Jean-Paul didn't know why he was still hanging out in the mansion. He didn't want to go back to the apartment because the bed would be too empty without Piotr in it and he didn't want sit in the silence. Kurt had been spending a good amount of time with him, but when Kurt wasn't around, Jean-Paul found his thoughts wandering toward darker areas.
Was it his fault things were over? Should he had just let Jean back into his head, but that time with Piotr? He didn't trust her to go into his head; what if she had manipulated his memories for her own desire. He knew Jean wasn't evil, but she was stubborn and what if she accidentally twisted the memories to fit her point of view?
Jean-Paul was staring out the window at the grass in the front of the mansion. A few of the students at the school were running around, laughing and using their powers to goof off. He felt a familiar pang of sadness, but at this point, he was almost numb to the sensation. It had been almost a whole week since Piotr had broken up with him, and he had only seen him once. When he left the room to go use the bathroom, Piotr had been cutting down that corridor for a class. The few seconds it took for Piotr to walk past Jean-Paul had been some of the most suffocating few seconds in his life. After Piotr had disappeared, Jean-Paul found he couldn't breathe and that the air felt much warmer than it had before, an almost sickly heat crossed him.
Kurt teleported into the room, disrupting Jean-Paul from his brooding thoughts, and sat down on the couch. "Herkommen, come here, Jean-Paul. Away from the window and your nasty thoughts." Jean-Paul wheeled himself over and leaned his head against the back of the couch,
"I'm not really in the mood for a movie, Kurt, sorry."
"Of course you are not in the mood," he said, no contempt in his tone, only understanding. "You are suffering right now. I understand, mein freund. However, I have been talking to Piotr and he said if you vere villing, he would sit and have a civil conversation," the stress on the words struck Jean-Paul, "with you. But only if I was there as vell."
Jean-Paul's heart thudded in his chest and he snapped his head up. "He'll talk to me?"
Kurt nodded. "Personally, I think the two of you should… oh, vhat's the saying? It would vork perfectly right here. Verdammt, Scott would know." He touched his finger to his lip and thought for a moment. "Ah! 'Kiss and make up,' ja? I think the two of you should kiss and make up." He gave Jean-Paul a little wink and a small laugh. "Seriously, though. The two of you are so sad and down and it is horrible to see. You need to talk and vork things out or you're both just going to fall deeper and deeper into this horrible sadness."
Jean-Paul sighed, letting his eyes shut against a suddenly growing headache. The idea of talking to Piotr made his stomach twist and his lungs burn. "Piotr said he'd do that?" He let out a shaky breath. "But what if I don't want to talk?"
Kurt sighed. "Like I said, he said only if you vere villing to talk to him as vell. I'd be… ah… vat's zee word? Moderator? Ja. I'd be a moderator so nothzing got out of hand between zee two of you." Jean-Paul wringed his hands together and contemplated whether or not he should do it.
He missed Piotr. It had been so hard to sleep the past few nights without the other there. The couch wasn't uncomfortable but it was no bed. He couldn't just get up and run away from these problems. He couldn't get up and run at all. He didn't want Jean back in his head, because what if she could manipulate his memories? What if her anger at what he did ruins it all? What is she shows Piotr what she wants to see and not what actually happened. "I don't know how to explain my apprehension toward Jean being in my head. I don't want her there. I don't…" He choked, clenching his fists and trying to find the words. "I… I'm scared she's going to twist my memories around. She told Piotr that I met up with Quicksilver, not that he approached me. She lied to Piotr, because she's mad at me. I don't know why she'd do something like that." He hugged himself, dropping his head to his chest.
Kurt was silent, the only indication he was still there was a slight thumping sound as his tail hit the couch. "Zere is no reason for her to sabotage you like zat, so I do not know why she did. It does not make any sense to me." Kurt reached out and squeezed Jean-Paul's knee. "I promise zat I will help you, Jean-Paul. But please, I cannot do anyzing if you do not at least talk to Piotr."
Jean-Paul was sitting in Piotr's room, messing with the rubber on the arm of his wheelchair. He had agreed to talk to Piotr, but now, sitting in the room, he felt suffocated. He had no idea how to even start. Piotr was sitting on his bed, arms crossed over his broad… muscular chest. Jean-Paul mentally shook his head, fighting away his distracting thoughts. He didn't have time to think about how those muscles twitched when Jean-Paul ran his fingers over them, or how he felt so small when pinned underneath Piotr. He bit his lip, arguing with himself again, to stop thinking like that. If he didn't talk to Piotr about what had happened, those memories would remain that. Nothing but memories.
Kurt was sitting on Piotr's desk chair, more squatting. His glowing eyes nervously flickered back and forth between the two of them. He frowned. "All right," he said, standing up and startling Jean-Paul. "Zat's it. You two are going to talk even if it means we are here all night. I do not like zis silence of who's going to talk first and who's going to listen. So I'm deciding." He looked between Piotr and Jean-Paul again, thought written on his face. "Jean-Paul, you told me some very important zings zat I think you should tell Piotr." His face softened as did his tone. "Just be honest with each other, sie idioten." He put his hand on Jean-Paul's shoulder. "Just talk to him."
Jean-Paul swallowed hard, but he knew Kurt was right. There was no other way to go around this. He sighed and looked down at his hands. "I… I don't know how to start this so I'm just going to start on the day it happened." He glanced up at Piotr and was greeted with nothing but a steel face. Not a literal steel face. Piotr was just void of emotion and it made Jean-Paul's heart pound. He looked back to his lap. "When I was waiting on the elevator, I… I looked down the stairs. My heart was pounding and the next thing I knew I was falling down them. My bones were breaking and my nose was bleeding and I couldn't call out for help because I was in so much pain. I just fell down the stairs until I was a crumpled heap and the only sound besides my gurgles was the wheel of my chair just… spinning. I felt my vision going dark and then the next thing I knew I was back at the top of the stairs about to do it all over again."
Jean-Paul clenched his jaw, fighting the tears in his eyes. "And that wasn't the first time I had a thought like that. Once, I was out on the balcony, watching the people below. And then suddenly, I was pulling myself over the railing and falling down to the ground below. Another time, I was filling up the bathtub when I just decided to stay under until I fell unconscious. The time before that, I was cutting up food for dinner when I saw myself cutting myself. I never did any of this. But the thoughts were so persistent, so often." He looked up at Piotr and saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "And I couldn't tell you because I didn't understand what was happening. I was scared that I'd scare you away. God it was fucking stupid of me but I'm fucking stupid."
"And then I was drowning in the river. I was so ready to finally go through with that thought, so ready to just end it all because I was drifting further away from myself and further away from you and Piotr I think if Quicksilver hadn't shown up when he did, I would be dead right now." He swallowed hard, not looking away from the other. He felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder squeeze. "I'm not saying what I did was right, but Piotr. I would do it again. Because sometimes doing what's right is the hardest thing to do. It would have been right for me to deny his offer, to tell him no. It would have been right for me to tell you what was happening, to get your input. But I was so fucking lost. I was hating myself more and more by each passing minute. I was losing grip on reality, on what I was really doing and what I wasn't."
"Quicksilver came to me, and he offered me my legs back. But I didn't just want my legs back. I wanted you back. I wanted the nights to be warm and the hugs to be soft. I wanted to kisses to be real. I wanted you." He was crying, voice cracking and making it hard to keep talking. "And it was selfish of me, to make that decision on your part, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry and I know I can never make it up to you, but I just wanted us to be okay again. It wasn't that I didn't or don't love you. It's that I was losing myself and I felt like I was losing you, too. I love you so much and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't let you see these memories for yourself but I'm so angry at Jean. She hurt me, Piotr. She attacked me instead of letting me explain myself and it wasn't right of me to deny you an explanation but I'm trying."
"I want to show you my memories, don't think I don't. But I don't want Jean back in my head. Because the memories she showed you were so botched and biased and she left out everything I actually felt and only showed you what she wanted to see." His cheeks were warm and he could feel redness creeping down his neck. He knew how he would look from an outside perspective. Splotches of red all down his face and disappearing underneath his collar. If his shirt was removed, the colour would spread to his shoulders, growing more and more vibrant. "And I'm scared that she'll warp them or something and show you the same thing again. I-"
Piotr interrupted him, "Jean isn't that powerful or that cruel."
"Don't tell me what Jean is and isn't," Jean-Paul spat, feeling anger strike through him, making his cheeks redden further. "She brought me back from the dead, Piotr."
"Exactly! So why in God's name would she warp your memories? Why would she try to drive us apart? What would her reasoning be, Northstar? Tell me." Piotr stood up from the bed, spreading his arms open.
"I don't know!" Jean-Paul yelled back, hitting his already bruised hand off of his arm rest. "Goddammit, Piotr! I don't know," his voice broke and he felt tears push past his lashes and race down his cheeks. "But I didn't meet up with Quicksilver. I was on the bridge, thinking about how easy it would just be to go through with the thoughts in my head. I was just there and he happened to show up. Don't ask me how he knew I'd be there or why he was there, because I don't know. But he was. He came up to me, he talked to me. That's it. He didn't hurt me, he didn't manipulate me, God, maybe he did. I don't know! He talked to me, Piotr. And for the first time since I died, I found someone who understood me." He looked up at Piotr, gritting his teeth and pushing past the urge to scream and beg Piotr to forgive him.
"I can't tell you exactly what he said, because I don't have perfect memory. But everything he said hit home. Maybe he was being honest, maybe he was being manipulative. I don't know. But it resonated with me. I'm crippled. Anyone, anyone in this mansion can still use their powers while in a wheelchair, Piotr. Name one person who can't." Silence followed Jean-Paul's words as Piotr chewed on his bottom lip, brows drawn together in concentration. "You can't," Jean-Paul said quietly after a moment. "Because there's no one who can't. Everyone can. I feel so useless sometimes Piotr. I'm hardly a mutant anymore. I'm hardly me anymore. And Quicksilver related that to me. He was in a wheelchair, too, Piotr. Or have we all forgotten that his own father popped a cap into his knee?" Perhaps Jean-Paul was defending Quicksilver a little too much, but for the first time in months, he had felt understood. "He understood what I was going through, not just on the level of being unable to use my powers, but in the sense that… I guess anyone who's ever been stuck in a wheelchair would understand it. People look at you differently. I guess it's not something you notice until it's happening. There's pity in their eyes, their words. The way they hold open doors like they're doing you some great service. People look at you like you're sick. There's disgust and fear. Fear that it's going to happen to them next." He laid his head back and looked out Piotr's window. Kurt's hand was still tight on his shoulder, a firm, reassuring presence.
"Even the strongest of souls begin to feel useless, Piotr. I can't see up on the counters. I can't reach most foods. I have to ask for assistance in almost every single task. It becomes degrading. It's tiring. When people exit the elevator and say that they can take the stairs. It's no problem for them to let you get in. Do you need help getting in? Oh you poor thing. It's a shame that more and more youth end up in wheelchairs. Was it an accident? Have you always been in a wheelchair? People either pry or avoid you. Everyone changes around you. Even the ones who are closest to you." Outside was bright, the grass a lush green and the sky a refreshing blue. "Even you had changed, Piotr. Even if you hadn't meant to. It was in your actions. In your tones. You spoke to me like I was fragile. Like words would break me. When I couldn't get one thing out of the fridge, you spent the whole afternoon rearranging it so the most important stuff was within my grasp. You switched the silverware drawer to a lower one. You started putting dishes away in the lower cabinets. And I appreciated it, I really did. But you never once stopped to realise it was suffocating me. I felt like a burden. I felt useless. Maybe it was also because you were stuck in Colossus, but you were always so careful. If I held your hand, you wouldn't even close your fingers. There was no holding me against you. I was there by my own accord. You wouldn't put your arm over my shoulders and opted for the back of the couch. I get it, Piotr. You didn't want to hurt me. But it was so nerve-wracking and suffocating."
Jean-Paul's hands had begun to shake. "I was losing my mind. Quicksilver knew what it was like. To have everyone doing your every whim whether you wanted them to or not. To have people look at you like you're a lost child or a kicked puppy," he swallowed. "He offered me my legs back. And when I told him no, he… he ran with me." His body was practically vibrating as he relived the memory. "Piotr, it was so freeing. Months of mundane. Months of dull. Months of being stuck, stationary, trapped, suffocated. And he ran with me." He smiled, shaking violently. His chest was rising and falling fast. He still looked out the window. "I felt alive in that moment. I've felt so dead since Jean brought me back. Like I was just a husk of who I used to be. I can't explain it. It was like I had really been brought to life. Like, Jean brought my mind and body back, but in that moment, Quicksilver gave me my soul. But I knew, I knew there would be a catch because with people like Quicksilver, there are always catches."
He shut his eyes, trying to calm his mind. "And I told him, before I even considered his conditions, they'd have to fix you, as well."
"Fix me? Jean-Paul, I was never broken." Piotr's voice was offended but Jean-Paul kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the anger that was most likely on his face. Or the pity that was in everyone's eyes.
"I don't mean it like that. I meant-"
"No, I know what you meant. I wasn't living up to your ideals of standard, right? I wasn't normal enough for you. You weren't falling out of love with me, you were falling out of attraction. We couldn't hug normally or kiss or fuck," he spat the last word out and Jean-Paul flinched. He felt Kurt's hand tighten on his shoulder. "You weren't physically attracted to me anymore. I'm no idiot. I was a hunk of metal and I was stupid enough to think that anyone would love that. I was stupid enough to think that you would."
Jean-Paul's eyes snapped open and he sat forward, stomach lurching. "No you imbécile! I didn't mean it like that! I meant," he sighed, and turned to face Kurt. His heart thudded hard against his rib cage. "Look at Kurt," he said, voice low and strained. "Really look at him. We're used to seeing him, so he's not abnormal. He's Kurt. We accept his appearance as it is because we know who he is and it doesn't matter what he looks like. To us, he's just as normal as everyone else. But if you put him in the middle of New York Times, people are going to stare. People are going to judge. People are going to be rude and vulgar and someone might even try to hurt him. Because he's different and people never look past that. Because of his looks, which we deem normal but society deems wrong, he's forced to stay inside and hide away." Kurt stared at him, confused and head tilted. "Kurt grew up like that. Even in the Munich Circus, he wasn't public. People assumed it was a costume. And when people found out it was really him, they got violent."
Kurt's eyebrows drew together but he quickly realised where Jean-Paul was heading. "Ja. It's hard being shut avay your whole life," he added. "But it is how I have alvays lived. You, Piotr, not so much."
Jean-Paul sighed in relief, thankful Kurt understood what he has been trying to say. "I didn't want you to be holed up for the rest of your life, Piotr. You weren't meant to be hidden."
"As you said so yourself, 'If somevone such as yourself can be out in zee open, why shouldn't I be?' Do you remember zat, Piotr?" Piotr nodded his head slowly, the anger slowly draining off his face.
"Even if I could never be fixed, I wanted you to be. Not because you were broken or because I didn't love you, but because I loved you. Piotr, I love you so much and I knew being holed up in that apartment wasn't easy on you, either. You took every opportunity to go out on missions or to come to the mansion, because at least here you can walk around without anybody trying to hurt you. And I get it. You were made of metal. No one could physically hurt you without being a mutant themselves. But… if someone pulled out a gun? Your chrome can't repel everything. You can't fight off everybody. You can't fight off the human race."
Piotr sat down on the bed, frowning. "So… what you're telling me is the truth? Jean came into the infirmary and gave me false information? But why? Why, Jean-Paul?"
Jean-Paul shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I think she's mad at me for something. I don't know what it is. Maybe it isn't so much her as it is the Phoenix Force. I don't know. But I'm telling you the truth. He gave me a proposition and in a moment of selfish desperation, I accepted. I'm just… I'm glad you're okay. And you don't have to forgive me, because I wouldn't forgive me if I were you. But I just wanted you to know the truth. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hid it from you, but I didn't know what to do. It was wrong of me."
"You're right, Jean-Paul. I shouldn't forgive you and anyone in their right mind would refuse to accept your apology. But maybe I'm not in my right mind. Because I forgive you. I'm mad at you, yes. I'm hurt, yes. And maybe there's a little bit less trust than there used to be, but I forgive you. And now I'm going to ask Kurt to leave the room because I think I really, really want to kiss those lips until you stop crying."
Jean-Paul let out a shaky laugh and smiled at Kurt as the other smiled back and threw his head back in laughter. "I don't need to be asked twice. Auf wiedersehen, liebe vögel." He disappeared in a puff of sulfur and brimstone, his laughter cutting off once he was gone. Jean-Paul had been so occupied with watching Kurt leave, he wasn't ready for strong arms to lift him up off of his wheelchair.
He gasped when thrown (gently) onto the bed. Piotr loomed over him and kissed him. A hum left Jean-Paul, his hands gripping Piotr's shoulders, digging into the fabric of his shirt. Warmth radiated off of Piotr and Jean-Paul felt himself shiver. The kisses were slow and full. Jean-Paul was crying again as they kissed but Piotr stayed true to his promise. He was kissed until his tears stopped and his shaking subsided. The sun went down yet they still kissed, making up for the months were their kisses were cold and for appearance only.
It was late into the night before they finally fell asleep. Jean-Paul was warm and his lips were bruised and he was happier than he had been in months. Even if there was a sneaking suspicion that something bad was bound to happen, he couldn't be bothered by it. He had Piotr and that was enough to chase away his fears for at least tonight.