I never really understood how Jean's affections could have switched so quickly.
Jean and I had been together so long, our relationship was practically a staple at the school. 'Come to the Institute and see a mutant Barbie and Ken!' We used to joke about it, but then the laughter wore down and somehow stopped.
When he rode in on his motorcycle, clearly not caring about punctuality, our relationship seemed to instantaneously dissolve like salt in water. The moment she looked beyond the curtain and saw him in the drive, I fell off of her radar.
I hated her for that. I hated him for it more. Jean had become a sort of anchor for me, a reason for being. She had been there for me since we were still kids, had seen me through all sorts of phases. She was as important to me as the water I drank, the air I breathed.
So I thought.
After she disappeared, someone else appeared. Emma Grace Frost made her debut in my life, becoming the star of a romance film I didn't know was playing.
That's when I began to forget Jean. That's when I began to understand.
I realized Jean loved Logan, not me, and that none of us could do a damned thing to stop it. I could do as little to stop that as stop my growing love for Ms. Frost. The White Queen stole my heart.
Then she died with it.
I left Jean on the street, after sharing a brief embrace, in the arms of her practically destined lover. My love for my adolescent friend was as dead as the woman I loved, as shattered as her diamond form, as decimated as my conscience for not forgiving her while she still breathed.
Now, I pay for my crimes. I live everyday without awareness, letting the lights fade and moments tick before they illuminate another dreadful day.
Just because of a woman with red hair, a gruff man, and passionately cold woman.