Note: For PlonkerOnDaLoose and airo25writes (I hope I got the names right.) Thank you for reminding me how much I love Kyro.
Unspoken
Kitty frowned and bit her lip as she reread what she had written. Then she crossed it out with her pen and crumpled the paper in her fist. Sighing, she left it to join the other wads of paper littering her table. At the rate she was going, she was never going to finish the stupid poem in time for her creative writing class tomorrow. She cursed the temporary insanity that had taken hold of her when she decided to sign up for it at the beginning of the term.
"More coffee?" the waitress who had been serving her all afternoon materialized in front of her. Kitty had noticed that the woman always seemed to know just when she was most needed. She smiled gratefully as she held out her empty cup. "Yes, please. Thank you."
"Having trouble with something?" the woman asked.
"Uhm, yes, actually," Kitty admitted with a rueful grimace. "I have just found out that I am not creative in the slightest, which is a problem since I'm supposed to be writing a poem for class."
The woman suddenly smiled. "Say, I think I could help you out. Or, at least our cook can help you out. He's taking writing classes, too, and he's quite good. Let me just call him."
"Oh, no. Please, you don't have to bother," Kitty protested. But the waitress was already hollering, "John! Hey, John! Come out here!" Kitty could only be thankful that the diner wasn't crowded with people since the two old men at the counter had turned to stare once the woman started calling for the cook. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.
"What? What's wrong now?" The cook walked out of the kitchen with a scowl on his face. He was quite young, Kitty saw, and familiar. When he glanced over at her, his eyes widened in shock for the briefest of seconds, then his scowl deepened. It was then that Kitty finally recognized who she was looking at.
"Pyro," she whispered.
"Here's John," the waitress was saying, oblivious to the suddenly charged atmosphere in the diner. "Don't mind the attitude, but he's a writer, when he's not flipping pancakes, that is. This little lady needs some help. You go on. Sit. Help her out." She practically forced Pyro to sit on the chair in front of Kitty then left. She looked very pleased with herself.
Kitty didn't know what to do. Sitting right across from her, and silently staring as if in challenge, was Pyro, one of the most dangerous mutants she had ever known. After the Alcatraz incident, she knew that he and the other members of the Brotherhood had been taken into government custody. So, what was he doing here, working as the cook in her favorite diner, of all places? If she wasn't so scared right now, she 'd have found it funny.
"You're an X-Man," he suddenly said.
She could only nod.
"You go to school around here?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He looked like he was amused by how dumbstruck she was in his presence. "So, what is it that you need help with?"
"Oh." Kitty finally found her voice. "It's nothing. Just, that waitress, - you don't have to do anything. It's fine, really." She hurriedly gathered up her things and prepared to leave, but he managed to grab her notebook before she could stuff it into her bag. "Please give it back," she said, her entire body tense.
He ignored her and read the notes she had written on the page. His eyebrows lifted. "Creative writing?" There was a hint of a smirk on his face. "I think I remember that you were more of a science geek. Weren't you?"
"I still am," she replied. "I'm just taking a class."
"What are you supposed to be creatively writing then?" He still held the notebook, so Kitty was forced to answer him.
"A poem."
"About what?"
"Sadness. But it has to be expressed by describing a scene that is otherwise not sad, or something. I don't really understand half of what my professor says," she sounded as frustrated as she felt.
He just looked at her for a moment. "What makes you sad?" he suddenly asked.
She was taken aback by the question. It took her a while to think of something to say. "I guess, when I see someone crying."
"No." He shook his head. "You're not getting it. Have you ever felt sad for no reason at all?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Where did this happen?"
She thought really hard about it. "Well, sometimes," she said hesitantly, "I feel sad when I'm all alone studying in the library."
"Why?"
"Well, I guess, because everything is so big and empty. It's sad that there are so many books in there just waiting to be read, but no one seems to care enough to read them." She blushed. "That sounds stupid."
"Write about that then," he told her. "Not about it being stupid, but about how empty and lonely the library seems when you're the only person there."
"That would sound like something a kindergarten kid wrote," she grumbled. She thought it was a really corny idea.
"Not if you do it right." He saw that she was still unconvinced. "Here. Give me a pen." She handed him one and he began to write something in her notebook. It took him just a few minutes, and then he let her read what he wrote.
She didn't say anything for several moments. Finally, she looked at him and smiled tentatively. "I think I get it now," she spoke softly. "This is, - it's good."
He nodded curtly and stood up.
"Wait!" Kitty felt herself blushing again, but she made herself say the words. "Thank you. John."
"Yeah." He went back to the kitchen without another word.
She continued to sit for a few more minutes. Then she got her things, paid her bill, and left. The words he wrote kept echoing in her head. She had always thought that she understood what sadness was, but apparently John Allerdyce knew better. He lived with it every day.