Disclaimer: not mine, never have been and never will be (oh, boy, if they
were!) I'm just borrowing them for writing practice. No point in suing as
I'm a student and barely have enough to live on.
NB: this is a sequel of sorts to my earlier story, "Forgive Me, Father," but you don't need to have read that one to make sense of this. And credit where credit's due: this features "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven," by W B Yeats. No copyright infringement is intended, and my apologies for any that might inadvertently occur. I just thought the poem matched the story.
__________________________________________
"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"
Kurt ceased reading abruptly as the words, printed in his native German, made themselves known to him, and he sprang backwards lightly from the Bible open on the table and began pacing his room, mind in turmoil, his tail twirling madly behind him and very nearly carving striking new patterns into anything that came within reach. But Kurt barely noticed.
He had been touched beyond measure when Professor Xavier had come to his room, carrying the heavy, leather-bound Bible printed in German. The only Bible Kurt had owned during his time with the circus had been a battered English paperback version that had previously belonged to the knife throwing conjuror who had been forced to retire after going through three assistants in as many months.
Kurt had treasured it, truly and deeply - it was God's word, and had often helped him through difficult times, of which there had been many. But he had never possessed one of his very own, and the one the Professor had ordered specially for him was so beautiful, printing and binding of the very highest quality, that it thrilled him beyond measure. He hadn't been able to stop stammering his thanks, sounding as though he had caught a severe chill.
The Professor had brushed aside his thanks, noting that he owed his own life to Kurt after the blue-skinned mutant had teleported him out of the collapsing copy of Cerebro constructed by General Stryker. Kurt's blue face had promptly blushed indigo, and the Professor had wisely left it at that.
Kurt had taken it straight to his room, eager to begin reading. He had started off looking through the Gospels, reading about the Resurrection, before something compelled him to turn to the Psalms. And there that sentence had been before him, as though written especially for him.
For him and his feelings about Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm.
Kurt smiled ruefully. She had captivated him ever since he had laid eyes on her whilst being dangled upside down by Dr. Grey's telekinesis. He had desired women before, from afar - but none so strongly and deeply as Storm. And he had never been so close beside such an exquisite woman before.
And he had never had such strong feelings for one in his heart before.
Love itself was a gift from God, and to ignore it would be to blight the soul the selfsame God had given him. Kurt had lain awake night after night, wondering if what he was feeling was the beginning of love. In a way, it was becoming like an addiction - he needed to catch a glimpse of Storm every so often, to reassure himself that she was there and not some fair dream of his. He wanted to be with her as much as possible, seeking her out every time he had a spare moment.
More often than not he did not speak to her, simply watching her from the shadows or from a high perch out in the grounds, eyes wistful and heart aching fiercely with a pain that was not altogether pain. But he had always held back, even when she had noticed him and come to speak to him, an event he both longed for and dreaded. He had been afraid.
Not of Storm - never of Storm, powerful though she was. But - she made him have strong feelings in his heart. The problem was he was having strong feelings in other places as well.
That was entirely natural at least. But - but in truth he had been afraid of Storm in some ways. Afraid that his new feelings for her would distract him from serving his God as he had always done - with his whole heart and soul.
But this passage from the Psalms lay open before him, a message as clear as the beautiful day glistening outside his window. He had nothing to fear from Storm, not lust, not distraction from his religion, not even a broken heart. He would always have his faith to help him.
And everything happened for a reason. If he were feeling love for Storm, then the true sin would be to deny it. She was a gift from God, like every other person on the planet, and it would be wrong not to love and appreciate her.
He ceased pacing, a happy smile on his face. Reverently, he ran his fingers over the Bible again, before closing it gently. Then suddenly his smile switched off and he began pacing again.
I know now I must appreciate her and my feelings, he thought wryly, but to do this properly I must show her how I care for her. And how am I doing this? I have no money, nothing to give her - and I stammer and blush every time she speaks to me! I cannot tell her!
Still, I must try, he mused - then glanced at the clock and realised in horror that he was late to take a small group of Xavier's quieter students for a lesson in German. There were advantages to being a teleporting blue mutant.
True, I have no money to buy something for her, Kurt thought as he focused on the classroom on the other side of the building, but perhaps I can find something else that will do.
And he vanished in a cloud of azure smoke.
__________________________________________
Storm had just finished her class on the history of the decline of the Roman Empire, and was watching the students file out slowly, their usual buoyancy somewhat lacking ever since the return from Alkali Lake. Her own expression was cheerless as she regarded them, which suddenly switched to the smallest of smiles as Logan strode past with Artie, the young mutant boy with the forked tongue following close behind him.
Storm's expression took on a wry cast. Ever since Logan had carried him to safety from the onslaught of water, Artie had been following him around like a second shadow, mimicking his every movement, and whilst Logan complained vastly about it on the rare occasions when the kid was not in earshot, Storm hadn't missed the way he slowed his walk down so Artie could keep up, nor Logan's "secret" lessons in how to throw a decent punch, or the morning she had glanced out of her window and seen Logan chasing him and half-a-dozen other delighted kids around, growling and pretending to be a monster for as long as he thought no-one was watching.
People were a mystery, and always would be, Storm thought. There was nothing simple about mankind - nothing simple at all.
And as if to confirm her thoughts, there was a sudden bamf and Kurt suddenly appeared on top of one of the desks.
He glanced down, embarrassed. "Oops - I was aiming for the floor. I am thinking the tables have been moved."
"It's no problem," Storm reassured him, as Kurt performed a lazy somersault and landed as neatly as a cat beside her, straightening and fixing his eyes on the floor like a schoolboy about to be chastised for misbehaviour. Storm regarded him curiously before continuing: "I am glad you are here, Kurt. I have not talked with you for a while."
"I am glad to be here also, Miss Munroe - Storm?" Kurt responded, looking suddenly confused. Storm smiled her sweetest smile for him - but instead of reassuring him it made him suddenly sit straight down on the floor.
"Are you all right?" Storm inquired, half puzzled and half anxious as she knelt beside him.
"I am quite well - I only came to bid you good day - and give you this." Kurt held out a pretty flower that Storm recognised as a lily from the grounds. "I am thinking it was very beautiful - so I thought of you."
"Kurt, that was -"Storm began, as she gently took it from him, their fingers brushing ever so slightly. Kurt froze.
"I am needing to be gone," he blurted out, and teleported away instantly, leaving behind only his customary cloud of blue smoke as a sign that he had ever been present. Sighing, but smiling at the same time, Storm got up off the floor, stroking the soft petals of the flower as she gazed into the distance, eyes seeing nothing in front of her, only what had been there a moment before.
______________________________________________
Storm did not see Kurt again for the rest of the day, and decided not to search for him in case she startled him away. Kurt in many ways reminded her of a wild bird or a young animal - you had to be extremely careful how you approached them or they would bolt, scared, and all your work in getting them accustomed to you would be dissipated in an instant.
So wisely, she left it a day before seeking him out, only for him to seek her out first.
"Good morning, Ororo," came a gentle voice from the doorway of the classroom, and she turned to find Kurt looking in at her, still a little hesitant, but not as nervy as he had been a couple of days ago.
"Good morning, Kurt," she replied, smiling at him. He smiled back, blue skin flushing slightly, and he began studying his feet again.
"How are your lessons going, Kurt?" Storm asked just to make conversation. The silence was becoming a hindrance to her idea of drawing Kurt out from behind his emotional walls and into the life of Xavier Mansion. "Are you enjoying being a teacher?"
"It is - hard, sometimes, but I am liking it very much," he confessed, looking right at her suddenly. "The students are not frightened of me like - like everyone else. They are very enthusiastic - especially Rogue."
Storm smiled at that: Rogue had been one of Kurt's strongest supporters ever since he had teleported to save her when she had fallen from the Blackbird, and had been the first to sign up for his German classes when the Professor had at last persuaded him that he had nothing to fear from the students. They had started him off with small groups composed of the quieter students to allow him time to adjust to his new role in life, and Kurt had taken to teaching surprisingly well.
"Logan was helping the children in the kitchens," Kurt volunteered suddenly. "They were making a chocolate cake. They wanted his help because the recipe book said four handfuls of chocolate and he has the largest hands."
Storm chuckled at this, and Kurt quite abruptly seemed to relax, leaning on her desk and smiling a little. "I stopped to help as well - they were making cookies with chocolate in them. They are nice, so I saved some for you."
He held out a napkin with three or four roughly circular cookies in them. Storm reached out for them, and their fingers brushed once again, only this time Kurt did not pull away from her. "They look delicious," Storm told him, and he smiled proudly - he had hardly ever cooked from scratch before.
Storm bit into one, and was pleasantly surprised - they really were tasty. "Mmm, wonderful. And did you enjoy the food fight?" she enquired. Kurt looked alarmed suddenly.
"How did you know?" he asked golden eyes wide. Storm reached over and simply plucked a sizeable chunk of cookie dough out of his hair. Kurt looked extremely sheepish.
"It was Logan -"he began, then ceased as he realised how ridiculous it would sound. "Well, I must go and tidy up. Goodbye, Ororo."
And before Storm had time to say anything else, he was gone.
Over the next week or so, Kurt was liable to seek Storm out and give her little presents he had found or made himself - flowers, a necklace made out of woven thread that Kitty and Rogue had shown him how to make, a pretty shell he had discovered in the garden, another batch of cookies and a book he had found in the library and thought she might like.
Simple things, simple gifts given sweetly and hesitantly maybe, but nevertheless Storm was truly touched - Kurt was so sweet and thoughtful it was impossible not to be. She guessed - or maybe simply hoped - that this was Kurt's way of expressing his feelings. What was harder to determine was whether or not this was Kurt's thank you for her support of him during the whole business with Stryker or whether or not it was -
Kurt had the loveliest long eyelashes.
Oh, for heaven's sake, girl! Ororo told herself one afternoon when she at last had some time to herself. You're not a giggling schoolgirl - you are a grown woman and Kurt is a grown man. Do something about it!
On the other hand, she had never encountered a man who was such an innocent when it came to women before. He was unfailingly chivalrous and gentlemanly, but he blushed, he stammered, he fidgeted and had a tendency to teleport away every time he became overwhelmed. If Storm were to confront him directly, he would probably vanish in terror.
So I must try something else, Storm mused, face and eyes thoughtful. Well, they say simple works best.
_______________________________
She found Kurt sitting on a bench out in the grounds, holding something in his hands and studying it intently. As softly as she could, she moved to stand beside him, careful not to startle him.
"May I sit with you?" she asked gently, and was relieved to see that when he looked up, there was surprise in his face, but no fear.
"Of course you may," he responded, and Storm seated herself next to him, as a quiet little breeze played amongst the leaves above their heads and set them rustling. For a moment they just sat together, enjoying the lovely weather as the afternoon slowly turned to evening and the sky darkened. Kurt seldom came outside before late afternoon, and Storm concluded he felt more comfortable in the shadows.
"I came to find you for a reason," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve, and Kurt looked at her sharply. "I wanted to say thank you for all the gifts you have given me recently - they were all very thoughtful, and I loved them all."
"Say nothing more, Ororo," Kurt remarked, though he looked extremely gratified. "I like to give you things. It gives me a warm feeling inside."
"But I feel guilty," Storm blurted out, then cursed herself mentally as Kurt's happy expression switched off as though someone had flicked a switch. "Oh, it's not your fault Kurt, I am very grateful for your gifts. But it's just I haven't given you anything in return."
"They are only little things - simple things," Kurt replied, somewhat reassured. "I don't need anything in return. I just wanted to - well, show you that I think of you very highly. You are most clever and kind - and -"
Storm could feel herself blushing, and found her heart was beating more rapidly than it had done ever since Alkali Lake. What on earth was Kurt doing to her? He had her thoroughly entranced and they hardly knew each other!
Kurt had glanced down at the object in his hands again, and Storm could see now it was a piece of paper covered in Kurt's pointed German handwriting. "I am thinking that this poem I found in the library will help show what I am feeling. It very beautiful and a little bit sad as well."
He handed her the paper, and Storm looked at it to find "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" written out neatly upon it. Eyes wide, she read:
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.
"I have very little to give," Kurt remarked into the silence that followed. "I am not a rich man - everything I have you and the Professor have given me. But I wanted to say thank you somehow, and this was the only way I could think of."
Storm folded the poem, and laid it on the bench next to her before reaching out and taking one of Kurt's hands in hers. He did not flinch or pull away, but sat watching her face in the growing dusk, cheeks slightly flushed, a little apprehensive, but not frightened. Never frightened.
Storm leaned in close to whisper to him: "Kurt, there is a saying, a saying I believe is true: that the best things in life are free."
And she gently placed her free hand on his neck and pulled him towards her slowly. Kurt, spellbound, allowed himself to be drawn, closer, closer, until finally their lips met. It was a sweet kiss, a simple kiss, but one full of feeling. Storm could feel Kurt trembling slightly, and felt apprehensive for a moment, but then she felt his hand stroking her hair, and knew that everything was perfect.
Silently, they pulled gently apart, Kurt's eyes almost glowing in the dimming light, but with a light in them that hadn't been there before. Storm suddenly felt his arm around her shoulders, and smiling, she leaned against him, her hand sliding down from his neck to rest on his shoulder.
They held each other for a long time, as dusk slowly turned to night and the stars came out one by one to peer at them curiously.
Yes, sometimes simple works best, Kurt thought as he gazed at Storm and smiled.
NB: this is a sequel of sorts to my earlier story, "Forgive Me, Father," but you don't need to have read that one to make sense of this. And credit where credit's due: this features "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven," by W B Yeats. No copyright infringement is intended, and my apologies for any that might inadvertently occur. I just thought the poem matched the story.
__________________________________________
"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"
Kurt ceased reading abruptly as the words, printed in his native German, made themselves known to him, and he sprang backwards lightly from the Bible open on the table and began pacing his room, mind in turmoil, his tail twirling madly behind him and very nearly carving striking new patterns into anything that came within reach. But Kurt barely noticed.
He had been touched beyond measure when Professor Xavier had come to his room, carrying the heavy, leather-bound Bible printed in German. The only Bible Kurt had owned during his time with the circus had been a battered English paperback version that had previously belonged to the knife throwing conjuror who had been forced to retire after going through three assistants in as many months.
Kurt had treasured it, truly and deeply - it was God's word, and had often helped him through difficult times, of which there had been many. But he had never possessed one of his very own, and the one the Professor had ordered specially for him was so beautiful, printing and binding of the very highest quality, that it thrilled him beyond measure. He hadn't been able to stop stammering his thanks, sounding as though he had caught a severe chill.
The Professor had brushed aside his thanks, noting that he owed his own life to Kurt after the blue-skinned mutant had teleported him out of the collapsing copy of Cerebro constructed by General Stryker. Kurt's blue face had promptly blushed indigo, and the Professor had wisely left it at that.
Kurt had taken it straight to his room, eager to begin reading. He had started off looking through the Gospels, reading about the Resurrection, before something compelled him to turn to the Psalms. And there that sentence had been before him, as though written especially for him.
For him and his feelings about Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm.
Kurt smiled ruefully. She had captivated him ever since he had laid eyes on her whilst being dangled upside down by Dr. Grey's telekinesis. He had desired women before, from afar - but none so strongly and deeply as Storm. And he had never been so close beside such an exquisite woman before.
And he had never had such strong feelings for one in his heart before.
Love itself was a gift from God, and to ignore it would be to blight the soul the selfsame God had given him. Kurt had lain awake night after night, wondering if what he was feeling was the beginning of love. In a way, it was becoming like an addiction - he needed to catch a glimpse of Storm every so often, to reassure himself that she was there and not some fair dream of his. He wanted to be with her as much as possible, seeking her out every time he had a spare moment.
More often than not he did not speak to her, simply watching her from the shadows or from a high perch out in the grounds, eyes wistful and heart aching fiercely with a pain that was not altogether pain. But he had always held back, even when she had noticed him and come to speak to him, an event he both longed for and dreaded. He had been afraid.
Not of Storm - never of Storm, powerful though she was. But - she made him have strong feelings in his heart. The problem was he was having strong feelings in other places as well.
That was entirely natural at least. But - but in truth he had been afraid of Storm in some ways. Afraid that his new feelings for her would distract him from serving his God as he had always done - with his whole heart and soul.
But this passage from the Psalms lay open before him, a message as clear as the beautiful day glistening outside his window. He had nothing to fear from Storm, not lust, not distraction from his religion, not even a broken heart. He would always have his faith to help him.
And everything happened for a reason. If he were feeling love for Storm, then the true sin would be to deny it. She was a gift from God, like every other person on the planet, and it would be wrong not to love and appreciate her.
He ceased pacing, a happy smile on his face. Reverently, he ran his fingers over the Bible again, before closing it gently. Then suddenly his smile switched off and he began pacing again.
I know now I must appreciate her and my feelings, he thought wryly, but to do this properly I must show her how I care for her. And how am I doing this? I have no money, nothing to give her - and I stammer and blush every time she speaks to me! I cannot tell her!
Still, I must try, he mused - then glanced at the clock and realised in horror that he was late to take a small group of Xavier's quieter students for a lesson in German. There were advantages to being a teleporting blue mutant.
True, I have no money to buy something for her, Kurt thought as he focused on the classroom on the other side of the building, but perhaps I can find something else that will do.
And he vanished in a cloud of azure smoke.
__________________________________________
Storm had just finished her class on the history of the decline of the Roman Empire, and was watching the students file out slowly, their usual buoyancy somewhat lacking ever since the return from Alkali Lake. Her own expression was cheerless as she regarded them, which suddenly switched to the smallest of smiles as Logan strode past with Artie, the young mutant boy with the forked tongue following close behind him.
Storm's expression took on a wry cast. Ever since Logan had carried him to safety from the onslaught of water, Artie had been following him around like a second shadow, mimicking his every movement, and whilst Logan complained vastly about it on the rare occasions when the kid was not in earshot, Storm hadn't missed the way he slowed his walk down so Artie could keep up, nor Logan's "secret" lessons in how to throw a decent punch, or the morning she had glanced out of her window and seen Logan chasing him and half-a-dozen other delighted kids around, growling and pretending to be a monster for as long as he thought no-one was watching.
People were a mystery, and always would be, Storm thought. There was nothing simple about mankind - nothing simple at all.
And as if to confirm her thoughts, there was a sudden bamf and Kurt suddenly appeared on top of one of the desks.
He glanced down, embarrassed. "Oops - I was aiming for the floor. I am thinking the tables have been moved."
"It's no problem," Storm reassured him, as Kurt performed a lazy somersault and landed as neatly as a cat beside her, straightening and fixing his eyes on the floor like a schoolboy about to be chastised for misbehaviour. Storm regarded him curiously before continuing: "I am glad you are here, Kurt. I have not talked with you for a while."
"I am glad to be here also, Miss Munroe - Storm?" Kurt responded, looking suddenly confused. Storm smiled her sweetest smile for him - but instead of reassuring him it made him suddenly sit straight down on the floor.
"Are you all right?" Storm inquired, half puzzled and half anxious as she knelt beside him.
"I am quite well - I only came to bid you good day - and give you this." Kurt held out a pretty flower that Storm recognised as a lily from the grounds. "I am thinking it was very beautiful - so I thought of you."
"Kurt, that was -"Storm began, as she gently took it from him, their fingers brushing ever so slightly. Kurt froze.
"I am needing to be gone," he blurted out, and teleported away instantly, leaving behind only his customary cloud of blue smoke as a sign that he had ever been present. Sighing, but smiling at the same time, Storm got up off the floor, stroking the soft petals of the flower as she gazed into the distance, eyes seeing nothing in front of her, only what had been there a moment before.
______________________________________________
Storm did not see Kurt again for the rest of the day, and decided not to search for him in case she startled him away. Kurt in many ways reminded her of a wild bird or a young animal - you had to be extremely careful how you approached them or they would bolt, scared, and all your work in getting them accustomed to you would be dissipated in an instant.
So wisely, she left it a day before seeking him out, only for him to seek her out first.
"Good morning, Ororo," came a gentle voice from the doorway of the classroom, and she turned to find Kurt looking in at her, still a little hesitant, but not as nervy as he had been a couple of days ago.
"Good morning, Kurt," she replied, smiling at him. He smiled back, blue skin flushing slightly, and he began studying his feet again.
"How are your lessons going, Kurt?" Storm asked just to make conversation. The silence was becoming a hindrance to her idea of drawing Kurt out from behind his emotional walls and into the life of Xavier Mansion. "Are you enjoying being a teacher?"
"It is - hard, sometimes, but I am liking it very much," he confessed, looking right at her suddenly. "The students are not frightened of me like - like everyone else. They are very enthusiastic - especially Rogue."
Storm smiled at that: Rogue had been one of Kurt's strongest supporters ever since he had teleported to save her when she had fallen from the Blackbird, and had been the first to sign up for his German classes when the Professor had at last persuaded him that he had nothing to fear from the students. They had started him off with small groups composed of the quieter students to allow him time to adjust to his new role in life, and Kurt had taken to teaching surprisingly well.
"Logan was helping the children in the kitchens," Kurt volunteered suddenly. "They were making a chocolate cake. They wanted his help because the recipe book said four handfuls of chocolate and he has the largest hands."
Storm chuckled at this, and Kurt quite abruptly seemed to relax, leaning on her desk and smiling a little. "I stopped to help as well - they were making cookies with chocolate in them. They are nice, so I saved some for you."
He held out a napkin with three or four roughly circular cookies in them. Storm reached out for them, and their fingers brushed once again, only this time Kurt did not pull away from her. "They look delicious," Storm told him, and he smiled proudly - he had hardly ever cooked from scratch before.
Storm bit into one, and was pleasantly surprised - they really were tasty. "Mmm, wonderful. And did you enjoy the food fight?" she enquired. Kurt looked alarmed suddenly.
"How did you know?" he asked golden eyes wide. Storm reached over and simply plucked a sizeable chunk of cookie dough out of his hair. Kurt looked extremely sheepish.
"It was Logan -"he began, then ceased as he realised how ridiculous it would sound. "Well, I must go and tidy up. Goodbye, Ororo."
And before Storm had time to say anything else, he was gone.
Over the next week or so, Kurt was liable to seek Storm out and give her little presents he had found or made himself - flowers, a necklace made out of woven thread that Kitty and Rogue had shown him how to make, a pretty shell he had discovered in the garden, another batch of cookies and a book he had found in the library and thought she might like.
Simple things, simple gifts given sweetly and hesitantly maybe, but nevertheless Storm was truly touched - Kurt was so sweet and thoughtful it was impossible not to be. She guessed - or maybe simply hoped - that this was Kurt's way of expressing his feelings. What was harder to determine was whether or not this was Kurt's thank you for her support of him during the whole business with Stryker or whether or not it was -
Kurt had the loveliest long eyelashes.
Oh, for heaven's sake, girl! Ororo told herself one afternoon when she at last had some time to herself. You're not a giggling schoolgirl - you are a grown woman and Kurt is a grown man. Do something about it!
On the other hand, she had never encountered a man who was such an innocent when it came to women before. He was unfailingly chivalrous and gentlemanly, but he blushed, he stammered, he fidgeted and had a tendency to teleport away every time he became overwhelmed. If Storm were to confront him directly, he would probably vanish in terror.
So I must try something else, Storm mused, face and eyes thoughtful. Well, they say simple works best.
_______________________________
She found Kurt sitting on a bench out in the grounds, holding something in his hands and studying it intently. As softly as she could, she moved to stand beside him, careful not to startle him.
"May I sit with you?" she asked gently, and was relieved to see that when he looked up, there was surprise in his face, but no fear.
"Of course you may," he responded, and Storm seated herself next to him, as a quiet little breeze played amongst the leaves above their heads and set them rustling. For a moment they just sat together, enjoying the lovely weather as the afternoon slowly turned to evening and the sky darkened. Kurt seldom came outside before late afternoon, and Storm concluded he felt more comfortable in the shadows.
"I came to find you for a reason," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve, and Kurt looked at her sharply. "I wanted to say thank you for all the gifts you have given me recently - they were all very thoughtful, and I loved them all."
"Say nothing more, Ororo," Kurt remarked, though he looked extremely gratified. "I like to give you things. It gives me a warm feeling inside."
"But I feel guilty," Storm blurted out, then cursed herself mentally as Kurt's happy expression switched off as though someone had flicked a switch. "Oh, it's not your fault Kurt, I am very grateful for your gifts. But it's just I haven't given you anything in return."
"They are only little things - simple things," Kurt replied, somewhat reassured. "I don't need anything in return. I just wanted to - well, show you that I think of you very highly. You are most clever and kind - and -"
Storm could feel herself blushing, and found her heart was beating more rapidly than it had done ever since Alkali Lake. What on earth was Kurt doing to her? He had her thoroughly entranced and they hardly knew each other!
Kurt had glanced down at the object in his hands again, and Storm could see now it was a piece of paper covered in Kurt's pointed German handwriting. "I am thinking that this poem I found in the library will help show what I am feeling. It very beautiful and a little bit sad as well."
He handed her the paper, and Storm looked at it to find "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" written out neatly upon it. Eyes wide, she read:
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.
"I have very little to give," Kurt remarked into the silence that followed. "I am not a rich man - everything I have you and the Professor have given me. But I wanted to say thank you somehow, and this was the only way I could think of."
Storm folded the poem, and laid it on the bench next to her before reaching out and taking one of Kurt's hands in hers. He did not flinch or pull away, but sat watching her face in the growing dusk, cheeks slightly flushed, a little apprehensive, but not frightened. Never frightened.
Storm leaned in close to whisper to him: "Kurt, there is a saying, a saying I believe is true: that the best things in life are free."
And she gently placed her free hand on his neck and pulled him towards her slowly. Kurt, spellbound, allowed himself to be drawn, closer, closer, until finally their lips met. It was a sweet kiss, a simple kiss, but one full of feeling. Storm could feel Kurt trembling slightly, and felt apprehensive for a moment, but then she felt his hand stroking her hair, and knew that everything was perfect.
Silently, they pulled gently apart, Kurt's eyes almost glowing in the dimming light, but with a light in them that hadn't been there before. Storm suddenly felt his arm around her shoulders, and smiling, she leaned against him, her hand sliding down from his neck to rest on his shoulder.
They held each other for a long time, as dusk slowly turned to night and the stars came out one by one to peer at them curiously.
Yes, sometimes simple works best, Kurt thought as he gazed at Storm and smiled.