26 February

Door. -n. 1. a movable, usually solid, barrier for opening and closing an entraceway, cupboard, cabinet, or the like, commonly turning on hinges or sliding in grooves 2. a doorway: to go through the door 3. the building, house, etc., to which a door belongs 4. any means of approach, admittance, or access 5. any gateway marking an entrance or exit from one place or state to another

Rogue sat on her bed and stared at her backpack waiting expectantly against her room's wall. She'd finished her homework on Friday in her emotional fit. She didn't even have to ask Hank for any help, but struggled through it all until it was finished. Unfortunately, it left a lot to be wanted for the rest of the weekend. She managed to get through Saturday, but her Sunday was dragging on.

Of course, she could leave her room. She could mingle with the rest of the students that called Xavier's home. But she still blamed them for her isolation and heartache. She didn't want company. She felt awful and no matter how she grappled with the cause of her misery, she couldn't overcome it. She didn't need their gossip and facetious sympathies.

Rogue needed a hobby. Something she could do on her own in her own time. For the past couple months, however, she hadn't needed anything like that. She'd spent her time well with those around the mansion – and failing that, she had Veronica out in the real world. But those relationships were all built on lies. Seeing that now, Rogue needed to cut them out and learn to move on.

The next thing Rogue knew, she was choking on the awful stench of Kurt's accompanying purple smoke as he teleported right next to her. "Hi, Liebchen!" he announced cheerfully.

Rogue offered him a frown. "Have you never heard of the door?" she asked him deadpan.

Kurt chuckled and turned his attention to that door. "Come in, Pete!" he called.

"What? Excuse me!" Rogue protested, but in vain.

Her door opened, admitting Piotr into her bedroom. He gently closed the door behind him and pulled a box from behind his back. "We bring board game!" he proclaimed with pride. "We hope it bring joy. You spend too much time alone this week. We come and make it better."

"Ah don't – "

Kurt cut her off with an elbow to her side. "What else are you doing? Nichts? Genau. Now you're playing …" Kurt trailed off and looked at Piotr. "What game did you pick?"

Piotr grabbed the box with both hands and held it up to nearly eye level. "Sorry," he said.

Kurt's expression flipped to a very near approximation of the flat-mouthed emoji. "Ja, great." His attention flipped back to Rogue. "We're playing Sorry!" he said with renewed enthusiasm.

Rogue's eyebrow perked up, but her expression otherwise remained unchanged. "This is sweet an' all, but – "

Kurt grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. "We know. We're precisely what the day called for. Oh, our poor, unfortunate souls, having to endure the wallowing in self-pity with you. Never fear, meine Freundin, we volunteer for the job. Your sulking about is very heavy, but we're here to help make it lighter."

Rogue scowled, debating about the difficulty level of breaking free of Kurt's grasp. He wasn't strong, but as pointed out, he was wily. "Ah didn't ask for your help."

"I know," Kurt said, switching to a much more serious tone. He released her, twisting to get a better look at her. "Is that not the problem?" he asked.

Piotr ambled forward and sat on the edge of the bed. His added weight bounced Rogue and Kurt enough to break the seriousness that threatened to set her off again.

Rogue explicitly avoided Kurt's eyes. Not because they were difficult to parse, but because she didn't want him to catch the chaos of emotions swirling about within her. "Why do you care?" she asked as if through a mouth of cotton.

"Verzeihung, aber what kind of question is that?" Kurt gently demanded.

"We care because we X-Man together," Piotr explained.

"Because we're friends, Liebchen," Kurt added.

"We don't hurt alone."

"And trying to do so is unbeneficial." The bed swayed as Kurt abruptly turned to Piotr again. "Is that a word?" Piotr shrugged.

"Ah'm supposed to believe we're friends?" Rogue asked. She took great care in avoiding looking at Kurt.

"I know, we don't talk," Piotr said with a fair amount of regret.

"You don't think we are?" Kurt asked. He sounded a little hurt, but incredibly patient.

"Ah'm just someone you're supposed to train how to take care of herself," Rogue said bitterly.

"Is that what you really think, or is that the pain talking for you?" Kurt pressed.

"Ah'm not sure anymore," Rogue mumbled.

Without asking or any warning, Kurt pulled her into a full hug, pushing her head against his chest. He came prepared with gloves and a full sweater to avoid any skin contact, for Rogue was known to sometimes bypass her bodily security when she thought she'd spend time alone. "Hör auf," he said firmly. "You have friends here. I am your friend. You are not expected to battle everything alone."

He let go, gently guiding her back to a more upright position, but he didn't take his hand away from her shoulder. "You treated me kindly from the beginning, Liebchen. Do you know how uncommon that is?"

"What are you? A stray dog that doesn't stop followin' someone as soon as they're shown kindness?" Rogue asked with mock crossness and a roll of her eyes.

Kurt laughed. "I don't forget kindnesses." He grabbed for the game box and tossed the lid aside. Unfolding the game board between them, he pulled out one of each color pawn. "So who wants which color?"