It's been three weeks since we came back to the mansion. We had a meeting two days after arriving, the Professor, Beast, Storm, and us former prisoners. They left what we do up to us. Stay or go. Integrate with the school or take more time to ourselves. Not many people chose to stay and of those who did not many chose to integrate yet. I don't think any of us were ready to face people, no matter how safe we were. It was suggested maybe John wait a while before he even attempted to roam freely around the school. Of course, this made him want to do it immediately, but my pleas of staying just us didn't go unheard by him. I've spent every night and day in John's room, only going back to my room to clean myself up and change clothes. I do this in the dead on night when John walked off to the bathroom down the hall to shower. There was never an issue of running into people aside from the ones who had been through hell with us and occasionally a teacher. My room had always been on the same floor as the older X-Men's giving me my own bathroom and more privacy. Not because I was special, but because it was safer that way. The floor John was on was one I had never even thought of. Right above the teachers. I had always just assumed the stairs led up to an attict, but the mansion is always surprising me. I guess if there can be secret corridors why not seceret floors?
"So, not that I don't just love what we have going on here," John said with sarcasm, interuppting my thoughts, "but, uh, why do we sleep in this room?"
I couldn't tell if this was his way of telling me to go away, why do WE sleep in this room? Or if he was asking why THIS room?
"Where else would we sleep?" I ask quietly, hoping it's the latter.
"Okay, hear me out," he began. I could feel myself panicking. Slowly I began to float off the bed. A side effect of Carol that I haven't learned to control. John watched with a smirk. "You and I could sleep in your room."
I sighed as I felt my body lower back to the bed and the panic fade, "Why though? What's wrong with this room?"
John walked over to the bed and sat next to me. "Look around, there's nothing."
"There's books. There's you."
"Rogue, you go back to your room every day, and why? Because all of your stuff is there. Including your own bathroom. We can stay here, hiding in this little hell hole, or I could just load up what little belongings I have and we could just go to your room. Your room with the shower and the TV," he smiled and fell back on to the bed.
"Could we maybe change it?" I asked feeling small.
John leaned up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow to me, "Change it?"
"I don't like being in there lately. It's so overwhelming. It's all Rogue, and Rogue's life, and just I can't handle it. I don't feel the same, and seeing my room Carol feels overwhelmed; I feel guilty. There's just too much bad in it. I need new. I need fresh. I need-"
"My bed set?" John cut me off.
"Yes, your bed set," I laughed, "That's a start. Your big, nice, fluffy grey bedset instead of my mismatched one. I just need something new."
"I promise, somehow we can do that," he smiled, "but for tonight can we just go to your room, watch TV, shower, and sleep in your giant bed?"
