Old Fiat
Currently Watching: Age of Innocence
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. Fox and Marvel own the copyright.
Summary: The flames danced happily over the letter, ensuring it would never be read by the person it was written for. Rogan, One-Shot.
Notes: I got this idea while sitting near the fire and watching Age of Innocence with my family. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper (a very rare thing for me to do since I find it difficult to write fan fictions in actual notebooks) and then typed it up on my sister's laptop (mine is broken again). I hope you all enjoy it!
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Dear Rogue,
I can't believe I'm writing this, but I need to get this out.
When we first met I knew there was something strange—not about you, but about the way I felt about you when you spoke, about the way I was speaking to you. No one had ever had the courage to sit next to me and yet you were brave enough after seeing me loose it with those guys to try and hitch a ride in my truck.
Then I got to know more about you. I grew closer to you than anyone I'd met before. I found that a lump rose in my throat rose in my throat when I saw you and my stomach lurched whenever anyone said your name. It took me ages to realize what was wrong with me, but I know now.
Rogue, I love you.
I know it's creepy and wrong, but believe me, if I could stop it I would've done so a long time ago. I hate it, but I still can't get enough of these feelings. Whenever I see you in that dumb green cape, you look like a goddess. Hell, I wouldn't even mind that we couldn't touch because the very sight of you satisfies me.
I'd love to tell you. I never tell the entirety (or, in some cases, any) of my feelings to anyone, but I want to tell you everything. Every time we speak or touch I want to kiss you harder and with more passion than any kiss you've ever had. But I won't do it.
I'll never tell you about any of the things I've said here because they're sick. They're pedophilic, which is so incredibly wrong. You never know how I feel. No one will ever know.
But I still love you. Always.
-Logan
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Logan stared at the sheet of paper sitting on top of his desk. It was slightly smudged and was covered with his spiky, mostly illegible handwriting. Its contents were soppier than he would've liked, but that didn't matter. He'd finally got it all out.
Stubbing out his cigar in the small crystal ashtray, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. The letter was folded to one-fourth of its original size and he flicked open the lighter. He brought the flame over to the corner of the letter and the orange glow spread to the piece of paper. He dropped it into the ashtray before standing up and walking over to the window. He glanced back briefly, but turned around once more and took another cigar from the box on top of the bedside table.
And when he turned, he left the flames to dance happily over the letter, ensuring it would never be read by the person it was written for.
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I hope you like it! Please review. :D-Old Fiat s. Italy