Baggage
A One Shot
The world was walking around blind, completely unaware of the bruises and scrapes that covered her body.
The world paid no attention to him, no matter how many times he had failed a test, been shoved into a locker, or laughed at by a pretty girl.
The world didn't care, and neither did she.
He needed air.
And so they met on the rooftop, in the cold night air, with the harsh rain beating down on both their faces. She didn't see him at first, too focused on the ground ten stories below her. He was too used to be ignored to mind.
Then, he heard her crying. Heart in his throat, stomach behind him somewhere, he rushed over to her as reality hit him callously in the face.
"Hey!"
She turned to look at him, teary dark eyes gazing upon dark lenses. For a moment, she looked confused; for a moment she was begging for a saviour. That moment passed, and she returned to staring at the ground, no longer crying.
The wind picked up, urging him forward.
"What are you doing?"
She didn't turn around this time, but her shoulders slumped in defeat. He hurried next to her and took her hand. She didn't pull away; she didn't even flinch.
He had never held a girl's hand before.
"C'mon down from there," he whispered, unsure if she heard it over the howl of the wind and the merciless rain.
He tugged. She gave in.
Her feet shuffled off the roof's ledge. Her head hung in shame.
"You okay?" he asked.
For a moment, there was no response, just the sound of heart shattering sobs.
Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried on his shoulder. Awkwardly, he patted her on the back.
"It's okay," he told her, slowly moving from patting to hugging, "It'll be okay."
She pulled away from him, her big, brown eyes staring up at him.
He felt his heart jump.
"Thank you," she breathed, "I…"
Her voice trailed off into nothingness.
"No problem," he let go of her cautiously, afraid she would disappear the moment contact was broken.
"What were you doing up here?" she asked weakly.
"Getting air," he replied, equally as weak, "It was a long day."
"Yeah," her eyes glazed over once more. He reached for her hand to make it better. She smiled at him, glad to have found him.
She had needed a hero.
He had needed a friend.
"I'm Tiffany."
"Scott."
They stared at each other for a long moment, intensely.
He didn't ask where she got that bruise.
She didn't ask why he wore sunglasses in the middle of the night.
The world didn't care, and neither did they.
Slowly, he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on her lips.
She smiled.
The End
Please note, I do not own anything from the Marvel universe, Scott Summers included. This was just a little idea that came to me about an hour ago. I ran with it, so this is my attempt at something quick and sort of poetic. I hope it's at least decent. Please let me know what you thought. Thank you. –Viviene