Chapter 2 – What's up Lonely?

Tell me heartache, what's it gonna take…

For you to leave me alone today?

It's Monday. I think I've said enough.

My weekend was so horrible that I didn't even go for an early morning walk, and it seems that my bad mood has transferred over to the worst day of the week. Oh joy.

Scott's got the carpool waiting outside, and I feel a little nostalgic walking past it. Before our 'fall out' I always used to go with him, Jean, Evan, and Forge. Now I'm partial to the idea of begging Logan for a ride. But seeing as he's gone (as usual), I think I'll just walk.

Kitty passed by me without saying a word, so I'm guessing she's still mad at me for saying she's not my friend. Which is fine, because she isn't. I don't have any friends. She gets into Scott's car and I watch it pull past me, catching a snip of laughter as they leave the drive way. Fuck them.

At School

I hate being late to school…which almost always happens when I walk, because I'm too reluctant to get up at an earlier time. The thing that annoys me the most is that the late person always gets stared at and I prefer to be inconspicuous, but seeing as I've completely missed homeroom…that's probably not an option today.

Walking in I'm not surprised to see Alvers and his loser clique slumming on the side walls of the main building. I remember doing that many a time with them before joining the X-men. Tolansky is kicking an empty soda can repeatedly against the coarse brick wall and I'm feeling slightly reminiscent. Still, no regrets I guess. I can't remember ever feeling happy in the Brotherhood, but then again, I'm not very thrilled with the Institute at the moment either. Right now, I'm going to attempt to slip through the doors at the far right of the building…hopefully they won't notice me.

"Hey, Roguey!" Todd called out to me, as the empty soda can hits my foot. Damn it.

"What do yah want?" I answered crossly, still heading for the door. I'm really not in the mood for any of this bull today.

"Whatcha doin' coming in so late?" Todd asked. There's a mischievous glint in his eye just waiting to be crushed. At this point Alvers and Dukes are looking over at me too. Lance smirks, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against and steps toward me.

"Yeah," he said to me, "Isn't Summer's going to skewer you if he sees you coming in so late?" I'd recognize the look in his eye anywhere; trouble was brewing.

"Screw Summers." I spat, rather vehemently I might add, because all three boys stepped back in surprise.

Lance gave a low whistle, "Now that's a girl holding a grudge." He snickered. I did the best I could to quell my temper and opened the door.

"Whatever." I replied, in a very Kitty-ish manner. I walked through the doors without looking back, relieved that I had somewhat avoided a confrontation with my old clique. Ever since leaving the Brotherhood none of them have been thrilled with me, but I still know that they give me leeway here and there. Most kids don't make it through those doors, after hours, without incident. It always bothered me that the school never did anything to prevent their loitering. But I guess that's none of my business.

I made it to my first class in time to get the fifteen minute pop quiz my pre-calc teacher was handing out and gave a weak excuse that earned me a, "I'll speak to you after class."

After Pre-Calculus

"You're failing." Mrs. Calendar stated bluntly as I walked to the side of her desk. I saw a few of my lingering classmates try not the snicker as they gathered their books.

"Ah know," I said intelligently. No point in making excuses if she's going to state the obvious like that.

Mrs. Calendar rubbed her temples with manicured nails, and leaned against her polished oak desk. Sighing with what I'll assume is a little disdain she said, "Do you really think that it's a good idea to show up forty minutes late if you are doing so poorly?"

I shrug my shoulders. Really I have no reason to care. When I first signed up for this class I knew I was going to fail it. Math has never, and will never, be my thing.

"Rogue," Mrs. Calendar replies, grimacing at my self-appointed name, "If you're struggling, I can get you a tutor."

"No thanks," I say, shuffling away from her desk. Mrs. Calendar straightens in her seat and gives me a pointed look with overly made up piercing brown eyes.

"Let me rephrase," she says, flipping a few loose strands of dirty blonde hair around her finger, "I got you a tutor."

Holy shit, this day just got worse.

"Excuse mah?" I answer, irritated. "Ah can bring mah grades up mahself."

"It's a little more than halfway through the quarter Rogue," Mrs. Calendar persists, "If you haven't figured out this class yet, maybe you just need someone else to teach you in a different way."

"Ah can get someone at home to," I lied, fidgeting where I stood.

"So you said three weeks ago, but your grades are continuing to decline," she points out.

I really have no response for that, so I just look away.

"It will only be for the remainder of the quarter, Rogue," Mrs. Calendar attempts, giving me a no nonsense look.

"That's a long time," I grumble, shooting her a nasty look.

"That's a month. You'll live." She states, pushing her chair back. "I got the Math Club vice to tutor you. Your sessions will start today. If I hear you skipped it, I'll give you detention. And believe me, whatever will be waiting for you in detention will be worse than any tutoring you'll receive. Is that clear?"

What can a girl do?

I just nod my head pathetically as she excuses me.

Tutoring Session #1

Okay, so not only do I have to get tutored by some math dork, but I also lose two of the five lunch periods I have during the week, which sucks. It's not that I enjoy being in a crowded cafeteria with people I hate, it's just that I resent the fact that I don't have the freedom to ditch the period how I want to anymore.

So now I'm heading to the math department with a Styrofoam holder of chicken fingers in one hand, a medium sized paper cup of water in the next, and a textbook tucked under my arms. Oh joy.

I did not really know who to expect on the other side of the door when I first pushed it open, but the total surprise of whom it actually was, made the books slip from under my arm with a smack.

"Rogue?" Pietro grins, his surprise transitioning to smugness rather quickly. God must hate me.

"Maximoff." I say curtly, putting my food on an empty desk.

"You're the one who needs tutoring?" he laughs, pushing a hand through sickeningly sleek white hair.

I don't answer him. Instead I go and pick up my textbook, which is lying upside down on the ground. When I turn around, Pietro is sitting in a more relaxed position and looking considerably less studious than before.

"I would've never taken you for a dummy," he jibes, and unfortunately I react. Glaring at him, and playing with a glove. But we both know I'll never catch him, so it's pointless.

"Let's just get this over with," I grumble, tucking a few loose strands of white hair behind my ear, and placing the books on a desk.

"Hells no," Pietro replies, smirking like the devil. "It's not every day an X-geek falls into my lap like this. I want to savor this moment," he finishes, as he pushes the books I just placed on the desk, off.

I sigh. "Savoir all yah want," I say, sitting down in the desk parallel to him. "Ah'm gonna eat."

Pietro scoffs as I place my chicken fingers on the desk and begin to nibble at the tips. "I remember you being more fun," he says, flicking his pen across the room.

In a flash it's back in his hands and he's munching on the chicken finger I JUST hand in my hand.

The rest of the tutoring session continued like that, a nonstop battle of wits, words, and chicken fingers, with little to no reviewing.

The Institute

After my completely unproductive and frustrating tutoring session with Pietro, the rest of the school day passed exceedingly slow and uneventful. I feel as though my existence is unnecessary in this world. My life at this point has absolutely no purpose and I am positive that if I was to die anytime between today and tomorrow I would not be missed by anyone.

That thought becomes more prominent while I slink quietly past the front doors of the foyer, unnoticed. It's a quarter to four and everyone else most likely arrived half past or sooner. But since I have no one to hitch a ride with, no relatives to buy me a car, and no money to get a car for myself…I walk, and so I always, always, ALWAYS get there later.

As per usual no one really notices me entering, though a few people glance up just as I shut the door. Still, no one says anything to me as I walk down the newly re-polished wood floors of the institute.

This squeaky clean and sterile environment makes me sick sometimes. I live in an exasperatingly quaint surrounding which consists of perfectly spaced and symmetrical themed pictures which hang annoyingly straight on a nauseatingly tasteful rustic brown and yellow wall.

The narrow strip of carpet I walk on now, has no wrinkles, no bumps, and no stains…how is that even possible with several new recruits vomiting up every last bit of power they have all over the place? And some of those mutations are messy…

All consideration of zoning out in the lounge for a couple of hours to avoid dealing with Kitty and her infamous webcam parties quickly vanishes from my head. The reason? Scott and Jean are macking on the couch like they haven't had a decent meal in months.

For a moment I feel my heart drop but I shake it off. Still, I can't resist the temptation to embarrass them.

"Guess Ah won't be studying in here," I say, as I cross my arms, disapprovingly. Jean and Scott jump apart spastically, and I take in their rumpled appearances.

Jean's hair, which is usually combed, parted, and basically flawless, is currently perfectly unkempt. And her previously pressed button down blue and white pinstripe shirt is partially unbuttoned and wrinkled, showing a bit of cleavage and a not so subtle hot pink bra.

Scott on the other hand looks slightly more presentable. His brown hair is just slightly mussed, and his clothes seem to be on straight…though I do notice that the top button and zipper on his jeans are undone. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what was about to happen here.

"Rogue," Scott squeaks, shuffling away from Jean, and pressing himself more deeply into the leather couch. She didn't try to rape you Scotty, the couch is just as offended as me.

"Scott," I say, with a bit of attitude I might add. We stare at each other for a moment, but I only see my reflection against his shaded eyes. I sometimes wonder what I would see if I could look at the emotions sheltered back there. I've heard that the eyes are the window to the soul. Do his eyes miss me? Or do they just want me to go away?

"Rogue," Jean says, more commanding than Scott, breaking the moment. I glance at her.

"What?" I ask crossly. It's annoying to find that she already looks perfect again. Her once messy hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail and her clothes buttoned and straight.

Jean smiles at me sympathetically, as if Scott told her something she has no right to know. I hate him so much.

"We're really sorry," she apologizes, crossing her legs and patting the side of the couch to bring Scott back.

Yea doggy, go back to your master.

I can't believe I ever liked such a piece of shit, honestly.

He shuffles over obediently, and she puts a hand on his thigh. "Usually no one comes in here right now and Scott's not allowed in my room…" Jean explains. As if an explanation could make me sympathize with them.

I scoff, "Huh, fah good reason Ah can see." I say, "Ah have right to tell the professah!" This time they both shift uncomfortably.

"Ah am nevah gonna sit on that couch again," I continue mercilessly, attempting to get the full extent of my disgust across to them.

God, why am I so petty? To be honest that couch has probably been through ten times worse than what I've just witnessed and I've slept on it, eaten food off it, and even accidentally licked it once.

"How can I make it up to you?" Scott asked, frowning in embarrassment. He's always so eager to please. Jean nudges him and they share a sideways glance. No words were passed but they were obviously communicating. I'd get jealous but Jean's a telepath so moments like that mean nothing.

The 'conversation' ends with Scott looking away and Jean giving me another one of her politically nice smiles. You know the type: FAKE to the core.

"We really do apologize Rogue," Jean says, trying to appease, "It's just that when two people love each-"

I really don't know what she wanted to say because I've already left. I feel furious and I can't help but wonder… what brand of bitch is Jean?

…Who is she to think that I'm so socially retarded that I can't even comprehend the meaning and feelings of love?!

Bedroom

It isn't until I step through my bedroom door and hear flirtatious laughter that I realize that this is the last place I want to be.

Kitty is sitting cross-legged on the floor, gabbing away on her iChat to God knows who, in a heart-patterned top that is way too dressy for slumming in the institute. A cup of some type of Latte rests beside her, and I'm pretty sure it's Grande. God help me.

"Like, Gawd Alex!" She squeals, not even glancing up as I fling off my right shoe. It lands next to a stack of untouched books under my brass bed.

Our room is a standard 14X16 institute bedroom size, a little larger than the average dorm. Our walls were left a pasty off-white unlike some of the other rooms, because Kitty and I are having an eternal argument over some pastel shit she wants, versus something a little bit more artistically moving.

Everybody's rooms have hardwood floors. They're made of some exotic type wood named teak, which is re-polished once a year. And we're all are given one large mirrored closet, a cheaply made IKEA dresser (equipped with six drawers to be split), and an impressive Victorian looking study desk, which Kitty uses as a vanity table…

Our beds are imported from Florence, which really means nothing to me because I have never and will never go there. And any other furniture brought in is the boarders' discretion.

For some kids the process of moving in and becoming comfortable is quite easy…I've been here for almost two years now and I still have three unpacked boxes.

"Ah, I miss you! Like sooooo much!" Kitty says, blowing a kiss at the screen. Just a quick glance is all I need to see Alex catch it in the air and hold it to his chest.

Seriously?

I placed my headphone's on and turned up the volume on my retro cd player. Nothing will really drown out Kitty when she's hyped up on caffeine and boys, but hopefully a little mellowing Kelly Clarkson will give me the strength to not shoot up this place and end my misery.

"What's up lonely seems you're my only friend who wants to share my pain. Tell me heartache, what's it gonna take for you to leave me alone today?"

---3 A.M ---

Lately I've been feeling the urge to exercise the freedom of my private walks more. Whether it's from the stress of daily living in the institute, or my overwhelmingly mundane existence, I'm not quite sure. Still I'm debating on whether or not I should really go… For some reason I've felt a little off my game lately, and this would be my second walk in a four day period. Figuring that I'm already awake, I move to get up.

My body rises in slow motion, and I feel more tired than I have in days. Hopefully I'm getting sick. No school and no Danger Room for a couple of days sound great.

Tip-toeing to the closet I pull out a short sleeved lavender dress. It's a little above knee length, and has a modest drop by the neckline. It's getting colder so I really shouldn't wear it, but my secret desire to get sick coupled with my desire to rebel on the normal restrictions of my life, makes me put it on.

Slinking to the window with shoes in my hand, I climb out the side of an ivory covered wall. I like to ignore how cliché this all looks. I vaguely remember how scared I was the first night I tried this, now I'm practically a pro.

The first wind to sweep across my exposed skin gives me an awesome chill that wakes me up a bit, and I take my first step down toward freedom.

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Moments Later…

"Fuck!" I hear from the ground. I'm pretty sure my forehead is bleeding and I'm flat on back gasping for air. My mind is flashing back to a similar scenario a couple nights ago and all I can think is: Not this again.

This time however, the collision is slightly more painful and the wind has been completely knocked out of me.

A hand grabs mine to help me up, but I'm seeing stars so I barely register the touch.

Now I'm back on my feet in a daze, and my eyes lock onto those of the blue-ish green eyes of my offender.

"Pietro?" I ask, squinting in the dark, as he simultaneously asks, "Are you okay?"

I'm not going to lie - I'm absolutely stunned. "What the hell are yah doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same," he smirks, eyes roaming over my body.

Crap…right. I forgot I have a dress on. And no makeup. And this is so weird right now because I'm almost positive he's checking me out.

I move to cover my body but his grip tightens on my hand. I feel the smooth texture of his palm against mine. And a shiver, very unlike the hungry pull I'm used to, tingles from my fingertips all the way up my arm.

"You look…different," Pietro says to me, but all I can do is stare at our hands.

Why isn't he passed out on the floor? Why don't I have super speed? How come I can't feel the pull?

I yank my hand back, and stare at him horrified. In the moon light he looks…surreal, standing there like some sort of fallen angel. His white hair gleaming in an ethereal way as the wind blows it's (for once), un-gelled locks around his face. He's staring back at me, wearing only a black hoodie and the schools running shorts, and his expression is unreadable.

"How?" I ask, and I honestly want to know. We'd been holding hands long enough for me to kill him. He opens his mouth to speak, but now I just find myself running away.

Next Chapter: "Hear Me"

Sorry it took so long for the update! I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment with school. Taking six classes, working at as a manager at a retail store (blah), an internship, and studying for the LSAT and GMAT tests keep me a little busy. Fortunately I got a new job that pays more and gives me fewer hours so I'll have more time to write and won't have such a big lag time in between chapters!

Also, I love reviews. I really appreciate all good and bad opinions, but getting no reviews ticks me off. Even just a good/ bad job makes me happy (although with the later I like to find out why). I encourage you to tell me exactly what you liked or disliked from my chapters or the overall story, because that is what encourages me to get my new chapters out to you!

For all of you who cared to review last time, you are very sweet and I appreciate it a lot!