Opposites Attract | five x male!oc

ORIGINS

Rowan Huxley

Rowan Huxley was passed around from family to family, every single one giving him up after finding out about his 'gift'. It didn't feel like a gift. It had ruined his life. Some would title him 'Devil's child' or a 'prodigy' - although, whenever his powers got out of control, they were quick to correct themselves and send him off to the next unfortunate family. It's a wonder that Reginald Hargreeves never came across him while travelling the world for the other 'miracles' that were born as if they were collector's items - not like he treated them as such. Rowan's final foster family was exceptionally the worst of them all.

For the first year, they acted kind and caring towards him, which might have been genuine before they discovered his powers; after that, they decided to take the so-called 'prodigy' into their own hands. They played nice, earned both Rowan and the social workers' trust, and after a while, adopted him. Rowan finally thought he was free from the abuse and trauma he had endured for his whole life, but after they moved to New York in the summer of 2001, he realised he was wrong to trust them. To trust any of them. Day after day, they'd force him to work, threatening his life if he didn't.
"We keep a roof over your head, it's the least you could do to return the favour." his 'father' would say, excusing his actions toward the boy. Over time Rowan could feel his power bubbling inside him, just waiting for him to spiral out of control like he always had, yet, he became numb; he didn't care anymore, he knew there wasn't an end to this. The universe cursed him with this and it was the price he had to pay.

"Boy!" his 'father' yelled, leaning back on his armchair as he watched the news, Rowan rushing downstairs to see what he needs.
"Yes, sir?" he bowed his head.
"Get me another beer, would you?"
"Of course." Rowan strode to the kitchen, scouring the fridge for a can, praying they hadn't run out, knowing his father would take it out on him. 'One left.' he thought, sighing in relief as he grabbed the can gratefully and poured a glass. As he ambled back into the living room, he stumbled over a broom that must have fallen on his way through, and he dropped the beer, all over the soft, grey carpet, the glass shattering, his father snapping his head toward the sound. Rowan's blood ran cold as he stared at the shards, feeling his father's burning gaze.
"You little shit! You're cleaning that up later! Go grab me another." he sighed, becoming aggravated with the boy before his laziness got the better of him. Rowan's breath hitched.
"W- Uh, we don't have anymore." he stuttered as his hands trembled. His father fell silent for a moment, before arising from his seat and leaving the room. Rowan felt tears stream down his face as he was frozen in place, awaiting what his father would do to him. After a minute or two, he heard his father's loud footsteps hurry down the stairs, and as he turned back to Rowan, shuddering and sobbing under his gaze, all he said was:
"Men don't cry. Men own up to what they've done and accept the consequences of their actions." before hustling toward the boy, a belt in hand and rising above his head, ready to strike. When the first smack erupted throughout the house, his father became ravenous for more, and before long, Rowan was curled up on the floor, screaming in agony. Rowan lost count of how many times he hit him, and the power within him bubbled once more and he couldn't keep it under control.

The atmosphere around him abruptly changed, a luminous, green light enclosing him and destroying anything in its path. He didn't know what he was doing or what would happen, he just wanted to leave, he didn't want to deal with any of this anymore.
When he opened his eyes, he was alone. Everything around him was gone, and the ground beneath him was coated in debris; scraps of vehicles and crumbling buildings were engulfed in flames. Rowan desperately sprinted in search of any form of life, but alas, he found none. He fell to his knees, before looking beside him: a newspaper. He crawled over to it, grasping it in anguish as he read the date: April 1st 2019.

"What the fuck have I done this time?" he asked himself in the world of silence he was now trapped in.

Rowan never wanted to be extraordinary; it was a curse and it ruined his life.