Kurt stared at his hands. He hadn't really put much thought into them over the years. They had been… his hands, different from everybody else's hands yes, but just his. He hadn't every thought about why that might be or what it might mean.
But Charles Xavier, and Hank McCoy too wanted to give it a name. He, and they were "mutants". And they weren't the only ones. And they wouldn't be the last ones either. They were the first of many, they told him. According to Charles there would be more born each year, people who would slowly grow to discover expanding capabilities beyond their own humanity, like Charles' telepathy, Hank's special agility, and Kurt's teleportation.
None of it explained why Kurt was born the way he was though and that's why they were so curious about him. According to Charles mutants were born with normal human appearance an abilities, that's what made Kurt so special. That was why they needed his help. It was why Charles was willing to pay out his movie contract and let him stay with them here in New York so that together they could work on a plan to help prepare the world for "the advent mutantkind", as Charles put it.
Kurt had asked to think about it.
And so now he was alone again, staring out the window at the lawns and forests of Charles Xavier's estate.
What they had told him was different from everything he had ever known. In the circus he had been Kurt; just blue Kurt. No one had ever really questioned it or tried to explain why he was different, just that he was and that was it. It gave him special abilities and was inconveniencing at times as well, but no one ever thought to give it a name. No one ever tried to classify him. Beyond his own childish notions of someday seeing others like him, no one else had ever suggested that there really were more of him out there or that there would ever be more like him.
It was like a childhood dream come true and yet somehow not. This wasn't how he had imagined how things would turn out at all.
He thought about his mother and his family. He had never met any of them except for her, not even his own father, and she never talked about him. And she'd only ever explained a little bit of why this was, that her family had been ashamed of her for having such a monstrous child and but as a Catholic she'd felt wrong to simply "dispose" of him as she said they put it. So she ran away to the circus, the only place where she knew Kurt would be unconditionally accepted for exactly what he was.
Kurt could remember some of this, vaguely. He could remember a time when he was simply put on display, with his mother holding him so crowds could jeer at them. But he remembered other things as well, such as the discovery that he could climb and balance on almost anything and that with that discovery came the knowledge that he could "buy" his mother's freedom by becoming a big top performer instead of a freak show attraction.
He also remembered going to church with her everyday and how they always sat in front because "the people may not recognize an angel when they see one, but the priest always will", as she put it. And she was right. No one ever laughed or pointed at them in church the way they did at the circus. It was his sanctuary. So it was strange, Kurt thought, that he'd stopped going to church entirely now. He didn't even know why.
But wasn't this all just a return to those early days just with a different audience. Now instead of paying customers they would be this Charles Xavier and Dr. Hank McCoy. And instead of seeing him as an amusing novelty, he had merely been elevated to "fascinating medical curiosity". It sounded like a better deal for them than it did for him to be certain. All he got out of it was a chance to be stared at by a different group of people in a different way.
The door opened and Charles rolled in, alone this time.
"So, Kurt, have you thought it over?" he asked.
Kurt looked up.
"Yes," he said. "I want to go home, back to Los Angeles."