David doesn't even bother to look up at the sound of knocking at the front door. His eyes are busy flicking over the page of a book. Not something he'd normally do, but it's for his AP English class, and he's going to need to read it several times to prepare for the test in the spring. His powers did a lot, they helped him get through class, but they didn't mean he retained anything.
David rises, because hey, if someone's at the door he at least wants to feel what the person there might know. A... test of his ability. That being said, he wasn't expecting what he found there. His dad standing in the door looking at a flier.
"What's up, Dad?"
His dad closes the door and as David moves across the room the man turns to him, holding up the paper.
A picture of David from breakfast two days ago. He's at the kitchen counter, finishing the breakfast of Eggs Benedict for his family. The recipe you'd gleaned from your father's head. Above it, printed in red on a black frame, 'Mutant Freak' Below it in white, 'Wanted: Dead Or Alive.'
Racist stuff, no doubt from one of the local, hate mongering groups. And the flier in his father's hand, holding it up for David to see.
"I don't understand."
David takes it from his father and sighs. He's got suspicions. Those women a the library, who had figured him out so fast. Here David'd thought he'd been doing so well at hiding it. It wasn't like he had a visible mutation. Something full subtle. Uncontrolled, yes, but subtle.
"I... that woman at the library... she must have figured it out," David says. And it's the wrong thing, he realizes it immediately as his father speaks again.
"It's true? My son is a... is a..."
His dad's voice is breaking, confused. Upset? And it hurts. Hurts deeply. Because this wasn't what you expected from them. Not from him. Not from your family. To think that David's own father would be a racist. Would react like this. How was that even possible? How could he, after everything their family often went through? After all the grief David's gotten in so many other things, it doesn't make sense. And yet David opens his mouth, voice sharp, as he reaches for the doorknob and opens the door.
"A what, Dad? A freak? A deviant?" The door opens wider and David's voice is getting louder, sharper, angrier. "The word you're looking for is mutant."
With that David steps through the door, slamming it loudly behind him. Because how can he not? And it hurts, in a way he can't put into words. Hurts so bad as he keeps walking down the sidewalk. Away from home. Who even knows if he can easily go back. Mom didn't react yet. There could still be support there. But he keeps walking, because he doesn't know if he can handle looking back right now.
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D - Outted | CW: Racism
16/3/20 19:53 (UTC)David rises, because hey, if someone's at the door he at least wants to feel what the person there might know. A... test of his ability. That being said, he wasn't expecting what he found there. His dad standing in the door looking at a flier.
"What's up, Dad?"
His dad closes the door and as David moves across the room the man turns to him, holding up the paper.
A picture of David from breakfast two days ago. He's at the kitchen counter, finishing the breakfast of Eggs Benedict for his family. The recipe you'd gleaned from your father's head. Above it, printed in red on a black frame, 'Mutant Freak' Below it in white, 'Wanted: Dead Or Alive.'
Racist stuff, no doubt from one of the local, hate mongering groups. And the flier in his father's hand, holding it up for David to see.
"I don't understand."
David takes it from his father and sighs. He's got suspicions. Those women a the library, who had figured him out so fast. Here David'd thought he'd been doing so well at hiding it. It wasn't like he had a visible mutation. Something full subtle. Uncontrolled, yes, but subtle.
"I... that woman at the library... she must have figured it out," David says. And it's the wrong thing, he realizes it immediately as his father speaks again.
"It's true? My son is a... is a..."
His dad's voice is breaking, confused. Upset? And it hurts. Hurts deeply. Because this wasn't what you expected from them. Not from him. Not from your family. To think that David's own father would be a racist. Would react like this. How was that even possible? How could he, after everything their family often went through? After all the grief David's gotten in so many other things, it doesn't make sense. And yet David opens his mouth, voice sharp, as he reaches for the doorknob and opens the door.
"A what, Dad? A freak? A deviant?" The door opens wider and David's voice is getting louder, sharper, angrier. "The word you're looking for is mutant."
With that David steps through the door, slamming it loudly behind him. Because how can he not? And it hurts, in a way he can't put into words. Hurts so bad as he keeps walking down the sidewalk. Away from home. Who even knows if he can easily go back. Mom didn't react yet. There could still be support there. But he keeps walking, because he doesn't know if he can handle looking back right now.