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.
Author's Note: This chapter is sappy and happy! Oh, I actually did myself a favor and went on the Kids' WB site. X-Men: Evo's going to be on the last week of April, so stay tuned! Sad stuff also in this chapter. Read and you'll know why.
Dedication: To Goldylokz. I used your Karaoke idea. Because, as predicted, I had writer's block. Thanks!
Chapter Eighteen: Blatant Secrets
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 16, 2003 5:12 p.m., on the rec room's couch
It's weird how things just fall into place without any real realization to begin with. For example, today, I opened the door to my shared room and found John sitting on my bed. He wore that simple smile that I swore he copied from Remy and blatantly gripped a tense vibe around him.
I shuddered.
"G'day, Rogue," he greeted, but I couldn't think of anything else to say except, "What are doing here?"
He frowned, obviously expecting something more polite. "Kitty let me in," he explained, taking out his lighter. Lighting a flame, he played through the fire, making it into a horse, a dog, a giraffe. A grin crossed his face as I came over and sat next to him.
"Of course," he said further, "I would've waited downstairs, but Kitty insisted on making me stay here." Annoyed, I blew out his flame and he stared, as if amazed.
"What are you doing here," I said again, not intending it as a question anymore. John noticed and flipped the lighter through his fingers.
"I was wonderin' if yah wanted to come down tah dah Pub on Friday," he said, and I was about to protest, but he continued, "it's a special Karaoke night at dah bar an' I was wond'rin' if yah liked tah come." I looked at him, wondering what he was up to. He read my face and frowned. "You busy Friday?"
"I have to make sure," I said slowly, knowing I wasn't. "But if not, I'll let you know." He placed the lighter back in his pocket and got up to go, but turned back to me.
"I'll be awaitn' yah call then, love," he said sweetly and with a click of the door, he was gone.
I wonder what he could want now.
March 17, 2003 8:34 p.m.
Jean says I need to write a small greeting towards the newlyweds. But when Jean says a "small" greeting she means, a long, vivid, beautifully composed piece dedicated to -her-. Think eulogy to the undead.
She told me this two hours ago, and I am -stumped-. Seriously, I haven't thought of anything this hard since the last term paper. Which wasn't much to think about, even if it was about WWII.
And with the rate I'm going, I'm lucky if I even get close to finishing this stupid speech.
March 18, 2003
Today, Jean caught me going up the stairs, heading for my room.
She looked ebullient. And I felt like crap.
"Rogue!" she called. I stopped, cringed at her shrill voice, and slowly turned around. She was wearing a white-striped pale blue shirt and a pelted gray skirt. So homely, I thought, quickly hoping she hadn't heard. Taking quick strides to meet me, she beamed at my confusion.
"Guess what," she said, her voice sugary. I immediately frowned.
"I'm not doing it," I said, and continued my way back to my room. Jean pursued, much to my contempt.
"But you don't even know what it's about!" I put a hand on the knob, but Jean blocked the doorway with her arm. "Hear me out, Rogue. I mean..."
"You mean it's something that you need for your wedding," I spat. She licked her lips and continued.
"Well, not really," she said, and I removed her arm from its place.
"I'm not doing it," I repeated. Turning the knob, she stopped me from entering.
"Wilder's coming to the Bayville Derby in two days. He's competing for some sort of gold. But he's been a little...depressed since our departure and the bucker thinks it's because you're not there anymore." I looked at her, remembering. Touching my broken arm, I nodded.
"Glad that was over," I murmured. Continuing into my room, she spoke up again.
"It's one day, Rogue. Just go and wish him luck."
"Why do you want -me-?" Jean looked appalled.
"It's not me, Rogue. I'm just concerned about the horse."
"Jean," I said, taking off my Doc Martens, "when you care about a horse, I'll be with John." Realizing what I had just said, I clamped a hand on my mouth. Jean smugly sought this as blackmail.
"John?" she asked, shyly. Coming in, she sat down on Kitty's bed and grinned. "Do you -like- him?" I gaped at her, obviously thrown off track. And the worse part was it was because of my big mouth.
"No, not like that," I said, but she was already taunting me about it. So I finally said I'd go. "But if you'd keep what I said away from everyone." She agreed on the compromise, and got up to leave. After walking out the door frame, she abruptly turned and said, "See you on Thursday." And was gone.
So there you have it. Me and my big, grotesque mouth. Excuse me while I smack my head against the wall in distress.
March 19, 2003
Jean let me borrow her mauve dress and matching hat and shoes for tomorrow's race. But she also mentioned that her parents were attending and that I would need to avoid them in any case possible, since she wouldn't be there to critic on my character. And who better to distract me than Kurt?
But it turns out Kurt can't go--he's got a date with that Amanda chick. So, I've asked Kitty, Evan, Jubes, even Remy, and they all said they were busy tomorrow.
I could take Piotr, but then it'd be weird since we haven't talked in a while, or St. John, but he's "in love with me" according to Kitty whose had no difficulty getting that point across, and it'd be even weirder, or even Logan, but he's always busy, either with his bike or Ororo.
Therefore, that leaves narrowly nobody.
March 20, 2003
I took Sam with me. I mean, when you're desperate for a date, you don't bring Jaime (or at least I don't) in fear that he'd wear one of his famous polka dot bow ties that he passes as "fancy". Sam, at least, was free and owned a decent tux that I wouldn't have any beef with him being seen in. Therefore, I let him come along.
We arrived at 2:00 p.m., thirty minutes before the races would start. We were met by Jean's parents who looked more distressed than when they had met Remy for the first time.
"Rogue!" called Mrs. Grey running and gathering me in a hug, "It's just so terrible. Wilder will simply not race! We actually have to -drag- him to the stables where he collapsed." I glanced sideways at her and said I'd go see the horse and entered the stables where he was staying. Sam, who was quiet the whole trip there, followed me in. Wilder was standing by his stable, neighing. I greeted him and introduced Sam, stating he was a friend. After a bit of petting, Sam spoke up.
"Ah think he lahkes you." I shifted my eyes to him and smirked.
"You some kind of horse whisperer, Guthrie?" I asked, my gloved hands coming around Wilder's nose. Sam shrugged at my question and stood there, silent.
"Yah think," he said, sullenly, "that when people see things, they tend ta judge completely off guahrd?" Again, I looked at him with curiosity.
"Striking question," I murmured, suddenly remember what John had told me.
~Maybe Remy's not the only one blind.~
I shuddered and turned back to the Southern. "Why ya ask?" It was met with a shrug. I nodded, suddenly hearing voices fill the stables.
"But you have to race Wilder!" shouted a voice, that sounded like Mr. Grey's. Sam and I exchanged glances.
"I already -told- you, that damn horse ain't letting no one ride it. It better stay here, for the time being..."
"You're not telling me I paid five grand just to move this horse over here and not race! Robertson, I'm paying you hoards of money..."
"Well, I don't care," the racer said. "You can take your money back. That horse is better off staying here and not go out and humiliate all of us." The voices stopped. When I turned back to Sam, he had his eyes on Wilder. Awkwardly, I glanced at my watch.
"Better get going, Guthrie," I said, taking his sleeve. "The races will start soon."
"What 'bout Wilder, miss? What 'bout him?" I looked at him, then to the horse, and back again. I frowned, digressing.
"C'mon."
***
I wasn't really expecting much afterwards, knowing Jean would get the disappointing news sooner or later. So when the announcer came on about Wilder not going to compete, I couldn't help but wonder about her parents. I guess this was why she made me come - to bring Wilder back to the horse he once was. Turning to Sam, I was about to ask about what he meant when he mentioned about judging people.
That was when I found he wasn't sitting next to me after all.
A gun shot through the air and the horses were off. In unison, everyone lifted binoculars to their eyes to watch the horses dash madly toward the finish line.
And that's when I saw Wilder. And Sam.
Gasps peeled through the crowd as Sam, clad in riding boots and headgear, and Wilder leaped over the fence and galloped further. In twenty seconds flat, Wilder had past Sugarcane and Maximum. Then Cloudy, Castillo, and Rampart. Neck and neck to Ebenezer and suddenly--Wilder had won! A gracious wallop rang throughout the spectators as the announcer read Wilder's name and the anonymous rider who talked the horse back into the race. Twenty grand was looted and a beautiful mounting trophy was for Sam. Wilder only preferred to stay with him a while longer and then it was back to the stables with Sam's trustful steed.
So there you have it. Sam, now hero, professional horse racer, and horse whisperer got what he deserved. And I let what anyone else would've let him do.
Drive me home.
March 21, 2003
I haven't forgotten about John. I know it's Friday, I know it's far from when I should've called him. I know, I know, I know. But the thing is, I don't want to go. I really don't. Karaoke is not my thing, if you know what I mean. Look at it this way, I'm no Jimmy Hendrix, but I ain't any Britney Spears also. Therefore, I resent the fact that John wants Karaoke.
For crying out loud, KARAOKE.
Greeting Attempt #1:
I've been the sucker for love these past few months. Seen myself blind but never before I could catch myself from falling flat on my face. So this is kind of like a slap to my face, getting up here and addressing the "married couple". You don't even look good together. You think that's harsh? I could do worse. I could do far worse, more angst, more drama, than that of when you wake up in the morning and find yourself less than perfect, preppy Jean. And you, Remy. Think you could design yourself a hoeless life--boy, are you in for a surprise. Commitment is hard, and the truth is harsh. But then again, you all knew this was a mistake, right?
March 22, 2003 12:32 a.m.
When I went to object to Jean's making me try at a greeting, I peeked into her room and found Remy sitting on the floor, and Jean watching the T.V. on the bed. I was about to break up the moment, until I heard Remy as her what happened to the old times.
"Y' remember," he asked, his fingers shaking with anxiety for a cig, "when we used t' sit up late at night, tryin' t' study fo' biology an' order pizza before goin' t' bed?" Jean sighed, patted his shoulder with a worried hand. "I miss dose."
"Remy, that was before we turned mature."
"Mature? Y' t'ink orderin' a dress an' cake is -mature-?" She frowned at his comment. Sliding her arms around his neck, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"I swear, when this is all over, there'll still be the pizza and biology tests. Okay?" He nodded, and she kissed his cheek. Turning away from the scene, I decided maybe I wanted to see John after all. But before I could leave, Jean suddenly called me in. I guess she heard my head or something, because she was gazing at me peculiarly.
"Rogue," she mumbled, her arms still around Remy, "you going out?"
"I guess, though I don't think it's any of your business." Remy turned his head to me, his eyes narrowing.
"Where?" He asked simply. I shrugged.
"To Bill's Pub." Jean laughed, and I frowned at her. "Something funny?"
"Karaoke night, Rogue?" she chuckled, swaying Remy in her arms, "I can't really see you enter a karaoke bar. What's the special occasion?"
I glanced at Remy, who squirmed uneasily in his fiancé's arms. Shrugging again, I spat, "I'm meeting John."
Jean gave me a sweet smile. "I see," she said, waving her hand. "Have fun. And be back before eleven." She chortled as I glared at her. "I'm just joking, sweetie." Rolling my eyes, I scuffled away, not intending to stay any longer.
***
He was sitting in a booth when I entered. Dressed in a teal shirt and corduroys, he couldn't have looked any more casual. People stared at my black attire as I wrenched my way through, avoiding any contact of the skin and the eyes that followed as I seated myself across from my awaiting friend. He beamed, a grin playing on his face.
"I didn't think you'd show up, Sheila," he smiled. I forced my own grin and ordered a soda for the night.
"Sorry I didn't call. Jean made me do her dirty work again." John frowned, drumming his fingers on the table.
"You shouldn't falter for dat, love," he cooed. I shrugged the third time that night and he suddenly reached over and held my gloved hand. "You're so much stronger dan dat."
Not when you're in love with a person who's in love with someone else, I dared to not say aloud. Pulling my hand away from his grasp, I shuddered against the chair. John frowned and leaned back. The waitress came back with my soda and John pushed his beer to his lips. Suddenly, he got up and flung an arm in front of me.
"Come with me," he whispered, his voice mysterious and seductive. I couldn't help but smile. Letting him lead me through the crowd, he took the mic and selected a song from the collection before him. Then he got up and started singing "Tired of Sex" by Weezer. Belting out the lyrics, he finished and the crowd gave a wallop of a shout and an applause rose through the room. Rejoining my side, he suddenly said into the mic, "Blokes and Sheilas, please give a warm and peasing welcome to the wonderful, the beautiful, Miss Rogue!"
And I choked on my soda. The crowd, of course drunk with beer, gave me the welcome while John handed me the microphone and there I stood, staring at the many stoned faces that I couldn't ever get used to seeing. The song came on and I found myself stuttering the words while staring at the screen and starting to sing,
"I know I'm kinda strange, to you sometimes
Don't always say, what's on my mind,
You know that I've been hurt, by some guy
But I don't wanna mess up this time..."
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walk over to our table and sit down.
"And I really really really care
And I really really really want you
And I think I'm kinda scared
Cos I don't want to lose you
If you really really really care
Then maybe you can hang through
I hope you understand
It's nothing to you."
I had been watching John, and I saw his eyes narrow. Bear with me, I pleaded, the words scrolling across the screen:
"My heart's at a low
I'm so much to manage
I think you should know that
I've been damaged
I'm falling in love
There's one disadvantage
I think you should know that I've been damaged."
Staring now, I could see the person at our table had ordered a beer. John tried not to notice.
"I might look through your stuff, for what I don't wanna find
Or I might just set you up, to see if you're all mine
I'm a little paranoid, from what I've been through
Don't know what you got yourself into..."
Suddenly, John started walking over to our table, and I quickly gave the microphone to the nearest drunkard before running after the angered Aussie. He halted in front of the beer drinking man, crooning evil and threatening until he suddenly wheeled back and I took a good look at the man...
"Remy." I saw John's face break into a solid frown.
"You were expectin' another?" he asked, casually, ignoring John's anger. I tried to do so myself.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. Remy took another sip of his beer and smiled.
"Heard you'd be here. Think John was going to have all the fun?" John suddenly grabbed the drink from Remy's hands.
"I wanna betta explanation, Cajun," he spat, and I took a step back. Remy glanced at him and the smile disappeared from his lips.
"I want t' speak w' Rogue." Looking at him, I could see under his glasses that he wore no contacts. I gulped, the sound still ringing in my ears as I write this.
"M-Me?" I asked. Standing up, Remy was suddenly blocked by John, who had come between us. Annoyed, Remy drew back his breath.
"I didn't think I'd have to have permission from y' to' talk w' someone," he said. John still did not move.
"Dam--," he started, but I came in between them.
"It's all right, John," I said, taking his arm, "it ain't like he can do anything to me." The Pyro stared at me, then, defeated, reluctantly let me aside. I strode off, Remy hot on my heels. As the door was swung open, I could feel the post-winter weather seep through my jacket. Shivering some, I turned to the thief.
"What are you doing here? I thought you and Jean wanted some alone time." Remy snorted out a laugh.
"Alone time? Jean and I always do that. It ain't anything new."
"And the pizza and biology tests?" I could see the blush come across his face.
"Thet was before we were...were..." he cut himself off. Following his gaze, I saw John standing by the door, eyes narrowed and an angered stare penetrating both of us. Then, he had walked away with no other remark or retorting.
"I see I've disrupted too much," Remy murmured. I heard this and shook my head.
"John's just been acting up lately. Kitty says he likes me..." Remy looked at me quickly.
"Likes you?" It annoyed me how disbelieved he was.
"I guess." He gave me a weird look and I sighed. "I'm not denying anything yet."
"Do you like him?" Remy asked, obviously wanting an answer. I shrugged.
"No." It was the truth and it seemed as if Remy relaxed at this. "He's a bit angry. With a lot of things. Lately." Remy nodded, like he knew.
Remy offered to drive me home and we stopped by the Dairy Queen and ordered ice cream. We didn't talk much, but Remy did walk me back to my room where I've been awake for the past hour or so.
March 24, 2003
Attempt #2
Well, it's time to talk of many things concerning this marriage. Jean has nothing old, everything new, Hell would freeze over if she had something borrowed, and hardly anything except Remy's fake eyes that are blue.
Not that you needed to know that.
I'm not a fan of weddings. You may say that this wedding was a big flop since I'm in it. I just might agree with you on the first part, but this is not entirely my fault. I only take the blame for letting it happen.
You see, several things have happened as a result to this planned marriage. First, there was Dunst who just passed out after unsuccessfully making everyone line up in a straight line. Then, there was Floof who just happens to be gay, was pushed to the side and knocked over in his own shop. And the accordion man playing ever Tuesday and Thursday down by the bridge at Clairemont's is filing a couple of lawsuits after Remy. And we thought they were in good terms because he did accompany Remy to make a very "romantic" proposal.
So, my dearies, you see that now is not a time to be saying these negative things. I mean, we all wanted it to be a movie-esque wedding with big white flowers, a dress stretching your wallet across the United States, a beautiful choir and those flower girls in puffy dresses that make your eyes sore when they saunter down the aisle. Yes, that's what we wanted, and then we _got_this. And there you have it, folks. You both are screwed.
March 25, 2003
Piotr called today. I answered, and though he wanted to talk to Kitty, invited me over to Magneto's.
I wonder what he could want.
5:43 p.m.
Just came back from Danlie's. Jean had wanted to have Piotr's suit refitted, but she couldn't make it. Piotr said that Kitty or I'd come over to substitute.
When I got there, Magneto had opened the door. With a raised eyebrow instead of another one of his useless comments, he let me into the hall where Piotr was standing, waiting for me. We rode in the X-Jeep to Danlie's, got the suits, and I followed him to the back where he took off his own jacket. Something hit the floor. Piotr hurriedly dropped to the ground, his hand sliding over it. Getting up, I looked at him wondering as he pocketed the thing. I said nothing as he took a suit off the rack and went into the dressing room.
"So how you've been, Petey? Haven't seen you in a long time," I said, staring at my nails. Jean had also said that she wanted to have my fingers done afterwards. I had protested, but then, looking at them, it seemed to make sense why she suggested such.
"Well, Rogue. I have been well." I nodded my head, as if approving his English and heard the door creak open. Piotr strode out, his jacket over a shoulder, as a model would. I smirked, my defenses down.
"What do you think?" he asked me. I laughed as he mimicked John, throwing back his head and giving everyone a cock-eyed glare.
"Swell," I approved. He smiled, looking relaxed. Putting down his jacket, he buckled his belt and looked at the mirror. Thinking it was a good time to to ask questions, I said, "So, why'd you want to make me come?"
He shrugged, obviously hiding something. "To see my good friend again." His fingers traveled to his pocket. I rose an eyebrow, wondering.
"Whatca got there, Petey? Some eye candy?" He, startled, glanced up and a blush crossed his chiseled face.
"Eye candy?" he asked, not familiar with the term. I saw this as a chance to redeem myself.
"Can I see it?" I asked. He looked at me quickly; the blush got pinker.
"I'm not sure." I frowned, coming closer.
"Aw c'mon, Petey, it ain't like I'm gonna tell nobody."
"Anybody," he said. I looked at him, unsure.
"Okay, anybody." I held up my hands. "I won't tell a soul. My lips are sealed." Piotr, relaxing, slowly pulled out a velvet box. I immediately recognized it as Remy's ring to Jean.
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
"Remy told me to hold it. He'd let Kurt, but he can't really trust him," he explained, trying to give it to me. As if it were something lethal, I pushed his hand back.
"Oh, I already saw that," I said, trying to hide my hurt. But I had forgotten that you can't really hide anything from Piotr.
"I am giving it back today," he said, "leaving it up in Remy's room so he can get it polished or shiny or something." I almost didn't hear his words. Knowing my discomfort, he changed the subject while pocketing the ring. "I saw John the other night. He looked angered." At this, I nodded.
"Yeah--he invited me to a Karaoke bar." I saw Piotr cringed. I smiled. "Exactly how I felt. And so I go and he sings and he makes me sing, and then Remy comes..."
"Remy?!" Piotr stifled a small laugh. "What a night."
"What do you mean, 'what a night'?" Piotr shrugged.
"I mean, John has means on seeing you, but Remy has the nerve to see to you as well. That, I consider, is what a night." I grinned at the possibility of Remy wanting to see me. But I knew it was only too good to be true and switched myself back to reality.
"So John gets all upset and Remy drives me home. End of story." Piotr nodded, and went back into the changing rooms before purchasing the suit.
"I'm really glad we had a chance to talk," I said, and Piotr nodded. We drove back and while walking to Magneto's Dome I dared to ask, "So, have you talked to Kitty?" Piotr surprisingly grinned.
"I am guessing she never told you," he said simply. I cocked my head at him, wondering.
"Tell me what?" His grin was bursting with ebullience.
"We are together." Then, he walked inside the dome, leaving me to digress by myself. I've been back for about a week now. Maybe even more. And she NEVER TOLD ME?!
I'm telling you, I miss too much when I'm gone.
March 26, 2003
Kitty says that they've been together for three days, stating that she couldn't stay with Lance when her love belonged, like, somewhere else, and she never told me because, like, I never asked.
Talk about a soap opera.
March 27, 2003
I have gone too far again. Sometimes, my conscience mocks me, but now it's getting easier and easier as to not getting caught and harder and harder to not feel bad about it.
I took the ring. I mean, Jean pissed me off, so I had to! Hear me out, I have a reason you know.
So Jean holds another one of her prissy rehearsals, and this had the priest and everything, which explains why everyone was on their very best behavior.
That is, until Jean told me that she wanted the speech thingy. You all know I hadn't done it yet, so what was I supposed to turn in? I just retorted that this isn't preschool, and she was all, that's right, it's my wedding and I expect things to be done proper and on time. So we go on and gab and gurgle at each other, until Jean suddenly pushes me, and I fall off a step.
Which takes the fight to a whole other level.
We were then pulling at each other's hair and pushing each other, until finally the priest comes in, and says "Stop it you two! We're in the house of God!" And I take an unintentional swig with my broken arm at him, and bam! He's out like a light bulb [Though I can't seem to see any reason for it. It WAS, after all, my BROKEN arm].
The paramedics come once more, we are then dubbed "The Wrecked Wedding People," Jean screams and then humiliates me in front of everyone, saying I'm an irresponsible low-life, with no higher depth than a mere ounce of respect for her or Remy. I could've yelled back, but I'm limited on big words and just went up to my room. Flinging myself on my bed, I plotted revenge.
Sweet, sweet, sweet revenge I would take on that preppy pushover, and make her the one hurt this time. But how? And with what? So, after much thought, I concluded what could be better than taking the ring?
It wasn't that hard either. Piotr just came in and dropped it on Remy's desk, where it sat, untouched, for a day. And now it's in my hands, twirling in its velvet box.
So HA. Let this be a lesson to you Jean: never underestimate the Rogue.
March 28, 2003 10:30 a.m.
Big problems have occurred as a result to my taking the ring:
1.) Remy can't find it.
2.) Jean doesn't even know I have it, or that Remy even has another ring to give her.
3.) Remy's blaming Piotr.
4.) I'm guilty.
This can NOT get any worse.
2:12 p.m.
You know in the movies, some person always says, this cannot get any worse and something always blows up or it rains? Well, that happened. I mean, nothing blew up, and it didn't rained, but it's just as bad.
I LOST THE RING!!!
It shameful, I know. I just heard Remy downstairs, yelling that he was gonna get Piotr good for doing this to him, and I just grabbed the box, shouted, "THIS is all your fault!" and flung it at the wall.
Only, it didn't hit the wall. Oh, no, it just HAD to bounce off the sliding glass door and tumble off the balcony's railing. As a result for my impudent behavior, I have been forcing myself to trudge in snow up to my ankles while cursing my luck. And I STILL haven't found it.
Why does everything always amount to something like THIS?!!!
March 29, 2003
I am officially embarrassed. The ring was up in a tree, stuck between entwined branches. And how did I find such out? Well, I was sitting on my balcony railing, swearing and crying about this mishap, and then suddenly, I saw a bird fly out of nowhere and land on the branch which also held the box!
Seeing my luck change, I grabbed my coat and climbed the tree all the way up to the third to tallest branch [which, as you may already guess] was where the ring was. But as I was sliding, ready to get the ring, I heard a voice from below me shout, "What are you doing up there, Rogue?" Startled, I almost fell as I looked to see who it was.
Remy.
So my luck hadn't changed after all.
"Go away!" I shouted back, my arms around the bark. Remy disobeyed, and instead wandered underneath me.
"What are y' doin' up dere? I don believe dere is any honey in thet tree." Frowning, I inched towards the ring.
"If you're implying that I'm a little black rain cloud, you are mistaken, mister. I'm--" 3 feet away from the ring; I reached further.
"--quite--"
2 feet.
"--not!" My gloved fingers wrapped around the box. It was mine! I had the ring! I had the--
There was a violent --CRACK-- underneath me, and I went
F
A
L
L
I
N
G down, crashing into branches, screaming inaudible curses since dead leaves brushed my mouth, my arms flapping wildly to every side, trying to grab everything and anything but to no avail.
Then, when I was sure I was gonna die, something broke my fall. It wasn't the tree [though I would've preferred it], but Remy, who laid, with me awkwardly on his back.
I was alive. Remy was my savior once more. I laid there, trying to get my heart back to pace, as Remy stifled weak laughter from underneath me. Trying to get up, he grabbed my arm and flung me into the snow, the ring flying out of my hand. Rushing to recover the ring, I jumped for it and landed hard on my side. The ring was still mine. Remy hadn't moved since, and I was afraid I had broken his back. Crawling back to him, I looked at my fallen deliverer from death and grinned.
"Are you okay?" I asked, shyly. He glanced at me, his eyes fluttering open. He wore no blue contacts, and the scarlet in his eye shone violently against the white snow.
"I saved y'." He closed his eyes again. Fearing the worst, I pocketed the ring and laced my hands around his neck, my body over his. Suddenly, his arms shot up around my torso and his fingers wildly played at my ribs. Laughing, I pushed him away, but he didn't stop. Romping fiercely in the snow, he wouldn't let me go, but was careful with my broken arm. As he stamped me against the snow, he suddenly collapsed against me, lying there like he was tired. His breathing was rapid, but so was mine, so we took the moment to regain our breath and composure. Taking a gloved hand to my face, he brushed away my bangs and grinned as if he had made a masterpiece of moving my hair.
"What were y' doin' up dere, cherie? Y' could got y'self killed," he murmured, huskily. I rolled over to my side, my hand slipping in my pocket. The ring was still there. In all our frolicking, the ring was still there. Remy's rough, but he sure can be gentle. "Don y' ever not t'ink 'bout anyone but y'self?" I pushed him away at this and rolled to my feet.
"I'm going now," I told him, as if he were to be informed, "and I don't expect you to follow me." The ring was still there as I reluctantly passed Remy, who was still lying there, on the snow. I've returned the ring, and though I hate it for all I've gone through--it seems it has also been worth almost killing myself over.
March 30, 2003
Attempt #3: I would love to wish you both the best of luck for the future. Just as long as I'm not in it.
There. I've done it. Not bad, eh? Now, let's just see if I can pull this one off without actually crying through it.
March 31, 2003
THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. NO, NO, NO. You think after I get my feelings straightened out, I have something blown in my face with a leaf blower that could've killed me twice over.
JOHN LOVES ME.
It kills me just to write that. Seriously, after all I've been through. Kitty was right. Kitty was freaking' right all along. This just reminds me of Ritzy as she thought of me liking Remy.
But that was different. That was when I was confused. That was when I was paying attention. This whole time, John loved me and he confessed to it. Something I never NOTICED.
I_AM_SAD.
Jean's parents invited the Court to a brunch at the Marriott Hotel where they were staying. The Marriott is quite classy at Bayville, so after being served all sorts of food, everyone just kind of disperses and John leads me to the back where there's a waterfall and a garden full of leaves and flowers. I didn't really want to go since walking through leaves while wearing a purple flowered dress since it really isn't my walk in the park. But John said it was important and I needed to go. So I did. And regret it.
When we were clear out of earshot from the patio, I sat down, commenting on the weird weather we were having lately, and he suddenly gets down on one knee and professes his love for me.
"Rogue," he states, taking my gloved hand between his, "I've been really mixed up lately, about the wedding, about changes, about you." I knew this was going in the wrong direction, but I didn't stop John. "And I've finally realized that this whole time I've been trying to do myself a favor and win your heart.
But it seemed whenever I tried to get close you'd push me farther away. So I had to tell you now, before I collapse from self-delusions. I love you, Rogue. Ever since I saw you at Danlie's, you've captured my heart." [Talk about cheesy.] "And I want to know if you'll return such love to me."
I frowned. I mean, what else could I do? He was doing this whole Laurie from Little Women kind of thing, and I wasn't falling for it. I understood his heart, and I saw it only led to trouble. I just don't understand why.
"I know how you love Remy," he continued, "and I know you've lost yourself completely in oblivion dealing with the bloke." His hand held mine tighter. I squirmed uneasily, but he didn't notice. "But reconsider..." he kissed the glove on my hand. This startled me and I withdrew my hand from his grasp.
No, I thought to myself, glaring at his face. "No," I said aloud. John looked at me as if surprised.
"No?" he repeated. I slowly nodded my head.
"You can't love me! I mean, John!" He fell back off his knee and stared at me.
"You still love Remy?" I frowned, annoyed.
"Did you -think- I'd get over him that fast? John, you know I've loved him...I can't stop...and I know it's bad." This wasn't going well.
"Well, I kinda knew you weren't gonna change yur mind. But I was also kinda hoping you would," he said, getting to his feet. Shuffling a few feet, he suddenly turned back to me, tears in his eyes. "But Rogue," his voice soft and hoarse, "if you ever decide to get over that Cajun, I'll be here. I've always been here for you." And then he was gone. Staring back now, I knew I couldn't have said anything more or did anything to make the situation better.
I can say no more.
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.
Author's Note: This chapter is sappy and happy! Oh, I actually did myself a favor and went on the Kids' WB site. X-Men: Evo's going to be on the last week of April, so stay tuned! Sad stuff also in this chapter. Read and you'll know why.
Dedication: To Goldylokz. I used your Karaoke idea. Because, as predicted, I had writer's block. Thanks!
Chapter Eighteen: Blatant Secrets
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 16, 2003 5:12 p.m., on the rec room's couch
It's weird how things just fall into place without any real realization to begin with. For example, today, I opened the door to my shared room and found John sitting on my bed. He wore that simple smile that I swore he copied from Remy and blatantly gripped a tense vibe around him.
I shuddered.
"G'day, Rogue," he greeted, but I couldn't think of anything else to say except, "What are doing here?"
He frowned, obviously expecting something more polite. "Kitty let me in," he explained, taking out his lighter. Lighting a flame, he played through the fire, making it into a horse, a dog, a giraffe. A grin crossed his face as I came over and sat next to him.
"Of course," he said further, "I would've waited downstairs, but Kitty insisted on making me stay here." Annoyed, I blew out his flame and he stared, as if amazed.
"What are you doing here," I said again, not intending it as a question anymore. John noticed and flipped the lighter through his fingers.
"I was wonderin' if yah wanted to come down tah dah Pub on Friday," he said, and I was about to protest, but he continued, "it's a special Karaoke night at dah bar an' I was wond'rin' if yah liked tah come." I looked at him, wondering what he was up to. He read my face and frowned. "You busy Friday?"
"I have to make sure," I said slowly, knowing I wasn't. "But if not, I'll let you know." He placed the lighter back in his pocket and got up to go, but turned back to me.
"I'll be awaitn' yah call then, love," he said sweetly and with a click of the door, he was gone.
I wonder what he could want now.
March 17, 2003 8:34 p.m.
Jean says I need to write a small greeting towards the newlyweds. But when Jean says a "small" greeting she means, a long, vivid, beautifully composed piece dedicated to -her-. Think eulogy to the undead.
She told me this two hours ago, and I am -stumped-. Seriously, I haven't thought of anything this hard since the last term paper. Which wasn't much to think about, even if it was about WWII.
And with the rate I'm going, I'm lucky if I even get close to finishing this stupid speech.
March 18, 2003
Today, Jean caught me going up the stairs, heading for my room.
She looked ebullient. And I felt like crap.
"Rogue!" she called. I stopped, cringed at her shrill voice, and slowly turned around. She was wearing a white-striped pale blue shirt and a pelted gray skirt. So homely, I thought, quickly hoping she hadn't heard. Taking quick strides to meet me, she beamed at my confusion.
"Guess what," she said, her voice sugary. I immediately frowned.
"I'm not doing it," I said, and continued my way back to my room. Jean pursued, much to my contempt.
"But you don't even know what it's about!" I put a hand on the knob, but Jean blocked the doorway with her arm. "Hear me out, Rogue. I mean..."
"You mean it's something that you need for your wedding," I spat. She licked her lips and continued.
"Well, not really," she said, and I removed her arm from its place.
"I'm not doing it," I repeated. Turning the knob, she stopped me from entering.
"Wilder's coming to the Bayville Derby in two days. He's competing for some sort of gold. But he's been a little...depressed since our departure and the bucker thinks it's because you're not there anymore." I looked at her, remembering. Touching my broken arm, I nodded.
"Glad that was over," I murmured. Continuing into my room, she spoke up again.
"It's one day, Rogue. Just go and wish him luck."
"Why do you want -me-?" Jean looked appalled.
"It's not me, Rogue. I'm just concerned about the horse."
"Jean," I said, taking off my Doc Martens, "when you care about a horse, I'll be with John." Realizing what I had just said, I clamped a hand on my mouth. Jean smugly sought this as blackmail.
"John?" she asked, shyly. Coming in, she sat down on Kitty's bed and grinned. "Do you -like- him?" I gaped at her, obviously thrown off track. And the worse part was it was because of my big mouth.
"No, not like that," I said, but she was already taunting me about it. So I finally said I'd go. "But if you'd keep what I said away from everyone." She agreed on the compromise, and got up to leave. After walking out the door frame, she abruptly turned and said, "See you on Thursday." And was gone.
So there you have it. Me and my big, grotesque mouth. Excuse me while I smack my head against the wall in distress.
March 19, 2003
Jean let me borrow her mauve dress and matching hat and shoes for tomorrow's race. But she also mentioned that her parents were attending and that I would need to avoid them in any case possible, since she wouldn't be there to critic on my character. And who better to distract me than Kurt?
But it turns out Kurt can't go--he's got a date with that Amanda chick. So, I've asked Kitty, Evan, Jubes, even Remy, and they all said they were busy tomorrow.
I could take Piotr, but then it'd be weird since we haven't talked in a while, or St. John, but he's "in love with me" according to Kitty whose had no difficulty getting that point across, and it'd be even weirder, or even Logan, but he's always busy, either with his bike or Ororo.
Therefore, that leaves narrowly nobody.
March 20, 2003
I took Sam with me. I mean, when you're desperate for a date, you don't bring Jaime (or at least I don't) in fear that he'd wear one of his famous polka dot bow ties that he passes as "fancy". Sam, at least, was free and owned a decent tux that I wouldn't have any beef with him being seen in. Therefore, I let him come along.
We arrived at 2:00 p.m., thirty minutes before the races would start. We were met by Jean's parents who looked more distressed than when they had met Remy for the first time.
"Rogue!" called Mrs. Grey running and gathering me in a hug, "It's just so terrible. Wilder will simply not race! We actually have to -drag- him to the stables where he collapsed." I glanced sideways at her and said I'd go see the horse and entered the stables where he was staying. Sam, who was quiet the whole trip there, followed me in. Wilder was standing by his stable, neighing. I greeted him and introduced Sam, stating he was a friend. After a bit of petting, Sam spoke up.
"Ah think he lahkes you." I shifted my eyes to him and smirked.
"You some kind of horse whisperer, Guthrie?" I asked, my gloved hands coming around Wilder's nose. Sam shrugged at my question and stood there, silent.
"Yah think," he said, sullenly, "that when people see things, they tend ta judge completely off guahrd?" Again, I looked at him with curiosity.
"Striking question," I murmured, suddenly remember what John had told me.
~Maybe Remy's not the only one blind.~
I shuddered and turned back to the Southern. "Why ya ask?" It was met with a shrug. I nodded, suddenly hearing voices fill the stables.
"But you have to race Wilder!" shouted a voice, that sounded like Mr. Grey's. Sam and I exchanged glances.
"I already -told- you, that damn horse ain't letting no one ride it. It better stay here, for the time being..."
"You're not telling me I paid five grand just to move this horse over here and not race! Robertson, I'm paying you hoards of money..."
"Well, I don't care," the racer said. "You can take your money back. That horse is better off staying here and not go out and humiliate all of us." The voices stopped. When I turned back to Sam, he had his eyes on Wilder. Awkwardly, I glanced at my watch.
"Better get going, Guthrie," I said, taking his sleeve. "The races will start soon."
"What 'bout Wilder, miss? What 'bout him?" I looked at him, then to the horse, and back again. I frowned, digressing.
"C'mon."
***
I wasn't really expecting much afterwards, knowing Jean would get the disappointing news sooner or later. So when the announcer came on about Wilder not going to compete, I couldn't help but wonder about her parents. I guess this was why she made me come - to bring Wilder back to the horse he once was. Turning to Sam, I was about to ask about what he meant when he mentioned about judging people.
That was when I found he wasn't sitting next to me after all.
A gun shot through the air and the horses were off. In unison, everyone lifted binoculars to their eyes to watch the horses dash madly toward the finish line.
And that's when I saw Wilder. And Sam.
Gasps peeled through the crowd as Sam, clad in riding boots and headgear, and Wilder leaped over the fence and galloped further. In twenty seconds flat, Wilder had past Sugarcane and Maximum. Then Cloudy, Castillo, and Rampart. Neck and neck to Ebenezer and suddenly--Wilder had won! A gracious wallop rang throughout the spectators as the announcer read Wilder's name and the anonymous rider who talked the horse back into the race. Twenty grand was looted and a beautiful mounting trophy was for Sam. Wilder only preferred to stay with him a while longer and then it was back to the stables with Sam's trustful steed.
So there you have it. Sam, now hero, professional horse racer, and horse whisperer got what he deserved. And I let what anyone else would've let him do.
Drive me home.
March 21, 2003
I haven't forgotten about John. I know it's Friday, I know it's far from when I should've called him. I know, I know, I know. But the thing is, I don't want to go. I really don't. Karaoke is not my thing, if you know what I mean. Look at it this way, I'm no Jimmy Hendrix, but I ain't any Britney Spears also. Therefore, I resent the fact that John wants Karaoke.
For crying out loud, KARAOKE.
Greeting Attempt #1:
I've been the sucker for love these past few months. Seen myself blind but never before I could catch myself from falling flat on my face. So this is kind of like a slap to my face, getting up here and addressing the "married couple". You don't even look good together. You think that's harsh? I could do worse. I could do far worse, more angst, more drama, than that of when you wake up in the morning and find yourself less than perfect, preppy Jean. And you, Remy. Think you could design yourself a hoeless life--boy, are you in for a surprise. Commitment is hard, and the truth is harsh. But then again, you all knew this was a mistake, right?
March 22, 2003 12:32 a.m.
When I went to object to Jean's making me try at a greeting, I peeked into her room and found Remy sitting on the floor, and Jean watching the T.V. on the bed. I was about to break up the moment, until I heard Remy as her what happened to the old times.
"Y' remember," he asked, his fingers shaking with anxiety for a cig, "when we used t' sit up late at night, tryin' t' study fo' biology an' order pizza before goin' t' bed?" Jean sighed, patted his shoulder with a worried hand. "I miss dose."
"Remy, that was before we turned mature."
"Mature? Y' t'ink orderin' a dress an' cake is -mature-?" She frowned at his comment. Sliding her arms around his neck, she rested her head on his shoulder.
"I swear, when this is all over, there'll still be the pizza and biology tests. Okay?" He nodded, and she kissed his cheek. Turning away from the scene, I decided maybe I wanted to see John after all. But before I could leave, Jean suddenly called me in. I guess she heard my head or something, because she was gazing at me peculiarly.
"Rogue," she mumbled, her arms still around Remy, "you going out?"
"I guess, though I don't think it's any of your business." Remy turned his head to me, his eyes narrowing.
"Where?" He asked simply. I shrugged.
"To Bill's Pub." Jean laughed, and I frowned at her. "Something funny?"
"Karaoke night, Rogue?" she chuckled, swaying Remy in her arms, "I can't really see you enter a karaoke bar. What's the special occasion?"
I glanced at Remy, who squirmed uneasily in his fiancé's arms. Shrugging again, I spat, "I'm meeting John."
Jean gave me a sweet smile. "I see," she said, waving her hand. "Have fun. And be back before eleven." She chortled as I glared at her. "I'm just joking, sweetie." Rolling my eyes, I scuffled away, not intending to stay any longer.
***
He was sitting in a booth when I entered. Dressed in a teal shirt and corduroys, he couldn't have looked any more casual. People stared at my black attire as I wrenched my way through, avoiding any contact of the skin and the eyes that followed as I seated myself across from my awaiting friend. He beamed, a grin playing on his face.
"I didn't think you'd show up, Sheila," he smiled. I forced my own grin and ordered a soda for the night.
"Sorry I didn't call. Jean made me do her dirty work again." John frowned, drumming his fingers on the table.
"You shouldn't falter for dat, love," he cooed. I shrugged the third time that night and he suddenly reached over and held my gloved hand. "You're so much stronger dan dat."
Not when you're in love with a person who's in love with someone else, I dared to not say aloud. Pulling my hand away from his grasp, I shuddered against the chair. John frowned and leaned back. The waitress came back with my soda and John pushed his beer to his lips. Suddenly, he got up and flung an arm in front of me.
"Come with me," he whispered, his voice mysterious and seductive. I couldn't help but smile. Letting him lead me through the crowd, he took the mic and selected a song from the collection before him. Then he got up and started singing "Tired of Sex" by Weezer. Belting out the lyrics, he finished and the crowd gave a wallop of a shout and an applause rose through the room. Rejoining my side, he suddenly said into the mic, "Blokes and Sheilas, please give a warm and peasing welcome to the wonderful, the beautiful, Miss Rogue!"
And I choked on my soda. The crowd, of course drunk with beer, gave me the welcome while John handed me the microphone and there I stood, staring at the many stoned faces that I couldn't ever get used to seeing. The song came on and I found myself stuttering the words while staring at the screen and starting to sing,
"I know I'm kinda strange, to you sometimes
Don't always say, what's on my mind,
You know that I've been hurt, by some guy
But I don't wanna mess up this time..."
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walk over to our table and sit down.
"And I really really really care
And I really really really want you
And I think I'm kinda scared
Cos I don't want to lose you
If you really really really care
Then maybe you can hang through
I hope you understand
It's nothing to you."
I had been watching John, and I saw his eyes narrow. Bear with me, I pleaded, the words scrolling across the screen:
"My heart's at a low
I'm so much to manage
I think you should know that
I've been damaged
I'm falling in love
There's one disadvantage
I think you should know that I've been damaged."
Staring now, I could see the person at our table had ordered a beer. John tried not to notice.
"I might look through your stuff, for what I don't wanna find
Or I might just set you up, to see if you're all mine
I'm a little paranoid, from what I've been through
Don't know what you got yourself into..."
Suddenly, John started walking over to our table, and I quickly gave the microphone to the nearest drunkard before running after the angered Aussie. He halted in front of the beer drinking man, crooning evil and threatening until he suddenly wheeled back and I took a good look at the man...
"Remy." I saw John's face break into a solid frown.
"You were expectin' another?" he asked, casually, ignoring John's anger. I tried to do so myself.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. Remy took another sip of his beer and smiled.
"Heard you'd be here. Think John was going to have all the fun?" John suddenly grabbed the drink from Remy's hands.
"I wanna betta explanation, Cajun," he spat, and I took a step back. Remy glanced at him and the smile disappeared from his lips.
"I want t' speak w' Rogue." Looking at him, I could see under his glasses that he wore no contacts. I gulped, the sound still ringing in my ears as I write this.
"M-Me?" I asked. Standing up, Remy was suddenly blocked by John, who had come between us. Annoyed, Remy drew back his breath.
"I didn't think I'd have to have permission from y' to' talk w' someone," he said. John still did not move.
"Dam--," he started, but I came in between them.
"It's all right, John," I said, taking his arm, "it ain't like he can do anything to me." The Pyro stared at me, then, defeated, reluctantly let me aside. I strode off, Remy hot on my heels. As the door was swung open, I could feel the post-winter weather seep through my jacket. Shivering some, I turned to the thief.
"What are you doing here? I thought you and Jean wanted some alone time." Remy snorted out a laugh.
"Alone time? Jean and I always do that. It ain't anything new."
"And the pizza and biology tests?" I could see the blush come across his face.
"Thet was before we were...were..." he cut himself off. Following his gaze, I saw John standing by the door, eyes narrowed and an angered stare penetrating both of us. Then, he had walked away with no other remark or retorting.
"I see I've disrupted too much," Remy murmured. I heard this and shook my head.
"John's just been acting up lately. Kitty says he likes me..." Remy looked at me quickly.
"Likes you?" It annoyed me how disbelieved he was.
"I guess." He gave me a weird look and I sighed. "I'm not denying anything yet."
"Do you like him?" Remy asked, obviously wanting an answer. I shrugged.
"No." It was the truth and it seemed as if Remy relaxed at this. "He's a bit angry. With a lot of things. Lately." Remy nodded, like he knew.
Remy offered to drive me home and we stopped by the Dairy Queen and ordered ice cream. We didn't talk much, but Remy did walk me back to my room where I've been awake for the past hour or so.
March 24, 2003
Attempt #2
Well, it's time to talk of many things concerning this marriage. Jean has nothing old, everything new, Hell would freeze over if she had something borrowed, and hardly anything except Remy's fake eyes that are blue.
Not that you needed to know that.
I'm not a fan of weddings. You may say that this wedding was a big flop since I'm in it. I just might agree with you on the first part, but this is not entirely my fault. I only take the blame for letting it happen.
You see, several things have happened as a result to this planned marriage. First, there was Dunst who just passed out after unsuccessfully making everyone line up in a straight line. Then, there was Floof who just happens to be gay, was pushed to the side and knocked over in his own shop. And the accordion man playing ever Tuesday and Thursday down by the bridge at Clairemont's is filing a couple of lawsuits after Remy. And we thought they were in good terms because he did accompany Remy to make a very "romantic" proposal.
So, my dearies, you see that now is not a time to be saying these negative things. I mean, we all wanted it to be a movie-esque wedding with big white flowers, a dress stretching your wallet across the United States, a beautiful choir and those flower girls in puffy dresses that make your eyes sore when they saunter down the aisle. Yes, that's what we wanted, and then we _got_this. And there you have it, folks. You both are screwed.
March 25, 2003
Piotr called today. I answered, and though he wanted to talk to Kitty, invited me over to Magneto's.
I wonder what he could want.
5:43 p.m.
Just came back from Danlie's. Jean had wanted to have Piotr's suit refitted, but she couldn't make it. Piotr said that Kitty or I'd come over to substitute.
When I got there, Magneto had opened the door. With a raised eyebrow instead of another one of his useless comments, he let me into the hall where Piotr was standing, waiting for me. We rode in the X-Jeep to Danlie's, got the suits, and I followed him to the back where he took off his own jacket. Something hit the floor. Piotr hurriedly dropped to the ground, his hand sliding over it. Getting up, I looked at him wondering as he pocketed the thing. I said nothing as he took a suit off the rack and went into the dressing room.
"So how you've been, Petey? Haven't seen you in a long time," I said, staring at my nails. Jean had also said that she wanted to have my fingers done afterwards. I had protested, but then, looking at them, it seemed to make sense why she suggested such.
"Well, Rogue. I have been well." I nodded my head, as if approving his English and heard the door creak open. Piotr strode out, his jacket over a shoulder, as a model would. I smirked, my defenses down.
"What do you think?" he asked me. I laughed as he mimicked John, throwing back his head and giving everyone a cock-eyed glare.
"Swell," I approved. He smiled, looking relaxed. Putting down his jacket, he buckled his belt and looked at the mirror. Thinking it was a good time to to ask questions, I said, "So, why'd you want to make me come?"
He shrugged, obviously hiding something. "To see my good friend again." His fingers traveled to his pocket. I rose an eyebrow, wondering.
"Whatca got there, Petey? Some eye candy?" He, startled, glanced up and a blush crossed his chiseled face.
"Eye candy?" he asked, not familiar with the term. I saw this as a chance to redeem myself.
"Can I see it?" I asked. He looked at me quickly; the blush got pinker.
"I'm not sure." I frowned, coming closer.
"Aw c'mon, Petey, it ain't like I'm gonna tell nobody."
"Anybody," he said. I looked at him, unsure.
"Okay, anybody." I held up my hands. "I won't tell a soul. My lips are sealed." Piotr, relaxing, slowly pulled out a velvet box. I immediately recognized it as Remy's ring to Jean.
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
"Remy told me to hold it. He'd let Kurt, but he can't really trust him," he explained, trying to give it to me. As if it were something lethal, I pushed his hand back.
"Oh, I already saw that," I said, trying to hide my hurt. But I had forgotten that you can't really hide anything from Piotr.
"I am giving it back today," he said, "leaving it up in Remy's room so he can get it polished or shiny or something." I almost didn't hear his words. Knowing my discomfort, he changed the subject while pocketing the ring. "I saw John the other night. He looked angered." At this, I nodded.
"Yeah--he invited me to a Karaoke bar." I saw Piotr cringed. I smiled. "Exactly how I felt. And so I go and he sings and he makes me sing, and then Remy comes..."
"Remy?!" Piotr stifled a small laugh. "What a night."
"What do you mean, 'what a night'?" Piotr shrugged.
"I mean, John has means on seeing you, but Remy has the nerve to see to you as well. That, I consider, is what a night." I grinned at the possibility of Remy wanting to see me. But I knew it was only too good to be true and switched myself back to reality.
"So John gets all upset and Remy drives me home. End of story." Piotr nodded, and went back into the changing rooms before purchasing the suit.
"I'm really glad we had a chance to talk," I said, and Piotr nodded. We drove back and while walking to Magneto's Dome I dared to ask, "So, have you talked to Kitty?" Piotr surprisingly grinned.
"I am guessing she never told you," he said simply. I cocked my head at him, wondering.
"Tell me what?" His grin was bursting with ebullience.
"We are together." Then, he walked inside the dome, leaving me to digress by myself. I've been back for about a week now. Maybe even more. And she NEVER TOLD ME?!
I'm telling you, I miss too much when I'm gone.
March 26, 2003
Kitty says that they've been together for three days, stating that she couldn't stay with Lance when her love belonged, like, somewhere else, and she never told me because, like, I never asked.
Talk about a soap opera.
March 27, 2003
I have gone too far again. Sometimes, my conscience mocks me, but now it's getting easier and easier as to not getting caught and harder and harder to not feel bad about it.
I took the ring. I mean, Jean pissed me off, so I had to! Hear me out, I have a reason you know.
So Jean holds another one of her prissy rehearsals, and this had the priest and everything, which explains why everyone was on their very best behavior.
That is, until Jean told me that she wanted the speech thingy. You all know I hadn't done it yet, so what was I supposed to turn in? I just retorted that this isn't preschool, and she was all, that's right, it's my wedding and I expect things to be done proper and on time. So we go on and gab and gurgle at each other, until Jean suddenly pushes me, and I fall off a step.
Which takes the fight to a whole other level.
We were then pulling at each other's hair and pushing each other, until finally the priest comes in, and says "Stop it you two! We're in the house of God!" And I take an unintentional swig with my broken arm at him, and bam! He's out like a light bulb [Though I can't seem to see any reason for it. It WAS, after all, my BROKEN arm].
The paramedics come once more, we are then dubbed "The Wrecked Wedding People," Jean screams and then humiliates me in front of everyone, saying I'm an irresponsible low-life, with no higher depth than a mere ounce of respect for her or Remy. I could've yelled back, but I'm limited on big words and just went up to my room. Flinging myself on my bed, I plotted revenge.
Sweet, sweet, sweet revenge I would take on that preppy pushover, and make her the one hurt this time. But how? And with what? So, after much thought, I concluded what could be better than taking the ring?
It wasn't that hard either. Piotr just came in and dropped it on Remy's desk, where it sat, untouched, for a day. And now it's in my hands, twirling in its velvet box.
So HA. Let this be a lesson to you Jean: never underestimate the Rogue.
March 28, 2003 10:30 a.m.
Big problems have occurred as a result to my taking the ring:
1.) Remy can't find it.
2.) Jean doesn't even know I have it, or that Remy even has another ring to give her.
3.) Remy's blaming Piotr.
4.) I'm guilty.
This can NOT get any worse.
2:12 p.m.
You know in the movies, some person always says, this cannot get any worse and something always blows up or it rains? Well, that happened. I mean, nothing blew up, and it didn't rained, but it's just as bad.
I LOST THE RING!!!
It shameful, I know. I just heard Remy downstairs, yelling that he was gonna get Piotr good for doing this to him, and I just grabbed the box, shouted, "THIS is all your fault!" and flung it at the wall.
Only, it didn't hit the wall. Oh, no, it just HAD to bounce off the sliding glass door and tumble off the balcony's railing. As a result for my impudent behavior, I have been forcing myself to trudge in snow up to my ankles while cursing my luck. And I STILL haven't found it.
Why does everything always amount to something like THIS?!!!
March 29, 2003
I am officially embarrassed. The ring was up in a tree, stuck between entwined branches. And how did I find such out? Well, I was sitting on my balcony railing, swearing and crying about this mishap, and then suddenly, I saw a bird fly out of nowhere and land on the branch which also held the box!
Seeing my luck change, I grabbed my coat and climbed the tree all the way up to the third to tallest branch [which, as you may already guess] was where the ring was. But as I was sliding, ready to get the ring, I heard a voice from below me shout, "What are you doing up there, Rogue?" Startled, I almost fell as I looked to see who it was.
Remy.
So my luck hadn't changed after all.
"Go away!" I shouted back, my arms around the bark. Remy disobeyed, and instead wandered underneath me.
"What are y' doin' up dere? I don believe dere is any honey in thet tree." Frowning, I inched towards the ring.
"If you're implying that I'm a little black rain cloud, you are mistaken, mister. I'm--" 3 feet away from the ring; I reached further.
"--quite--"
2 feet.
"--not!" My gloved fingers wrapped around the box. It was mine! I had the ring! I had the--
There was a violent --CRACK-- underneath me, and I went
F
A
L
L
I
N
G down, crashing into branches, screaming inaudible curses since dead leaves brushed my mouth, my arms flapping wildly to every side, trying to grab everything and anything but to no avail.
Then, when I was sure I was gonna die, something broke my fall. It wasn't the tree [though I would've preferred it], but Remy, who laid, with me awkwardly on his back.
I was alive. Remy was my savior once more. I laid there, trying to get my heart back to pace, as Remy stifled weak laughter from underneath me. Trying to get up, he grabbed my arm and flung me into the snow, the ring flying out of my hand. Rushing to recover the ring, I jumped for it and landed hard on my side. The ring was still mine. Remy hadn't moved since, and I was afraid I had broken his back. Crawling back to him, I looked at my fallen deliverer from death and grinned.
"Are you okay?" I asked, shyly. He glanced at me, his eyes fluttering open. He wore no blue contacts, and the scarlet in his eye shone violently against the white snow.
"I saved y'." He closed his eyes again. Fearing the worst, I pocketed the ring and laced my hands around his neck, my body over his. Suddenly, his arms shot up around my torso and his fingers wildly played at my ribs. Laughing, I pushed him away, but he didn't stop. Romping fiercely in the snow, he wouldn't let me go, but was careful with my broken arm. As he stamped me against the snow, he suddenly collapsed against me, lying there like he was tired. His breathing was rapid, but so was mine, so we took the moment to regain our breath and composure. Taking a gloved hand to my face, he brushed away my bangs and grinned as if he had made a masterpiece of moving my hair.
"What were y' doin' up dere, cherie? Y' could got y'self killed," he murmured, huskily. I rolled over to my side, my hand slipping in my pocket. The ring was still there. In all our frolicking, the ring was still there. Remy's rough, but he sure can be gentle. "Don y' ever not t'ink 'bout anyone but y'self?" I pushed him away at this and rolled to my feet.
"I'm going now," I told him, as if he were to be informed, "and I don't expect you to follow me." The ring was still there as I reluctantly passed Remy, who was still lying there, on the snow. I've returned the ring, and though I hate it for all I've gone through--it seems it has also been worth almost killing myself over.
March 30, 2003
Attempt #3: I would love to wish you both the best of luck for the future. Just as long as I'm not in it.
There. I've done it. Not bad, eh? Now, let's just see if I can pull this one off without actually crying through it.
March 31, 2003
THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. NO, NO, NO. You think after I get my feelings straightened out, I have something blown in my face with a leaf blower that could've killed me twice over.
JOHN LOVES ME.
It kills me just to write that. Seriously, after all I've been through. Kitty was right. Kitty was freaking' right all along. This just reminds me of Ritzy as she thought of me liking Remy.
But that was different. That was when I was confused. That was when I was paying attention. This whole time, John loved me and he confessed to it. Something I never NOTICED.
I_AM_SAD.
Jean's parents invited the Court to a brunch at the Marriott Hotel where they were staying. The Marriott is quite classy at Bayville, so after being served all sorts of food, everyone just kind of disperses and John leads me to the back where there's a waterfall and a garden full of leaves and flowers. I didn't really want to go since walking through leaves while wearing a purple flowered dress since it really isn't my walk in the park. But John said it was important and I needed to go. So I did. And regret it.
When we were clear out of earshot from the patio, I sat down, commenting on the weird weather we were having lately, and he suddenly gets down on one knee and professes his love for me.
"Rogue," he states, taking my gloved hand between his, "I've been really mixed up lately, about the wedding, about changes, about you." I knew this was going in the wrong direction, but I didn't stop John. "And I've finally realized that this whole time I've been trying to do myself a favor and win your heart.
But it seemed whenever I tried to get close you'd push me farther away. So I had to tell you now, before I collapse from self-delusions. I love you, Rogue. Ever since I saw you at Danlie's, you've captured my heart." [Talk about cheesy.] "And I want to know if you'll return such love to me."
I frowned. I mean, what else could I do? He was doing this whole Laurie from Little Women kind of thing, and I wasn't falling for it. I understood his heart, and I saw it only led to trouble. I just don't understand why.
"I know how you love Remy," he continued, "and I know you've lost yourself completely in oblivion dealing with the bloke." His hand held mine tighter. I squirmed uneasily, but he didn't notice. "But reconsider..." he kissed the glove on my hand. This startled me and I withdrew my hand from his grasp.
No, I thought to myself, glaring at his face. "No," I said aloud. John looked at me as if surprised.
"No?" he repeated. I slowly nodded my head.
"You can't love me! I mean, John!" He fell back off his knee and stared at me.
"You still love Remy?" I frowned, annoyed.
"Did you -think- I'd get over him that fast? John, you know I've loved him...I can't stop...and I know it's bad." This wasn't going well.
"Well, I kinda knew you weren't gonna change yur mind. But I was also kinda hoping you would," he said, getting to his feet. Shuffling a few feet, he suddenly turned back to me, tears in his eyes. "But Rogue," his voice soft and hoarse, "if you ever decide to get over that Cajun, I'll be here. I've always been here for you." And then he was gone. Staring back now, I knew I couldn't have said anything more or did anything to make the situation better.
I can say no more.