Wolverine stroked my hair as we walked down the hall, his arm around my shoulders in a possessive manner. He swaggered with each step and I could tell he felt good about himself. The smile plastered upon his face was a dead-giveaway. I didn't feel too bad myself.
We reached the end of the hallway, which signified we had arrived at Wolverine's room. He led me to the door and leaned against the wall, his ankles crossed. A crooked smile painted his face, his eyes lit up with excitement. He ran a confident hand though his coarse, black hair, his eyes glued to mine.
"Well, I guess this is good night." I smiled minutely, wringing my hands behind my back. My gaze fell to his feet, and I studied the laces of his boots. I had always struggled with ending dates, ever since high school when I had humiliated myself to the point of no return. Men always had me guessing.
"Yeah…unless you wanna come in and visit for a bit?" My face flushed a brilliant scarlet, and my feet itched to sprint down the hall and never return. I had definitely no experience with men when it came to the bedroom, and I silently waited for him to answer himself; maybe someone would come and rescue me. But if I didn't say anything, would he think I'm not interested?
His rough hands cradled my chin and caressed my skin tenderly, and he lifted my burning face to look at his. His elation was gone; his attractive lips were pressed firmly into a thin line, and the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed significantly. My face was engulfed by flame as I was forced to display my embarrassment. I closed my eyes in silent dissatisfaction, the tears welling up behind my lids. There was nothing worse than showcasing my mortification to someone I deeply loved. I wordlessly prayed he wouldn't judge me like I thought he would.
"Are you okay?" Astonished by his worried tone, my eyes flew open and studied his features, striving to find a flaw in my logic. I had never thought Wolverine was such a passionate man; the way his eyebrows were knitted together was appalling to me, but a feeling of disappointment in myself flowed through my veins, making them feel heavy with grief. I had not intended for him to react so strongly to my embarrassment; I did not want him to worry about me this way.
"I-I'm fine." I whispered, my breath reverberating off of his nearby face back onto mine. I watched dejectedly as he studied my eyes with a fierce intensity that strengthened the burn behind my eyes. His brown eyes smoldered with some emotion that was foreign to me, but I knew it was focused toward me. I closed my eyes again, my eyelashes interweaving together. I felt his sweet, warm breath swirl upon my face with an unexpected grace, and his hand angled slightly to allow the other to assist to cup my face. I could feel the blood abscond my face with a sudden urgency, only to be replaced with a frigid cold that only accompanied the lifeless. I could feel him now; I knew he was only several inches away from my lips. I bit down on my bottom lip, as if protecting it from his. Not that I didn't want to kiss him, for I desperately wished to, but I was afraid of yet another emotion: the relentless need. I had heard much about it, and was not willing to crave his touch every minute of every day.
I felt him coming ever closer; his breath became less of a gentle caress of the air to more of a rush of warm wind. The tingle of his lips so close to mine caused every nerve, every pore of my skin, to feel like it was pulsing with uncontained electricity. I opened my eyes gradually, and his eyes filled my view. His steady gaze penetrated every fiber of my being, sending my brain into a sensory overload. I was no longer embarrassed or even anxious; my face had returned to its natural color. I could no longer identify any of my emotions. I had gone past my comfort zone, but, strangely, I was perfectly fine with that as long as I was with Wolverine. His strong hands resting against my chin provided me with the reassurance I needed.
He paused, for a deliberate second, his expression softening to the point of a smile. His eyes shimmered in the light, reflecting a faint image of my visage. I gave the impression of being confident, yet another emotion I hadn't felt for as long as I can remember.
Before I could react to anything, he plunged his lips to mine, almost welding them together in a passionate frenzy. His lips moved instinctively next to mine in a methodical motion that left me breathless and clutching at his arms as a guarantee he was still sincere. It felt like an angel had replaced him; my blood was racing through my veins at an irrational pace and my head began to feel woozy from the sudden change of emotions.
I can't explain anything I was feeling. Nothing seemed to add up into the correct columns I had placed them in; I had set a strict 'trust-no-one' policy, and this contact betrayed all aspects of this rule. I wanted to trust him with every secret I had, every flaw I felt I should improve upon, and yet, I wanted to keep everything to myself. I wanted to be perfect in his eyes, an angel made especially for him.
Eventually, my lips began to understand how to respond correctly, and I wrapped my arms around him protectively. His arms flowed instinctively down to the small of my back to support my body that was now curled into him, and he lifted my thigh to bind around his.
My heart began to pound viciously in my chest, for my intuition told me what was going to happen next. Even before he moved his hand from my back to the doorknob, I could feel him shift my weight to his right arm. My eyelids flew open with an urgency I had never felt in my life, and I immediately tensed my body, freezing my lips against his. I flailed in his arms, desperate to get away, but his grip became ironclad.
I honestly wanted to ignore the distress in my mind, but the need was too strong; I had been betrayed before and I didn't plan on it again. I was not going to start my life over again because I let myself believe the ridiculous lie that he was in love with me. Not when I had so much going right for me once in my life.
I began to push against his rock-hard chest with my arms, which did little, but I persevered. I forced my lips to separate from his, a bittersweet feeling, and endeavored to keep myself from letting them fall back to his like a magnet to an opposite charge. His eyes were open now, and remorse filled the irises, staining them a deep black. His arm fell from my back to across his chest, where he loosely folded them against it. I was free of his clutches, but I had no desire to go anywhere; the only desire I felt was to be with him, in his arms.
Pain stabbed at my heart, never before had I felt guilt as deep as this; a black hole a million light-years away had swallowed any other emotion I had felt before. A frown creased my features, and I reflexively bent to kiss him once, resting one shaky hand on his cheek. He did not make any indication of intending to kiss me back, even though he closed his eyes, so I cut it short; I was only trying to inform him I still felt for him, but not enough yet to give myself to him completely. He did not protest as I unhurriedly lifted my lips from his, reluctantly separating my hand from his warm cheek, and traced his sensually prominent cheekbone with one quivering finger. I barely touched his skin, my finger just millimeters from him, but an obvious pleasure came about him. The ends of his lips twitched minutely and his eyelids fluttered as my finger tenderly made contact with the end of his jawbone and traced its way down his neck to his throat. I slowly bent my head to kiss his jugular notch, and he responded with a sharp, deep breath through his nose. Still, though, he made no move to repossess me; he was finished with me if we were going no further.
Hesitating, I bent my head back and pushed myself away from him, my arms aching for the warmth of him, and took a step to the right, starting back up the hall. I looked down as my cheeks were caught in a sudden blaze, but not because of the previous reasons; I was ashamed. I had never known myself to be ashamed of anything; my mother had taught me early on that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but Wolverine had taught me the contrary.
Lifting my head in spite of the blush upon my face, I adorned my eyes with a confident glow. His aching gaze caused my heart to throb painfully in my chest, stabbing me with every beat, seeming to remind me of what I had done.
It's for the best. I'm not ready. I don't want to regret it. I wanted to speak my thoughts aloud, but instead let my gaze fall to the floor again, picking up my foot to turn down the hall, away from the chaos I had made with my own hands. As I made it halfway to the turn, I allowed myself to look over my shoulder, hoping he would follow me or somehow make everything better, but instead was disconsolate to see he was still in the spot I had left him in, his gaze on the floor to his right, away from me.
I turned the corner, my head still turned, and watched as he slowly cocked his head in my direction. Even though he was a few yards behind me now, I could see his eyes were blank, and his heart torn. I watched wordlessly, my mouth gaping, as the wall filled my vision, the image of him imprinting my mind. The only sound I heard was the sound of his laughter, which I had heard only minutes ago, being distorted to the sound of tears, breaking the barrier of my tightly closed eyelids.
I woke up the next morning, the sound of my ragged breathing filling the room. I stared at the stucco on the ceiling, making shapes from the intricate patterns. I could not rise this morning and not feel any regret; it was impossible. The stinging aftermath of last night's events filled my head. The worst of the images replayed themselves behind my eyes when I closed them, so I tried to keep my eyes open as much as possible. But the lingering feeling of his skin against mine overrode everything else, making it impossible to try to forget.
I stood up, my legs wobbling slightly from the grief, and stared at myself in the mirror. What had happened to me? I had allowed myself to feel passionate about something, and had turned myself into a repulsive fiend. What kind of person could do something like that to someone and go on with his or her life, living as if nothing had happened?
The tears began to well up again, so I staggered to the bathroom, stripping myself of my clothes. I stepped lightly into the shower and blasted the hot water from the showerhead, allowing the tears to fall. Every tear signified the times I wished I could have changed something, every time I screwed up.
The hot water began to run out, but I allowed the frigid water to come, cleansing me like a sudden rain on a summer's day. I laid myself down on the bottom of the tub, clutching my knees close to my chest, and thought of nothing but what I had done, like my mother had taught me to do when I was a child.
By the time I was able to rise again, the sun had almost set, and a normal human would have frozen in the freezing water. I lightly stepped out of the bathtub, a puddle of water collecting at my feet, and stood, unable to move. I had no desire to move, in fact I wished I could dig myself a hole and bury myself alive. Then I would have plenty of time alone to think, and I would be far away from Wolverine so I wouldn't harm him ever again.
Too bad I couldn't kill myself. It would be much better if I could be so far away he could never come after me. I silently cursed my healing powers, pounding my foot on the floor, causing me to fall face first onto the cool linoleum. I felt a stabbing pain in my nose, aware I had broken it, but made no move to help it heal. I tasted the blood flowing down my throat, and as my nose healed, noticed the flow slowly decrease.
I moved my arms above my head, laying my hands face down on the linoleum, and pushed, forcing myself up. I stumbled to stand, and grasped the corner of the sink for support. When I was able to support myself once more, I slowly released the sink and stared in the mirror, examining my perfect nose. Blood stained my mouth and cheek where it had flowed a minute or two ago, so I washed it off section by section.
After the blood was gone, I staggered back to the bed, and crawled under the thick, warm comforter. I curled into a tight ball, willing myself to cry, but no moisture came to my expectant eyes, so I instead thought of Wolverine.
Why had I fallen in love with him? He was an arrogant jerk, yet I had somehow overlooked his flaws. I had fallen in love with the compassionate, loving side. I did not want to think of how he made me feel, yet I felt the sudden rise in temperature in my chest and the thudding of my heart that accompanied it. Wolverine had brought back all of my emotions that I had thought had vanished when my parent were killed and I was betrayed by the love of my life, and had managed to take advantage of me with them. I had never lost my control over them once, yet in one night I lose all control and chaos ensues.
The sun set outside the window, and shadows began to veil my face. I curled my face into the comforter and silently prayed I could go back to what once was. I wished I could undo everything wrong in my existence, everything I regretted, which wasn't much, but the thought still made my necessities list. The only thing I wanted now was Wolverine, and there was no way he would forgive me for what I did; there was no way he would take me back. I wanted so desperately to have stayed with him last night, so that everything would be all right.
My eyelids began to droop as the stars poked through the night sky, and I drifted off to sleep, the last thought filling my mind of Wolverine and his wounded eyes.
The smell of eggs drifted through the halls of the mansion, and children gawked at me as I sluggishly walked past. I blinked several times to attempt to focus the blur, but failed, and continued trudging up the halls. As I passed a mirror, I turned my head slightly to gaze at my reflection, and almost jumped when I noticed the deep black rings under my eyes. No wonder the kids had gawked at me as I was doing at my reflection now.
I continued upon my way to the kitchen and reluctantly turned the corner, praying I wouldn't run into Wolverine again. Fortunately, he was not in the room, and I exhaled deeply, letting it whistle out of my nose.
I ate my breakfast alone, standing at the counter while the students rushed past the doorway to their morning classes. I munched slowly on the eggs I had prepared for myself and picked at the bits of eggshell that had fallen in them. As I made my way to the sink to wash the dishes I had used, I turned on the radio, and while my favorite song played on the radio station, Wolverine completely slipped from my mind. I began to hum the chorus to the song, dancing around in my spot, sending soap bubbles flying in the air. Water sloshed out of the sink when I forgot to turn off the faucet and began to cover the floor. I blasted the radio so the bass of the song shook the floor, and began to flat-out dance, spinning on the balls of my feet, kicking my leg up while supporting myself on the counter.
Abruptly, the radio turned off, the silence sending a shock through my body like an explosion from my feet to my head, and, instead of skidding to a stop, my foot slipped from under me, and I fell, hitting my head on the countertop. There was a sudden pressure on my head, accompanied by a blaze that resembled the pain of being sliced with a searing blade. I was focused so completely on the pain that I didn't notice the warm arms that kept me from falling all the way onto the floor.
As the pain gradually slipped away, I was aware of the coppery scent of blood filling my nostrils, awakening the animal instinct deep in my soul. Run, it said, Run away as fast as you can. I fought the instinct with every fiber of my being, but would not have been able to win it over if the familiar arms were not holding me down with a heavy resistance only I could recognize.
His fingers began to part through my hair, tenderly checking the wounds as they healed. His touch sent an electric rush through my body, sending my heart pounding, and triggering a fire in my veins that only he could accomplish. My body itched for him, my lips for his, my fingers for his skin. The only barriers were the fact that I was in pain and bleeding, and I didn't know how he would react.
Since that night, I had not seen or heard from him, and I did not know how he was coping. Was he hurt so significantly he did not want to see me again, or did he forget about it like an arrogant jerk? If I had hurt him, why was he helping me now? Did he really care about me so much that he could not bear to see me in pain? Or was there something else behind his concerned mask?
Finally, the wound healed, I regained my balance and stood up straight, my eyes on the scarlet-stained sink. I immediately began to scrub the sink with a nearby sponge, embarrassed by what might happen if I talked to Wolverine. The sponge turned a deep brown from the blood, and I pretended to be absorbed in the cleaning, hoping Wolverine would leave.
It was awkward, the way he made me feel when he stood next to me. A tingle of electricity flowed through my body, causing the hair on my arms and neck to rise, and sent a wave of self-consciousness over me, my face burning under his gaze. Nothing made me more anxious than when he hovered around me when he was waiting for something, like he was now.
His hand slowly covered my wrist, ceasing my scrubbing motions with a steady hand, and I knew that he wanted to talk, which was the last thing I wanted to do. His warm, reassuring grip caused my skin to shiver with the need that had overwhelmed my body and I nearly bolted from the room to get away from the devastating feeling. His steady breath on my neck almost made me cringe from the need.
It seemed lately that all I could feel was the need. It had taken over every strand of me, directing my life like a movie. I had wanted to feel emotion again, but I did not want to feel an emotion this intense, this demanding, but there was no going back to my apathetic self; I was in a hole, never to escape this feeling that followed me around like a rain cloud.
Wolverine cradled my chin with his hand, his other still on my wrist. He turned my face to his, mine burning as it touched the skin on his sturdy hand. His warm brown eyes were hopeful, but they didn't match his lips as they bent into a firm, hard line. Under his eyes were dark rings that matched mine, and, for some reason, I smiled. Perhaps it was because he had spent the night awake like I had or maybe it was because dark rings under his eyes didn't suit him.
Wolverine seemed confused at first when I smiled, but soon his firmness melted into a warm smile that put mine to shame. He chuckled a little under his breath, but then became rigid again, his hand sliding down from my face to cup my elbow. His other hand moved up from my wrist and shadowed mine, then curled around my fingers to take the sponge's place in my hand. I had never held his hand before, and now I knew why people always felt secure when doing it. His hand was soft, not like a woman's skin, but soft as in the warm touch of a lover, laced with the calm reassurance that they'll be there, always.
His lips cautiously descended upon my neck, his hands barely touching me, as if he was afraid I would bolt. But I felt just the opposite as his tender, loving kisses began to ascend my neck to my jawbone, and eventually to my lips.
I had never felt more pressure upon me then at this moment. I wanted so badly to stay here forever in his kiss, but I also wanted to break it off and straighten things out. There was another emotion peeking through the veil I had cast upon it: fear. I wanted to run and hide from everything; I wanted to run away from Wolverine so I would never hurt him again, but the contrasting emotions were too strong. I wanted to make love to him and have everything fall into place like it was before so I could show my love for him by wearing his love on my finger.
His lips lifted from mine slightly, his hands pulling away from my body, but I rejected the proposal, placing my hand on the back of his neck. In return, he removed his hand from underneath mine that was still on the counter, and wrapped his fingers around my wrist that was now gripping his neck as he backed away. He yanked my hand off of his neck, freed himself from my grasp, and cautiously let me go. His arms fell back to his sides, and he casually leaned on the counter with his elbow.
His eyes met mine as he looked at me again, his irises smoldered with the kind of love I hadn't realized I was looking for until just a little while ago. He smiled a little and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. My heart thumped in my chest, its heavy beat sending the blood rushing through my veins at record speed.
"I thought we should talk." His smooth voice overpowered all thought patterns in my head, knocking the breath out of me. His face filled my vision, and my heart kicked into a new gear, pounding the blood through my head. I didn't think until later that he could probably hear my heartbeat.
"Me, too." I answered simply, my face flushing. I began to finger the seams at the bottom of my blouse, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Wolverine's steady arms pulled me into him, as if to calm me, and I laid my head on his chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.
"I think I love you," he whispered into my ear, his voice low and seductive. A wave of euphoria swept over me; somehow when he admitted his love for me, all worries melted away like dew off of leaves in the morning sun. I sighed into his chest, and he gave a tight squeeze.
"I think I love you, too," I replied, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights overhead. He released me slightly, only to connect his lips to mine a second later.
The feeling of knowing someone you loved loves you back was overwhelming. I wanted to kiss him forever, yet I wanted to show him just how much I loved him. His lips were satin against mine; his arms were wrapped around my waist, supporting my weight as I leaned into him. His love showed in the way he kissed me, a strong, passionate kiss, yet it was sweet and intoxicating, like how alcohol made me feel invincible before I obtained my healing power.
Our bodies were like puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly into each other, as he pulled me onto him, his back on the sink counter I had just wiped down. There was nothing that could come in between us now, as I welded myself to him, moving with every motion he made. Our bodies had become one, united, with nothing but fate holding us together. He was perfect, the only one I could trust with everything; he was everything I had ever wanted or needed.
The mansion's school bell rang, sending a shrill echo through the hall, shocking me back into reality. First period was over, and now the students were heading to second period. Logan pushed me off of him hurriedly, as to protect the students' eyes. I pecked him on the cheek and rushed out of the kitchen and back down the halls to my room to change.
I changed into a black blouse with black pants and slipped on my arm warmers, the ones with spikes on the wrists. Shrugging on a black leather riding jacket, I headed out the door to find Wolverine casually leaning on the wall across the door, his jacket in his arms, folded across his chest. A sly smile pulled at his lips, his arms flexing slightly, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, dragging me to the garage. He bent down to kiss my neck, his lips soft and sweet, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer to him. A smile jerked at the end of my lips, my teeth showing slightly, only showing a sliver of my emotion. Nothing humanly possible could show just how whole I felt.
The halls passed by again, this time I was dangerously close to Logan; his lips were on my neck and cheek, his fingers played with my hair, untangling the knots from the wind. I smiled widely now, and I could feel him smiling, too, as he kissed me.