Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands, your elbow in the appropriate place
And we ignored our others' happy plans
For that delicate look upon your face
"It di'n' mean anything, cher."
"It never does, Remy."
Yet the pain is always just so, a deep cut slicing to her heart and making her think and say things she doesn't mean. The same cycle, over and over, repeating itself until they burn each other out or burn each other up. She'd known it would be difficult, just trying to make it work. She'd not know it would by painful when it fails. She'd never even thought to hold onto her safeguards, her shields around him. She'd let him in, hoping against hope that just maybe it'd work. She couldn't touch, but couldn't she love?
Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done
Certain needs must be satisfied, in haste and in secret, yet not so secretive that she doesn't smell the perfume at his neck, or see the lipstick on his jaw. She'd never be able to place lipstick on his skin; it wasn't a great enough barrier. Despite all the close-calls and almost-maybes of their time together, she didn't want to imprint his thoughts and memories. Not ever again; she didn't want to see the things he'd done behind her back, for what she already knew proved aching enough.
Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?
"Remy di'n' want ya to find out, Rogue."
She stays silent because that scream of rage is so close to the surface that she can feel it clenching her fists and tearing her eyes. She can handle the anger. She can't handle the sorrow and the self-pity. She was stronger than this, stronger than he knew. She turned her back to him and stared into the night's rain, empathizing with those large drops hitting the balcony, knowing that she could feel something in her breaking apart.
Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place
We use cushions to cover happy glands
In the mild issue of our disgrace
"Who was she, Remy?"
"Some girl, cher. Not'ing like ya. Doesn' even compare."
Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the light-hearted
In the boom that beats our drum
There are other men who sought her. Who wanted to use her and be used. Her mutation was a barrier between her and Gambit, yet it didn't have to be for her and others. Like him, she could have sought carnal pleasures in other places. She could have satisfied the emptiness inside her with ecstasy and orgasm. Yet...she hadn't. Love is a strong emotion, undeniable in its tenacity. It made iron men cry, and frail women lift cars above their heads, glory be its wild passion.
Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love
He wants to touch her, his hands just above the bare skin of her shoulders, the heat skimming down her skin. It's almost like he's touching her, seeking forgiveness for a weakness he knows not how to destroy. He tries, Lord knows, he tries so hard. In place of physical companionship, they have fiery fights and long silences. She can't truly blame him when he leaves at night, not when inside she believes it's her fault. If she'd been any other girl, in any other world, just maybe...
Do you come
Together ever with him?
Is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
No words are spoken in the silence of that room, as they stand locked in another battle of their own making. She's hurt, and he's sorry, and they'll repeat the tableau again before long. Her friends will share their looks, and his will share their smirks. In the battles they fight with their enemies, they'll all take out the restless aggression the entire situation forces upon them, until it's finally and forever resolved.
"Its okay, Remy. Ah forgive ya."
What about me?
What about me?
She has her own weakness as well.
Small one-shot I had in my head when I was listening to this song. It's "Accidental Babies" off of Damien Rice's new CD 9. Very good song, very slow and melodic. Oddly sensual and pleading at the same time. It just oddly matched many of the scenes these two have in the comics. She unable to touch, he unwillingly breaking her heart. He doesn't mean to, but like the story says, we all have weaknesses. His is women, her's is him.
I may love this couple, but damn they break my heart.