Disclaimer: I wish I was the super-rich head of a comic book empire, but I'm not. I wish I owned the X-Men, but I don't. And some wishes never come true…
Authors Note: This is the product of listening to The Magnetic Fields solidly for well over a month. It's rubbish and I nearly didn't post it, but I thought it was about time I did something; I want to get back into the swing of writing. I feel dead sorry for everyone who'll have to read my stuff!
Ooh yes, anything in italics is a flashback.
Wrecked
"Love is a pink cake"-Andy Warhol
Once again he had ended up in this dingy little bar, with its sticky floor and oppressive faded walls, nursing his drink into the early hours. He had forgotten how many he had had tonight but he wasn't leaving until he was drunk, until he was very drunk indeed. Remy LeBeau was drowning his sorrows. Again.
And the reason he was propping up a bar, drinking spirits until his eyes bled?
A girl.
She had been "the one". The one who had made the last year the happiest of his life, the one who had made him forget all his skirt chasing ways, the one who he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Ever since the day he had first laid eyes on her he just known there was something special about her.
Fighting the X-men for Mags was not particularly his idea of a good day out, but y'know, whatever passed the time. He had been told to watch a group of warehouses; the others had the rest covered, though with very little action around the packing crates, he was starting to think he'd got the worst deal.
Suddenly, he heard a small noise, like a quiet footstep crunching on gravel. Backing himself against a wall, he waited, staying there until just the right moment. But when that moment came, he found himself staring not at some scary mutant like Wolverine, but into the most entrancing pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his life. And they took his breath away.
Finally, he tore himself away, dragging his eyes down her ivory skin, her full lips that he just ached to kiss, the ends of her unique hair that framed her pretty face. But she was an X-man! And that made her the enemy. He cursed in his head, remembering his only job for the day. He gave her his most charming smile, to which she just looked a little bewildered, and carefully pulled a playing card from his back pocket, charging it bright pink before handing it to her, hoping it wouldn't be the last time he ever saw his belle femme.
In a way, Remy thought it was funny that in the end it had only taken one woman and a matter of weeks to absolve him of all his previous sins and misdemeanours, especially when he remembered just how hard he had had to work just to get her to have a civil conversation with her, let alone anything else. She had not been easy, not by any means, but the challenge of it all was what made Remy fall even harder for her in the end.
It had all been like a fire that he couldn't control, burning up inside his chest and leaving a big hole where it had been. They had been so happy, it had been a blissful twelve months and he would never have given it up out of choice. She was a whole new way of life for him, and without her he felt incomplete.
It the summer holidays, and that meant that for once they didn't have to sneak around as much as usual. They knew everyone would find out about them eventually, but they didn't want to worry about it just now, they had a golden summer to enjoy together, six weeks of each others company and nothing else to worry about. They had chosen to spend the day in the park, lying on the grass and basking in the sunlight. They had even found a nice secluded spot. Perfect.
Remy was wholly engrossed with the very important task of drawing little patterns with his index finger over Rogue's legs, tracing the patterns on her tights. He could tell she was a little ticklish, every time he got too close to the backs of her knees she would laugh slightly. He started doing on purpose every so often; he liked to hear her laugh, it was something she didn't do enough.
He could feel her delicate, slender fingers running though his hair. It was a soothing feeling; he could just fall asleep in her arms right here in the park and be quite content. Suddenly he felt Rogue shift around to face him, green eyes staring intently down into his red on black ones.
"Are ya happy Remy?" she asked him; it struck him as an odd question.
"Blissfully ma chérie," he told her, kissing her gloved hand, letting her fingers linger on his lips.
"Me too." She smiled, "Ah'm always happy with ya." He smiled back but secretly wondered what had brought this on, it was quite unlike her, not that he didn't like seeing this side of her of course. She made a contented purring sound and settled down next to him in the soft green grass. "Because Ah love ya…" she finished.
For a split second, Remy couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. His eyes widened in shock, this was all something he wasn't quite expecting, he wasn't even sure he felt the same way. But finally, it all sunk in, and he realised that actually, he felt it too, he had felt it all along and he just didn't know it. That bizarre feeling in the very pit of his stomach, that kind of nervous energy that made him want to do things he never normally would, that made him so happy when he was with her and pine when he wasn't, that made him think about her every second of the day in every context possible. It was kind of hard to pinpoint, but all of that, that was it.
"And I love y' chére." He told her, and he meant it, with every fibre of his being.
Everybody said they were perfect for each other. She was the only woman who could hold his attention for more than a day and he was the only man who could put up with her attitude, he had never found anybody better for him; he didn't think he ever would again. There had just been that one problem always holding them back, her skin, and that was what had proved to be their, or rather his, undoing.
He usually didn't make major mistakes with girls, he didn't usually stick around long enough, but with her it had all been so different, he had never wanted to let her go. But now she had left him, it was over, and all because of his stupid mistakes, and that's all it had been, a stupid mistake, one he would be regretting for the rest of his life.
He always swore blind to her that even if he could never touch her until the day they died it didn't matter, just being with her was enough, he didn't need a physical relationship as well. He knew she had been sceptical; she had even voiced her concerns to her friends, but deep down she trusted him and that was what had mattered, that was what was important. The trust was what had been lost and it had all resulted in a catastrophic break-up with very little hope of reconciliation, Rogue had been too hurt by him to take him back.
It was a Friday night; him and Rogue were out on the town, just to have a little fun, some relief from everything else. They had eventually wound up in some club in the city. It had been a good night, they had both had fun, they should have just stopped there. But by now Remy had had a lot to drink, and as watched his chére dance he felt that pang, deep inside, that he would never be able to kiss her or touch her or even hold her hand. Could he really live like this? Sure, he loved Rogue, but he had physical needs too.
Before he even knew what he was doing, he just grabbed the nearest girl to him and kissed her, and he did that with at least three more before someone's boyfriend threatened to beat him up. And Rogue had seen the whole thing.
She slapped him right across the face, that had stung, but it hadn't hurt half as much as what she had said to him. "Ya lecherous swamprat!" She yelled over the noise of the club. "All those promises ya made me, how we wouldn't let mah skin affect anythin' and then ya just go an' start makin' out with random strangers, right in front o' me! Ah can't believe Ah coulda ever thought that maybe what we had was enough for ya. You totally betrayed mah trust, all that time we spent tagether just seems meaningless now!"
And then she had just left. He had tried to run after, catch up with her and explain that it had all meant nothing, it was her he loved, those girls meant nothing, but she was too upset. He had hurt and betrayed her, he couldn't forgive himself for it, and he doubted she would either, no matter how much he pleaded.
He wished he could say that it was the first time he that kind of mistake, but it wasn't. She had turned a blind eye before, forgiven him even, but that had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He had played fast and loose with her heart just once too often. After that, Rogue and nearly every one of her friends hated his guts, he hadn't seen any point in staying around; it would be easier for everyone if he just disappeared anyway. All he'd really done since however was trawl bars, drinking heavily in the hopes of finding some form of solace at the bottom of a gin bottle. He knew he looked and felt like death, with his unwashed, unbrushed hair all over the place, thick stubble over his chin, still in the same clothes he had had on the last few days. He didn't feel like taking care of himself right now, after all, he had wrecked his relationship; it didn't really matter if he wrecked himself too.
He knew what he really needed was to just hurry up, pull himself together and get over her, but that was so much easier said than done. He supposed he could just find some pretty femmes, easy ones, he had never had any trouble with the ladies, but every time he thought about doing that, he thought about what he'd done to Rogue, and the cycle started again. Most of all, he just didn't want to get over her, she was the best, most perfect thing he had ever had in his life and he didn't want to forget about her and move on, even though that's probably what she was doing right now.
With a deep sigh, he slouched back into the bar. He didn't really care anymore; he had just resigned himself to a life of misery caused by his own stupidity and mistakes. But still, nothing is more painful than a broken heart.
Love is a fickle creature. One day you have it and the next day it's gone, no matter how hard you worked to try and keep it as perfect as the day you first found it. You can't always have your pink cake and eat it too.
Yeah, this actually makes for quite a depressing fic, full of cliché. Sorry. But it does incorporate my favourite ever quote. I'm actually thinking about writing Rogue's side to this too, but I wouldn't hold your breath. You must have worked out how bad I am at keeping my promises by now!
Questions, comments, feel free to email.
SweetRevenge
