Don't worry, I haven't forgotten Twelve Days! But there are all kinds of prompts up on Livejournal for the holidays—sort of an advent calendar thing—and I had to post a couple of one-shots for Angst Day.
It was Angst Day. I mean come on. All I ever write for this fandom is angst! I'm not going to pass that up.
So anyway, this was one of the things I posted. It started as just a one-shot called Sick of it, and that's the first chapter. It's been edited to be in present tense because KarenBJones and I started collaborating down in the comments over on Livejournal. She started it by posting a little continuation, and then I continued it, and then she continued that, and…well, one thing led to another and the whole thing took off. There was zero planning involved.
Now, if you're anything like me, you see an author with an unfinished multichapter and a bunch of new stuff, and you tend to be really skeptical about whether that multichapter is ever going to get finished. This is my promise to you: I'm still working hard on Twelve Days. Updates take a while because I am trying not to aggravate my carpal tunnels, but I have not and will not abandon it.
This is just for fun. ^^
Chapter 1: Sick of it
Oh, he knows it's creepy. He just doesn't care. He's finding it sort of difficult to give much of a crap about anything other than Minion, these days—ever since Metro Man warned him away from Roxanne in the romantic, social sense. And just when he'd been starting to wonder if maybe, maybe it would be possible someday, too!
Really, screw all of it. He is resolved: no more kidnapping Roxanne. He's getting too into her if even Metro Man can tell. If he can, then the public definitely could, and Megamind isn't supposed to have a heart. He isn't allowed to feel those kinds of things. Not for a human, not for anyone. He's ruthless, he's cruel, he runs around the law and enjoys doing it. He certainly doesn't have feelings.
But there he is crouched in the shadows on Roxanne's balcony, watching her turn the pages of some really boring-looking file and hoping she wouldn't look up and see him peering through the glass. Watching her frown at the pages and make notes. Watching her rub her lips together really hard, the way she only does when she's very, very annoyed at something.
At least he isn't the only one having a crappy week. But it isn't as though he cares about that—
No, you know what? he thinks suddenly. I do. I do care about that, as a matter of fact; that's all I've ever cared about. My shitty excuse for an existence.
He never wanted this, originally; he'd wanted physics and mechanical engineering. And he'd found that in villainy. But he hadn't found much of anything even remotely resembling the life he would have bothered wanting if he'd ever thought he had a choice. If he'd had a choice, he would have been normal, with hair and a human skin color. He isn't even particularly picky about which skin color; he just doesn't want to be blue anymore. If he weren't blue—well, and if he weren't evil, too, there's that to consider as well—he could have gone up to Roxanne's apartment in the elevator like a normal person, knocked on the door like a normal person, and maybe she'd let him in like a normal person and they could have had a normal conversation about normal things.
Things he wants to talk about. Such as, maybe, as a non-specific example, how he feels about her. If he were normal, he'd have been allowed to have feelings for her. And if he were normal, maybe—just maybe—she'd listen and be willing to give him a try. And then once that was out in the open, they could sit and talk about normal things like what they hoped would happen, things they thought or dreamed. Normal people are allowed to hope things and dream things.
But of course that's a stupid thing to wish for. Megamind isn't normal and never will be, so hoping is pointless and dreaming is stupid and feeling only ever gets him hurt. All he's allowed to do is wait outside in the dark and watch. And try not to think about how things might be different.
So that's what he does until he can't feel his feet anymore, and then he leaves. He knows he'll be back, though. Of course he'll come back; he always comes back. Always, no matter how hard he tries to stay away, he always comes back to Roxanne.
He is sick of it. Sick to death of the whole stupid thing; all he wants was to be normal. That's all. But evidently it's just too much to ask; it's all he'd ever wanted and it's all he'll never get.