Categories > Comics > X-Men
I'm Not Ashamed
0 reviewsWhat if Warren's father had found out about his son's wings later.
3Insightful
I’m Not Ashamed
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Don’t sue.
Warren stood in the bathroom that adjoined his room. He knew that he didn’t have long; they were expecting company and part of being a Worthington meant that you were well mannered and that meant never keeping important people waiting. He stared at his reflection. He made sure that there was no trace of anything a-miss with his ensemble. For 3 years he had kept his “condition” a secret.
Every month or so he would come into this room and through blood, sweat and tears he would ‘get rid of his wings’. When he did it, it hurt like hell but it was something that had to be done. There was no time for that now. He turned and looked at the back of himself in the mirror; everything looked fine.
Warren buttoned up his shirt, put on his suit jacket and went downstairs to be the well respected and social son that he was expected to be. He was certain that no one would know that anything was going on.
XXX
Warren Worthington Jr. stood outside his son’s room. He was shocked and angered. His son was hiding something from him; he wanted to believe that it was just a misunderstanding, a mistake. He knew that he had to confront his son and he had to do it before his wife convinced him to leave it alone.
He barged into his son’s room and was sickened by what he saw. His son was unbuttoning his shirt, his back had been to the door and that’s when he noticed the bulge beneath his son’s shirt.
“Warren?!?”
The surprised teen turned and was met with the angry brown eyes of his father. “Father…I-” He was cut short.
“What’s wrong with your back?”
Warren just shook his head and turned away from his father. He knew that his parents would have to find out sooner or later but this was not how he imagined things would happen.
“Take off your shirt.”
Warren slowly (because his hands were shaking) unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip down his shoulders and off his arms. He closed his eyes as the shirt hit the floor and his father gasped. Warren figured as long as his father wanted to see his wings he might as well get the full view. He quickly unbuckled his harness that held his wings flat.
For a second his father was in awe. He could almost ignore the fact that mutants were an abomination and that they were a thing to be hated. His wings were white, pure white and he had a very expansive wingspan. Then his father could feel the rage build up inside. He was almost ashamed that this thing was his son. In an act of fury he struck his 16-year-old hard across his face, knocking the boy to the ground.
The boy sat up and protectively wrapped his wings around him as tightly as he could. This was why he had hid them in the first place. He had worried that this would happen. He knew that his father would never understand.
He sat there as his father circled him, no doubt, waiting for him to relax just so that he could hit him again. He stayed tense and tightly cocooned in the safety of his wings. That was until he felt a palm run down the length of his spine. His wings opened on reflex and he arched his back.
As Warren raised his head, his father saw that the damage had already been done. His cheeks were tear-stained, his blond hair messy and his blue eyes looked sad. If all that hadn’t been there than the fact that he was shaking like a leaf was. His son was afraid of him, that’s all there was to it.
“Warren, it’s alright. This isn’t your fault. I understand that this,” he gingerly touched one or two of the feathers, “illness is just something that happens.”
Warren shook his head. He understood right then that his father hated mutants and always would, it didn’t matter that he was one. He knew that as long as his father was alive he’d always hate them. He stood up, folding his wings behind him.
“Sir, I’m not ashamed of my so-called illness. Tomorrow I go back to New York.”
His father stood. “Why?”
Warren arched his eyebrow. “I didn’t ask for wings but I got them. I’ve had them for three years and I managed to keep them hidden from you. I can fly- that’s something that most people can only dream about. I hear that somewhere in New York that’s a place, a school full of people like me. I’m going there. I’m sure you’ll carry enough shame about my wings for the two of us anyway. I’m going to sleep now. Good night sir.”
His father showed himself out. He hated it when his son called him sir. It was something that he had started as a teenager. Whenever they had a disagreement or argument his son would call him sir. Sir. As if he were an employee rather than his son, and he had this way, he was guessing that it was a teenager thing, but Warren had a way of making ‘sir’ sound insulting. Aside from that, he had Warren’s condition to think of now. He was totally clueless; he had no idea what he was going to do.
XXX
Professor Charles Xavier was using Cerebro to locate mutants. He did this in order to know where mutants were and then he’d go to where they were. Most of the time, he could convince the parents that sending their children to his school was the best thing that they could do. He had a feeling that this wouldn’t be any different.
XXX
Warren Worthington Jr. couldn’t believe it. By that morning he had this professor of something or other from the school for mutants that his son had been talking about, at his house. This guy in the wheelchair was saying that there was nothing wrong with his son and that there wasn’t some sort of treatment that could be one to make his son normal. It was a place where he could be around other mutants while receiving a very high level education.
Charles could tell that this man was more worried about his reputation and what would happen if word got out that his son was a mutant then the actual well being of the child. He had seen this sort of thing before and he knew he would see it again.
He could tell by the way that Mr. Worthington was looking at him that there was going to be an outburst. He didn’t have to read his mind.
“Nothing wrong with him? Maybe you didn’t hear me. My son has WINGS. He is very sick. This sort of thing is not normal.”
Before Charles could say anything Warren came down stairs. “Father don’t you see? This is why I hid them from you in the first place. I knew that you wouldn’t understand.”
Charles looked at the boy. His blond hair was immaculate; as was his clothes. His blue eyes were sad and seemed to hold the same look of dread and despair that he had seen on most of his students’ faces when he first came for them. There was a bruise on his cheek that looked completely out of place.
Warren Jr. looked at his son. “So this is what you want? To be hiding those…”
Charles couldn’t help but shake his head. He wished that some parents would make more of an effort to understand the unique situation that their children found themselves in. This is a time when the child needs comfort and security from the adults around them. But for kids like Warren they get these over-bearing, scared, judgmental parents who act as if the gifts that their children have are diseases and conditions to be afraid of. Mr. Worthington was no exception. Charles didn’t need to be psychic to know that Warren had gone through great lengths to hide his wings and he could see how deep his father’s words had cut him.
“I am going with Professor Xavier. If you love me then you’ll let me go.” His father nodded.
As they left Charles was almost over-whelmed. He saw both sides unlike most. He saw the parents that were unable to understand and he was left with the children who just wanted to be understood. He was amazed. This 16-year-old boy had been dealing with his mutation all on his own. He had thought, like so many others, that he was alone.
There are many more out there. And sooner or later we will be understood and accepted. Until that day comes, it is up to the few that are brave enough to stand up and show the world that they have nothing to fear.
Warren leaned back into his seat rolling what Xavier had just said in his mind. There was a dull ache in his back that he knew, would soon become a cramp from his wings being harnessed tightly to his back. Despite that for the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared.
The End
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Don’t sue.
Warren stood in the bathroom that adjoined his room. He knew that he didn’t have long; they were expecting company and part of being a Worthington meant that you were well mannered and that meant never keeping important people waiting. He stared at his reflection. He made sure that there was no trace of anything a-miss with his ensemble. For 3 years he had kept his “condition” a secret.
Every month or so he would come into this room and through blood, sweat and tears he would ‘get rid of his wings’. When he did it, it hurt like hell but it was something that had to be done. There was no time for that now. He turned and looked at the back of himself in the mirror; everything looked fine.
Warren buttoned up his shirt, put on his suit jacket and went downstairs to be the well respected and social son that he was expected to be. He was certain that no one would know that anything was going on.
XXX
Warren Worthington Jr. stood outside his son’s room. He was shocked and angered. His son was hiding something from him; he wanted to believe that it was just a misunderstanding, a mistake. He knew that he had to confront his son and he had to do it before his wife convinced him to leave it alone.
He barged into his son’s room and was sickened by what he saw. His son was unbuttoning his shirt, his back had been to the door and that’s when he noticed the bulge beneath his son’s shirt.
“Warren?!?”
The surprised teen turned and was met with the angry brown eyes of his father. “Father…I-” He was cut short.
“What’s wrong with your back?”
Warren just shook his head and turned away from his father. He knew that his parents would have to find out sooner or later but this was not how he imagined things would happen.
“Take off your shirt.”
Warren slowly (because his hands were shaking) unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip down his shoulders and off his arms. He closed his eyes as the shirt hit the floor and his father gasped. Warren figured as long as his father wanted to see his wings he might as well get the full view. He quickly unbuckled his harness that held his wings flat.
For a second his father was in awe. He could almost ignore the fact that mutants were an abomination and that they were a thing to be hated. His wings were white, pure white and he had a very expansive wingspan. Then his father could feel the rage build up inside. He was almost ashamed that this thing was his son. In an act of fury he struck his 16-year-old hard across his face, knocking the boy to the ground.
The boy sat up and protectively wrapped his wings around him as tightly as he could. This was why he had hid them in the first place. He had worried that this would happen. He knew that his father would never understand.
He sat there as his father circled him, no doubt, waiting for him to relax just so that he could hit him again. He stayed tense and tightly cocooned in the safety of his wings. That was until he felt a palm run down the length of his spine. His wings opened on reflex and he arched his back.
As Warren raised his head, his father saw that the damage had already been done. His cheeks were tear-stained, his blond hair messy and his blue eyes looked sad. If all that hadn’t been there than the fact that he was shaking like a leaf was. His son was afraid of him, that’s all there was to it.
“Warren, it’s alright. This isn’t your fault. I understand that this,” he gingerly touched one or two of the feathers, “illness is just something that happens.”
Warren shook his head. He understood right then that his father hated mutants and always would, it didn’t matter that he was one. He knew that as long as his father was alive he’d always hate them. He stood up, folding his wings behind him.
“Sir, I’m not ashamed of my so-called illness. Tomorrow I go back to New York.”
His father stood. “Why?”
Warren arched his eyebrow. “I didn’t ask for wings but I got them. I’ve had them for three years and I managed to keep them hidden from you. I can fly- that’s something that most people can only dream about. I hear that somewhere in New York that’s a place, a school full of people like me. I’m going there. I’m sure you’ll carry enough shame about my wings for the two of us anyway. I’m going to sleep now. Good night sir.”
His father showed himself out. He hated it when his son called him sir. It was something that he had started as a teenager. Whenever they had a disagreement or argument his son would call him sir. Sir. As if he were an employee rather than his son, and he had this way, he was guessing that it was a teenager thing, but Warren had a way of making ‘sir’ sound insulting. Aside from that, he had Warren’s condition to think of now. He was totally clueless; he had no idea what he was going to do.
XXX
Professor Charles Xavier was using Cerebro to locate mutants. He did this in order to know where mutants were and then he’d go to where they were. Most of the time, he could convince the parents that sending their children to his school was the best thing that they could do. He had a feeling that this wouldn’t be any different.
XXX
Warren Worthington Jr. couldn’t believe it. By that morning he had this professor of something or other from the school for mutants that his son had been talking about, at his house. This guy in the wheelchair was saying that there was nothing wrong with his son and that there wasn’t some sort of treatment that could be one to make his son normal. It was a place where he could be around other mutants while receiving a very high level education.
Charles could tell that this man was more worried about his reputation and what would happen if word got out that his son was a mutant then the actual well being of the child. He had seen this sort of thing before and he knew he would see it again.
He could tell by the way that Mr. Worthington was looking at him that there was going to be an outburst. He didn’t have to read his mind.
“Nothing wrong with him? Maybe you didn’t hear me. My son has WINGS. He is very sick. This sort of thing is not normal.”
Before Charles could say anything Warren came down stairs. “Father don’t you see? This is why I hid them from you in the first place. I knew that you wouldn’t understand.”
Charles looked at the boy. His blond hair was immaculate; as was his clothes. His blue eyes were sad and seemed to hold the same look of dread and despair that he had seen on most of his students’ faces when he first came for them. There was a bruise on his cheek that looked completely out of place.
Warren Jr. looked at his son. “So this is what you want? To be hiding those…”
Charles couldn’t help but shake his head. He wished that some parents would make more of an effort to understand the unique situation that their children found themselves in. This is a time when the child needs comfort and security from the adults around them. But for kids like Warren they get these over-bearing, scared, judgmental parents who act as if the gifts that their children have are diseases and conditions to be afraid of. Mr. Worthington was no exception. Charles didn’t need to be psychic to know that Warren had gone through great lengths to hide his wings and he could see how deep his father’s words had cut him.
“I am going with Professor Xavier. If you love me then you’ll let me go.” His father nodded.
As they left Charles was almost over-whelmed. He saw both sides unlike most. He saw the parents that were unable to understand and he was left with the children who just wanted to be understood. He was amazed. This 16-year-old boy had been dealing with his mutation all on his own. He had thought, like so many others, that he was alone.
There are many more out there. And sooner or later we will be understood and accepted. Until that day comes, it is up to the few that are brave enough to stand up and show the world that they have nothing to fear.
Warren leaned back into his seat rolling what Xavier had just said in his mind. There was a dull ache in his back that he knew, would soon become a cramp from his wings being harnessed tightly to his back. Despite that for the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared.
The End
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