It was silent in the library. Not a soul was left to wander between the aisles filled of dusty books and neatly arranged tables. Laying in one of the few couches of the room, you glanced at your watch. It was almost 9pm. Most of the students were probably back into their bedroom, but not you. You were waiting on your friends, still training with the professors. And it made you miserable.

Not because you were left alone, but because you were left alone with your thoughts. And after the event of a couple days ago, it wasn't something you wanted.

But still, there again,you went back to it, to this dreadful feeling that you will never be able to get a grip on your Electrokinesis.

On some days, it went smoothly. Your training with the Professor went without problem and you could feel yourself progressing, but on others days, it was the entire opposite. And it was how you felt now. Especially with this electrical current building up inside of you at the most random of moments: when you were eating, attending classes and even sleeping. It would start slow, with a burning feeling inside your stomach, and then it would spread to your entire body until sparks of electricity would pour out of your fingers. Most of the times, you were able to control it by focusing really hard and make it disappear before you could hurt anybody. But some times, you screwed up. And two days ago, you did.

You were showering, so early in the morning that most of the students were still in bed, when you felt this familiar feeling grow inside of you. You had closed your eyes, focusing really hard to nip it in the bud, but it hadn't work. Instead of getting rid of the electricity inside of you, you had absorbed the current around you, making the light bulbs in the bathroom blinked off, followed by every single one in the house.

All this electricity pouring inside you overcharged you and you freaked out, incapable of figuring out what to do next. Feeling your distress, Professor X had come to the rescue. He had talked to you in your head, calming you and helping you regain control of yourself. But then, he had told to let go of your surplus of electricity and you screwed up. You wanted so much to get rid of it that instead of letting it go slowly, like he advised, you sent it all away at once. Every light bulbs and electronic devices connected to an outlet in the house exploded in shards of glass, injuring many students.

Ashamed, you had locked yourself up in your room for an entire day before Jean dragged you out of it, telling you to pull yourself together. She had made you walk through the entire school to show you that people were okay, that the injuries weren't as bad as you believed, and that you shouldn't fret about it.

And it had worked, at least a little. You didn't feel as guilty as before. You simply felt worried and insecure. All of your friends had their powers on lock and you didn't, not really at least.

You would have stayed on the couch, staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for yourself, for a while longer if Kurt hadn't appeared next to you in a puff of black smoke. The sudden noise made you jumped in surprise, and he apologized.

"Are you busy?" he asked in his thick German accent. "The others asked me to get you, they want to go bowling."

"Bowling?"

You widened your eyes, wondering where this idea was coming from. And then, you knew. It was Scott, of course. Not caring one bit about the rules of the school.

Kurt nodded, looking as perplexed as you did. He offered you his three-fingered hand and you took it, feeling relieved to spend the night with your friends and away from your thoughts.

A few seconds later, you felt a cold breeze on your skin and then a sudden dizziness. You clutched Kurt's hand in yours and took a deep breath of nighttimeair. It was the first time Kurt teleported you and you had to admit it was a little unpleasant.

"Ow, you look sick,darling!" said Peter, appearing in front of you, his face only a few inches from yours.

You stepped away from him quickly, startled, and noticed the portal of the manor behind him, shadowed in the darkness of the night.

"It's probably because of your face, Peter," joked a warm voice behind the silver-haired mutant.

Your heart missed a beat and you looked right toward it, toward Warren's voice. In the dimness — and because he was dressed all in black —, you couldn't see him well, but still you glimpsed a teasing smile on his face when Peter replied to him, pretending to be hurt.

"Are you ready?" Kurt asked everyone, one of his hand clutching a picture and the other one in yours.

Every one agreed and regrouped. Ororo took your hand while Scott and Jean gripped Kurt's shoulders. Peter took Ororo's hand and offered his other one to Warren.

With a wink at him, he said: "Come on, honey, let's go."

You barely had the time to hear Warren's answer to Peter, a very serious and threatening I'm going to kill you, before darkness swallowed you all.

–

The second time being teleported wasn't as bad as the first and, quite happily, you followed your friends into the bowling alley, ready for a night of fun.

The first game went by quickly. Peter won, to no one's surprise. Doing strike after strike,you suspected him of cheating, as did Ororo, who was a close second in the overall ranking. You managed to get fourth place —just after Warren, who was in third position —which you were pretty proud about, but suspected was only because Kurt had never gone bowling before and Jean and Scott were too busy flirting to actually concentrate on the game. You didn't really care though, you were just happy to be with them and laugh so much you forgot all of your worries. On the contrary of Warren.

During the entire first game, you had tried to get his attention, but he had seemed elsewhere. His face was tight, and he looked tired and then, when the second game was about to began, you noticed him slip out of the building quietly. Taking advantage of the others arguing about who would begin first this time, you followed him outside.

The cold was stronger than before and you shivered. You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket and looked around you. The crescent moon was high in the clear sky and the street, surrounded by shops and restaurants, was still busy. You walked along the road for a few minutes, an endless stream of cars passing by, before you caught what you were looking for. The winged mutant sitting on the back of a bench, his forearms on his thighs and his face hidden in his hands.

You approached him slowly, feeling anxious about disturbing him. You hadn't seen him in two days and hadn't talk alone with him for a week, not since your discussion in the living room. Sure, you had been able to exchange a few words with him, when you were with the others, but it wasn't the same. You almost thought that maybe Ororo and Jean were wrong, that he felt nothing for you, before you realized how many times he would look at you when you were in the same room, his eyes lingering on your face when you were talking or wandering on your body when he thought you weren't looking.

Lost in your thoughts, it was only when he talked that you realized you had reached the bench he was sitting on.

"You're staring again," he said without looking up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." you whispered, after letting out a small laugh. But then, you wondered: "How did you know it was me?"

"Who else?"

He raised his head then and moved his deep blue eyes on you. There were shadows in it.

"Peter," you said.

You weren't able to look away from him, from the surprising openness of his features. So different from the playful or distant ones he wore most of the time.

"If Peter was looking for me, he would have shouted my name until I would have come back on my own or until someone would have told him to shut the fuck up," he snorted. "He's a pain in the ass."

"That's why we love him."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that."

"Then you'd be lying to yourself."

Warren smiled, amused. Curls of blond hair were falling on his forehead, he pushed them away distractedly.

"Can I sit?" you asked, motioning toward the bench.

He nodded and you sat next to him, a few inches from him. Behind your back, you could feel his wings moving faintly with his every breath. Your hands still buried in your pockets, you stared at your feet until you plucked up the courage to ask:

"Are you okay?"

"Why do you ask that?" he asked, looking at the moon.

You moved your eyes to watch his profile: his long eyelashes, his full lips, the black lines that went from his forehead to his jaw.

"You look tired," you finally stated.

The hint of worry in your voice made him turn his face toward you. He stared at you for a few seconds, the time for your heart to beat five times, before he answered:

"I am." A glimpse of hesitation shone in his eyes before he looked away. "Training's been hard, that's all."

In the dim light, you could see that the set of his shoulders was slightly tense and decided not to push the subject further. He clearly didn't want to talk more about it. You waited for a few cars to pass by before you asked:

"Why did you left the game? Is it because of the way some of the people behaved around you?"

During the game, you had noticed the way people without abilities acted around Kurt and Warren. Most of the times, it wasn't much: staring and some whispering. But at others times, it felt worse. So much worse that your heart broke for Warren every time you had witnessed little children coming near him to admire his wings only to get dragged away from him by scared parents. But then it wasn't as bad as the people who went to the manager of the place to tell him he shouldn't allow people like them inside.

Monsters. Freaks. As you heard them say.

You waited nervously for his answer. You kept your eyes fixed on his face and you caught a smile blossom on his lips. A reaction you had not expected at all.

You had expected annoyance, anger and maybe even sadness, but not amusement. But then, when he gazed into your eyes, you saw that his amusement was tinged with bitterness.

"You noticed it too..."

"Yeah... When I'm not staring blankly at people, I notice things."

You sent a shy smile at him, hoping to cheer him up. You only manage to get the corners of his lips to pull up slightly.

"It pisses me off but I get it too," he confessed finally. "It just feels weird, it wasn't always like that."

"It wasn't?" you asked, surprised.

You didn't quite understand how it could have been different before. Did he live in a place where people weren't freaked out by feathers sharpened like knife? It seemed unlikely, but then maybe when you saw a boy grow with those type of wings, you just got used to it.

He simply shrugged and,this time, you stayed silent. You watched the cars rolled by and let the wind make your hair fly. Next to Warren, you weren't as cold as before, you could feel the heat coming out of his body and licking yours faintly. Right now, with him, you felt good. Even though your heart was beating more wildly than usual, you didn't feel uncomfortable. You felt like you belonged.

And then, out of nowhere, Warren talked again:

"You don't have to stay. If you want to go back inside, you should."

You didn't have to think it twice before you answered: "I'm good here. But then, if you want me to leave, just tell me, I don't want to annoy you."

"You don't annoy me."

You looked hesitantly at him, wondering if it was some sort of weird compliment coming from him, when he smirked.

"But if you talk to me about pens again, I might just change my mind."

And with those simple words, you blushed. Wildly. Warren's eyes darted toward your cheeks, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"It's cute," he whispered as he brushed his fingertips lightly over the red on your right cheek.

His touch was as soft as a feather and you felt warmth spreading in your veins like wildfire. And as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Warren turned back toward the road, his hands joined on his thighs. And you were left wondering what had gotten into him. And if it would happen again. Because, in spite of all your past fears, you clearly wanted him to do more than just speak to you. You wanted more of his touch. And the sooner the better.