Matt and Kyle, jogging and powers. Backdated.

[x-wildchild.livejournal.com]

Kyle and Matt go for a jog to run off Matt's twitches from after Yvette's party and Kyle's wiggins from the question about whether or not Wade is his biological father. Backdated to August 9th.



Heading downstairs to go for a run with Kyle, Matt wasn't sure how this was going to work. He really wanted that pixie fairy whatever it was from the night before. His hand twitched at his side unconsciously as he fidgeted wanting it. He was okay when he was distracted and his summer school had done that for a while, but not anymore. It was times like these when he realized, he didn't want to be like this, he didn't like the lows that came with the highs.

Kyle, by comparison was barefoot, and had switched his being lazy lounging around the suite jeans and t-shirt for a pair of workout shorts and tank top. He hit the bottom of the stairs with an audible thump, having taken the last two steps at a jump, and then shook himself. "Kay, so here's the deal. I can tell you the running paths are clear, cause I cleared 'em of debris this morning. I'll stick to like normal people speed, and you're gonna follow, and yell if you can't figure out where I am." He figured that Matt would probably be able to hear the steps, and if not, the yelling might do that funky sonar thing anyway.

Matt had his cane with him. He had a pair of gym shorts on and a t-shirt with his sneakers. He only had one pair of sneakers, but they worked. "Okay," he agreed, thinking for a moment. His glasses were still covering his face, but he didn't take them off. They generally stayed on. "I think that works," normally, when he ran for gym class or something like that he had to run with someone holding their wrist. This sounded a lot better. "Lead the way."

Kyle's pace was a light jog, barely, but then his normal running pace was well, very fast, and also on all fours sometimes, so taking it slow wasn't a problem. It kept him looking like a human being. His feet pat-patted on the grass, and then crunched on the gravel, and then finally made a flatter slapping sound against the packed dirt of the running paths. "So, junkie, huh? Cause of the powers overload?"

"Yeah," Matt kept pace easily for the moment, though he wasn't really all that used to running so much. "Couldn't control them so I got migraines. When nothing would stop them, I just...took pills. Mostly prescription pain relievers. Used to steal my dad's too. Then moved into weed and stuff, when I got caught. I'm not some meth head or anything," he wasn't THAT far gone! It wasn't hard to see where it could have gone though.

"Good, cause, dude, meth fucks up your teeth." Clearly, he'd sat through one too many episodes of COPS. "Right, keep the vicodin away from the blind kid, gotcha." Kyle made a grunting noise. "Seems unfair to label you a junkie if you're really in pain, but whatevs, eff the po-po, minus Gar. So, what you're more or less rehabbed, do they have like mutant narcanon or something?"

"Addiction's addiction though, regardless of how it comes about," Matt pointed out. That was something he had learned in rehab. He was still meeting weekly with a psychologist as well, mostly in terms of his drug use though. "Um....I dunno? I mean, they didn't figure out that I was even a mutant until rehab. They just thought the chemicals that messed up my eyes messed up my head. Plus, I hit it on concrete, so they thought that did it too," getting hit by a truck, even with only minor physical damage, eyes aside, hurt.

"Fail." Kyle said, very seriously. "You'd think they'd have tested you for the x-gene. But whatever, hospitals fail sometimes." He slowed his pace slightly, and then his footsteps changed - he was running backwards. "So, how's the sonar thing working out? Because dude, I gotta admit, it is kinda a cool power. I can't do that."

"With you talking like that?" Matt asked, breathing harder, but not too badly, "Fine. I can follow you loud and clear," he was getting better with it. Oftentimes he had to use his hands in conjunction with his sonar to understand what he was 'seeing' because while he might know what an apple looks like from before he lost his sight, he had learned to see in a whole new way. Now he was having to adjust that again. "It's pretty cool actually. I'm getting better at using it."

"Hey, you ask some of your teachers that had me a couple years ago, I never shut up." Kyle said, as he stopped jogging. "So, if your bat dolphin man power is giving you a weird thing, that'd be the goddamn tree branch in the middle of the path that, crap, I am going to have to come out here with a chainsaw or a Yvette later and take care of. You wanna head back, or you comfortable picking around it? I swear that wasn't here yesterday." It hadn't been, the downed branch's leaves were fresh and it still smelled like healthy wood rather than rotten or old wood.

"Move," Matt said, wanting to try something. He had no idea if he could do it, but it was a pretty big branch and what was the worst that could...okay, maybe that was a bad thought to have. Yelling as he ran, Matt jumped just before he got to the branch, flipping so his hands planted firmly on the branch and then using it as a springboard, flipping over it as his body twisted in mid air. Landing, he ended up on a knee, but that was okay. "Cool...."

Kyle stared for a few seconds, and then shook himself. "Okay, so you've been holding out on us." He finally said. "Gymnastics, right? You were one of those kids who just cartwheeled all over the damn place?" He was laughing, and clearly impressed.

"No one asked," Matt replied innocently. Truthfully, he hadn't been sure he could still do it too. "Yeah. Gymnastics. Apparently being blind is supposed to screw up my spatial awareness or something, but..." he shrugged breathing a little hard, but it was more from excitement than exertion, "I don't think it did. And yeah. My dad wouldn't let me do most sports or run around the neighborhood because he didn't want me to get in fights or in trouble like he did. So he signed me up for a lot of gymnastics to get my energy out. And it was free." That helped a lot too.

"I wonder if that batman thing you're doing is like, counteracting the spacial awareness? I mean, if you're doing it without thinking all the time or something." Kyle moved carefully to sit on the fallen log. "Dude, you were just kind of accidentally awesome and if it's like subconscious powers or something we are -so- gonna test it. Which means I get to throw beanbags at you!" He sounded -way- too happy about that. Way too happy.

"I was? You're what?" Matt had heard him and he knew Kyle knew that too, but..."Beanbags? You need to explain this."

"They're soft and won't hurt you, but big enough that if you're using that batman radar thing without like, thinking about it, you'll probably be able to..." Kyle paused to search for a word. "Sense... it. With your radar. Okay, you know that sounds silly, right?"

Oh. That made sense actually, "You can just use 'see," Matt assured him, "It is much less confusing and sounds fine. It's sort of just how I see, you know? Might not be with my eyes, but it works just as well."

Kyle nodded, and then sort of grunted in the affirmative. "Yeah, it's just, well, you know. I don't wanna be an ass. It's like I'm like dude, talk to me here at Artie and God only knows if he's gonna be a choad that day and decide he hates it or if he'll be cool. So, playing it safe with language."

Matt shrugged, "Artie has issues," he pointed out. Which didn't mean that he didn't, but they weren't the same ones, "I'm blind. It's not going to change Kyle, whether I want it to or not. I'm blind. And ignoring the giant white elephant in the room don't make it go away. And you sound stupid trying to stumble all around it and not step in elephant doo...so just get the damn thing out of the way and go on."

"Right, okay, so I'll say blind and sight and all that, and you stop saying doo, because seriously, dude, I am the last person ever who is gonna give you shit for saying shit." Kyle said, voice evident that he was grinning. "Seriously, doo? Doo? Really?" He was laughing, possibly more than he should have.

"Well..." Matt laughed, "Elephants don't shit, dude. They make doo. Because the entire idea of elephant shit makes me want to puke and I've never even smelled it! Can you imagine how big that'd be? Ugh. I do not want to clean that up!"

"Right, so no field trips to the zoo for Matt unless we break out the Vicks Vapo for the nose." Kyle said. He hopped down from the fallen tree parts and shook himself a bit. "Might be a good test run sometime to see if you're getting some focus though. If you can deal with a zoo with like a ton of people and sounds and smells and not go screaming for the ear plugs, you're probably good to go."

"I did grow up in New York City," Matt pointed out. Granted, he hadn't done so well with controlling his powers without drugs there, but he was at least used to loud noises and bad smells. "And...I can sort of handle it. For short periods," not that he went there a lot yet. He'd had to recently though to get a new cane from the blind place, Lighthouse. "After more than about an hour or two I want to go running for the nearest crack dealer and get a hit, but...I haven't done that."

"Yeah, but the point is to you know, live like a normal guy, or at least a normal blind guy who doesn't need to go think about smoking a rock or something." Kyle said. "Crack bad, dirty water hot dogs delicious." Of course, all hot dogs were delicious as far as Kyle was concerned.

"Well...yeah. And to recognize when I want to do something like that and know how to handle it so I don't," even when he got complete control of his powers, it was possible that he might still want a hit. It was an addiction after all. "And also, that I can say stuff like this and people don't freak out that I went and did something stupid. So you know, thanks for not freaking out. And now I want a hot dog..."

Kyle rolled both feet until his ankles popped a few times. "Hey, you finish running the mile and I'll spot you for two hot dogs." Because he was so going to eat at least half a dozen himself.