Author's Note:
I know, I know! I haven't written anything new on my Skyeward story, nor my Severus Snape story, and my Dramione story has been left abandoned by none other than me. I could rattle on excuses that would look good to the normal eye but I have sworn to give nothing but the truth. I want them perfect. I usually like to provide less than that so that when a really good chapter comes to mind, you will all be wooed with my words but for me, in all three of those stories, there will be some depth that I have yet to find how to add. Please be patient with me and I love you all!
"It's the wrong kind of place,
to be thinking of you,
it's the wrong time,
for somebody new,
it's a small crime,
and I've got no excuse."
I have always believed there is an elegance in the way things begin and in the way they end. On one note, there is life, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional; on the other hand, there is always the closing, the very thing that seals the fate between two beings.
I will not lie; Raven and I had one of the most extraordinary beginnings and considerably one of the worst denouncements. I would be a fool to sit around and deny that what I had felt for her had been less than it was. I had invested my life, my entirety into one soul and then, it turned against me. If one could only see how closely she used Erik's own words, how she had infused his ideas into her own.
There is a few moments that I have found that still leave me clueless; why was she fighting for me to accept her when she could not accept me? Here and there, she would change her appearance but the entrance of myself into her mind or anyone else's was unthinkable. She found me a thief of will and yet her murdering others around her was excused.
Even in the daily routine of life, I find myself swept away in what could've been. She could've come home, to forget her mission against Trask; she could've stayed with me in the first place. Often times, when I think of her, I discover that my feet are already dragging themselves to her room, reminding me that all the travelling that I have done will be in vain. She won't be there. And if some form of her appears before me out of habit or the foolishness of my mind, I will have to once again perceive that she is gone and will never return.
It isn't my place to think of her, especially not in the way that I do. I've been told by more people than not that "the heart will want what it wants" and that desire is inevitable. However, I know better; I know the small details they have yet to learn of me. Unrequited love is hazardous; it sends men into things they would ordinarily kept themselves miles away from. I can attest to this when I agreed to work with Erik to stop Raven from not only destroying the mutant kind but herself as well.
"It's the wrong time,
she's pulling me through,
it's a small crime,
and I've got no excuse."
It would be easy to excuse myself of thinking of her, but then again, it has been the reason I have resorted to several things. For instance, I have quit using my serum; there had been a time where I could walk and have peace in my mind, whether it be just before sleep dragged me under or when I was more awake than everyone around me.
Why had I given up such a precious gift?
When she needed me the most, I was unable to help her. Instead, I became just an ordinary man with bloodshot eyes, yellow skin lusting for my drug, and long hair that nearly reached my shoulders. In the eyes of anyone else, I had no signs of mutation, any difference to my DNA was lost in my appearance.
Then there was the matter of her coming home once again; she would find me, in a wheelchair but able to communicate in her mind, should she see the need for it. Of course, there was the matter that she might never see that I had a gift instead of a curse.
"Leave me out with the waste,
this is not what I do,
it's the wrong kind of place,
to be thinking of you."
In the nights where I can actually find sleep, she's there but it's not the her I now know. It's the Raven from the days when it would've been enough to look into her eyes and know what was on her mind. And despite knowing that change is good, that it happens to every single being, I can't help miss her.
Too often, I would find myself in a thesis, trapped into the walls of screaming agony and even then, I'm looking for her, searching for her pain to find a light into what I'm trapped in. In the midst of my hunt, I would stop myself, reminding my mind that setting aside the thoughts of all mankind to find hers was not what my DNA was meant for; it was the wrong time, the wrong place to be thinking of her in any form.