September 21st, 2001

      "Focus Thomas."

      "I'm trying!" Thomas shouted as he squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his hands out in front of him.

      "You have to stop fighting it." The professor was sitting in the chair, watching Thomas struggle in the training room. The room was grey, more silver actually and the walls look to be made of some weird type of metal. Xavier assured Thomas that he couldn't break anything in the room, but he was still terrified.

      Thomas turned around and kicked the wall in frustration. "I don't even know what I can do!" Thomas shouted, pulling at his hair. "All I know is people end up dead when I do whatever it is!"

      "We're trying to figure out what you can do."

      "How can we do that if I don't even know how to make it happen?!"

      "It's always frustrating at first."

      Thomas was getting beyond angry. "I can't do it! I've told you over and over, I can't and I won't ever be able to do it!"

      "You're just not focusing." Thomas swore he saw the hint of a smirk on the man's face which pissed him off more than anything else ever could have.

      "I told you I caN'T FUCKING DO IT!" Thomas screamed, feeling something explode in his head. He felt his body get thrown back, groaning as he hit the wall. He slowly opened his eyes, holding out his arm and gasping as he saw the veins run black.

      Shit shit shit shit. Thomas sucked in a harsh breath of air, his chest arching up as he felt his body collapse on itself. His eyes were forced closed and he felt air rush back into his lungs, almost overwhelming him.

      Keep your eyes open Thomas. There was that fucking voice again. The professor and his stupid power.

      "Get out of my head!" Thomas screamed, clamping his hands over his ears like it would do anything.

      Just open your eyes.

      Thomas whimpered and rolled so he was sitting up. It sounded like rough water was rushing past his ears, like he was stuck in an insane river.

      Thomas took a couple deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart rate. Eyes. Open your eyes. Thomas willed himself, keeping his hands clenched over his ears.

      Thomas counted down from five in his head, screaming as he wrenched his eyes open. It took a massive amount of effort, but once they were open, everything stopped. It was calm and nothingness, the world was silent.

      Thomas put his hand on the ground, feeling a surface but only seeing blackness. He slowly stood up, relishing in the silence.

      Thomas blinked a few times, looking down at his arms. He could still see the black running through his veins, but it was soft now, running slowly and calmly.

      "Hello?" Thomas called out into the room. "Is anyone there?"

      He heard footsteps behind him, causing him to turn quickly. It was the man again, the one with black eyes. He didn't move, just stood still like a skeleton standing out in the shadows.

      "Uh-" Thomas was quickly cut off when the men pressed a gun to his forehead.

      Thomas swallowed hard, feeling his heart rate pick up again. He winced, feeling pin pricks in his arms.

      The man cocked his head, pressing the barrel harder into Thomas' forehead.

      They stood there silently, Thomas' heart pounding and the man keeping the weapon with firm pressure on Thomas' forehead.

      Now do it Thomas.

      "Do what?" Thomas shouted, his voice echoing off walls he couldn't even see.

      Your power. Use it.

      "I thought this was my power!" Thomas could feel hot tears running down his cheeks.

      Hands.

      Thomas flicked his gaze down to his hands, flinching slightly. They had black smoke traveling around them, almost like he was controlling it to circle around his palm and fingers.

      The man hadn't moved, keeping the gun pointed.

      It was like instinct took over, Thomas flicked his wrist and the man's arm went limp. Suddenly he started sliding down to the floor, causing Thomas's eyes to widen.

      The man was completely cut in half.

      Good job. It's time to come back now.

      Thomas pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see what he just did.

      When his eyes stung, he took his hands away, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

      "Ho-" Thomas scrunched his face in confusion as he looked around him. He was back in the training room.

      "Very good." The professor was smiling and nodding his head, it kinda freaked Thomas out.

      "I just killed someone! How is that good?!" Thomas shouted, motioning to the empty ground, like a body would just somewhat magically appear.

      "It wasn't real Thomas."

      "I'm so confused." Thomas sighed, rubbing his temples. He had a headache.

      "We're done for today. You can go back to your room."

      "What? Are you gonn-" Xavier was gone before Thomas could even finish his sentence.

      Thomas huffed and picked up his sweatshirt from where he dropped it on the floor. He pulled it over his head as he walked through the sliding doors.

      He knew how to get to his room from the training room, so he headed down the hall by himself. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and sighed as he walked.

      Everything was just so confusing. He didn't understand why he didn't faint. He didn't understand what it was that he could do. It was all so stressful and confusing, but it still beat every single orphanage he ever was in.

      Thomas faltered as he walked by Newt's room, the door was wide open but it was empty. Thomas squinted, trying to see if he could make out Newt anywhere in the room. On one hand, Thomas did want Newt to like him. He was an asshole yeah, but he had friends which was something Thomas never did. He grabbed the handle of Newt's door, pulling it closed.

      "Yo Tommy, you can leave it open," Newt said as he suddenly appeared on the bed, his legs crossed and his arms tucked behind his head. Thomas tried to play off the fact that he jumped by running his hands through his hair.

      "Uh yeah sorry, I was uh...I thought you weren't there."

      "That's kinda the point of being invisible."

      Thomas turned to leave but stopped when Newt snapped his fingers. "Hold up."

      Thomas watched him sit up on the bed, hanging his legs over the side. Thomas went to enter the room but Newt shook his head. "Don't cross the line."

      "What are you talking about?" Thomas asked, sounding annoyed. He decided to drop his earlier mindset of not wanting Newt to hate him, he was suddenly reminded of how irritating he was.

      "No ones allowed in my room."

      Thomas sighed and sat down in the hall, crossing his legs and glaring at Newt. "Is this better?"

      "Perfect." Newt smiled as he stretched before standing up. "So what's up with you?"

      "What?"

      "We all got a backstory here, what's yours? Mommy or daddy issues?"

      Thomas scoffed. "Both."

      Newt pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the ground. It took Thomas by surprise, Newt looked scrawny but he hid muscles under clothes. Thomas only got to look for a second before he was pulling a hoodie on over his head and plopping down on the floor across from Thomas.

      "Same."

      Thomas shrugged, looking down at the floor. He really didn't want to sit there and converse about the good old days with Newt of all people, but he did kind of want to talk to someone who understood.

      "Why do you hate me so much?" Thomas instead, blurted out the first question that popped into his head.

      Newt rolled his eyes. "You really gotta learn to toughen up Tommy."

      "And why do you call me that?"

      "Call you what?"

      "Tommy."

      "Cause it's your name." Newt looked at him with a confused expression, like how could this boy be so stupid?

      "Thomas is my name."

      Newt shrugged. "Same thing." Then he smirked and leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees to hold himself up. "Why? Does it bother you Tommy?"

      Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You're absolutely infuriating."

      Newt put his hand on his chest, wiping away a fake tear. "You wound me ever so."

      "Can I leave now?" Thomas asked, feeling his cheeks heat up.

      "Not until you tell me your tragic backstory. Come on, let it go, I wanna cry." Newt rested his chin in his hands, looking at Thomas with his big brown eyes.

      "There isn't much to tell. They just upped and left when I started doing whatever it is I can do. They left me on the street. I got picked up by an orphanage and been in the system ever since."

      "Weak."

      "What?" Thomas' head snapped up, facing Newt with pure shock.

      "I said it's a weak story. My parents both died. Well, they were murdered actually. Minho's story is even worse. He had to eat his own brother to avoid starving to death."

      "That's not true."

      "First part is, second isn't." Newt laughed, messing up his hair with his fingers. "Minho doesn't even have siblings."

      Thomas' mouth open and closed. He has no idea what to say. "You're seriously fucked up."

      Newt shrugged. "Not the first person to tell me that."

      "I don't understand you at all. How can you even joke about something like that?"

      Newt rolled onto his back, kicking his feet up in the air. "When you've been here as long as I have Tommy, you'll get it. You make jokes or you get depressed."

      Thomas was quiet for a moment, tracing an imaginary circle on the ground with his fingertip. "Do you ever miss them?"

      "My parents?"

      Thomas nodded, feeling his chest tighten. He missed his own parents desperately. He still had memories of them. He remembered when his dad bought him a bike and taught him how to ride it. He remembered Christmas morning. He remembered pretending to have nightmares so he could sleep in between them in their massive king sized bed. He remembered eating cereal on the couch with his mom while they watched some stupid cartoon. Most of all, he remembered feeling loved, it was a feeling he'd kill to have again.

      Newt's tone softened, getting serious for a moment. "Tommy, I can promise you that you won't find one kid in this place who doesn't miss their parents. But listen to me, sittin around missing them won't do anything for you." Newt sat up then, looking Thomas dead in the eyes. "Sometimes you gotta make a new family, your own family."

      And with that Newt stood up, dusting off his jeans. "You're not gonna snitch on me right?"

      "What?" Thomas asked, standing up too so he didn't feel so small.

      "I'm leaving, sneakin out for the night. You're not gonna tell?"

      Thomas nodded his head, feeling something in his stomach twist. Did Newt only talk to him because he wanted his silence?

      "Good that," Newt said before disappearing completely. Thomas stared at the place he was for a second longer before shaking his head and heading to his own room. After talking to Newt, he was more confused than he was after training. This place was weird, the students were weird and the professors were weird. He wanted to know where Newt was going, but he also wanted to close himself in his room and stop talking to people.

      Deciding on the latter, Thomas got into his bed, curling under the covers and relishing in the imaginary sense of safety the blankets gave him.

September 23rd, 2001

      "Minho! Minho hey!" Thomas shouted as he jogged to catch up with the buff boy.

      Minho stopped, noticing Thomas and smiling. "Oh hey it's Newt's pet, what's up?"

      "I just wanted to ask you something about him actually. We had kinda a weird conversation a few days ago."

      "Most conversations with Newt are weird." The buff boy laughed, motioning for Thomas to keep walking with him. "What was this one about?"

      "His parents. He told me they were murdered."

      Minho looked visibly shocked. "He told you that?"

      Thomas nodded. "No details, just that they were murdered."

      Minho's shouldered sagged and he ran his hand over his face. "It was the twenty first wasn't it?"

      "I think so. It was when he went out with you guys."

      Minho sighed. "I should have known damnit."

      "Known what?"

      "It was the anniversary of the whole thing. It really messed Newt up, he tries to keep busy not to think about it, but I can always tell when he's upset."

      "Where did you guys even go?"

      "To Newt's favorite pub, he is has a thing with the bartender so he gets to drink for free if he bats his pretty little eyes." Minho huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Fuckin twink." Minho's paused and looked at Thomas. "I'm only allowed to call him that because he's my best friend, if you call him that I'm break your nose."

      Thomas put his hands up in surrender. "I wasn't planning on it...am I allowed to ask what happened with Newt's parents?"

      Minho frowned, looking like he was contemplating something. "I don't know if that's my story to tell."

      "Understandable."

      "I think I'm gonna let him tell you that one, if he ever chooses to. I'll just tell you that it was awful and nobody should have to go through that."

      "Does everyone have horrible backstories here?"

      Minho laughed at that, clasping Thomas on the back. "Pretty much, life doesn't usually work out well for us."

      Thomas looked at Minho, zoning out as he thought about what Minho could have gone through. It almost made him sad to think that the boy had to endure something as awful as he and Newt did.

      Minho rolled his eyes. "You wear your thoughts on your face dude. Just ask if you want to know." Minho cracked his knuckles and gave Thomas a lopsided smile. "My parents tried to off me before I wound up here. Didn't want a freak son so they tried to stage an accident. Obviously it didn't work because I'm still here. They didn't even think I knew what they tried to do, but when I hightailed it out of there it became pretty clear. I never looked back." Minho grinned and out his hands on his hips. "Life is better here ya know? There's no crazy parents trying to toss me out the second story window."

      Thomas frowned, feeling that pit in his stomach grow bigger. He was used to hanging with people who carried terrible pasts, almost everyone in the orphanages was messed up somehow, but these kids reached a whole new level of fucked up.

      "Don't think about it too much Thomas." Minho squeezed Thomas' bicep lightly. "Thinking is what gets you in a bad place okay? You got friends now, a weird mutant family and most importantly a home yeah?"

      Thomas nodded, looking at Minho with a soft smile. "Thanks."

      "It's always hard at first, it'll get easier."

      Thomas huffed out a laugh. "Sure, and maybe Newt will stop hating me."

      Minho shook his head at that. "Newt doesn't hate you, come on, you're smarter than this."

      "I'm confu-"

      Minho cut him off by putting his hand in front of Thomas' face. "That's enough Newt talk for me. I got places to be. I'll catch you around." And what that Minho mock saluted him and headed down the hallway, disappearing around a corner. Thomas huffed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He was sick of always feeling so confused, it felt like no one told him anything ever.

      Thomas walked back the main foyer, dropping down on the floor against the wall and crossing his legs. He just wanted something, anything to make sense. Thomas rested his head in his hands and looked across the empty room. He liked the place, liked it a lot, but he didn't feel like he fit in. He wasn't in control like Newt or laid back like Minho.

      He was about to let his eyes close when he remembered something that made his head snap up. The man. The man with no eyes, he'd seen him twice, it had to mean something.

      Thomas leaned his head back against the wall, jumping when he saw someone standing on the steps, just watching him. It was the man from the car ride, Hank, Thomas remembered his name somehow.

      "Uh hi."

      "Are you busy?" He asked, fighting slightly.

      Thomas shook his head, standing up and dusting himself off. "No. Why?"

      "Professor wants to see you."

      Thomas nodded, following Hank as he went back up the stairs.

      They walked to a part of the school that Thomas hadn't been to before, traveling down a long hallway then down a different flight of stairs. They stopped in a smaller room, one with a desk in front a window. It looked like an office of some sort. Thomas jumped when he noticed the professor sitting behind it, he didn't even notice him before.

      Hank nodded at him before leaving and pulling the door shut behind him.

      Thomas felt nervous all the sudden, his palms starting to sweat.

      "You can sit." The professor motioned to the chair in front of the desk.

      Thomas sat down, fidgeting in the chair. He felt like he was in trouble.

      "You're not in trouble." He smiled suddenly.

      Thomas' face flushed red, as he desperately tried to still his mind. When someone had access to your thoughts, nothing felt safe.

      "I called you here because I know what you are now."

      "What?" Thomas cocked his head, genuinely feeling confused.

      "Your power."

      That caught Thomas' interest, he moved to the edge of his seat, resting his hands on his knees. "What?"

      "It's interesting really." The professor sat back in his wheelchair, looking at Thomas. "Your power comes from fear. You channel energy from what people around you fear, it causes the black in your veins. That's why you were able to kill all the men in the street, they were afraid of you."

      Thomas looked down at his hands. "So I'm a real life nightmare?"

      The professor shook his head. "No, you just get your power from that. That first night you slept, it was like you couldn't block it because your guard fell down. When you get scared, it's like it amplifies it."

      "I wasn't scared in the training room."

      "Yes you were. You were scared of disappointing me."

      Thomas thought for a moment, it all made sense. It was terrifying, but it was also somewhat relieving.

      "What about that man I keep seeing? The one with no eyes?" Thomas blurted out.

      Professor X smiled sadly. "Unfortunately I've come to the conclusion that he's a fear of one of the students."

      "Who?"

      "You're smarter than to ask questions like that. People's pasts are private Thomas, it's not something you try and dig up."

      Thomas' mind flicked to Newt, he instantly felt guilty about trying to ask Minho about his parents.

      "Well how do I control it?" Thomas asked.

      The professor smiled in a way that was almost haunting. "That's the hard part, you have to learn to stop fearing yourself."