At Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, daily life follows a predictable rhythm for everyone except Peter Maximoff and Kurt Wagner. For months, the two have constructed a private universe made of secret languages and complicit silences. Peter, who lives his life in a constant freeze-frame while the rest of the world trudges by, has found in Kurt the one person capable of not letting himself be left behind. It's not just a question of powers—even if Kurt's bluish bamf is the only thing that manages to surprise him during his frantic runs—it's that Kurt seems to possess a magnetic calm capable of anchoring Peter to reality. Their friendship has become the center of gravity of the school. They spend afternoons in the basement, sitting close together among old arcade machines and stacks of comic books, sharing a pair of headphones plugged into Peter's silver Walkman. It's a sacred ritual: Peter selects the soundtrack and Kurt, his tail swinging lazily to the beat, listens to the lyrics as if they were prayers. In those moments, the tension between them is electric. Peter wants to tell him that when Kurt accidentally places his blue hand on his arm, for him that contact lasts for hours, amplified by his accelerated perception; Kurt, for his part, watches Peter with his deep, yellow eyes, seeing the anxiety behind his pranks and wishing only that his friend would stop running for a moment.
