No one knows what it’s like.

 

A simple cash exchange for a morning coffee, and suddenly all the stress the barista is feeling comes crashing down on your shoulders. A handshake to a new friend reveals hidden nerves, or worse, the proof that they really did already have a bias against you before they even knew you. A hug betrays their false smile, and you just have to play along with it.

 

For Darrien, though, all of those and more are a brutal reality. Each touch, no matter how small, is more than enough to show him just what each person he meets is really feeling. A cashier’s friendly smile shows depression, an angry man’s rage turned into insecurity and vulnerability. Most wouldn’t know what to do with the truth before them, but Darrien learned long ago to just smile, and ignore the truth.

“Callie, you gotta believe me–”

“HOW CAN I BELIEVE A WORD YOU SAY??”

“It was an accident!”

“HE’S DEAD, DARRIEN. DEAD! HE’S NOT COMING BACK!”

“Just calm down–”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE BEFORE I SHOOT YOU NEXT!”

Standing in line at the coffee shop, Darrien placed his order. It was simple: black coffee with 3 creams and 1 pump of strawberry syrup for a little flavor. He didn’t get out often anymore, having gone underground after the failures of Project Insight to protect his own name, but the few moments he did were always a rude awakening. Specifically, though, when it came time to pay. As he handed over the $6.94 to pay, his fingertips brushed against her palm, and he was once again reminded of the power he held. His mind was bombarded with the feeling of stress, the feeling of helplessness crowding the small space in his head, and for a brief moment, he wondered just why that was. His eyes fell to her buttons, though, and as he saw the college buttons on her lanyard, it started to fall into place. A brief glance over his shoulder, and he pulled out $200 cash, slipping it into her palm with a wink. Relief started to fill his head in place of stress as he pulled his hand back, and taking his coffee, he quickly exited the building.

“I can’t let you in, Darrien.”

“Look, I get I haven’t lived here in years, but this is my HOME.”

“I know, but–”

“You don’t know SHIT, now get the FUCK out of my way.”

“They’re dead, Darrien.”

“ . . . What?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you like this–”

“What do you mean they’re DEAD?”

Heading home (or what he was temporarily using as his home), his eyes turned toward what could only be described as a mugging. Was it his problem? It absolutely was not, and every fiber in his body was telling him to keep walking. There was something, though, about how the tall man was practically hovering over the small brunette that caught his attention. He knew it wasn’t her, she would never have crumbled under someone like that, but she reminded him of her far too much for him to walk away. All it took was him quietly walking up behind the man, and as he pressed his hand to the back of his neck, he put just enough pressure to cause him to drop the knife. Desperation flooded his mind, but just below the surface, he could feel the pride he felt for being able to intimidate the woman on the other side of the alley. Darrien nodded once to the side, and the woman took off as he twisted the man around, slamming him back against the brick. The shadows of the early morning covered the two men, concealing the scene that played out as he pulled forth all the adrenaline in the man’s brain, circling it as fast as he could. Fear filled the stranger’s eyes, and as a smirk tugged at his lips, he watched as he practically short-circuited in front of him. His body dropped, and Darrien took a sip of his coffee before exiting the alley, turning to the left to head home.

“I don’t know how you found us, but this is a SCHOOL. For CHILDREN.”

“I know, but Xavier asked me–”

“From what I understand, he offered your parents a spot for you over 10 years ago, and they refused.”

“Yeah, and they’re no longer in charge of me.”

“You know what? Let’s see what Xavier thinks.”

Sitting at his computer, Darrien sipped at his coffee once again, eyes flickering over the news. He was no computer genius, not like her, but he knew well enough how to search the news for a specific kind of person. Thankfully, she had stopped hiding recently. Bar fights were new for her, at least from when Darrien had known her, but it didn’t surprise him that much. After all, from what he had heard, she had completely lost it after the downfall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra. What did surprise him, however, was the company she was with. Sure, mutants weren’t new territory for her, but The Wolverine? Bold, he would give her that. He just hoped she survived his mood swings.

“Darrien Drumm, you are a self-serving red mark on the mutant reputation.”

“Harsh, but I didn’t come here to–”

“I didn’t finish.”

“ . . . Sorry.”

“Everything you have ever done in your life has been for yourself, with little to no empathy for others. However, I see great promise in you. Your talents are powerful, and if guided correctly, may turn your path around . . . We will run a few tests, and give you a trial run with our ranks. If, by the end of your test, you have proven yourself willing to change, we will offer you residency. However, if you fail, I never want to see your face again.”

“You have my word. Thank you, sir.”

Closing his computer, Darrien headed toward the front door again. He knew he was supposed to do training with Storm, but he was tired of her attitude. She had a bias against him, she had from the start, and until she learned how to keep that bias out of her teaching, he wasn’t going to listen to a word she said. Was it childish? Sure, but so was hating someone you had never even met. He could hear Rogue calling out to him as he headed for the door, too, but he ignored the woman, jacket held over his shoulder by two fingers. Maybe some more fresh air would do him good, and keep him from pulling forward the hatred most of the children had toward themselves for being the ‘problem’ in their homes when they bothered him.