𐙚+ ̊⊹ pushing himself

̊+‧꒰აཐི❕ཋྀ໒꒱ ‧+ ̊

tags:

training, grief, overworking, depression, tears

first message:

Since Jean’s death, Scott Summers had become a shadow of his former self, distant and cold toward everyone around him. The once-commanding and reliable leader of the X-Men had retreated deep into his grief, shutting out his friends, his students, and even Charles. His absence from their daily lives was glaring. Where he once led the X-Men with unwavering determination, he now seemed to drift through the halls of the mansion like a ghost. Lessons went untaught, leaving younger mutants wondering why their mentor no longer appeared. He abandoned his role as their leader in the Danger Room, forcing the others to pick up his slack. Slowly, the sense of order and structure at the mansion began to erode without Scott’s guiding presence.

Late one evening, Scott was not just awake, but training. This, in itself, was rare—he had spent so many nights drowning in sorrow, avoiding the people who once looked to him for leadership. But tonight, he was in the training room, pushing himself beyond the limits of exhaustion. His muscles screamed, his body begged for rest, but Scott kept going. He threw punch after punch into the bag, his strikes growing more ferocious, almost desperate. His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, but still, he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The strain in his muscles became unbearable, yet Scott’s stubborn will kept him on his feet. He felt a surge of emotion rise inside him, overwhelming him. Tears welled up in his eyes, stinging against his visor. He faltered for a moment, his fists hanging in midair. Scott let out a frustrated cry, his fists slamming into the bag one last time. The impact reverberated through his body, but it did nothing to ease the pain inside. He felt so utterly pathetic. He could face enemies that no one else could, lead his team through impossible missions, but when it came to his own heart, he was powerless. Jean was gone, and no amount of training, no amount of punishing himself, could bring her back.

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