Planetary Rendezvous

It seemed like it would last forever—at least until Warren won again, but Scott’s visits to Warren’s room became less frequent. It ended last summer.

During summer, Warren and Scott grew closer to Hank. 

Warren spent the summer alternating between his apartment and the mansion. New York City wasn’t a place for mutant wings. Naturally, he headed to Graymalkin when he needed space to fly, and free his wings, it gave him time to think. 

And Hank needed a place to do science research. The professor provided the place, so he could continue his projects without financial issues. And Scott… was just there, since it was where he lives. Bobby’s parents made it difficult to stay at school over summer vacation. And when he returned, it was Hank who comforted him most. Hank always knew how to take care of people. 

Hank was definitely the finest of the band, not just in age. He was funny, thoughtful, and smart—like collected only Warren and Scott’s good points. 

Scott didn’t think of Hank as an older brother either, but he felt Hank’s maturity that made him seem more reliable than other members. He made Warren and Scott’s meaningless sibling-like fights seem less important. If they had to choose their leader among them, Hank would be on the list.

Summer ended, with a new brotherhood, and the new semester brought change.

A new student, Jean Grey, was the last to arrive, yet she rewrote the rules the moment when she stepped inside.

Jean was different. Her power wasn’t just in her telekinesis—she reshaped the world around her as if she made her own rules and the rest of them were just trying to catch up. A candy she saw one day at the store, had doubled on the kitchen shelves the next day. Boys followed her gaze as if drawn by some invisible force.

This was Genesis.

Since September Scott had been going into his room and reading a book alone after the session. 

That was because Warren returned to his own room when only he went to sleep. If not, Warren was usually in the living room with Jean. And since it was Bobby's job to undo Warren’s harness, there was really nothing to do for Scott in Warren’s room without him. He stopped hanging with Warren. He had no reason to go to Warren's room. 

Scott thought he liked the actual relationship more than the books showed him. He thought he liked him because it was Warren. But Scott knew Warren would get tired of the game eventually. He always decided when the game was set. 

Scott wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief. Stability was a myth to him—he thought it would never happen, just believing some long relief moment is stable. 

Things that he wants to hold always seem to be on the edge of loss. 

Still, he expected this, and the world seems to have returned to its rightful place. It was the way of Scott Summers’s life. It was natural to him. 

What Scott didn’t expect was how Jean Grey had lost interest in Warren Worthington so quickly. 

What Warren misunderstood was Jean did not always want the glamorous world he offered to her. To Warren, Jean was too perfect—too special, like a crystal meant to be made to sit in a display case, never touched. He loved her, but he didn’t know how to live with her. 

They shared moments, only the grand ones, like watching meteor showers together. But Warren didn’t offer her the ordinary days. And misunderstanding was the irony. Warren failed to know Jean in the same way others failed to know him. 

It was fatal that their relationship couldn’t get over more than friendship. 

Winter has come, and Warren spent his time with Jean, as usual, meanwhile, Scott watched the other X-Men skate. 

Scott imagined he skated with them, or rather, seeing their last. 

He saw his future clearly: they skate, he also skates, on the ice, his glasses slipping off, his blast fired, and the frozen lake cracks. They sink to the bottom at once, disappearing into the cold dark water. But somehow, Scott Summers survives. It was his curse.

He tried not to look at their happy moments. He decided not to. He decided not to break it. Forever.

But he was crouching by the lake. He couldn't leave them. 

Jean asked with concern to Warren. “Why doesn't Scott skate with us?”

“He's more like a safety guy. I’ve asked him before, and he said he doesn't know how to skate.” 

“That's weird. He knows how to slide on the ice Bobby made.” Jean's eyes couldn't easily fall away. She felt it was irresponsible. 

“Jean, I tried. Just let him do whatever he wants.” Warren added as if he had read Jean's mind. Warren came out defensive as if he was being blamed for not trying hard enough. 

“He's doing it in his way, I think. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here every time. So, just give him time.” 

Warren was a little arrogant. He was Scott's best friend, he thought he knew him best, so he didn't think he could be wrong. He was too confident that Scott could do it on his own.

And time was given. Winter passed and spring came. 

Mid-march arrived, bringing routine flight training. It wasn’t a tradition if nobody planned, but two years in a row was enough to call it tradition, perhaps.

It was the professor’s idea. Precision was most important, but he also suggested Jean develop her power range—enough to fight against powerful mutants who control magnetism. Started with lifting not only herself but the other X-Men. 

Jean chose Scott as her assistant, quite a coincidence, but Warren volunteered himself for telekinetic descent. Warren was perfect for her first try. If anything goes wrong, at least he could fly.

“Let me down over there,” Warren said and flew to the roof. His voice was gentle as always. But he was especially kind to Jean. After all, the awe was not for the professor who could read minds, but the kid he liked among his age.

Scott watched it from below in silence.

The world was red. His glasses or visor did not obscure his sight, but layered his eyes, always red. It was a color that still reminded him of the past, the sunset, it reminded him of a kid who couldn’t be rescued when he was in an orphanage. Scott felt uneasy about this situation only but uneasy, but It wasn’t Warren’s fault, not really. It was way before they met. Everything, every moment seemed destined to itself into Scott’s mind as another trauma, haunted by the world itself. The odds were never with him.

But now, the boy above him wasn’t helpless. Even if he fell somehow, Scott could be his cushion. He stayed back, watching, readied from his action. Nevertheless, the moment came. 

“One, two…And three!” Warren shouted, and then he hopped into the air.

He descended through the air, slowly controlled. Jean’s telekinesis caught him as if invisible hands got in him. Not a single feather moved. When he landed, he stumbled slightly but stayed on his feet. And it was a good success. 

Everyone encouraged Jean on how excellent she was, except for Scott. He spoke last. “Good job, Jean.” And he said, his voice flat. His expression was unreadable.

Jean wondered why Scott was acting that way. She couldn’t tell if something was wrong with Scott or with herself. 

Scott still hated himself. It felt like his compliments would devalue Jean. There was no good for someone who couldn't even control himself to praise her. It would only make her feel the same as a freak. He would rather pretend not to have feelings. But he couldn't hide it from her. Jean was really different. She felt something different. It wasn't anger, embarrassment, sameness, or loneliness. Just emptiness. 

Parts of her that she didn't even know were empty started to hurt, screamed as if to tell her feelings were empty because of him. 

The moment passed, as moments always did. But the hurt remained. The training continued afterward, next was Bobby being lifted,  Jean herself, and Warren. The three of them weighed the least. And she soon succeeded in lifting all of the X-Men. 

Jean felt like she was growing with each practice, but so did the instability. When she had nightmares, things shook more violently, and when she was anxious, her clothes floated higher than before. So lately, she woke up at night and barely slept. 

Jean sat in front of the fireplace, watching the flames. They burned low, steady, but summer was nearing, and soon the fire would no longer be needed. The flicker of the flame danced high. 

Scott stood awkwardly at the stairs for a moment, watching her. The TV sound was distant. He could see the faint movement around her. Even the TV hovered slightly, almost imperceptibly. Scott went to the refrigerator and grabbed two cans of soda. One for him, and one for Jean. He sat beside Jean and handed her one, but she didn’t want to take it. She was not in the mood. Scott put the cans on the floor and watched TV together. 

“…You slept?” Jean asked, her eyes still on the TV. 

“…No,” Scott said like he even tried. 

If they had really wanted to sleep back, they would have already gone to their rooms. But they hadn’t. Sleep wasn’t the problem; it was the absence of something else, something they couldn't name. They were two teenagers sitting in the middle of the night, who couldn't stand their loneliness. 

The clock on the wall pointed at 4:30 a.m. 

On the television next to her was running an old soap opera marathon, and spotted the scenes kissing each other. A man kissed a woman against the background of the Milky Way, under the desert, and then the picture dissolved into static. Jean hadn’t turned the TV off, as if she was waiting for something yet. 

Scott’s voice cut through the static like the only signal could be heard when lost in space. “…Do you like looking up at the sky?” Scott smiled softly. He tried to smile bravely, very bravely, but his rip was still awkward to do it. 

For a moment, something fulfilled them. The TV still continued to buzz, and the flame in the fireplace flickered faintly.

“Yes,” Jean answered. 

And the flame went out completely. It was paused, waiting for the next act. 

They floated to the roof of the mansion. The man in ruby glasses laid out a mat beside her. They had a small picnic in the middle of the night. Up close, the night stretched endlessly, but from afar, it could blink in a moment. Together, they were in a moment. Time moved fast with the stars. 

Her red hair stirred in the late spring wind. It shimmered faintly, but instead of being strange or frightening, it carried a familiar warmth. Scott found that strange familiar like he had seen it before. Very long before, when he was a child at the orphanage. There was a strange comfort in her. They didn’t need to say anything else. Like they had known each other for years. 

“Do you know its name?” Jean asked. She opened the can with her telekinesis and started to drink. 

“That’s Ophiuchus,” Scott answered. 

“And that one?” She pointed again. 

“That’s Venus,” he said. “There will be sunrise coming soon.” His voice was quiet but certain. 

“Oh,” Jean let out a small sound, between acknowledgment and surprise. 

“…If you’re asking about stars, wouldn’t Hank be better? I only know the basics,” Scott added. 

Jean shook her head lightly. “No. It’s not about being an expert. I just… wondered which one to look for when I’m lost.” She leaned back on the mat. 

“You don’t need to read stars for that,” Scott said, opening a can of soda. 

Jean tilted her head. “You mean It doesn’t matter?” 

“Not really,” Scott replied. “Even pilots use other methods. Wireless navigation is more important. It’s mostly an old habit now. But it’s good to know.” 

Jean blinked, surprised. “That’s… deep. How do you know about such complicated?” 

Scott hesitated, his fingers slightly tightened around the can. “…It’s complicated.” 

He didn’t dare to explain, not yet. But somehow, sitting there, he felt Jean would understand someday. 

“…I wish I could fly,” Jean smiled faintly.

“Huh?” 

“I mean real fly, not floating,” she continued. “Fast, like Warren. Up in the air, free, no responsibilities. No complaints. If I’d had a different life, I think I’d want to be a pilot. Sometimes… it feels like the stars are calling me.” 

Scott tried to act casual, like he was pretending as a normal kid. He just tried to hide the fact that he was different from others. “You’re going too far,”  But Scott tried too hard. 

“Really?” She knew how he thought, and what he was hiding from. “I think it’s normal for mutants. Like I feel connected to someone from the beginning, and Someday, recognize each other. Have you ever felt any?” 

“Actually, I think I’ve got one,” Scott mumbled. 

“Well?”

But he didn't continue. The words were stuck in his throat so as not to say, It was her. Scott hesitated. He did. He always did. The dawn broke, and so was their moment. 

“…We should go back down, and try to sleep shortly, even a little bit,” Scott said. “At least, It’s Saturday. …How do I get down from here?”

Jean smiled again and demonstrated what she learned. She lowered him gently, toward the ground with two empty soda cans in his hands. The descent was slow and deliberate, which Scott was already used to it.

When he landed, Jean remained above him, her silhouette framed by the early light. “See you in a bit, Scott,” she called down. Scott stood there for a moment, looking back at the roof. “See you in a bit,”

Summer has landed.