Afraid to admit that
Chapter Three: The way home – Gathering
Dedication: to Miranda Buehler, for the motivation, to g-here-insert-some-random-letters-from-the-keyboard-h, for the constructive comments, that make me feel appreciated.
About the emotions that we don't see on the show – I know that. It's just the matter of something that's underneath the typical behavior of the characters in a kids' show. I try to take a deeper look at them. I just don't know if my interpretation seems probable to you, like it does for me.
She had been thinking of him ever since she did it. No. She had been thinking of him ever since she met him. No. She had been thinking of him ever since she talked with him for the first time.
It wasn't love at first sight. It was love at first word-fight. But she wouldn't admit, that she was in love.
She found herself obsessed, and she felt good with it. But then, everything has changed. Before she did it, she had, or believed herself to have, some rights to think of him, to be obsessed with him, to dream of him, to expect something… from him. But then she had ruined even the slightest ghost of a chance for herself. She did it. The consequences made her realize, how much she had lost. And she couldn't stop thinking of him.
She didn't want that, she tried to fight herself, but she couldn't stop her thoughts from heading to the same direction, returning to him again and again. He was like a magnet for her thoughts.
The previous day was shit. Because of her thoughts of him. She was standing at that corner like an idiot. She would be probably still standing there, with her mouth wide opened, her eyes fixed at something visible only for her, her thoughts still returning to the same starting point, just like she did for those ten minutes, if not those damn books.
She tried to hide her eyes, that were slowly getting wet, behind her hands, when she realized, she was still holding the books.
By some far association their sight made her realize that she was supposed to attend some classes. The corridor was surprisingly quiet, so the lessons must have stared already. She hadn't heard the bell during that conversation. That conversation that opened her eyes on all that lost possibilities.
It took her a few moments to acknowledge the whole situation. She felt like shit, and she was aware that she didn't look any better. She had problems with concentrating on anything that was not connected with him, so it was completely senseless to stay at school. So she skipped.
A reflection, that she hadn't skipped any lesson since she joined the X-men followed by memories of what they used to do together. She made her was to the parking lot, and mechanically drove away, still absent-minded.
His words, his gestures, his expressions were still in her head when she had found herself in front of that familiar, half-ruined house. She had subconsciously chosen the longer way, the way that he was using to get back home. A way she had been using to get back to her only home not that long ago.
Her not-seeing eyes stopped on a jeep, parked in front of the house. They were home.
She thought of old habits.
She thought of coincidences.
She thought of misunderstandings.
She thought of his closeness.
And then she thought of pretences.
She turned her bike back, and drove away.
She thought she would cry. She wanted to free herself from that cold metal frame, which was holding her feelings back. But it was too strong. The frame, the mask soon became an integral part of her. Without it, she felt naked and vulnerable.
She shed no single tear.
And she just wished that he didn't see her. She didn't want him to think, that she was stalking him… after it all.
The leftovers of sanity made her get back to the Institute. She just wanted to close herself somewhere. To be left alone with the memories that she wouldn't wish to lose, even though they hurt her.
She ran up the stairs, and locked herself in her dark room. She closed the windows and the curtains. She isolated herself from the outer world. She was alone, with nothing but her thoughts left.
She collapsed on her bed. The second she closed her eyes, she saw his face with each detail.
She shouldn't feel it all.
She shouldn't feel it for him, fooling herself with fake hope. She shouldn't hope that something will happen, changing her life forever, by letting her touch… touch him. Because it would happen only in her dreams. And living in world of own fantasies was idiotic. She should be able to stop her own feelings. Because without physical contact, feeling were just… not enough. At least for him.
She was pathetic.
The whole so-called love was pathetic. But she wanted lo love. She wanted to be able to love.
And it hurt her, to know, that she wanted something she could never have.
Because love was a gift for normal people.
Even if he felt something for her, it was all ruined by her abnormality… her damn mutation. And by her decision of leaving.
It was all her fault.
All the feelings she had been hiding for her whole life were somewhere deep inside her. She couldn't stand it. She hated they gathered inside her.
She hated herself for what she did.
She hated herself for leaving him.
She hated herself for regretting it.
She hated herself for feeling guilty.
She hated herself for that irresistible feeling.
She hated herself for loving Lance.
This chapter wasn't supposed to be sloppy. It was supposed to be cold analysis of a feeling, with moments of serious depression of a character. And the way it turned out makes me doubt, if I can write anything, in a way that makes it possible to read. Go ahead, blame me.