Snow in April: A Wedding Story
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Chapter Fifteen: Love Untold, Hurt Unrevealed
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February 22, 2003 5:17 p.m.
No, no, no, no. This CANNOT be happening. You know, someday, I just HAVE to leave this manor. I can't LIVE here without making my life a frickin' SOAP OPERA.
Scott knows I like Remy. SCOTT. I wouldn't be surprised if Jean knew too. But this is BAD. How do I know this is BAD? Well, for one thing, Scott told me and now he sees it as an opportunity to get with JEAN. Okay, what a hypocrite. You know, just the other day he vows to never love her again. And then he just pops out of nowhere and says, "Hey, you like Remy."
"As if it's not apparent," he tells me, and then flicks out a couple of photos of me talking to Remy. Of course I take them and rip them up, then throw them at Scott, but he's unruffled.
"You stand me up at Piccolo's, then you come and give me these? How abhorrent are you?!" I shriek, looking for something hard and heavy to throw at him. But then, he grabs my arm and gives me a serious look of distrust and says, "Rogue. Listen. I had a reason to stand you up."
"A good call on the phone would have done things and I wouldn't have the urge to kill you, Scott Summers! But since I don't want to stain my nonexistent police record, I'll restrain myself." I ripped my arm from him but then as I turn, I slammed into the last person I wanted to see at the moment: Remy.
Of all the last people on earth, he had to be one of them.
So then Remy smiles gorgeously and gives Scott a hampered look, saying, "Whas all dis about, Summers? You ain't making up for standing her up last night." Scott frowned, and I followed Remy's gaze to the bits of photo at Scott's feet. "What y' got dere?"
Then Scott opens his mouth but I butt in: "Jean made him in charge of the wedding hand-outs and I said they were all wrong so he tore them up." Remy frowned, gave me an awkward look.
"Ooookay." Then he reached into his pocket and gave me a little card. "Which reminds meh, Jean wanted me t' give you's dis. Said it was important." I looked at the card which read, "Rogue: meet me in the garage tomorrow at eight a.m."
"Important meaning your wedding?" Remy stifled a small laugh.
"I'll see y' around," he told me and as he passed Scott, he murmured, "You's should betta clean thet up." Scott bent down to pick up the pieces as I stuffed the card in my back pocket.
"In charge of the wedding hand-outs? That's lower than low," he said. I cringed at him.
"Yeah? Well, in that case I'll make sure you get the job." Then left.
Well, I didn't find out why he stood me up or why he took the pictures. But then again, I wouldn't put it on my list to do before I die.
February 23, 2003 9:35 p.m.
I am -depressed-. I mean, I'm not morbidly down or morally deluded like I should be, but I know for some unknown reason that I am depressed. It takes a lot out of me to go around town, searching for the perfect wedding dress for and with the person who is marrying the person who I am in -love- with.
And when that person is Jean, you just know I am going to be down in the dumps for a long time.
It all started at eight this morning. She was there already, dressed in a lavender suit, scented like the flower with scarlet hair tied neatly behind her head. A simple handbag hung from her shoulder.
"Good morning, Rogue," she said, smiling. The first thought that slammed into my brain was whether Scott told her about my infatuation with Remy or not. But then as she straightened my hair and Rocky Horror Picture Show shirt I had on, I knew he didn't. And for what reason? I'm not so sure.
"Good morning, Jean," I replied, trying my best to not let my tone appear flat. We climbed into her SUV and pulled out of the garage, it being surprisingly quiet. Jean drove without speaking, but she did pop in her new CD of Mozart/Bach that blurred out my mind for the rest of the trip. But Jean didn't seem to mind.
At exactly eight twenty-seven [I looked at Jean's built in timer] we parked in Danlie's Bridal Shoppe, and entered with no questions asked. Jean first rung the bell that sat off to the side of the front desk. She then turned to me, pulling at her hair in its neat ponytail.
"I want lace." She seemed definite, and I just nodded. "I mean, lots of lace. Like in Modern Bride, sporting all this flowing lace..." Then, Danlie came out and after kissing Jean's cheeks, made us follow her to the back room.
"You're just in time, new arrivals came in last night," she told us, all the while glowing. She stopped and I followed Jean into the room which smelled of fresh lilacs and was mounted with dresses of every formal. "Just tell me when to ring up. I'll be in the front." She winked at me and left. Jean immediately went to the dresses, pulling out this, putting back that, while I took a seat in armchairs toward the mirrors. After a while of daydreaming, I suddenly see Jean emerge from the racks of dresses, with a dress wrapped in her arm.
"This," she mutters, flapping it out. It flew a bit, landing itself into a splendid array of lace and petticoats. It was pale white with iridescent beading around the torso. I pushed a smile and pretended to be complacent.
"It's great," I answered, flatly. Jean was crestfallen at my tone.
"You don't like it," she sniffed. I frowned.
"I said it was great, Jean. I never said I didn't like it." She still wasn't satisfied.
"Fine. I'll get a second opinion from Remy." My heart sunk.
"You can't do that - it's bad luck to have the groom see the bride in her dress before the wedding," I argued. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. "But I like it. Try it on to see if it fits you," I suggested. She smiled and raced off. Just as she left, my cell phone rang.
It was Kitty.
"Hey Rogue," she said, quietly. Frankly, I was surprised.
"Kitty? You never call my cell."
"Yeah, well, that's because you, like, never told me you had one to, like, begin with. If it wasn't for, like, Peter I would've, like, never known." I stopped, recollecting on her words.
"Peter? You talked to him?"
"This morning. I thought you'd be, like, at Magneto's and found the number, like, in your drawer. Boy was he, like, confused when I called--"
"What is this about, Kitty? Why are you calling?" She huffed into the receiver.
"Gosh, you'd think you'd be at least a little, like, happy to hear me..."
"KITTY!!"
"Lance showed up at the mansion's door."
"WHAT?"
"He brought flowers. Carnations, to be exact."
"Again?" I rolled my eyes.
"Yes." She paused, reflecting. "He said, like, to forgive him."
"Did you?" Silence. "Well?"
"No. Peter shooed him away."
"PETER?"
"I invited him over - sheesh. The guy can get lonely up there, especially since he lives with Magneto." I smiled, praising Peter's luck.
"Lance was angry. He started to rock the place, but then Peter threatened to, like, plow into him. Like, it was so..."
"Why are you calling me again?"
"Peter asked, like, me out."
"REALLY?! What did you say?" No reply. "Kitty?? Answer me!!!"
"I told him I'd, like, ask you first."
"WHAT? WHY? YOU NEED ME TO REPLY TO A REQUEST DESTINED FOR YOU???!!!"
"That was the idea..." I paused, racking my brain.
"Where's Peter now?" Suddenly, Jean came back into the room, wearing the dress. I, shamefully, dropped my cell phone.
She was absolutely stunning. The dress was apparently her size, which outlined her as if she were an angel. I blinked, then dived after my phone. She laughed.
"Does that mean you like it?" she asked, her voice dipped in sugar.
"Yeah," I mumbled, my face burning. Suddenly, I felt -really- ugly. "Yeah, you do." She squealed in sheer delight and giggled all the way back to the changing room. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I huffed graciously into the receiver.
"Kitty?"
"Like, what happened?" I closed my eyes, the image of Jean still there. I grimaced.
"Nothing. So... what were we talking about?"
"Peter."
"Oh, yeah. Where is he?"
"Sitting on the couch, waiting." Then she stifled a small chortle. "He's been here all morning."
"You want him out?"
"No..."
"Then do you want to go out with him?" Pause. "Kitty? ANSWER ME!!"
"Rogue..." Then a click. And I found myself screaming into the receiver: "KITTY? WHAT HAPPENED? KIIITTY!!" Feeling eyes on me, I quickly looked up and found Jean standing at the doorframe, a look of glee on her face.
"C'mon Rogue. I'm ready to pay." I followed her to the front desk where she laid the dress on the counter. Playing with her hair, she looked at me with an unsure eye. "You think...you think he'll like it when he sees it?"
"Remy?" I asked, oblivious, but it was obvious that was her answer. I nodded, sadly. "He'll...fall in love with you all over again." Jean let out a second squeal and threw her arms around me.
"You think so, Rogue? Is it that powerful?"
"Remy's not that hard to please." Jean slowly unfurled her hold and gave Danlie the plastic.
"I hate to admit it, but... I am," she told me with a sigh. I closed my eyes, cursing in my mind. "I mean, the first few days after he proposed to me, I started counting every single thing that was wrong with him." I looked at her, wondering how Remy could not be perfect.
Daresay, she answered my thought thoroughly.
"I mean, I was really surprised when he stopped drinking and smoking and gambling. But really, that's only the surface." She took the dress, kissed Danlie's cheeks, and walked out with me. "When he cooks his soufflé, there's so much spice I'm literally coughing up sarsaparilla and chili; he wears Dakar Noir like he bathes in it, and for heaven's sake, he doesn't even make the bed he sleeps in!" She ran a dire hand across the ruffles of the dress. "He complains if he doesn't have wine without his food (which is regular since he's stopped), quivers his lip if it hasn't met a cigarette in the last five minutes, and wears that hideous, tattered trench coat..."
"No," I said, pointing a strict finger at her. She gave me a surprised look. "Don't touch that. That's his trademark."
"Don't worry, I haven't. He won't let me," she confirmed.
Glad to know there was something he didn't crack under, I thought, opening the trunk to Jean's SUV.
"But you know... he can kiss," she continued, pensive. At her words, I felt my heart slam into my rib cage. My throat throbbed and my eyes ached to cry.
"B-Being that I don't know such experience...I-I'll take your word for it." She smiled, tucking stray tendrils behind her ear.
"I mean, I hate it when he holds me in public, but his kiss just blows me away." She put the dress in her trunk and turned to me. "Something wrong, Rogue?" She must have noticed how anguished I felt.
"What?! No, nothing...everything's fine." She smiled; put a hand on my shoulder.
"Good. You want to get some coffee?" I bowed my head away as I felt my eyes cloud.
"No thanks, Jean. I don't feel so good anymore." Her smile turned to a frown.
"Okay Rogue. Chin up, 'kay? Life is good." We climbed into the SUV and as we were passing Clairemont's I heard Jean sigh pensively.
"That's it." Her tone sounded with a note of finality. I turned to her, questioning.
"What?"
"That's it," she nodded to the wicker chairs near the bridge. "That's where he proposed."
"What?!" I pressed my finger against the glass, dismayed. "Here?!"
"Yeah, with the accordion player and everything." I almost killed myself there. I don't understand - why would he be so impatient with me and then make the guy sing while he proposes?!!!
I am confused.
And broken.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Chapter Fifteen: Love Untold, Hurt Unrevealed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
February 22, 2003 5:17 p.m.
No, no, no, no. This CANNOT be happening. You know, someday, I just HAVE to leave this manor. I can't LIVE here without making my life a frickin' SOAP OPERA.
Scott knows I like Remy. SCOTT. I wouldn't be surprised if Jean knew too. But this is BAD. How do I know this is BAD? Well, for one thing, Scott told me and now he sees it as an opportunity to get with JEAN. Okay, what a hypocrite. You know, just the other day he vows to never love her again. And then he just pops out of nowhere and says, "Hey, you like Remy."
"As if it's not apparent," he tells me, and then flicks out a couple of photos of me talking to Remy. Of course I take them and rip them up, then throw them at Scott, but he's unruffled.
"You stand me up at Piccolo's, then you come and give me these? How abhorrent are you?!" I shriek, looking for something hard and heavy to throw at him. But then, he grabs my arm and gives me a serious look of distrust and says, "Rogue. Listen. I had a reason to stand you up."
"A good call on the phone would have done things and I wouldn't have the urge to kill you, Scott Summers! But since I don't want to stain my nonexistent police record, I'll restrain myself." I ripped my arm from him but then as I turn, I slammed into the last person I wanted to see at the moment: Remy.
Of all the last people on earth, he had to be one of them.
So then Remy smiles gorgeously and gives Scott a hampered look, saying, "Whas all dis about, Summers? You ain't making up for standing her up last night." Scott frowned, and I followed Remy's gaze to the bits of photo at Scott's feet. "What y' got dere?"
Then Scott opens his mouth but I butt in: "Jean made him in charge of the wedding hand-outs and I said they were all wrong so he tore them up." Remy frowned, gave me an awkward look.
"Ooookay." Then he reached into his pocket and gave me a little card. "Which reminds meh, Jean wanted me t' give you's dis. Said it was important." I looked at the card which read, "Rogue: meet me in the garage tomorrow at eight a.m."
"Important meaning your wedding?" Remy stifled a small laugh.
"I'll see y' around," he told me and as he passed Scott, he murmured, "You's should betta clean thet up." Scott bent down to pick up the pieces as I stuffed the card in my back pocket.
"In charge of the wedding hand-outs? That's lower than low," he said. I cringed at him.
"Yeah? Well, in that case I'll make sure you get the job." Then left.
Well, I didn't find out why he stood me up or why he took the pictures. But then again, I wouldn't put it on my list to do before I die.
February 23, 2003 9:35 p.m.
I am -depressed-. I mean, I'm not morbidly down or morally deluded like I should be, but I know for some unknown reason that I am depressed. It takes a lot out of me to go around town, searching for the perfect wedding dress for and with the person who is marrying the person who I am in -love- with.
And when that person is Jean, you just know I am going to be down in the dumps for a long time.
It all started at eight this morning. She was there already, dressed in a lavender suit, scented like the flower with scarlet hair tied neatly behind her head. A simple handbag hung from her shoulder.
"Good morning, Rogue," she said, smiling. The first thought that slammed into my brain was whether Scott told her about my infatuation with Remy or not. But then as she straightened my hair and Rocky Horror Picture Show shirt I had on, I knew he didn't. And for what reason? I'm not so sure.
"Good morning, Jean," I replied, trying my best to not let my tone appear flat. We climbed into her SUV and pulled out of the garage, it being surprisingly quiet. Jean drove without speaking, but she did pop in her new CD of Mozart/Bach that blurred out my mind for the rest of the trip. But Jean didn't seem to mind.
At exactly eight twenty-seven [I looked at Jean's built in timer] we parked in Danlie's Bridal Shoppe, and entered with no questions asked. Jean first rung the bell that sat off to the side of the front desk. She then turned to me, pulling at her hair in its neat ponytail.
"I want lace." She seemed definite, and I just nodded. "I mean, lots of lace. Like in Modern Bride, sporting all this flowing lace..." Then, Danlie came out and after kissing Jean's cheeks, made us follow her to the back room.
"You're just in time, new arrivals came in last night," she told us, all the while glowing. She stopped and I followed Jean into the room which smelled of fresh lilacs and was mounted with dresses of every formal. "Just tell me when to ring up. I'll be in the front." She winked at me and left. Jean immediately went to the dresses, pulling out this, putting back that, while I took a seat in armchairs toward the mirrors. After a while of daydreaming, I suddenly see Jean emerge from the racks of dresses, with a dress wrapped in her arm.
"This," she mutters, flapping it out. It flew a bit, landing itself into a splendid array of lace and petticoats. It was pale white with iridescent beading around the torso. I pushed a smile and pretended to be complacent.
"It's great," I answered, flatly. Jean was crestfallen at my tone.
"You don't like it," she sniffed. I frowned.
"I said it was great, Jean. I never said I didn't like it." She still wasn't satisfied.
"Fine. I'll get a second opinion from Remy." My heart sunk.
"You can't do that - it's bad luck to have the groom see the bride in her dress before the wedding," I argued. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. "But I like it. Try it on to see if it fits you," I suggested. She smiled and raced off. Just as she left, my cell phone rang.
It was Kitty.
"Hey Rogue," she said, quietly. Frankly, I was surprised.
"Kitty? You never call my cell."
"Yeah, well, that's because you, like, never told me you had one to, like, begin with. If it wasn't for, like, Peter I would've, like, never known." I stopped, recollecting on her words.
"Peter? You talked to him?"
"This morning. I thought you'd be, like, at Magneto's and found the number, like, in your drawer. Boy was he, like, confused when I called--"
"What is this about, Kitty? Why are you calling?" She huffed into the receiver.
"Gosh, you'd think you'd be at least a little, like, happy to hear me..."
"KITTY!!"
"Lance showed up at the mansion's door."
"WHAT?"
"He brought flowers. Carnations, to be exact."
"Again?" I rolled my eyes.
"Yes." She paused, reflecting. "He said, like, to forgive him."
"Did you?" Silence. "Well?"
"No. Peter shooed him away."
"PETER?"
"I invited him over - sheesh. The guy can get lonely up there, especially since he lives with Magneto." I smiled, praising Peter's luck.
"Lance was angry. He started to rock the place, but then Peter threatened to, like, plow into him. Like, it was so..."
"Why are you calling me again?"
"Peter asked, like, me out."
"REALLY?! What did you say?" No reply. "Kitty?? Answer me!!!"
"I told him I'd, like, ask you first."
"WHAT? WHY? YOU NEED ME TO REPLY TO A REQUEST DESTINED FOR YOU???!!!"
"That was the idea..." I paused, racking my brain.
"Where's Peter now?" Suddenly, Jean came back into the room, wearing the dress. I, shamefully, dropped my cell phone.
She was absolutely stunning. The dress was apparently her size, which outlined her as if she were an angel. I blinked, then dived after my phone. She laughed.
"Does that mean you like it?" she asked, her voice dipped in sugar.
"Yeah," I mumbled, my face burning. Suddenly, I felt -really- ugly. "Yeah, you do." She squealed in sheer delight and giggled all the way back to the changing room. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I huffed graciously into the receiver.
"Kitty?"
"Like, what happened?" I closed my eyes, the image of Jean still there. I grimaced.
"Nothing. So... what were we talking about?"
"Peter."
"Oh, yeah. Where is he?"
"Sitting on the couch, waiting." Then she stifled a small chortle. "He's been here all morning."
"You want him out?"
"No..."
"Then do you want to go out with him?" Pause. "Kitty? ANSWER ME!!"
"Rogue..." Then a click. And I found myself screaming into the receiver: "KITTY? WHAT HAPPENED? KIIITTY!!" Feeling eyes on me, I quickly looked up and found Jean standing at the doorframe, a look of glee on her face.
"C'mon Rogue. I'm ready to pay." I followed her to the front desk where she laid the dress on the counter. Playing with her hair, she looked at me with an unsure eye. "You think...you think he'll like it when he sees it?"
"Remy?" I asked, oblivious, but it was obvious that was her answer. I nodded, sadly. "He'll...fall in love with you all over again." Jean let out a second squeal and threw her arms around me.
"You think so, Rogue? Is it that powerful?"
"Remy's not that hard to please." Jean slowly unfurled her hold and gave Danlie the plastic.
"I hate to admit it, but... I am," she told me with a sigh. I closed my eyes, cursing in my mind. "I mean, the first few days after he proposed to me, I started counting every single thing that was wrong with him." I looked at her, wondering how Remy could not be perfect.
Daresay, she answered my thought thoroughly.
"I mean, I was really surprised when he stopped drinking and smoking and gambling. But really, that's only the surface." She took the dress, kissed Danlie's cheeks, and walked out with me. "When he cooks his soufflé, there's so much spice I'm literally coughing up sarsaparilla and chili; he wears Dakar Noir like he bathes in it, and for heaven's sake, he doesn't even make the bed he sleeps in!" She ran a dire hand across the ruffles of the dress. "He complains if he doesn't have wine without his food (which is regular since he's stopped), quivers his lip if it hasn't met a cigarette in the last five minutes, and wears that hideous, tattered trench coat..."
"No," I said, pointing a strict finger at her. She gave me a surprised look. "Don't touch that. That's his trademark."
"Don't worry, I haven't. He won't let me," she confirmed.
Glad to know there was something he didn't crack under, I thought, opening the trunk to Jean's SUV.
"But you know... he can kiss," she continued, pensive. At her words, I felt my heart slam into my rib cage. My throat throbbed and my eyes ached to cry.
"B-Being that I don't know such experience...I-I'll take your word for it." She smiled, tucking stray tendrils behind her ear.
"I mean, I hate it when he holds me in public, but his kiss just blows me away." She put the dress in her trunk and turned to me. "Something wrong, Rogue?" She must have noticed how anguished I felt.
"What?! No, nothing...everything's fine." She smiled; put a hand on my shoulder.
"Good. You want to get some coffee?" I bowed my head away as I felt my eyes cloud.
"No thanks, Jean. I don't feel so good anymore." Her smile turned to a frown.
"Okay Rogue. Chin up, 'kay? Life is good." We climbed into the SUV and as we were passing Clairemont's I heard Jean sigh pensively.
"That's it." Her tone sounded with a note of finality. I turned to her, questioning.
"What?"
"That's it," she nodded to the wicker chairs near the bridge. "That's where he proposed."
"What?!" I pressed my finger against the glass, dismayed. "Here?!"
"Yeah, with the accordion player and everything." I almost killed myself there. I don't understand - why would he be so impatient with me and then make the guy sing while he proposes?!!!
I am confused.
And broken.
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