A/n: Okay, my first attempt at an X-Men fiction. And though I've written fictions before, both original and fan fiction, this one I'm kinda weary about posting. So, please, take it easy with the flames. This is kind of set after X-III, after the scene with Rouge and Bobby. It's implied Rogan... so, enjoy! Oh, and I'm completely broke, so please don't sue. I'm merely borrowing them.
This is kind of set after X-III, after the scene with Rouge and Bobby. It's implied Rogan... so, enjoy!
Oh, and I'm completely broke, so please don't sue. I'm merely borrowing them.
Who would have thought that this moment, the moment she'd been dreaming about forever, would be so utterly daunting? She's had it planned out for years in her head. Everything would be perfect, down to the last rose petal on the ground. All those wishes she made on the falling stars would come true, just for her. All the pain and humiliation she's gone through in her life would disappear in the soft light of pure white candles.
In her mind she'd be wearing a swirling, ankle length gown, the indigo color nearly blending in with the dancing shadows. Her dark hair would be free-falling down her back in supple waves, accentuating her porcelain face. She'd be a shadow in the dark as she always has been, but for once, it would be to her advantage. For once the light of the shimmering moon and the flickering flames would be all the light she desired.
The fantasy has been being built since the first time she locked eyes with him. Each detail being carefully added as she gains information. The roses wouldn't be red, since red is the color of blood. They'd seen enough blood in their lives to want the color as a reminder. Instead there'd be compromise, the roses white and black. Their favorite colors together, another sign that only she could see.
The seduction of the night wouldn't be tainted by mere music. She'd never felt the need to block out Mother Nature's unique lullaby. She knew he'd feel the same. The sounds of life creating a backdrop for their own breathing would be all the music they'd ever need. Her fantasy near obsession, with both the planning and the man. So she'd never understood why, with all the attention she gave, the full scene never came into focus.
She never fully understood, not until now. The sweet setting of seduction would never compare to the moment she was standing in. Despite the raging winds whipping her matted hair around her face, she couldn't find it inside to even think about trading this for anything. The fantasy was made up of superficial things and clichéd words. Things that neither of them were.
For some, one look can convey thousands of words. One touch can make anyone a poet. Words that aren't even created can pass between two people in a single glance. And in the shadow of that, words seem meaningless. Useless. The words she wished she'd hear from him in this fantasy become unimportant. Because this here; him letting her look into his soul openly for the first time, is indescribable. And she wouldn't trade it for all the pretty words in the world.
She's never viewed herself as beautiful before, but standing here, her black shirt ragged and torn, she doesn't feel the need to hide. She doesn't feel the need to make herself into something she's not, or wish for that perfect gown from her dreams. While she'll still deny the complements, or argue about her flaws, right now she feels something she's never felt before. Looking at her reflection in his eyes, for once she feels beautiful.
She's always heard that nothing is ever as good as anticipated. She'd never believed it before. Not until she found out the hard way. More then once she's dreamed about what it would be like and all she's gotten in return is a bruised and battered heart. Still she can't help but hope that this time it'll be different. That this time reality would far surpass the fantasy. She holds her breath, her eyes fluttering closed, as he finally moves, reaching out his hand to rest lightly on her cheek.
She's never really been one to cry, always feeling the need to be strong. But as she brings her own hand up, the bare flesh chilled by the biting wind, to grasp his, she can't stop the tears that fall. She smiles, the fact that her silent prayer was answered warming her inside. She opens her eyes, her grin widening when her jade eyes lock onto his dark ones. For once reality surpassed fantasy.
His eyes say it all as he grins back at her. They both knew it would come to this. Maybe not the way it had, but the result was inevitable. There's no flickering candle light or goodnight kiss. She knows now why the fantasy was always blurry. She was wishing for some profession of undying love, or some grand gesture. But sometimes words and actions are both mute.
Sometimes it comes down to faith.
Sometimes all it comes down to is a simple touching of skin. There's no profession of love, but she's okay with that. It wouldn't be true to his nature. And there'll be no seductive scene when it's finally voiced. But that's okay for them; they'd rather live in reality anyway. A reality where there's bloodshed, tears, and death.
And, maybe someday, the hope of a goodnight kiss.