A/N: Aite, it's been a while...school's killing me and I was foolish enough to attempt two fanfics at the same time...but here it is, the latest chapter of "The Boy Next Door" I don't particularly like the majority of the chapter, I'm having major issues with it, but I hope it's enough to keep you all interested!
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except for any changes to the plot that you don't recognize.
"Normal speaking"
'telepathically speaking'
thoughts
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"Oh, really? No, he didn't! He did?" Jean twirled the coiled phone cord in her fingers, chatting amiably with Taryn who'd just returned from Jason's party. Jean wasn't particularly interested in what all had happened at the party, but it was either talk with Taryn or contemplate the inner workings of her tangled mind. She chose the phone call.
Falling back on her plush bed, Jean's vibrant hair splayed over the starch white pillow. Making all the appropriate comments and sounds of consent or astonishment where she felt they were needed, Jean allowed her mind to slowly stray from the dwindling conversation. As pointless as these conversations often seemed, Jean craved the ecstatic thrill of teenage normalcy.
When the Professor had first announced that she and Scott would be attending Bayville High, Jean had felt an overwhelming surge of hope. Like the first blank page of a spiraled notebook, Bayville was a fresh start for Jean, a chance to rewrite the story of her life, crafting it into the intricate life she'd always dreamed of rather than the pitiful mess she'd previously believed it to be. And she had succeeded. Jean had managed to hide the aspects of her life that set her apart from "normal" students, crafting herself into the perfect girl atop the school's scale of social hierarchy. And, for the most part, she'd loved every minute of it, but lately she'd begun to feel that something was missing from her dream; something that left her hollow and aching inside.
"Oh, I wish I could have gone! Trust Mr. Ginter to give us a test the day after Jason's party." She complained into the phone, earning a sympathetic response from Taryn. "Ah, well, I should probably go, no sense having skipped the party if I'm going to miss out on needed sleep because I was chatting on the phone . . . yeah, no, don't worry, I'll definitely be at Duncan's next weekend . . . Scott? Well, I suppose . . . oh, you want to talk to him now? He's probably in his room . . . well, all right then, I'll put you on hold, 'kay?" Jean chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she gently slipped the phone back into its cradle. For reasons she couldn't explain, Jean had half the mind to tell Taryn Scott was unavailable without even checking with him first, but the pang of guilt within her was stronger than her instincts; it was only fair to let Scott decide if he wanted to talk to Taryn.
'Scott?' she reached out to him mentally, fighting the urge to personally deliver the message to his room.
'Yeah, Jean?' the reply was faint, but not faint enough for her to miss the eagerness lining his voice.
'Taryn's on hold for you,' she stated flatly.
'Oh . . . okay, thanks,' was it just her imagination, Jean wondered, or had she caught the slightest hint of disappointment in Scott's voice? Letting her link with him drop, Jean flung herself back on her bed once more, trying to push away the ideas that had bothered her since her ride home from school. Why did she suddenly feel so jealous of Taryn? True, she'd never believed her so-called best friend was good enough for Scott, her true best friend, but she'd been nothing of supportive of their relationship. Why was it bothering her now? And why did the thought of seeing him in the sanctity of his room send shivers trailing down her spine? I'm going out with Duncan! She shrieked inside her mind, attempting to bring an end to the ambivalence of her thoughts. So why do I suddenly feel so unsure?
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Scott had been lying in bed, reading, when Jean's voice trickled tantalizingly across his mind. 'Scott?'
'Yeah, Jean?' He answered, instantly cursing himself for sounding so eager.
'Taryn's on hold for you,'
'Oh . . . okay, thanks.' Jean severed their mental bond, and Scott heaved a heavy sigh, reluctantly rolling over to grasp the phone.
"Hello?" he answered tentatively, bracing himself for the bubbling exuberance he was sure would follow.
"Scott? Hey, it's Taryn!" Taryn promptly squealed on the other end.
"Oh, hey, Taryn, what's up?"
"Oh, nothing really. I just got back from Jason's party; why weren't you there?"
Uh, 'cause I wasn't invited? He thought bitterly, "Oh, I just wasn't in the mood for a party."
"I spent half the night looking for you; it really wasn't fun without you."
"I'm sure you had a great time without me," Scott smiled into the phone, wondering why that fact didn't bother him more. Shouldn't a guy be disturbed that his girlfriend could have a perfectly good time without him?
"Well, I know I won't be able to stand another party without you, will you go to Duncan's with me on Saturday?" Taryn questioned sweetly, pouting on the other end.
"Um . . . I don't' know . . ." he hesitated, searching his mind for a reason as to why he couldn't go.
"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," she wheedled, "you know Duncan throws great parties, and everyone will be there."
Finding no plausible excuse, Scott sighed, "I guess."
"Really?" Taryn squealed excitedly, "Great! Okay, well, I'll see you in school tomorrow and we can work out the details then, 'kay?"
"Okay,"
"Great! G'night, Scott!"
"Night," he whispered into the receiver, waiting for the sound of a dial tone before he hung up.
Why did I agree to go to Matthews' party? He instantly questioned himself, burying his face into his pillow.
Because everyone will be there, another voice snickered inside his head in perfect imitation of Taryn.
So? He argued with himself, Since when have I cared what everyone else is doing?
Jean will be there, the voice prodded bluntly.
Jean. As much as Scott hated to admit it, she consumed the majority of his thoughts these days. Each time his eyes met hers, he heart turned over in his chest while his stomach squirmed pleasantly, and each time they made the slightest contact, shivers swept across his skin. Jean was like a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried; no amount of endless dates with Taryn or flirtations giggles from the girls in study hall could ever compare to what he felt for Jean. The more fool he, for not being able to express his feelings when he had the chance. He had had so many perfect opportunities - after he'd brought her back from her power surge, after he'd almost lost himself on Asteroid M and she'd told him she didn't want to be in his life if he'd so carelessly throw it away, when she'd first approached him before the Sadie's dance – he ticked off the moments in his mind, reprimanding himself for all the lost chances. Each time he had failed to come to terms with his emotions, dismissing them as infatuation or a childish crush. But now, more than ever, he'd realized he'd fallen for Jean Grey, and he'd fallen hard.
A soft knock on his door drew him from his silent reverie.
"Come in," he mumbled, his face muffled against his pillow.
"Scott?" A melodic voice questioned hesitantly.
Upon hearing Jean's voice, Scott quickly attempted to roll right-side up, only to roll off his bed in the process. "Ouch," he groaned as his body hit the floor with a thud.
"Oh, God, are you all right?" Jean was at his side in an instant, curling her arms about his and helping him to his feet.
"I'm fine," he waved her off, terrified by how much his body craved her touch. "What's up?"
"Oh, I was just wondering if I could borrow that book you were reading earlier, the Stephen King one?"
"Pet Sematary?" His jaw dropped in surprise as she nodded. "Yeah, sure, I just finished it." He picked the book up from beside his pillow and, holding it to her, questioned incredulously, "You're not planning on reading it now are you?"
She shrugged, "Sure, why not?"
"No reason, really, I just don't think it's the type of book you should read before bed."
"You were reading it," she stated pointedly.
Scott squirmed under her glare, "I know . . . I just don't think that you should . . ."
"Scott Summers, you are so sexist! If you can handle it, then so can I!" She retorted haughtily.
"I'm not sexist; I just don't think that you should . . ." he trailed off, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze. "Never mind, just take it."
"Thanks," she flashed him a victorious smile before slinking out of the room and slamming the door behind her.
Shaking his head at her obstinacy and his quick surrender, Scott flicked of his light, silently questioning himself as to why he always fell apart around Jean. "God, Summers, how pathetic can you get?" And with that bit of pessimism lingering on is mind, he slowly began to drift to sleep.
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"If you can handle it, then so can I," Jean repeated in a taunting tone, berating herself for once again letting her temper get the best of her. "Why can't I ever just put my pride aside and listen to Scott?"
Knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped about her knees, Jean rocked herself back and forth in the middle of her bed, trying to summon up the courage to get off her bed and turn off her light. As much as she hated to admit it, Jean hadn't been able to read too far into the book, her fear getting the better of her. "Why didn't I listen to Scott?" She moaned once again. Pet Sematary had terrified her, more than she'd probably ever admit. It wasn't as though she couldn't stomach horror stories, she was perfectly capable of that, she'd just been so daft as to read one in the dead of night when unprecedented scenarios could creep across her open mind. During the day the story wouldn't have frightened her at all, as there were so many other things to distract her attention span, but at night she was alone with her thoughts.
"Okay, Jean," she murmured to herself, trying to calm her racing heartbeat, "It's just a fictional story, none of that can really happen, people don't come back from the dead." As her heartbeat slowed, she took deep relaxing breaths, tugging her mind away from unrealistic nightmares and back into the real world.
Just as she'd begun to slip under her covers, preparing to lull herself to sleep, a powerful gust of wind tugged on the shutters, slamming them shut against her window as it howled through the trees. Fear seeped into the corners of her mind, restoring all the terrifying ideas the book had originated. "That's it," she muttered, shredding her last bit of pride, "I am so out of here." Grabbing her pillow, Jean jumped off her bed and tore out of her room down the hall, not even pausing to knock on Scott's door as she barreled in. Pausing to let her eyes grow adjusted to the dimness of the room, Jean whispered meekly into the darkness, "Scott?"
When she received no response, Jean bit her bottom lip and strode across the room, coming to a stop beside Scott's bed, and gently began to shake his shoulder. "Scott?"
"Hmm, uh, Jean? Is that you?" His voice was groggy, as though he'd been roused from a deep sleep.
He probably had, Jean thought, suddenly feeling horrible for waking him.
"Jean? What's wrong?" His voice was sharper now, as he noticed the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.
"Nothing, I'm just scared," she sniffled, bracing herself, waiting for him to gloat, but that moment never came. Instead, Scott simply took her in his arms and gently began to rock her back and forth.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," he murmured into her hair, "You're safe now, I'd never let anything happen to you."
The sincerity of his statement touched Jean's heart in a way she never would have imagined. Slowly, she began to relax, melting into his embrace. "I-is it all right if I stay here?" She whispered.
"Of course," he relaxed his grip on her, pulling her around to face him, "Here, you can have my bed and I'll move to the . . ."
"No," she whispered with such force Scott was afraid he'd done something wrong, "I mean, please, stay up here with me."
"All right, then," he answered somewhat uncertainly, pulling back the covers so that she could climb in with him.
She squirmed beneath the sheets, pressing her back against Scott's chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She was amazed by how perfectly she fit into his arms, Why haven't I noticed this before? "Thank you," she whispered drowsily.
"For what?"
"For always being so nice, for not gloating, for this . . ." she trailed off as a yawn overcame her.
"What else would you have had me do?" He whispered back, his breath tickling her ears.
Jean shrugged into his shoulders, shaking her head, causing him to laugh as her hair tickled his face. "Good night, Slim."
"Sweet Dreams, Red."
Jean smiled at the childhood nickname, yawning again, surprised by how tired she suddenly felt. Scott was the only person who could make her feel this safe, the only person who could make her feel like she truly meant something to this world. Smiling, the image of Scott's face was the last thing she saw before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
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A/N: And in reading the "Power Surge" transcript, I now realize that soccer and track are, apparently, at different times at Bayville, though in most schools they are during the same season so we're just going to overlook that minor flaw, 'kay?
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