Ok, you know the deal. I don't know the X-Men but I do own Star and Brock. Enjoy!
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"Don't let anyone change who you are, Star. Shine your brightest or not at all," she whispered. I sat up with a gasp. It was just a dream. I looked around my dismal room with a sigh. It was just a really, scary dream. My mother was the last person to ever say that to me. And she was dead. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and held my face in my hands. What was wrong with me? She died when I was eight but the dreams were becoming more and more frequent. She had cancer and it was supposedly more than the doctors could handle. But I always thought she could've survived. She was so strong. I felt tears rising and quickly swallowed them by standing up. I grabbed my huge black hoodie and slipped it on. I yanked my hair back into a hat and threw the big hood over it. It wasn't that cold outside but I felt more invisible this way. More than usual, anyway.
"Where're you going?" my father asked, looking away from the late-night sitcoms flashing across his face. I stared at the skew of empty beer bottles scattered around him and the couch.
"Wherever I go," I mumbled, grabbing my bookbag off the kitchen table. He sat up, causing the bottles to roll and click together, making a strange, almost angelic sound.
"That's not an answer young lady. If your mother were here, I'd—"
"You'd what, old man?" I asked, dropping my grip on the doorknob and turning to face him. He sat up more, gripping the couch for support and stared at me. "You'd punish me? You'd help me out? You'd actually be a father?" I asked, my voice growing louder with each sentence. He grumbled something indiscernible and plopped back down on the couch. He pressed another brown bottle to his lips and sighed, returning his bloodshot gaze to the tube. I scoffed and walked out, slamming the door behind me.
"If Mom were here, I wouldn't have to fend for myself," I whispered, jogging down the creaky steps of our apartment building. "If Mom were here, we'd live on the Upper East Side and we'd eat at cafes and shop in Macy's on her lunch breaks. We'd never have to worry about rent or the water cutting off or any of that. We'd live," I told myself. I nodded at the landlord who was watching the same sitcom as my father. He nodded back, not really seeming to notice my presence. I rolled my eyes and pushed my way out into the cold New York streets. Car sirens and people's incoherent shouts filled my ears as I yanked my hat down tighter and braced myself against the cold. I quickly lost the feeling in my legs and after two blocks, my face. Taxis drove by, destinations unknown. Where would I go if I rode in one? Probably to a new life, with a loving mother and father and a decent size home with a warm bed.
"Keep your head up, Star. Only the moon can outshine you," I told myself, quoting my mother. She'd always known I was going to be Star. She wanted to inspire me with her words. I shook the thoughts from my head. This wasn't the time nor the place. Two prostitutes, one with oddly hairy legs, and the other with two cigarettes in her mouth, passed me, carefully eyeing the competition. I shook my head and continued on, inwardly smiling. Only in NYC. Where was I going? My feet were leading me somewhere, allowing my head to wander off and think on what it wanted. I was headed towards my boyfriend, Brock's. His mother was so cheery and happy all the time, I felt safe there. I was already at his building, on auto-pilot, slowly climbing the flights of stairs to the top.
"Hey," he whispered sleepily. He looked at me bleary-eyed, obviously disoriented.
"Wake up stupid," I laughed. I smacked him gently on the cheek.
"What was that for?" he asked, holding his cheek in mock pain. He opened the door, giving me room to enter underneath his arm. I walked into the warm apartment, very happy to be there. It was warm and my face was beginning to warm up too. I dropped my bag on the floor and dropped onto the couch, fatigue rushing through my veins and settling in my joints. He yawned and pulled my arm.
"What?" I whined. He pulled me into his bedroom and lightly pushed me onto his bed. I fell and didn't fight him as he pulled my shoes off and helped me shrug out of my jacket. I flopped into his unoccupied bed and let him tuck me in. His bed was hot with body heat and I could see the indent of his head on his pillow. He clawed underneath the covers with me and wrapped his thick arm around me. We fell asleep, me settling into him and feeling warm for the first time that night.
-So what do you think? This is actually my fourth story posted on here but no one seems interested in my other ones. Just let me know if you think I should continue! Thanks!