In the End Only Love Matters Epilogue
SPOILER ALERT! If you have not read In the End Only Love Matters and you think you may want to read it then I would advise that you don't read this. If you have read the first story or simply could care less about reading it then feel free to continue.
-xox-
Logan hated coming home. Every time he stepped inside the empty house, dark and eerily quiet, it made his heart sink. The kitten, three months old now, a month older than when he brought it home to Ororo, was always underfoot. Even now it darted towards him, playful, batting at his shoe then racing towards the door he was quickly closing. He hated the kitten, nameless still, because Ororo had died the day he'd brought the tiny critter home. He loathed the cat almost as much as he hated the house he'd shared with Ororo. He hated the living room, the spacious kitchen, the library, he hated every room that held their shared memories prisoner there but he hated their bedroom the most, the room she'd passed away in. Deceased. Expired. Gone.
He opened the front door he'd tried so quickly to shut in order to keep the kitten from escaping and reached down and caught the kitten up by the scruff of its neck then tossed it outside into the garden – Ororo's garden. This small vengeance made him feel better somehow – taking action, making a decision, slowly wading out of the misery that had swallowed him whole. It gave him strength, resolve. He would make plans to sell the house straightaway. Where he would go he didn't know and didn't care but it would be far, far away from all the memories of her, of them, of what he knew he would never be able to capture again.
Ten hours later, after yet another sleepless night, with bag in one hand and not looking back, Logan stepped outside into a new day. The sun slowly rising, the color streaked sky, birds warbling, kitten mewing, all went unnoticed. And then he felt something small tumble over his booted foot. The kitten. He looked down at the furry damp thing and his heart constricted. With one swift movement he scooped it up and cradled it to his chest. He couldn't leave it though he'd come to hate it. In that moment he loved it fiercely as he knew Ororo would have. He wouldn't dessert it, no he'd find a home for it, a good home, maybe Kitty's grandchildren would like it. Ororo would like that.
Kitty was already taking charge of his affairs, planning to put the house up for sale and Ororo's things in storage. Kitty had insisted that one day he would want to remember, that she hoped he would. He'd strongly disagreed although he'd acquiesced as he always did for she was still his pumpkin despite being a grandmother now. But all the pictures, all the material things meant nothing to him. No matter where he went the sum of all that he and Ororo were, each and every memory, would be stored away in his heart. He would heal but he would never be whole again.