9/13
Scott Summers smashed down the irritating beep of his beaten up alarm clock the next morning. If he kept on hitting the poor thing day after day like this, he'd be needing a new one soon. After the commotion at the kitchen, he stomped up back to his room and tried to sleep but found out that he couldn't stop thinking about the argument. The scene played over and over in his head, his mind conjuring up ways of how it could've gone better.
He got out of bed, very much aware of the fact that he probably looked like shit. He got dressed, not bothering to fix the mess that was his hair. What was the point anyway? If he was feeling like a huge ass, might as well inform the people around him, right?
He went downstairs with every intention to make a run for his car. He wasn't hungry and he didn't want to visit the scene of the crime so soon. He didn't feel like talking with anyone in the mansion either.
"Scott!" somebody called from behind him. Swallowing down a groan, he turned to look at Kitty. "Like, hello? Where are you going?"
He didn't bother speaking out vocally, and just nodded his head in the general direction of the door that led outside.
She looked shock at his state of disarray. "What happened to you? Did you, like, hit a storm on you way downstairs? Did Miss Monroe get angry for some reason--?"
If looks could kill, Scott thought savagely. Patience was not with him today. "Kitty," he spat out through his teeth.
She seemed to have heard the urgency and seriousness of his voice. She gulped visibly and cracked a nervous smile. "Yeah, well, I was just here to remind you that it's, like, your turn to do the dishes today, that's all,"
Scott rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. Of all the days.
"But if you want, I could, like, do it for you--" Kitty said hastily, her voice full of concern. Scott had a feeling that she would have patted him on the back if only she weren't scared of him.
"No," he replied with a sigh. "No, it's okay, Kitty. It wouldn't be fair to you. I'll do it," he tried to give her a smile but from her facial expression, it mustn't have turned out too good. She ran off to the other direction with a wave of goodbye as Scott Summers trudged to the kitchens. For the second time in twelve hours. Yes, Lady Luck loved him indeed.
As soon as he stepped inside the room, every conversation grounded to a halt. Every pair of eyes turned to look at him and he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before everybody bombarded him with questions about his health.
With his chin held up high, he walked over to the table, being very careful to avoid the marble countertop that had caused him so much trouble, and took a seat. He noted that Rogue and Warren weren't in the room. "Don't ask," he said as an answer to their unvoiced questions. He folded his arms to the table and rested his head upon them.
"Well I thought that maybe we could go to the mall this afternoon--" Scott heard someone say. Without lifting his head, he deduced that as Warren walked in the room, the others' attention wasn't on him anymore.
After a somewhat long pause, Scott heard Rogue's voice. "Warren, I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling that well today. And I'm not very hungry right now either," Scott knew that she had looked his form at the table while she said this. He felt the glare shot at the top of his head. "I'll meet you later, 'cause I have to meet Risty right now. Bye,"
Sound of footsteps faded as the chatter picked up once again.
Only then did Scott look up and watched his housemates pile up food upon their plates. He would've done the same, if not for the fact that he wasn't very hungry. If he forced himself to eat at this state, he'll probably just throw it all up. He stayed seated as his housemates stood up one by one to ready their things for school. Nobody was riding with him, that much he knew; thanks to the fact that ever since Warren came to the Institute, he came to school alone.
Once everybody had vacated their respective seats at the dining table, Scott stood up and went to the sink. It was a shock that he didn't break any of the dishes since his mind was flying off to every direction possible. Granted, he knew that it wasn't his best work, but at his current state of mess, it's do-able.
From the kitchen sink, he went directly to his car, thanking the heavens that nobody was around to bother him anymore. He just hoped --though the way things were going, it really was just wishful thinking-- that his solitude would be protected still, even at school.
His body worked mechanically, from putting the key into the ignition slot, down to the driving, to the parking and then to the walking into Physics class. He supposed that he was a little too full of himself though; only a few people had looked at him weirdly, with his state of disarray and all. Nobody cared that much about him, and for once, he was very much thankful for the cruelty provided by the high school laws of nature.
He took his seat, barely making the bell and walking in just a few moments before Mr. Bennett did. Scott noticed that the teacher was unusually perky today; an observation that he found annoying.
He shook the feeling of aggravation off, knowing that it wasn't fair of him to be irked at people for no reason at all, even if they were teachers. He forced himself to take down notes, wary of the fact that Mr. Bennett was one of those compulsive teachers who had the reputation of handing out pop quizzes at the drop of a hat. Besides, he needed something to distract him from thinking of Rogue.
The bell rang and thankfully, the dreaded pop quiz was never given out. It just seemed that the teacher was happy, that was all, and Scott just had to wonder why. Generally, the teachers in Bayville were somewhat bleak and glum most of the time.
He rolled his eyes at himself as he walked down to Economics. God, just how spinster-like was he being? It was none of his business, really, and he shouldn't care about the whole thing. He sat down and his eyes unconsciously darted to the wall clock necessary in every classroom, and he remembered that in one hour, he would be seeing Rogue again.
For some reason, his something in his stomach plummeted at the thought. It's not that he was scared of her, well, not much anyways. He's seen her angry before, yes, many times, but those sentiments weren't directed at him so he was considerably safer back then than he is now.
Scott Summers barely noticed the lady-teacher enter the room. He just sat there, staring at the board, past the instructor--who, by the way, always gave out announced tests--, and thought about his nearing encounter with Rogue. He didn't feel guilty about the whole situation, nope, not at all.
Okay, so just a little bit guilty. But it's not like it was his fault, right? Why should he be the one to feel guilty when she was the one who replaced him with Warren? Okay, so maybe he was a little wary around her after the first experiment, but it wasn't like he was walking on eggshells or something. Right? Right!
Scott shifted his line of vision from the board to the door. It was flesh-colored, a color that was supposed to be soothing. Maybe it can help calm him down, perhaps?
And just as he was staring, the unmistakable brunette hair of Lance Alvers passed by the small window. As if he felt his stare, Lance looked directly inside the room and straight at him. And he grinned widely through the small opening, mouthed the words 'lover boy' and disappeared, probably to have a good laugh at Scott's expense.
Gritting his teeth, he turned his attention to his book.
They are such brain dead losers to still think that he's in love with Rogue. It must be the combination of lack of food and Toad's indefinable smell in that place they call their house.
Just because he's a bit protective of her doesn't mean that he's in love. And so what if he likes to talk to her? She just happens to be a very interesting conversationalist, that's all. And this feeling of hostility towards Warren has absolutely nothing to do with her. He's just very much jealous of his car.
Yes, that was it, his car.
Rogue's not even that pretty anyway, when one thinks about it. She's always too pale and her choice of make-up's always too gloomy for the Institute. Given, it might be because of her powers, but still, it's nevertheless too gloomy. And her clothes? For someone who had the curse of not being able to touch, she does show a whole lot of skin. Not that Scott was looking, of course not! It was just one of his observations.
And even if he were staring, it means absolutely nothing because he likes Jean. Yes, he likes Jean that way. Jean who has that beautiful red hair, the same Jean whose smile used to make him weak in the knees. His conscience reminded him of the Jean that already has a boyfriend and the same one whom he's just realized that he hasn't thought of in weeks.
Not that any of it has anything to do with Rogue though, of course not.
And just as the bell rang to signal the end of class, Lance's voice rang clearly inside his head.
'This Summers is in love!'
With a defeated sigh, he made his way out of the room thinking that maybe, just maybe, he might take into consideration thinking over his feelings for Rogue. After all, another day like this would drive him crazy.
tbc