Thorn • Scott Summers

thirty one

It had been six months since Medusa, and even the students who had not been involved in the incident had changed- the whole school seemingly had.
Mystique had a newfound respect for Florence. Erik and Charles had never been more proud of her and the others. As for the rest of the school- they all looked up to them. The outcasts had become the heroes. Instead of hushed whispers and burning stares around Florence, she now felt an air of respect and gratitude. It was weird, in a way, since all her life she had been made less. Even outside the school, that remained.
At first, she couldn't leave the academy. The first time she tried, and they thought it was safe, she was swarmed with harsh glares and insults. It had been a month since Medusa, and the news had stopped talking about it, but people hadn't forgotten. Slowly, though, they did. And the younger ones were usually more accepting. The arcade and the record store were a safe place for her and the others.

The others. The incident had strengthened their bond, made them into something no one else could understand. They were all there for it- in the flesh, and they all experienced it. They saw what Florence was capable of doing for them, and it was then that they all realized that the strongest families are the ones found along the way in life. Like pieces in a puzzle, they're all completely different, but when put together, they all fit perfectly. The picture isn't complete without one of them. Although it's a crazy concept and shouldn't work, it totally does. She found a piece of herself in all of them- Peter, Jean, Ororo, Kurt, Warren, and she knew it was a lifelong bond.

And then there was Scott.

A few weeks after the incident, her broken rib still healing and not being able to do basically anything because Scott swore she'd get hurt if she even tried carrying her books, she had a revelation. They both did.

Florence noticed first, but she didn't say anything. She felt it and it hit her like a train. They were in the library, and Scott was picking out books to study for anatomy. The shelves he was looking at were in the line of vision of the table she was seated at with their stuff, and she absentmindedly looked up from her textbook of botany, her gaze lingering to him. There he stood, fingers running along spines of books. He'd pick one out, take it off the shelf, leaf through it. His eyebrows furrowed, lips parted in focus- and then he'd put it back in its place. He did this a couple times until he finally found two good ones. He must've felt the pair of eyes on him, and he turned around, their eyes meeting. The line between his eyebrows softened, and he smiled. His hair was a little messier than usual, and he was wearing a denim jacket with a shearling collar that somehow matched the ruby on his glasses really well. Their eyes lingered for a while, and she smiled back. She felt it- she felt something pang in her. She smiled wider and he shook his head endearingly. She knew what it was. She had always figured it would happen at one point.

Scott noticed later that day. They had left the library because Florence complained about her feet being cold, and they were now in her room, on her bed, reading. They were on opposite ends- Her back facing the headboard and Scott sprawled out on his side, his head at the foot of her bed, propped up on his hand. She sat cross-legged with her textbook on her legs and a tray of soil in front of her. They had been sitting in silence for quite a while; all that could be heard was a New Order record quietly playing, the turning of pages, and a soft rustle of leaves every few minutes. Scott was used to it at this point. After Medusa, he wasn't really shocked at Florence's everyday use of her mutation. After all, she had grown a whole tree around a woman. Not much could top that. Yet, as he sat, his mind wavering from the diagram in his book, his eyes wavered as well. To her. Her eyebrows knit together, cheeks flushed, one hand on the book and the other above the soil, her ring finger twitching slightly. She was slightly hunched over, strands of hair framing her face, the dark emerald somehow complimenting her skin tone perfectly. She was quite the character- green hair, green serious eyes. After Medusa, she had changed a little. She was still the same old Florence, her temper the same (she never returned to the anger management class with Deluca), but she was quieter now. Scott knew that after having done something like she did, it was understandable why she might act a little differently afterwards. Jean had definitely changed after she unleashed Phoenix during Apocalypse. He understood, and he respected it. So now, Florence was a little more serious, but she still had the same googly eyes when she looked at him. Her lips were moving a little, mouthing as she read the words on her book. She turned a couple pages on it, and then she landed on what Scott figured she must've deemed satisfying to try. She tilted her head slightly, hand outstretching over the soil. Scott noticed the way her eyes fluttered subtly when she began to use her mutation. Her eyes were planted on the book, and Scott's went to the soil. It began to move and part, and a sprout emerged, growing into a daffodil. He looked up at her, a small glint of satisfaction in her eye. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and the light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminated half of her face. Her undereye circles were a little darker than usual and there was a hole in the collar of her sweater. Scott suddenly noticed everything- and his chest swelled, his cheeks flushed. He felt it.
        "Hey," He whispered, prodding her leg with his foot to get her attention. She looked up, doe eyes attentive.
He smiled. "I love you."
Her eyes widened further, and then her face relaxed into a smile. She just looked at him, the words caught in her throat for some reason.