11/13

Rogue's leaving. She's actually leaving the Institute. For good. It's already been a week but the thought of what Jean had said still hasn't sunk in. It's just not possible. Heck, it's not even plausible. What would become of the Institute without her? And what's to become of the X-men without their resident Goth around?

It was the one thought that had been plaguing his mind almost all the nights of the past week. People were starting to look a little longer at the bags under his eyes that peeked through his shades but only Kurt had asked him about it.

He glanced at his now worn bedside clock. A little past midnight. If this had happened a month ago, he would've tried his very best to fall asleep at once. He did still have to attend school, right?

But these past few weeks he didn't really care that much. He knew that he was doing well in school, even though he was now very much sleep deprived. And tomorrow would be different so he could sleep in late. Some of the Brotherhood got a little too rowdy the other day and now the whole Science wing of the school had to be rebuilt. He wasn't thankful that they did it, but rather he was thankful for the fact that the whole thing had happened.

With a somewhat desolate sigh, he got up, grabbed his robes and walked out of his room. This time he knew exactly where he was going, very much unlike the last time he went there. Subconsciously he wondered if Rogue was there now, eating some more ice cream that did nothing to her well-toned figure. He hoped that she was.

A sad smile formed at his lips when he saw that the lights were out but he still went inside the room anyway. He wasn't very much hungry, even though he didn't eat much at dinner, but he needed to something to warm his stomach. And no, he was absolutely in no mood for ice cream.

Without turning the lights on, he walked to where the fridge stood and grabbed a carton of milk. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured himself a drink. The cold fluid was a shock to his nearly empty stomach, and it did nothing to get him to dreamland.

He trudged over to the stools, sat down and looked at Rogue's usual seat at the table. He remembered that it was only two days ago that he heard their conversation.

It was a little over the middle of the afternoon and he went inside the kitchen to treat himself to some sweets for finishing his homework early when he walked in on them talking. He stopped at the arch that separated the kitchens from the main hall and stared at them. It was an important conversation, he knew that much from the tone of Warren's voice, and he never intended to eavesdrop. But when he heard what he was saying to his Rogue, he really couldn't pull himself away.

"But Rogue," he started, his hands moving to one of her shoulders.

"Warren, I said I'll think about it," she replied, her voice giving way to the tone of hesitation. In her face was etched the look of confusion.

"I know," he sighed. " I just wanted to take you away from all of this."

"All of what?"

He gestured to the expanse of the room. "This. All these trainings and these brawls with Magneto and the Brotherhood isn't healthy for anyone, let alone a teenager,"

"But I love it here. This is my home. Everybody's sort of turned into my family-like figures,"

"I want you to meet my family, Rogue. It'd mean so much to me, you know," he said, his voice coaxing and flashed her one of his smiles. "I just know that they'd love you,"

At this point, Scott unconsciously gritted his teeth, wanting very much to punch Warren. He then realized just what he was doing. Was this what he was reduced to: eavesdropping and sneaking around?

He sucked in his gut, held his head up and strode inside the kitchens, purposely disrupting their conversation. He walked briskly towards the cookie jar and took out a piece. He felt both of their eyes watching him.

"I'll think about it, Warren," he heard her say in a somewhat hushed voice.

"Please hurry," Warren replied. "I leave the United States the next week."

"Thank God for that," Scott muttered loudly, walking away from the room. He felt Rogue's glare that was shot towards his head.

"You know what, Warren?" she said loudly, obviously not wanting Scott to miss any of her words. "I don't need anymore time to think about it. I've made up my mind about the whole thing."

Scott Summers wanted nothing more than to hear what she had to say about the matter, but his pride wouldn't let his feet stop walking. He, however, slowed his pace down.

"I'm coming with you," she said resolutely.

Squashing down the urge to stomp his way back to the kitchens and slap Rogue silly for her obviously silly decision, he inhaled sharply and focused his whole mind into getting back to his room in one piece. He didn't even notice the cookie that he was holding dropped in the middle of the carpet as he walked up the stairs.

"You won't regret this!" he heard Warren say from inside the room that he'd just been in.

He sincerely hoped that she would.

And that was what had happened two days ago. He spent the whole day after that telling himself that Rogue wouldn't really leave the Institute, that she was probably telling Warren that she was backing out right at that moment, that she wouldn't really dare leave the very people that she relied on and loved behind. He was very confident in this claim that he didn't worry about her leaving at all. She couldn't very well leave him behind, now could she? Of course not.

That was, until he saw her dragging out Jean's large suitcase across the hall to his room the earlier that night. The memory of the sight of her heaving that thing caused her to have thoughts about the amount of clothes that could fit inside Jean's suitcase, which led to the question of how long exactly she will be gone?

She couldn't possibly be going to live in Europe, could she? The mere thought of it made Scott's fair complexion pale in the darkness of the unlit kitchen.

His heartbeat was erratic; not once did he ever consider the possibility of Rogue --Rogue!-- never coming back to the Institute? Was that what Warren was asking of her? And she agreed with him . . .?

He shook his head. It was impossible. She would never leave them permanently. Honestly, what was she supposed to do in Europe?

How about live in the lap of luxury, Worthington style?

Images of her flashed into his mind. Rogue the first time he saw her clearly, her smiling at him for the first time, her laughing quietly at something that Evan had said, and finally, a vision of her heaving, her face flushed and sweaty from playing racquetball too hard with him.

The image that stuck inside his head was the one of her giving him his latest Christmas present. He noticed back then that her cheeks were a bit on the dark side, and the smile that she was sporting was a shy one.

The mere thought of him not having complete access to that face, to those smiles made his heart clench. Maybe Lance was right; maybe he was in love with Rogue. How could one not be? She's very beautiful, very kind and very, very mysterious. It was very easy to fall for her, so easy in fact that he did it without him knowing it.

He hit his head lightly with his hands. How could he have not known? Why did it take him this long to figure it out? What was the reason for his obstinacy? Did he not see the signs that littered the path? What was wrong with him?

And most important of all, why hasn't he talked to Rogue yet? He needed to tell her his realizations, the ones that lifted off a heavy burden from his chest.

And with that thought in mind, he resolutely marched up to his room to get some rest. He knew that it was impossible for him to sleep at this state, but he couldn't very well bang on Rogue's door, wake her up and then tell her his feelings, now could he?

Tomorrow, everything would happen tomorrow.

tbc