Planetary Rendezvous

Warren was obsessed with the birds outside the window. He wasn’t just distracted by the birds of feathers; he felt that the sky was where he truly belonged. But no, he reminded himself that he was a man of the world. His wings makes him believe it; Warren Worthington is no different from the ordinary.

Warren thought his wings could invite something worse, a threat to his closest people. So he restrained himself as if denying their existence would keep family and close friends away from future trouble, even when there was no danger. He told himself it was the right decision. Warren believed it even at the cost of his pride.

When the guests arrived at the school, Worthington was their perfect host. He was the manifesto of the image of a good student that society demands—polished, clean, and well-taught. It doesn’t matter what the school taught. What mattered was the image—disciplined students and promising connections.

But Warren never got used to this kind of deception.Everyone who met him always remarked on how fine a youngster he was. He knew these comments didn’t come from their hearts like the lines rehearsed in a play. To Warren, such compliments felt like nothing. It was “unconcerned.” 

It’s a contradiction to call it “unconcern,” but no other word was in the right place. These words were not what he earned; they belonged to his parents, from his appearance which he inherited, to the fine suits they bought. 

No one ever saw him—his true self. 

Even his parents, like everyone else, barely know him. It wasn’t that they were uninterested in him. On the contrary, no. But if they knew their son had wings, they would kindly tie them up for him.  Because it was the right thing to do for him. For their only child, dearest Warren.

So when others were not paying attention to Scott or Bobby, Warren felt uncomfortable. They were a part of him that nobody looked at. His true nature… And the distance. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that no one could ever love him for who he truly was. A Special. A Freak. The Uncanny.

He was a loner after all. Always in the eye, but alone.

Warren caught Scott in his orbit like any X-Men.
This was a simple mechanism for survival for any loner.

But he was more special to Warren. Scott Summers.
He was in the eye like himself but loner, as the fear itself.

Scott had every place to leave, and Warren had no place to belong.
It led them to each other.

Warren Worthington knows what he needs. 

Warren Worthington and Scott Summers were good as teammates even though their first impression was bad. It would have been unexpected even for others to see it. Looking down on the other as economically, or lower his places was the only expected result, but no. They simply respected each other.

He had been doing night-watching work before becoming a member of the X-Men. The day they first met was also the day Warren nailed a criminal, and Scott already knew it from the TV when they met.

Warren was inspired by previous heroes; his heroic career was earlier than any other X-Men. He shared practical advice with the professor, even though he was a teenage student. The professor never minds about age or occupation. 

Considering the contribution of his knowledge which was gained early for the team, It was guaranteed that he to become the leader of the X-Men, but only after talking for a few minutes with him, did everyone realize that it was just a misunderstanding.

He wasn’t too much of a talker, but he made some mistakes often, mistakes that came from his overconfidence. He was not the person the professor was guaranteed to trust. Scott, who waited and watched, taking cover for others’ mistakes, was closest to Xavier’s heir. Warren knew Scott was the one who would take the place in the end. He was a stranger, so he could see inside the place which Xavier built from the outside.

Warren had never received anything but compliments. He had the name of the third, but he had been the only, the solo, or the first. But surprisingly, at this school, wealth didn’t matter much. So he got a fair evaluation at school. He was pointed out by his teacher for his mistakes, just like any other ordinary student.

For the first time, Warren found what he lacked from his team members, especially Scott, who had something he didn’t have. He moved his attention to the person who would become the future leader.

That was a strange experience for Scott. He had never heard anyone compliment his mutation, except for the professor, since he became a mutant, how he’s special, how to use that specialty. Before Warren came, what he knew was how threatening it was. 

Since he was the first person to know it, Warren was able to act as a hero and become part of the team. He knew that his attacks were relatively weaker than Scott’s. He admitted that. And he knew that Scott was slow.

Warren proposed to move together to his best strategist, for the teamwork. Unlike the times when he fought alone when he moved more like being a herald. 

Warren carried people, carried words… carried punishment instead. Any of Scott’s weak points seemed not to have been discovered when Warren made up for him.

Until... 
When an X-shaped girder fell from the sky.

It came down fast, there was no time for reflexes. Everybody was frozen in their place, except for Warren. Warren grabbed Scott, who was nearest to the falling metal, his arms wrapping around Scott’s shoulders, and lifted Scott into the air. Scott knew now he could move, but only his head; his body was being held by someone else. Scott logically assumed it was Warren. He considered it fortunate.

As Warren carried him higher, Scott turned his head and saw a mutant man standing in the distance. He may drop the other metals on purpose.

“Let’s go after him,” Warren said. 

Scott hesitated. “No, we are just the two of us. We need Iceman.”

Warren agrees with what Scott said, and they descend. Scott’s grip on Warren’s got more tightened. His body trembled like he was having a fear. Warren doesn’t know why. Scott seemed safe to him. Warren noticed Scott was having an attack, but he couldn’t change his pose. That would make Scott fall even faster.

As his feet touched the ground, he exhaled sharply, a sound that was a choke, mostly a sob. His head trembled as though his body was trying to protect something—his body, his eyes, or perhaps, he wanted to protect the world from a freak named Scott Summers.

Tears slipped from his visor. He wiped them as much as possible, but his power surged through his hand, carving random, unstable lines. 

Warren and Bobby only stood there, frightened, unable to think of offering comfort. His heartbeat pounded so loudly that everybody could read where it came from. A frantic drum that counts down before fading his life. It reminded him that he was still alive, and the fact he couldn’t get away from the day he crashed.

Scott was the most powerful and dangerous of the X-Men, yet he was fragile. He was the glass that the cracks merely hold its shape. 

“Go, go after him,” Scott barely breathes his words. 

His eyes were still shut. Scott still couldn’t look up at his teammates. He only covered his eyes to restrain his optic blasts. If Scott could see their faces, they might have looked more sorry than he imagined. There were no more attacks. Warren looked around again, but there was no danger, only a crying child. He wouldn’t get up again today.

Warren shook his head and wore off his mask. “Not today, Summers. I’m telling the professor we’re taking the day off.”

Warren was already taking off his uniform. He turned and walked away, leaving them behind. After a long time when he returned to his control, Bobby crouched down beside Scott, and he steadied Scott.

“…I’ve got you,” Bobby said quietly. 

Scott wore his visor, but Bobby was still worried that Scott might lose control. When he stood up, Warren had already disappeared from their sight. They followed Warren, going back to the mansion.

Worthington went straightforwardly to the study. He walked down the hallway with stomping footsteps so the professor could hear. Charles also knew this was urgent. In another way.

The door opened, and Warren told the professor the details of what just happened with no hesitation, how Scott needed medical attention. 

However, the professor’s focus did not seem to be on Scott. Xavier did, but it was hard to know. The professor already calmed Scott and Bobby. If Warren hadn’t been so angry, he would have heard the professor’s message. To Charles, the intruder was the only one they were dealing with—about how the man moved the girder or how it could fall into the yard from nowhere.

“Did Scott see whose face it was?”

That’s the proper reaction of the professor. Considering Warren’s statements, this could be a greater menace. A warning, a threat to the X-Men. Xavier had to come up with a plan. To protect themselves, to protect humanity, not blindly comforting his team.

And now, he asked to give more information. Charles gave a calm and determined gaze to his student. After all, all he can do was sit in a chair.

The professor continued questioning, more like an interrogation. Yet the professor seemed to already know his question about the cause of the event; the question was rhetorical. But Warren could no longer wait. He demands an explanation of Scott’s medical condition now. Before his concern for Scott crushes him.

Xavier half reluctantly accepted his demands. “It’s a stress disorder symptom, a reaction to trauma. When he faces re-experiencing the traumatic event,” the professor continued, “Scott instinctively reacts intensely, not by choice. It’s not something he controls.”

The following explanation also seemed clear and sufficient. But to Warren, it still felt incomplete. “Then… what should we do?”

The professor said with his voice calm and softened. “It triggers his reaction when he’s exposed to reminding situations, You can help prevent the exposure to him. Or—” he paused, choosing his words carefully—“Help him to understand that he’s safe. Let him find a solution for himself to get over his trauma. You’re the one who can help Scott the most. I hope you’ll take care of him.”

The professor asked Warren to bring Scott to his study. Apparently, Warren knew the professor was going to do the same thing to Scott. Warren closed the door to his study. And behind the door, he was remembering how painful Scott looked. How he was avoided as a deadly freak.

Bobby and Warren couldn’t get any approaches until Scott’s deadly eyebeams were settled. That drove him to something deeper. Warren just hoped the professor would look after Scott.

Scott has no day off. For him, living is not a continuity but a small cluster before his rebirth, which he called ’life.’ It may sound interesting, but it hurts every time. Each resurrection demands more than the last. From the older brother, the survivor, a loner, and to the X-men.

This was his fourth life, life as an X-Men was the opportunity. A chance to be free of his latest life. A life to be accepted, to belong, having a family. And yet, it was an unpromised chance, and it couldn’t easily be held in his arms.

To keep it, Scott had to make twice as much effort as the others, pushing himself to the very end. He had no option but to be chosen as the heir. Scott thought he never, ever deserved that name, not even considered, but also he knew he would be disappointed by himself when he failed to pull out the Sword in the Stone.

It was a promise of his own that he would never live in despair. Even if the continuity of Scott Summers’s life was hard to tell, he promised to do his best, once and future, so he could live his life one more day.

The Danger Room session resumed the next morning, on the regular schedule, as always. Considering yesterday, Scott could have been nervous, but he looked fine. The real problems were subtle and lasted nearly half of a month until the spring break began.

During every session since then, when Warren tried to carry Scott high up, Warren noticed Scott’s symptoms might happen again. Scott flinches his shoulder when Warren just reaches out to get closer. Only to Warren, who could carry Scott into the air. 

The reaction was sharp and alarmed as if Warren’s touch had crossed a line. They both said sorry to the other, immediately, which only made Warren feel his worry deepens every day. So, it wasn’t anybody’s fault, so they found the reason in themselves— it was their fault. It's always wrong to want to be close.

Warren knew what triggered Scott—Warren was sure that he caused it, not the attack itself—but he couldn’t let Scott live like this, nor does he.

It was impossible not to see that Scott loves flying. Yet his expression was mostly unreadable, but everyone knew what he loved, especially when he filed books that he liked, like Celestial Navigations, repair manuals, and emergency guides. The books in the study were certainly worn on their pages.

If Scott isn’t going to be X-Man, he’d probably be an astronaut. Or an astronaut who’s mastered the man and machine.

Scott’s reading list also has not changed; his habits have not changed. Nothing had changed. He asked Warren what flying was like, even though he was still afraid. That day did not change him a bit. No challenges, no failures.

It lasted until one late morning when Scott sat down in the study and let out a depressed sigh.

“It’s no use,” Scott mumbled, burying his face in a book and quietly. For a moment, he stood frozen, watching Scott in his despair.

It was the start of spring break, and Warren had no reason to get up in the morning today, because their session was scheduled for the afternoon, but he was there as if someone had told Warren where Scott was.

Warren couldn’t help him. How dare he, who couldn’t even help himself? He avoided his own issues as Scott avoided. With well-practiced refusal, saying ‘I’m fine’. 

But today, something stabbed inside him. It wasn’t pity or guilt, not exactly. It was sharper than that. Something clear and undeniable: responsibility. He had a responsibility to do this—Love. 

Warren lifts Scott. Slim was caught in his arm. Warren also carried two bags, with folding bicycles inside, in his other hand. He took Scott out, away from the study. The pile of books that gave him the satisfaction of being ready for the crash was far left behind. 
Obviously, Scott struggled, twisting in Warren’s grasp. 

“Put me down, I can do it on my own when I am ready.”

But Warren still held Scott like a cello. He never believed saying ‘I’m fine’. “Not this time. It’s time to move. They never come before you visit,” he said determinedly. 

But Warren wasn’t mad, nor was Scott. Just before Scott asked one more time to let him down, Warren loosed his arm to walk on Scott’s own. Warren explained what to do. He told Scott that he was not lowering the value of the importance of preparation but mainly letting him know it was okay to fail if he kept trying.Scott was very skeptical of what Warren tried to say but decided to accept it.

Deciding on a mountain trip all of a sudden seemed fair to him; If the mutation was fair to them.

Along the way, there was a small bike race, just for fun. It wasn’t prepared nor promised. It simply happened.

They couldn’t say who or what ignited their rivalry in the first place. Perhaps it was a show to be chosen as Arthur for the professor, or maybe it was nothing more than reckless adolescent behavior. 

Whatever the reason, they compete constantly, and Warren overtakes Scott with ease. It’s more like a kind of routine.

Scott tried to keep up, but how could he? Warren had a propeller in his back, which helped him move forward efficiently. The gap between them widens quickly, almost cruelly.

When Warren turned around, he noticed how far ahead he was. Warren decided to slow down, letting the wind drag him. He adjusted his pace until he was riding alongside Scott. Moving together was more challenging; it required understanding from each other. He thought it was more worth it. Routines need to be broken sometimes. 

But the more they went up, the narrower the road became. Now there was only space for one. So, Warren follows behind, letting Scott take the lead.

It doesn’t mean he was admitting Scott was better, Warren hasn’t yielded the lead out of pity; It was something else.

Warren speeded up, and chased closely behind Scott, so close, that Warren’s presence pushed Scott to speed harder and faster, as demanded Scott to overcome his rival and his limits. No surrender was allowed. Warren acted as if winning was no longer important to him. It was something deeper, something that neither he nor Scott could fully understand.

It’s more like an expectation for them to move forward together, with no other left behind. It’s called a friendship.

When they arrived at the middle of the mountain and stood halfway up the cliff, their breath came in a burst. Warren leaned against Scott’s shoulder, laughing as he tried to catch his breath. Same for Scott, too.

The winter air stung their lungs, breathless, and made them lightheaded, as if the cold tickles them to give some smiles. Strange, yet they laughed. They couldn’t see each other’s faces. The smiles were blurred by the dizziness and adrenaline. But they know their partner laughs. 

As for them, they couldn’t get tired yet. The real purpose was still ahead in their heads: crossing the air. 

“We’re going to fly high,” Warren introduced the wide-open sky as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

He stretched his wings wide which caught the shine like the pale winter sunlight falling on fresh white snow. “So, ready?”

Scott nodded in agreement and packed their bikes into the bags they’d carried. It still scared him, but he knew how to react this time. He knew someone who could help him.
He was safely in Warren’s arms now.

Warren began to flap, holding Scott in his arms, slowly at first and then more powerfully. He carried Scott high up, almost reaching the sky. They were getting closer to the sun, but the air was starting to freeze, informing them when they returned.

They started gliding very slowly, at the speed of a parachute without catching fire. For a moment, there was nothing but the sky and them. The ground below seemed distant; it felt like the world was stretched out below them. They were nobody, irrelevant, yet it felt free.

Warren’s wings caught the air in slow, unbalanced strokes. In other words, it still felt fragile to Scott. And it reminded him of—his past.

The memories he tried to bury deep within himself, the trauma were so personal that the professor refused to explain to Warren, which Scott hadn’t shared with many.

Yet here, high above the world, Scott pulled it out of his chest. Warren listened in silence. But to Scott, this felt like a quiet rejection.

Warren was too young to understand, and Scott was too young to be rejected. Warren was not the person Scott wanted to find.

But his grip on Warren loosened slightly, as if trusted his grasp fully. Warren understood that Scott was trying to get over. So instead of understanding, he let Scott’s past hang in the air, buried by the wind. Warren didn’t say the usual falsehood like the world did to him.

Warren found that Scott needed something he hadn’t had before: the joy of fair winning; the experience of losing doesn’t always mean the end. He needed to believe in those things. And so did Warren. The truth Scott said, he probably wouldn’t have said it if there had been no race today. They both think so.

Perhaps, Warren thought, that was why fate had tied them together as a rivalry.

The world below was cut in half, and Scott noticed the shimmering of a frozen lake. A perfect stretch of murky ice gave the contrast from the clear sky, as though they were between two realities.

Warren nearly skimmed across the ice like a figure skater. He held Scott closer, guiding him into a glide as they skated in a loose, circled pattern while Scott’s feet also brushed the ice. He could walk on it if he wanted to. But his body couldn’t move. Fear was still rooted in place and it kept his breathing shallow. 

Scott kept a simulation in his head. And when he fails, blood splatters on the perfect white. The crash scene just kept repeating. No matter which way he tried, he couldn’t get out of that loop. He still needed time and help, yet.

Warren realized Scott’s hesitation. He kept moving, drawing a circle on the ice, to prepare for takeoff again. When the circle was complete, he rose again, lifting him back into the sky. 

“Let’s go back to the mansion and give it one more try,” Warren said softly and glanced if Scott was okay.

“…I don’t think I can do this today,” Scott admitted, that he wanted his chance, one more time later, his voice was quiet. 

“Well, all right.” Warren scooped him up in a wrapped protective secure hug and lifted off.

His landing was gentle, his boots pressing into the grass with light footsteps. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Scott looked at Warren if he was okay, and the next thing was checking himself, still not dead yet. 

He always thought death would arrive on time, but the thought of fall itself was afraid. The cold blood spilling from his body felt natural to him, yet Scott was afraid of losing consciousness and dying. He could clearly picture that his body was still, becoming helpless, but leaving everything behind was felt right to him.

Scott was afraid of dying. 

But none of their worries happened. Not today. Not this time. Instead, he found himself sitting in the grass, alive. And yet, here they were. Alive. Together. The brown hair, with the blond. The air breezed around them. Not the smoke.

“Too much show-off, isn’t it?” Warren said, taking off his mask. 

He stood near Scott and took a deep breath. Although this wasn’t his first time carrying a person, he was still nervous. 

Scott stared at him and quietly grumbles, “Why are you doing this for me?” He asked why he was performing CPR on a dead person.

Warren shrugs as if it were nothing. “Because I can help you.”

“And… I’m not used to working with my little brothers. I need practice to take care of you guys.”

Scott slightly frowns. “…Little brothers?”

They were about the same height. From the outside, no one can tell the differences between their ages or heights easily. And yet, Scott had never questioned Warren’s age, never thought to ask. Neither had Warren asked about him. Those things were unnecessary for the relationship. Until now, they simply thought the other was less older than their age. 

“I always thought you were a little brother to me. You and Bobby both, I can’t imagine you doing any older brother stuff.”

Warren blinked. “Funny. I thought you were the little brother all along. How old are you, anyway?”

They discovered their ages were the same. Their birthdays would determine the difference, so they did the math. Warren was half a year older and will be aged in about a week.

“…Wait,” Warren said after a pause, as though he had found something. “That means you can’t have a drink on my twenty-first birthday.”

“Should I have to?” Scott’s response came slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Warren never expected to hear that. He hoped to see Scott would be there, with a jealous look on his face. But it turns out, Scott didn’t even think of him as a rival so far. 

“No, but…” Warren trailed off, gathering his thoughts. Warren’s thoughts stopped at the unexpected answer. 

Scott waited for his answer, but he couldn’t find the words, so he returned to the original subject.
“…And if it’s just about age,” Scott said, as if he were hurt his feelings, “I thought we X-Men were pretending we were the same age anyway. All of us, except the professor. So I never asked.”

“No, I mean…” He paused again, struggling for an excuse. “It’s a shame, that even if you are the team leader, you’re still too young to start kissing me, Scott Summers.”

“?”

The short silence that followed was awkward, almost unbearable. Scott’s face became stiff when hearing those words. Warren’s body freezes, and his wings spread as nervous. Scott’s expression was a mixture of confusion and surprise. 

But he knew it was a joke. 
He knew no one wanted to kiss him even if it was a joke.
Scott Summers knew it was a bad joke.

“You’re acting really weird, Warren.”

He was. This excuse was out of context and failed, like when he was asking for a date before. Warren felt exposed, in a way he never intended to be. He used to cover up, pretending this was a “mistake”. But all he could do was understand what he had just said. 

He always wanted to get closer to someone, even to Scott, to share something meaningful and understand each other. So the “mistakes” he made were mostly a clever way of revealing how not desperate in the relationship he was by over-expressing affection, making himself a fool. Warren didn’t know how to handle moments like this without attempting humor.

Warren attempted his humor at him, Scott Summers, like anyone else before. This time, The Warren Worthington was just a creep, who had dreamed of kissing his teammate, not a charming boy who was kidding.

Whether he intended to or not, Scott continued the conversation, breaking the stiff atmosphere. 

“I can’t initiate a kiss with you just because I’m less older?” Scott double-tapped to tease Warren, who just made mistakes. But Warren had never noticed it. 

“Right,” Warren replied boldly. 

“And I’m the younger brother?” Scott poked about Warren’s excuses. 

“Of course,” Warren replied even more boldly. 

“Huh.” It was short but almost bitter, which implies ‘how come.’ Scott’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. 

“I stopped you and Bobby from throwing snowballs at each other, but I’m just the same level as Bobby to you?”

“Well, isn’t that what a middle child does?” Warren smiled as if he had found a loophole in Scott’s argument. 

“You are an only child,” Scott mumbled. To Scott, Warren was young and impulsive—hardly seen as an older brother. Warren didn’t seem to know the weight of those words. 

“Big brother, you said,” Scott repeated, almost to himself, reminding himself who he was before the crash. 

“It’s tough to be the older brother.” His expression softened. 

“Is it harder than being an X-Man?” Scott wouldn’t deny it. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to try it for a while. I’ll keep it a secret from Bobby.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “All of it?”

“I don’t know what you’re going to, but yes. All of it. Whatever you want, Scotty.”