Feedback: Would be a wonderful thing ;)
Disclaimer: The characters and universe of X-Men are the property of 20th Century Fox and the Marvel Entertainment Group. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Jo - for rambling about the movie with me, Sarah - for telling me I made her cry, even though she isn't an X-Men fan. Thank you both ;)
Your face was the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing I saw before sleep. Your eyes twinkling back at me, your lips curved in a smile that was just for me.
Now the bed is empty and I hardly sleep anymore.
I haven't spoken since the jet landed that day, not to anyone. The professor tried to speak to me, in my head, but I shut him out. The mental walls he'd taught us to build came up without a conscious thought.
No, that's not true. I knew he was trying to talk to me. I just didn't want to hear it. I wanted to be alone.
Alone the way you'd left me.
Some habits are tough to kill - I still eat, but the food doesn't have any taste. Clothes appear on my bed, and I change into them. I take a shower each day because Ororo gently steers me into the bathroom and tells me to.
Ororo... I think it must've been Ororo who packed away your things. Or maybe Rogue. Probably both of them. I can imagine them crying as they fold your delicate dresses and place them in brown boxes. I can imagine them crying, and I don't want to.
They miss you, but it was me you left behind. I gave you everything and you took it with you when you left.
Now, I'm just waiting.
The children tiptoe around me, hushed whispers, sympathetic faces. But I don't want to see them. I don't want to hear them. So I don't.
Bobby Drake has been the only one of them brave enough to try to talk to me. I hope he understands why I had to walk away from him.
Ororo and Kurt have tried to persuade me to join them for a trip into town. They say I need to get out, spend some time away from the mansion. From our room. But I can't stand to be around them right now.
It hurts too much.
They take my silence as the refusal it is, and walk away with saddened expressions. After a few days, they've finally stopped trying altogether.
It's almost funny that the only one I can stand to be around right now is the one man I should hate. After all, he tried to take you away from me.
But I can't hate him. I can't.
Because he lost you too.
That first night, when I wandered out to the garden, I knew he was there. Standing quietly at the edge of the trees, smoking his cigar and watching me.
But he didn't try to talk to me, and I appreciated that.
Since then, he's followed me everywhere. I think he feels obligated to look after me now that... now that you're gone.
On the third night, when I looked up from where I sat and stared at him, he didn't back away. He didn't make excuses. He just came out of the trees and took a seat by my side.
Still didn't say a word. Just sat puffing on his cigar and staring out at the darkness.
Tomorrow night, I'll ask him what he sees.
Tonight, I'll just look up at the stars and wish they'd let me follow you.
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