Hey all!
Another one shot from me! Woot!
I own not.
***
Jean stared at the bedroom door, mentally berating herself. She was stronger than the loneliness. She was made of tougher things, that love couldn't touch. She was independant and strong.
So why did her heart feel like a black hole, and her bed feel cold and alien without him warming them both up? He'd hurt her, and she was better off without him. She was. Yes. OF course.
No.
Jean was beyond crying. Her lonliness was stronger than tears, and sos he didn't cry. SHe stared at the door, hoping that he would come back in, telling her that he still loved her. ANd he'd hold her, and she would cry, because the lonliness would ease, and she'd hurt just enough to cry again.
And then she would hate him. Hate him for what he'd done to her, what he was still doing to her, even thouhg he wasn't anywhere nearby. The hate was all that kept her running somedays, the only thing that made life worthwhile was exhisting normally, and enjoying the abscense of him. That way, if he did come in the door, he would know how she felt, and he would understand how he'd hurt her. Yes. That was the goal. TO make him hurt the way she did, to draw an equal amount of blood. Yes. Absoloutely, bring it on.
No.
She lay down and curled up with one of her pillows. They were both her pillows now. She buried her face in the fluff and wailed. It hurt more than she could say, and no one asked anyway, so there was no point in saying it.
Someone rattled the locked doorknob. Jean sat up and watched, holding her breath, hope shining out of every feature, her heart pulled out of the depths, adn once agian a full heart.
"Jean?"
Jean stood up and straightened herself. It wasn't Scott. "HOld on a second, Bobby. I've got to get dressed."
"Um, okay. Dinner's ready, when you're hungry. Are you okay?"
"Yes." No. "Fine." Of course not. "Why do you ask?" Why are you tormenting me?
"Just wondering." You're closing yourself in your room too much. "It's just that you've been different lately." I miss you being there and being mostly happy, despite it all. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay." Will you come back to life if you kill yourself?
"Thanks." Leave me alone. "I'll be down for dinner in a minute." I'm not going to eat until ten pm, when I can be alone. "I'm okay." I'm not.
"Okay then." I know you're lying, but what can I do about it?
Jean listened to Bobby's receding footsteps, and resumed staring at the door. It still had no answers for her, and still didn't open.
***
I'm part of an X-men ramonace fic community, so expect more one shots (which I love to write anyway, so it works.)
Into the REVIEW!
Peace and Love,
Panther Nesmith
Another one shot from me! Woot!
I own not.
***
Jean stared at the bedroom door, mentally berating herself. She was stronger than the loneliness. She was made of tougher things, that love couldn't touch. She was independant and strong.
So why did her heart feel like a black hole, and her bed feel cold and alien without him warming them both up? He'd hurt her, and she was better off without him. She was. Yes. OF course.
No.
Jean was beyond crying. Her lonliness was stronger than tears, and sos he didn't cry. SHe stared at the door, hoping that he would come back in, telling her that he still loved her. ANd he'd hold her, and she would cry, because the lonliness would ease, and she'd hurt just enough to cry again.
And then she would hate him. Hate him for what he'd done to her, what he was still doing to her, even thouhg he wasn't anywhere nearby. The hate was all that kept her running somedays, the only thing that made life worthwhile was exhisting normally, and enjoying the abscense of him. That way, if he did come in the door, he would know how she felt, and he would understand how he'd hurt her. Yes. That was the goal. TO make him hurt the way she did, to draw an equal amount of blood. Yes. Absoloutely, bring it on.
No.
She lay down and curled up with one of her pillows. They were both her pillows now. She buried her face in the fluff and wailed. It hurt more than she could say, and no one asked anyway, so there was no point in saying it.
Someone rattled the locked doorknob. Jean sat up and watched, holding her breath, hope shining out of every feature, her heart pulled out of the depths, adn once agian a full heart.
"Jean?"
Jean stood up and straightened herself. It wasn't Scott. "HOld on a second, Bobby. I've got to get dressed."
"Um, okay. Dinner's ready, when you're hungry. Are you okay?"
"Yes." No. "Fine." Of course not. "Why do you ask?" Why are you tormenting me?
"Just wondering." You're closing yourself in your room too much. "It's just that you've been different lately." I miss you being there and being mostly happy, despite it all. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay." Will you come back to life if you kill yourself?
"Thanks." Leave me alone. "I'll be down for dinner in a minute." I'm not going to eat until ten pm, when I can be alone. "I'm okay." I'm not.
"Okay then." I know you're lying, but what can I do about it?
Jean listened to Bobby's receding footsteps, and resumed staring at the door. It still had no answers for her, and still didn't open.
***
I'm part of an X-men ramonace fic community, so expect more one shots (which I love to write anyway, so it works.)
Into the REVIEW!
Peace and Love,
Panther Nesmith