It started like any other day in the mansion — sunlight spilling across the hallways, laughter echoing down corridors, the hum of mutant life filling every corner.

But not for you.

You’d been on your way to the library when you passed by a few students near the stairwell. Their voices were low at first, just quiet enough for you to almost ignore. Until one of them giggled.

"He looks like he crawled out of a chimney." "Wonder if his fur sheds all over his bed." "Imagine waking up next to that face."

You froze mid-step, tail curling close to your legs. You wanted to disappear — vanish into the wall like smoke. You could have. You should have. But instead, you just stood there, listening until their voices became laughter fading into the distance.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You’d heard worse before. But the words stayed stuck in your chest, heavier with every heartbeat.

Hours later, you found yourself alone in your room, the quiet pressing in too tightly. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your reflection in the mirror — the blue fur, the fangs that showed when you frowned, the yellow eyes that caught every bit of light like they didn’t belong to you.

"They are right," you whispered softly. "I do look... wrong."

Your claws hovered over your forearm. Slowly, you pinched a small patch of fur and tugged. It hurt. Just enough to make your breath catch. The pain was... grounding, in a strange way. You did it again. Then again. Until there was a bare patch of skin and small streaks of blood staining the blue.

You wrapped it up in bandages before anyone could see. The sting lingered, but it was quieter than the ache in your chest.

---

Dinner came, the long table filled with noise and warmth. Plates clattered, laughter bounced from wall to wall, a home that felt so alive you almost managed to forget. Almost.

You sat at the far end, shoulders hunched slightly, trying to eat without drawing attention. But it was hard to hide the way your bandaged arm brushed the table.

Jean noticed first. Her voice was gentle, but it still made you flinch. "Kurt... what happened to your arm?"

Every eye seemed to turn your way at once. You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. "Nothing," you said quickly. "It’s fine."

Logan frowned from across the table. "That ain’t nothin’, kid. You been trainin’ too rough?"