Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She shuffled through the halls, her steps brushing against the floor as she slowly woke from her sleepy stupor. The screams echoed through the halls, the other kids were waking up as he just kept on screaming . She sighed and continued toward his room. When she finally reached  the room she heard a scream split into two, both of the boys in the room were crying.  Her heart beat faster and she rushed inside. She saw both of the boys sitting on opposite sides of the room. Whilst Daniel was crying, his small chest heaving, Matt was in the other corner whaling and panicking. Sister Marie came in behind her, their eyes met and Maggie nodded before running to Matthew.

“Matthew,” She whispered. Her hands hovering in front of him as he held his own in front of himself, she immediately realised that there was something wrong with them, as a light fiery glow came from them. “You need to calm down.” She continued. 

His screaming receded into whimpers as he recognized her voice. “Sister Maggie?” He croaked, his hands slowly lowering and returning into a normal colour. 

“Yes Matthew, what happened? Another nightmare?” She asked softly. Way softer than she ever did with the other kids, way softer than she should. Her hand came forward and she cupped his cheek. 

“N-no,” He stuttered, curling up and shying away from her hand as if it burnt. A pang of sadness hit her heart as she retreated her hand. 

“Sister Maggie!” Sister Ann suddenly shouted. “You need to see this!” At her urgency, Maggie left Matthews' side to come look at Daniel. Her stomach dropped as she came up to him. On the side of his face was a nasty burn mark in the shape of a small hand.

“Get that cooled! Quickly!” She shouted. Marie picked up the small boy in her arms and went with the other nuns that had gathered in the doorway to tend to Daniel. Maggie turned back to Matthew, her face distraught. “Matthew. What have you done?!” 

Tears continued pouring from the boy's eyes the entire night. 

Chapter Text

Father Lanthom helped Matt put the backpack on as he adjusted his cane. His throat felt tight and he was doing his damndest to try and keep his distance from Lathom, he couldn’t  handle the all too familiar priest being all sappy right now. But he knew it was coming. Lanthom was nothing if not a preacher. He liked to speak. 

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing Matthew.” Matt tightened his fists, anger burning in his chest. 

“It sure feels like it.” He huffed, crossing his arms. He tried to scan the area, anything to stop focusing on the way Father Lanthoms heart beat quickly. The way he smelled of sadness and anxiety. He could hear the children inside the mansion, the sounds of laughter and quick steps running around. The mansion was big, hollow and echoing through the hallways all the way down into a deep and vast basement. 

The sound of the main doors opened a few meters away from Matt and Lanthom, the sounds of children became louder as it opened and he heard two heartbeats exit and wait upon the stairs. 

“Change hurts Matthew, that doesn’t mean that it is a bad thing. Just because you won’t live at the orphanage anymore doesn’t mean we won’t be here for you. You can call me whenever you  want. If you want I can even come and visit.” 

Guilt was what settled in Matt's stomach. Guilt and anger mixed into an awful fire that burned at his heart. It was different from the fire that burned like hit rage inside him, the useful fire that could be wielded as a weapon against his enemies. This made him feel sick. He wanted to keep Father Lanthom close, he’d known him ever since he was a kid, he was the priest that his father went to, but maybe it was better to stay away. This was his chance to sever this attachment before it grew too deep and crippled him. Maybe this was for the best.

“Whatever.” He said, turning his head away from Father Lanthom and readjusting his cane in his hand. 

Father Lanthom stayed quiet for a moment. Stroking his hand over his face nervously before he took a breath and he looked toward the people on the staircase. “They’ve come out to greet you, are you ready to meet the Professor?” This time when the Father spoke, his voice had a new shake to it. 

Matt bit his lip before shrugging. Father Lanthom tapped his arm, telling him to hold onto his arm to be led. Matt hesitated, his hand hovering over his arm before he grabbed the  fabric of his sleeve. 

“Stairs.” Father Lanthom called out before they started climbing four steps up to the entrance of the school. In front of him were two people. One of them was old, he sat in a wheelchair, a young man stood next to him, only eight years older than Matt at most. They had steady heartbeats until Matt stepped forward and their hearts skipped a beat. The old man, who was probably Professor Xavier, turned to the young man and smiled, the man scoffed and did a sheepish gesture of rubbing his nose. Matt hated silent conversations. 

Then the professor cleared his throat and turned to Matt. “Matthew, if I am not mistaken?” He asked. Matt nodded. He felt slightly ill, it felt as if the back of his head was heavy, or someone was pushing back on the base of his skull, trying to push in. Matt winced slightly and suddenly the feeling was gone. He resisted the urge to put a hand up to his neck and instead opted to be polite to the Professor and stand straight. 

“I am Professor Charles Xavior, I am the owner of this school and I hope that you will fit right in. Next to me is Scott Summers, he was one of my first students and is currently helping me run the school, he will be showing you around.” Despite how formally the Professor spoke there was a softness to his voice, every word he spoke was strong and confident but coated in sweet honey. 

“Are you Father Lanthom?” Charles then asked. Turning his attention to the other man whilst Scott walked up to Matt. 

“They are going to be talking for a while,” He said, gesturing toward the older men. “Do you want to head inside? I can give you a tour.” Scott said. He also spoke softly, however something about it seemed to come more naturally. 

Matt stayed silent for a moment, trying to show defiance. He didn’t want this. All he wanted to do was to get back into that damn car and drive back to New York City. He didn’t care that it didn’t smell awful here, that it smelled like pine and grass and maybe it was a whole lot quieter, but Hell’s Kitchen was his home. He wanted to go home. 

But he wouldn’t say that. That would tie him to a place, to a people. He didn’t need the attachment, he didn’t need the betrayal of his own heart. 

“Sure.” He spat out. 

Scott frowned but didn’t mention it. Instead he said, “you can hold onto my arm, if you want?”. 

Matt twisted his cane between his hands, his knuckles going white. “I’d rather not.” 

“Okay.” 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

At the end of the tour Matt was given the option to be downstairs and socialize between the other kids breaks or go up to his new room. The room was large and almost too spacious. It only had two beds but could fit at least three more against just one wall. There were desks and big windows as well, Matt could feel how the sun streamed through the windows. 

He let his backpack swing off his back as he walked up to the unused bed and placed it against the frame as he folded his cane and threw it on the bed as well. It smelled clean, it had the same underlying old wood smell that the rest of the school had, however it also smelled of another boy, which wasn’t surprising, but also something like burnt scentless candles and rotted eggs. 

Matt wrinkled his nose as he tapped his foot, getting a feel for the room. It had a connected bathroom, two closets, one filled with minimal clothing and one that was completely empty, Matt doubted that his clothes would be any more than what the other boy had. The two desks were clean, barely used. It was a pattern through the whole room of “barely used” and unused, so the other boy probably hadn’t been there much longer than Matt had.

He wasn’t staying long. As soon as he could get out of here he would. He didn’t belong here. It was all a mistake. He really wished that it was a mistake. He didn’t belong here and he definitely shouldn’t have left Hell's Kitchen. If Stick wanted to come find him… then he’d just be gone. 

Matt wasn’t sure how Stick found him. He was a blinded boy in Hell’s Kitchen that was on the news, it was public. He was a blind boy who was sent to the orphanage of the church where he was baptised. It wasn’t hidden. Not like the school for mutants is. 

People thought mutants were threats. Some people still believed they weren’t even human, Matt wasn’t sure what he thought mutants were. What he was. That didn’t matter, mutants were here, right now all around him because the church had somehow found this school and now he was supposed to stay here. It had taken the church a whole week to find it and he didn’t know if Stick knew anything about it. He wouldn’t even know where to start looking. The nuns certainly wouldn’t tell him.

Matt crossed his arms. His eyes stinging as he shut them angrily, trying to keep the tears at bay. He shuffled over to the windows, leaning on the window sill as he felt the sun warming his body. It felt hot and suffocating, his skin crawled and his sweater felt tighter despite being a size too large. He took a breath and felt how the suffocatingly warm air did him no good and only made him feel more constricted in his own skin. 

His hands quickly reached forward and tried to wriggle the old window open. The metal under his hands was hot and distantly he could smell charred wood but he needed air. He was being suffocated. His throat felt thick and his skin was itchy. His eyes stung and it was as if every sound around him was ringing in his ears. 

He let out and annoyed grunt that almost sounded like a whine when it finally reached his ears and the lock on the window clicked slightly before snapping. Matt’s hands shot forward and he was finally able to burst the window open. Wind caught the window, making it slam open wide but Matt didn’t care. He could finally breathe. 

His lips trembled as air finally went through his lungs. A tear slipped down his cheek. 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Matt had been collected from his room by Scott, the guy who had given him his tour. He led him to the professor's office, a room  they had passed earlier but hadn’t entered. Matt knew it was because Father Lanthom and Professor Xavier were talking about him inside, talking about his “issues”. He’d had the urge to scoff then but had kept it to himself. 

Now he was sitting in front of Professor Xavier, Father Lanthom in the chair next to him and Scott was shutting the door behind him. Matt felt the Professor's calculating gaze staying on him as well as a mild pressure building at his temples. 

“Matthew, when you start at this school, you will be taken into mine, and the schools custody instead of the orphanages, this is different for most of the kids here, however this means you will be taken off of the adoption list. Do you understand that?” 

Matt never honestly thought he would be adopted in the first place so the nod and noncommittal hum was a quick response. He heard Father Lanthoms heart twitch next to him. 

“Then that is all, Matthew, I hope you will like it here.” Professor Xavier said happily. 

Standing on the driveway, Father Lanthom gathering his things and looking at Matt before getting in that car and going away, Matt finally felt the anger and defiance slip away, and his anxiety pooling in his stomach.