Title: Heated Introductions
Author: Michelle
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: X-Men
Spoilers: Slight X2
Archive: Go for it! Currently at MVids.
Feedback: It would make my day.
Disclaimer: Characters and past storylines are property of Marvel and Fox. I lay claim to nothing but the compilation of the words. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: In all, open honesty, I have only ever written one other "you" fic, and it was for Pirates of the Caribbean. I thought that it would be interesting to try my hand at it here in the X-Men fandom, and I hope that you like it!
Summary: You are a student at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and mostly keep to yourself. When another student tries to get you to open up, how will you handle it?
You sit on your bed, listening to the rain, as it falls outside of your window. It's calming, peaceful, serene, all three of which are great feelings for you. It hasn't been a very great day, and you really need this time to yourself.
Then again, that is all that you do; spend time alone. You've been at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters for almost four years, and you have yet to make one single friend. It's not that you don't socialize; you have just never connected with anyone on a very high level. There have always been the casual 'hello's and 'goodbye's between you and some other students, and some light conversation, but that's about it. There has never been anything heavy. There has never been anyone that you just sat down and talked to, as a friend, not even the teachers. No one has ever seemed really interested, including yourself. Sure, Ms. Munroe has tried to get you to open up, but you just won't pry. All that you do is stay in your room, and write.
Writing is your true talent, the one thing in life that you can always count on to be with you. Very rarely do you stumble into a case of Writer's Block, so you have no worries about losing your talent. Your latest work has been a piece of poetry, titled "When You are Not Around". It is a deep, saddenning piece, centering around the world of a woman whose boyfriend leaves her for someone else, and the woman ends up committing suicide. It is very twisted, even for your taste, but, you still love it.
Glancing at your clock, you notice that it is almost eleven-thirty. Night had set fast, so fast, in fact, that you hadn't even noticed.
You take a look around the room, noting the peaceful state of sleep that the other two girls are in. Your mind begins to drift to each of them, and everything that you have come to know about them. One night, when they had thought that you were asleep, you had listened to them raving about some guy. Every other word was his name, John, and they went on and on about how gorgeous he was, and how he looked at them at some point in the day, or how much he loved his lighter, whatever they could roll off of their tongues. No matter how much you wish at times that they would just stop talking, you know, deep inside, that they seem like good girls to get to know. A little boy obssessed, maybe, but good girls nonetheless.
Suddenly, you feel your stomach grumbling. You had skipped dinner today, since everyone was forced to eat inside, due to the dreery weather.
"Damn rain," you think. "If it weren't my inspiration, I would hate it to no end."
You love the outside, when it comes to eating, and prefer to sit, how else, alone, by a large willow tree in the back of the mansion. Instead of eating, you stayed inside, and worked on your homework. Now, however, you know that it is time to get something to eat.
You creep out of the room, being as careful as humanly, well, mutantly possible not to make any noise. You take your time to go down the hallway, still being as quiet as you can. The stairs creak, each and every one, and you hope that no one can hear it. You wish that same thing every time that you go downstairs at night, that no one can hear you; you would hate to find out the next morning that you woke up the whole mansion in your attempt to reach your destination downstairs.
As you look toward said destination, otherwise known as the kitchen, you realize that the room is alight. Seeing as you don't truly avoid people all together, the idea that there is someone in the kitchen doesn't stop you. You step to the doorway, and cross the threshhold. Inside, you see a dark haired guy, about your age, raiding a pint of ice cream. You laugh a little to yourself, thinking about how everyone seems to go for junk food before other kinds of food.
Your sounds are heard by the young man, and he drops his spoon onto the counter top.
"Sorry," you mutter, as you make your way to the fridge. "Didn't mean to scare you." You open the refrigerator, and pull out a large container, which holds a salad mix. It's not that you are a big health food junkie; you are just in the mood for a salad tonight.
"It's okay," comes the voice of the boy. "Not a big deal." He shrugs, as you close the refrigerator door.
Taking a bowl from the cupboard, you place it on the counter below, and pop open the salad container. It makes a loud snapping noise, and you once again hear the sound of metal hitting the tile of the counter top. You spin around, and watch, as your fellow student picks his spoon back up, for what you suspect isn't just the second time.
"You're a little jumpy, huh?" you ask, and raise an eyebrow.
"No," he snaps back. His tone surprises you, and you put your hands up in a surrender pose. If he wants to be touchy, by all means, you will let him be touchy.
You turn back around, and continue to work at your garden variety, and you can feel yourself under his gaze. However, you do your best to ignore him, and finally finish your salad. You return to the refrigerator, and take out some salad dressing. Turning back to the frame sitting on top of the kitchen stool, you decide to be nice.
"Would you like me to make you a salad?" you offer, kindly. The boy tilts his head to one side, and looks at you.
"I've got this, thanks," he says, holding up the container of ice cream.
"Yeah," you agree. "However, that isn't really food, now, is it? I mean, it turns into liquid so fast, it's like soup."
"Still just a filling as when it's solid," he responds, with a smile.
"Maybe," you sigh, returning to the bowl on the counter. You pour a small amount of dressing on top of the salad, and put everything back into the refrigerator.
"I haven't seen you before," he continues, after a short span of silence.
"That's fitting, since I have never seen you before, either." You pull open a drawer, and take out a fork. Closing the drawer, you dip the fork into the salad, and take a bite. "Amazing," you think to yourself. "I actually made something that tastes good."
"How long have you been here?"
The question surprises you a little; no one has ever been curious. "Four years," you say, after swallowing. "Why?"
He shrugs. "Just asking."
"Oh," you mutter, taking another bite. You notice, at this point, that you are still standing. Taking a few steps toward the counter, you point to the empty stool. "Mind if I sit down?" you ask, not wanting to intrude.
"Go for it." You sit, and continue to munch on your salad.
The two of you spend the next few minutes in silence, and you manage to finish your snack in no time. You hadn't realized that you were that hungry, and think to yourself that you are glad that there was something good in the mansion to eat. You look at your empty bowl for a second, and begin to study the patterns left by the little trails of salad dressing, as well as by the imprints of your fork.
"Something interesting in there?" you hear the boy ask. It startles you, and you jump a little, having forgotten that he was even there in the first place. "Now look who's jumpy," he smirks.
You stand, paying no attention to his comment. You make your way to the sink, and rinse out your bowl. Placing it at the bottom of the sink, you turn to leave the kitchen.
"Goodnight," you say, feeling happy, now that you weren't so hungry.
"Night," he calls, raising his spoon. As you turn toward the stairs, you hear him calling back to you. "Hey!"
You back up, and stand in the doorway of the kitchen. "Yeah?"
"I never got your name," he says, through a mouth full of ice cream.
"I never gave it," you smile. "It's (your name). Goodnight."
As you climb the stairs, you think about the young man in the kitchen. "Kind of cute," you consider, not thinking too much of it. You get to your room, and open the door. Inside, your two roommates, Alexa and Verity, are up, talking.
"I didn't wake you guys up, did I?" you ask, concerned that you had disturbed them.
"No," Verity assures, with a smile. "We were really never asleep. We just didn't want to disturb your quiet moment before you left." She smiles again, and leans back against her pillow.
"So," Alexa picks up, and you expect that it is presumeably where the two had left off on before you came into the room. "Where were you, (you)?"
You raise an eyebrow, as you crawl into your bed. "More interested people?" you ask youself. "What is this? Some kind of conspiracy?"
You think about your options, and decide on telling the truth.
"I was in the kitchen," you inform them. "I missed dinner."
"We noticed," Verity laughed. "You do that whenever it rains."
"Yeah," you laugh, as the sudden feeling of wanted conversation takes you into the topic at hand, as well as those that follow. For once, you are actually taking in the information about the two girls' crushes, with that John guy right at the top of the list. You smile when you answer a personal question, and laugh at the jokes, two things that you very rarely do. For once, you are having fun, just talking.
When the three of you have run out of things to discuss, and the lights go out, you smile to yourself. "Minus one little power mishap," you think to youself, "This day really hasn't been half bad." You rest your head against the pillow, and close your eyes, praying that tomorrow could be even better.
Author's Note: Well, that was interesting. I hope that you enjoyed it! I await your thoughts on this chapter, and where you think that the story could go from here. Thanks for reading! Until the next chapter...