>>> “You saved my life, Mat. You saved my life back in that alley in who knows how many different ways. And today…I took part in saving yours. So you know what? We’re even. And we’re done.”

And with that, Agnes turned heel and started walking away.

“...” Mat stood in stunned silence, unable to move, unable to speak. A cold, leaden feeling filled his stomach and began to leak through the rest of his body. It felt like ice flowing through his veins, despite the rising heat in his face. A shocked numb.

He took several step after Agnes, then paused. Felt the heat in his face rise, then spread downwards, smothering the cold feeling in the pit of his gut. More than a heat. A fire. An inferno.

“'I need to be by myself...I need to be alone.' Isn't that what you said to me that night? Isn't that what you told me!?” he shouted to her retreating back. Mat took several more steps forward, these ones more purposeful. “Wasn't I the one who let you go with no objections, who never said a word to try and stop you? Didn't I respect you enough to make your own decisions?” Mat's voice was raising in pitch with every statement. “And you stand here and tell me that I'm the one that needs to stop running?” Mat's breath was growing heavier, more frantic.

“Keep walking you hypocrite! Keep walking and take your self righteousness with you!” These last two statements were uttered with as much venom as Mat could muster.

Mat's whole body was trembling. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his palms as he clenched his fists together as hard as possible. He turned to the blonde, biting his bottom lip so hard that he could taste blood. “Is this the kind of help this place offers? Is this the support you people give? 'Keep your mouth shut and your problems to yourself?' Is this what I need?” Mat stood rooted to his spot, unable to move. “I just called my parents for the first time in years, not even an hour ago. I called them and I told them that they would never see me again. I listened while my mother's heart broke. Then I went and lost control and nearly killed a bunch of children. I'd have thought that today, of all days, I would be a little entitled to feel like s***. That maybe, I could have some understanding, instead of being lectured.”

Mat hawked up a gob of phlegm from the back of his throat and spat it out onto the carpet. It landed with a soft splat. He had been ready to play it their way, to submit himself to their help. Kealey's words had just about convinced him to give this place a proper try. She had made such a pretty speech about help and trust and responsibility. Agnes had thrown all of that in his face, without even giving him a chance. Mat gave a grim snort. He was such an idiot.

This is what came from buying into their crap. For thinking that he could rely on others.

“Go to my room Kealey. Have a look at the bed that's still neatly made because I'm too afraid to fall asleep. The bed that I don't sleep in because, after all my years on the streets, it's more familiar to sleep on the floor instead, on the few occasions I can push through my fear.” She probably had no idea what he was talking about, not having been told about his somniphobia. “See the empty wardrobe, the bare walls, the empty desk. To you it may not seem much, but to me it feels like a prison. It feels like a coffin! Not all of us can adjust to this place just like that. I don't belong here. I belong on the streets. You don't have the slightest clue what I need.”

He stood, still trembling, still shaking, and glared at the blonde. Wondering if she had any idea how betrayed he felt right now. Then he turned and started walking off, the opposite direction to Agnes, tossing one last remark over his shoulder.

“Y'know what? I hope this place does burn to the ground.”

And with that, Mat did what he did best.

He ran away.