A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of plot in here. I like to call it a soliloquy, but that's not much of an excuse, since I just rephrased the same sentence over and over again. I also want to apologize to those of you who are devout fans of Kurttys, BBMak, or X-Men: Evolution in general. As I said in my summary, if you are reading this as a Kurtty, it'd be extremely depressing. I personally don't approve of Kurttys, although I think they're essential to work with since they are mentioned in the cartoon. Another thing - I suppose Kurt could have anyone in mind in this story, if it weren't for the last two words, but I was thinking on Kitty when I wrote this, so we'll say that it's a Kurtty by all technical means of the word. My word processor just underlined it in squiggly red to remind me that Kurtty isn't even a word.
I would also like to give credit for Pikachumaniac, although upon seeing the awful turnout of this, she'd probably want to be disassociated with the story. I owe her for pointing out to me the potentials of Kurt as a character, and also for telling me to download this song. Anyways, I don't think she's too happy with me because I completely forgot about a plot and because I didn't let her get Kitty whacked without a frying pan. Sorry, PM, that's just not my type.
So here goes my songfic, based on "Ghost of You and Me" by BBMak.
Disclaimer: The lyrics go "Ghost of You and Me" are the product of BBMak and their record company, while Kurt Wagner and Kitty Pryde are not mine but a part of X-Men Evolution, which belongs to KidsWB and some comic book publisher I'm not sure which. (I'm not into comics, only cartoons)
Ghost of You and Me
What am I supposed to do
With all these blues?
She listens to that song. Sometimes I'll stop by the door, and the voices haunt me, my fur stands up on end and shivers run down my spine. I'll hear those lyrics, those wistful tones of longing, the same pealing stabbing cries of pain I've kept locked inside all of my life. I wonder if she knows, and then I think to myself, of course she doesn't. It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't make a difference. Maybe it's better that she doesn't know. She'd be repulsed even more than she already is by my twisted appearance. It's ironic, that sometimes, when I least long for its presence, my dark, night blue fur seems to so perfectly reflect upon my mood. Darkness. Sorrow. I am Nightcrawler. Only in the night, I suppose, might I blend with the world. Only then does the silver moon, set against the velvet ocean sky, dare to caress my face with its diamond tears.
Haunting me everywhere
No matter what I do
We are all mutants. We all have to hide who we are, and what we can do. And who we are, and where we came from. If we came from anywhere at all. If I came from anywhere at all. Maybe I really am the child of Lucifer himself. Maybe that's why she cringes to touch me, even though she herself has uncanny abilities. She is one of the few people whom I can allow to touch me. I watch the inhabitants of the world brush by, and I must dodge them. Everywhere there are people, everywhere I go. In an instant, I can take myself to whatever place I desire. Except for the place where I most desire, a place where I can reach out and touch someone, and someone can touch my heart, and perhaps I can be loved.
Watching the candle flicker out
In the evening glow
When the lights of the mansion dim, late in the evening, I face the mirror, staring into those dark eyes, at the tan skin, at the five fingers. Once I reached out to touch that reflection. I still remember the soft fur, pressed flat against my skin, and when I pulled away, there was the imprint of a three fingered claw. There always is. Even with the hologram, the shadow of that inhuman, nightmarish hand always cloaks over my life. Every night, I reluctantly remove the buckle, then slide the watch off. And the monster's silver-yellow eyes stare back at me, the rest of him merged with the evening shadows. Even those eyes that I've known all my life seem afraid.
I can't let go
When will the night be over
It is always that nightmare. Every single night, before the night even begins, that nightmare that isn't really a nightmare but my entire life, who I am. I wander about, not transporting myself instantly, spontaneously, but move listless, my feet, each with their two wide-spaced toes rising and falling, the gentle padding of my feet as I melt in the shadows, and disappear. Almost disappear. Yet I can not disappear entirely, only at night can I melt away. Part of the shadows, part of the darkness. She won't walk at night, she won't walk with me. She can't stand it when the harsh sunlight that burns in my face, but as I fade from sight, she refuses to join me as I restlessly chase the dark shadows that slide about. I am invisible, a nobody in the gloom, yet I am still a monster, a blue demon in appearance. The nightmares haunt me in my sleep, so that I can't sleep, but even when I don't sleep the nightmares are there
I didn't mean to fall in love with you
And baby there's a name
For what you put me through
I don't know why I fell in love with her. She laughs at my jokes and she worries about me, and I suppose she's my friend, but she doesn't love me back. She'd be horrified to love me. I'm not the JV quarterback, I don't have broad shoulders and a wide five-fingered hand and I can't run on two legs. Instead, I have three fingers a hand, two toes on each foot, blue fur, and a tail. Horrible traits, and maybe I shouldn't love her. It's beautiful, the way her hair falls over her eyes, and the sound of her laughter, and she has that spunk and spirit that's almost irresistible. It's shameful, that I should dare to love her. I suppose she would think so, too. She knows she is pretty, as she knows that I'm repulsive. All this pain, all this suffering; I guess I have to blame it on myself, there's no one else, I shouldn't have fallen in love.
It isn't love, it's robbery
I'm sleeping with the ghost of you and me
Sometimes, I wonder if perhaps, things would be different if she wouldn't see me. That she would not just laugh at my jokes, but embrace them. I guess I'm always trying, always making fun of her, always teasing her, always prancing about, trying to lighten her days. And for all my efforts, for all my hopes, she just pushes me away. As if I was a hungry dog, begging on the street. And sometimes, lying in my bed, I watch all my dreams being crushed. Dreams of love, of happiness, of acceptance. All turned to dusty shards of glass, the broken remains of my life. Ghosts of what we could have been, she and I. Ghosts of being happy, of loving, of feeling human. And the ghosts are nothing, fragmented dreams, a smeared slate, the ghosts haunt me while I sleep, telling me what I know but have denied a thousand times, that she can never love me.
Seen a lot of broken hearts
Go sailing by
Maybe I should be glad that I'm feeling so pained. Maybe it's the first sign that I might actually be becoming human. Hearts break in this society, hundreds of people find that they are not loved by the ones they love. Perhaps, I hope, I am becoming normal, becoming one of those many who feel their heart wrenched and twisted in their chests. It is a common human emotion, perhaps the pain of lost love would be cradled by the hope of becoming a common member of society. Normal. Yet I know, deep inside, that this is another lost hope. The other people know, that someday they will be loved. There is someone out there to whom they can reveal their true selves to. For me, there is only her. Only she is allowed to know how horrible I truly am.
Phantom ships lost at sea
And one of them is mine
I'm so confused, as though tossed about on waves. Ghosts of hope of dreams and of lost love constantly plead to me, and I chase after them, I chase after myself, who I should be and who I really am. A ghost, a demon, disappearing in the night, I watch him, I watch myself. We cry with the same broken hearts, the same loss, the same horror, the same self- pity. Yet I envy him. He can be plunged below the waves, ending his suffering, while I, in my cowardice, can only watch it, and wait until I must relive another day, gazing after that torn ship as the miseries of his life flood into him and drag him down. Another day when I gaze into her eyes, when I watch
Raising my glass
I sing a toast to the midnight sky
I suppose that I should glad, that this isn't just between her and me, that I have other friends who understand me, with whom I feel somewhat welcome. Among them, they watch me, and I am the acrobat, the joyful one. I'm the one, who in the dismal gloom of a midnight mission, will prance around, cracking jokes and keeping spirits up. It's so incredibly cheerful, I wonder how long I can keep it up. I know that being a mutant, I have many talents, I suppose I have enough personality to win the respect of people like Scott and Jean at least, but someday, all that vivid prancing spirit might reach its climax. I don't know how long I can keep it up, being happy. I'm known as the easygoing one, the one who swings with the times, who takes things as they come, but I wonder how long I can last like that. I wonder if she knows that I'm not always so happy, that sometimes alone in my room I think of her and I cry.
I wonder why
The stars don't seem to guide me
When our adventures are all over, I guess I'm lost again. Alone in the darkness. After my jokes are used up, I'll be nothing. I guess they won't care anymore. The pain I feel, people would scorn. She would scorn. She only knows me as the ever happy one. It's only through my laughter that I can get her to embrace my mind. Yet the laughter comes forced sometimes, and it's then she loses interest. I don't know how to keep it up, the constant humour, when all around me, shadows are setting in, prancing, foreboding, disorienting shadows. Shadows of my life. Shadows of what would be a life, shadows of pain without life. Shadows of a life that must be without pain, shadows of pain that exists in life. All in one sense of darkness. Confusion, being lost.
I didn't mean to fall in love with you
And baby there's a name
For what you put me through
If only I hadn't come here, maybe things would make sense. Sometimes I ponder at those thoughts, at the hard life I once led, the constant mockery of the village children, the rumours that I was the devil's child, my foster parents shamefully hiding me. Yet nonetheless, then I could hope, that things could not be any worse and would have to improve eventually. I could hope that somewhere, someone would want me. Here, things are as perfect as they ever will be. I have friends, but they don't understand me. There is someone I love, but she rejects my affections. This neverending torment, this sense of always being caught halfway in between, it's a life that I can hardly stand to live. Yet I know that things will never improve. She will always be there, accepting my presence, but not what I feel in my heart. I will die amidst those kind but cold emotions, lying weakly and extending a forever-striving hand toward the gates of paradise.
It isn't love, it's robbery
I'm sleeping with the ghost of you and me
Why doesn't she accept me? Why does she always push me away, why does she never wish to look into my eyes and see who I am, what I feel? I'm always trying to win her over, I know I've made an effort to be there for her, but she just accepts them, and moves on. I guess I'm always trying to give to her what she doesn't want, she doesn't want my affections, my loyalty, maybe, but I just feel as though she is always taking from me, using me for her own good, and I wonder, does she care? I don't want to think ill of her, she's a great person, I love her, but sometimes, she's so unresponsive, that I'm haunted by dreams whenever I try to sleep, to forget.
The ghost of you and me
When will it set me free
I always wonder, what will it take to make her love me. It haunts me, it distracts me, what I think we should be, and it is a part of my mind that I can't let go of. These memories, ghosts of what we could have been, ghosts of what I wish we were, sometimes I wish I can just let go of them, that they would just leave me in peace. But then, I can't let go of them, just like I can never escape this place, this world, that I can never escape her gaze. Yet though I wish to appear favorable in her eyes, when they settle on me, I feel caught, caught in a trap that I can't break free of, that I say I want to escape but in reality I don't.
I hear the voices call
Following footsteps down the hall
She'll say my name, and I'll run to it, eager, young, innocent, happy. Like a young boy, going to his first love. I guess she is my first love, and I'm always chasing after her, after something that I can't have. Just like even in this house, I'm always trying to be like everyone else, even when everyone is just like me, I know that I'll never be up to their level, that I'll always be the young, spontaneous one, tagging after everyone. I know I'm always going to be the one following everyone else. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have to be so eager to follow, so eager to please. So eager to run out to her whenever I think she needs me, even though she'll never really need me, even though she never really cares.
Trying to save what's left
Of my heart and soul
Maybe I don't have to love her, maybe I don't really love her. Maybe I'm just hoping that if I hang onto something, if I show some overly human passion, then I'll stop being a freak. That I'll be a real person, with an actual soul, an actual window into the world. That maybe, for once, I'll be happy, that I'll know I have a place in this world, in someone's heart, and there is someone out there who can love me, despite the three-fingered hands and the fur on my face and the long, swinging tail. It's the hope, that maybe I'm human, that maybe someone out there understands me, knows that I am not a devil, but a friend. That perhaps, if I can love, then perhaps, I'm human.
Watching the candle flicker out
In the evening glow
My very name is symbolic of night, of darkness. And everything is coming to an end. The hope, perhaps, that here, I could make someone love me, I guess that doesn't really matter anymore. She's the first one I loved, and all those dreams are coming to an end, are turning to dust. The happiness, the hope, that perhaps I might embark on a normal relationship with someone who understands, that doesn't seem possible anymore. No one understands. I think I'm all alone, fading off into the night, watching everything I hold dear drift away from me. Though, it is still in some ways not much farther away than it's always been. I think I'm finally starting to realize that, as the sun sets and the lights, one by one, are turned off, and silence resounds.
I can't let go
When will the night be over
I think I might come to terms with this all, someday, somewhere, I'll be happier. But right now, the shadows cast their darkness across my face, and I feel the cold fingers of the night slipping down my back, and I shiver. I shiver without warmth, I shiver in pain and loneliness and heartache. And I hope and pray that perhaps, when the darkness lifts, the sun will shine once more and perhaps, then, I will be happy. Maybe then, I will know what my purpose is, here, where I belong. Maybe then, I will learn, that maybe love doesn't have to mean happiness. Maybe then, the shadows will stop haunting me. Always maybe. Always uncertainty in the night sky.
I didn't mean to fall in love with you
And baby there's a name
For what you put me through
Does she see me the way I see her? No, to her, when she does see me, all I am is a demon with a long swishing tail and two toes and blue fur. I don't know why I loved her, why I still love her, when everything she does shows she doesn't really love me back. All these dreams, all these disappointed hopes, I wonder what torture she has put me through, and moreover, what torture I've put myself through. I've got to forget her, I've got to move on, forget what she meant to me. I love her, I love her with a love that she can never return. I watch her, and the ghosts come back to me. The ghost of the love I once had for her. For Kitty Pryde.
It isn't love, it's robbery
I'm sleeping with the ghost of you and me
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THE END
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A/N: I'm sorry for those of you who are devoted fans of Kurttys, BBMak, or Kurt. I honestly tried my best with this; it's my first time writing a songfic, go easy on me. Also, I really have to apologize any HTML tags that appear, I had trouble formatting this thing. Read and review please, and keep the flames low.