Title: Not Tonight
Author: Ana
Challenge: The Album Challenge
Challenger: morlockiness
Rating: PG
Timeline: Between X2 and X3 or in the earliness of X3.
Summary: Pyro, while at the Brotherhood, has another sleepless night.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pyro or Kitty or Magneto or the Brotherhood. I don't own X-Men. I don't own "Ocean Avenue" by Yellowcard either.
Author's Note: This is for the Album Challenge, written to "Ocean Avenue" by Yellowcard, the title track of the album.
WARNINGS: There might be one foul word, but I really don't think so.

Not Tonight

Her words haunt me. I don't think I'd be able to forget them even if I tried. So I guess I just won't try to. There's nothing I could do to make it better anyway… nothing short of going back to her and saying I'm sorry. There are times that I want to do just that, but then I remember the look in her eyes whenever I told her that I couldn't see her anymore. Only half the time that I remember that look do I regret it.

Honestly, I think about her too much. I think about her so much that she enters my dreams all the time. I guess it's a bit of relief just to see her face again, but that doesn't make it any easier. I usually feel better after a dream. That's gone by the time I finish my breakfast—if I actually eat breakfast that day. Usually I recognize it as a dream, but, sometimes, I actually think that she's there with me until I wake up. Rarely—extremely rarely—I wake up and think she's still there. I don't know about anybody else, but hallucinations are not my cup of tea… especially since I don't like tea one bit.

Even if I don't dream, though, I think about her every night. That's probably just because, at the mansion, that was when we would meet. We never told anyone about our relationship—of course, it wasn't much a relationship—so we would sneak out onto the grounds at night and spend time together, just allowing everyone and everything else to wash away and leave us behind, just the two of us there. It always felt so right.

So why did I ruin what we had? God, I ask myself that all the time, but I'm not sure if I'll ever have the answer to it. Maybe I was too afraid that I was growing too attached… or that she was growing too attached to me. Or maybe I thought that she was too good for me. It doesn't really matter anymore, though, because things can never go back to the way they were.

Nevertheless, she never seems to leave me; she always haunts me, no matter what I do to try to stop it—especially that look in her eyes. It was like she was determined to stop me from leaving her and yet resigned to our fate. She looked angry at the same time that she looked relieved. God, it doesn't make any sense.

And then she just started to cry, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. As she cried, she spoke, begging me not to go, and I felt bad—guilty—because of it. But it wasn't enough to stop me from saying goodbye to her. "No," she said hysterically, "no, not tonight! Not here, not now! John, please, no!" and she almost made me cry with her, but I knew that would just make it worse.

All I could possibly think to do at the time was to take her in my arms and hug her. For a long time, she clung to me and sobbed, holding onto me like, if she let me go, I would just disappear—ironically, that's exactly what happened when she did let me go. We just stood there, long after she had stopped crying, to pretend that we would be together for just one more night.

When she finally calmed down and was able to rationalize everything that had happened, she pushed away from me and started to cry again—but these tears were of frustration and not sorrow. She slapped me hard across the face then—and I certainly don't blame her—and stalked off. I never spoke to her again before I left with Magneto.

Most of the time, when I wake up, I think about how, if I could just get one more chance, I'd go back there to say how sorry I am and that I don't know why I left. But then I laugh bitterly, realizing that I'm too proud for that and that, even if I wasn't, she probably wouldn't take me back. How could I possibly ask her to try again when I was the one that gave up before?

And here I am, with thoughts of her still going through my head, and I just can't fall asleep. It might be because the ground is really uncomfortable, but it's probably because I can't stop thinking about her tonight. But I don't want to think about her tonight—not tonight. I need to get her out of my head. I can't think about her anymore. I've given up most of my nights to memories of her and I'm tired of being so damn tired but unable to sleep. I can't think about her tonight. Not tonight. And no other night, either.