Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

Fic - Pyro - Some Kind of Boy 10

Expand Messages
  • Tara Ann
    Title: I Don t Remember Being Lost (Some Kind of Boy – story 10) author: Tara Ann summary: Jill meets John s friends. X2 Rating/warning & pairing:
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 14, 2005
    View Source
    • 0 Attachment
      Title: I Don't Remember Being Lost (Some Kind of Boy – story 10)
      author: Tara Ann
      summary: Jill meets John's friends. X2
      Rating/warning & pairing: PG-13 for brief sexuality. Pyro/Jill,
      Jill/Rogue, Pyro/Rogue
      *Characters do not belong to me except for Jill – she is mine and
      looks like Claire Danes.
      *lyrics taken from "I'm The Only One" and "Come To My Window" by
      Melissa Etheridge.
      ** I've liked Pyro from the first moment I saw him in X2. He's
      complex with confidence and vulnerability. I only hope I give St.
      John Allerdyce the respect and understanding he deserves. He is the
      boy with the soft edges and the palest pout.



      go on and hold her `till the screaming is gone
      go on believe her when she tells you nothin's wrong
      but I'm the only one
      who'll walk across the fire for you
      I'm the only one
      who'll drown in my desire for you
      it's only fear that makes you run
      the demons that you're hiding from
      when all your promises are gone
      I'm the only one*



      "Kitty kitty, chow chow chow," said a very young Johnny Depp with
      80's hair, investigating the screeching noise in Tina's backyard.
      Jubilee, Rogue, Bobby, Kitty, Nightcrawler, and Logan sat in the TV
      room watching A Nightmare on Elm Street.
      They were sharing one big yellow bowl of extra buttered popcorn and
      candy corn.
      "Trick or treat," said John, throwing a bite-sized box of cherry
      nerds into Rogue's lap.
      She smiled, "You came."
      "I told you I would," he said.
      Logan took a long puff from his cigar and said, "Hm."
      "Happy Halloween," Jubilee said, her large silver hoop earrings
      shining.
      John leaned against the wall; Jill stood next to him; he was holding
      her hand. Crystal blue earrings dangled from her ears and sparkled
      through her long, dirty blonde cascading hair. Bobby leaned forward
      slightly and smiled.
      Jill waited for John to introduce her, but he didn't say anything.
      "Hi," she said. "I'm Jill."
      Logan looked at John and raised an eyebrow.
      "I'm his friend," she continued.
      "Friend?" Jubilee said.
      "Hello," said Nightcrawler. "My name is Kurt."
      Jill looked at him and seemed startled for several moments. Then she
      smiled.
      "Friend?" Jubilee said, her voice careful and curious.
      "Yeah," said John.
      Rekindled hope settled in Jubilee's glistening eyes; she had tried
      too many times to try and get John interested in her, but really, he
      never seemed to be interested in anything, especially her. She
      didn't know if it was because he didn't like her or if he was just a
      hard one to find and keep.
      "Hi," Rogue said.
      "I'm Kitty, this is Bobby, Jubilee, Logan, and Rogue." Kitty pulled
      her brunette hair into a ponytail and took a handful of candy corn
      popcorn.
      "What kind of friend are you, Jill?" Logan said.
      Jill glanced at John, confusion plain on her pretty face.
      "They want to know if we're playing My Little Pony?"
      "No," said John, looking at them. "She's good. She's `our' friend."
      "I don't have any powers," said Jill. "I wish I did. I wish I could
      fly."
      They sat quietly, observing the couple that oddly seemed to fit
      together.
      "We're cooking the pumpkin seeds," said Kitty.
      "Don't forget the salt," John said.
      "And watching a scary movie I haven't seen before," Nightcrawler
      said, his accent sweet like his yellow eyes and friendly smile.
      Jill observed his blue tail swinging contentedly.
      "He used to be in the circus," Logan said.
      "That must have been fun," she said. "I used to love to get cotton
      candy there, me and my father. I always wanted to fall into the
      trapeze net."
      "I was known as The Incredible Nightcrawler," he said with pride; he
      was loving, honest, and spiritual.
      "Why did you leave?" said Jill, wrapping the red knit shawl around
      her small shoulders. She liked his tail.
      "I had no choice," he said sadly.
      "Do your other `friends' know about your new `friend?'" said Logan.
      "They don't tell me what to do," John said, his dark eyes glazed with
      sudden defensive toughness.
      "No, of course not," Logan said, taking another puff from his cigar.

      xo

      giving away promises I know that I can't keep
      nothing fills the blackness
      that has seeped into my chest
      I need you in my blood
      I am forsaking all the rest
      just to reach you*

      Jill pressed her hand against the window payne, the glass chilled
      with the last kiss of October. She wore a simple black bra; she was
      getting ready for bed.
      "Maybe you can make him stay," said Rogue.
      She turned to the girl with the parallel white streaks in her
      long brunette hair.
      "I don't really know him," said Jill, "but I don't think I could make
      him do anything he didn't want to do."
      "How'd you meet him?" said Rogue, sitting on the bed. "He's usually
      busy busy causing trouble. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's not."
      "Candy trouble," Jill smiled. "I kind of just picked him out of the
      crowd."
      "You like being with him? What's it's like? Being with someone?"
      said Rogue. "The physical part. I can't really get physical with
      anyone. I end up hurting them."
      "It's strange," said Jill. "You don't need to be physical with
      someone to know them intimately."
      Rogue laughed faintly. "Good luck then. I'm sorry, I didn't
      mean . . . it's just that John isn't an open book and never will be.
      His idea of a good time is being reckless. It's impressive for about
      forty-four seconds. He's not very romantic, either."
      "Maybe he isn't," Jill said, "but I am. Maybe he's not as reckless
      as he pretends to be. People are full of reasons for everything they
      do. Reasons are individual to the person considering them. Unique
      and common in one breath. I've only been with him once."
      The hazel-blue of Jill's eyes seemed to be sleep walking in an
      eternal daydream.
      "I'm kind of jealous," Rogue said, her voice soft. "Not of you and
      John, just of what you can do with him."
      "It's not so easy for me," said Jill, fidgeting slowly with the oval-
      shaped pearl ring on her slender finger. "It should be."
      "When I touch people I absorb their life-force. I can kill them if I
      go too far and too far seems to be all there is every time. It makes
      it impossible for me to get close."
      Jill stared at the pearl in the gold-setting, her fingers slender and
      delicate like a dancer.
      "I guess I don't really have a reason to be scared," Jill said, "but
      I am."
      Rogue's brown eyes glistened, "I don't know. Different things are
      scary to different people. I don't think you have to be afraid of
      John."
      "I'm not," said Jill, looking at the other girl, "really." She
      touched the faint scar on her chin from where she fell down. She
      hadn't realized she had fallen so hard. "He has this glaze in his
      eyes. It seems like a deadly silent glaze, but it's not. There's
      something else. Like his face, it's so perfectly pained and soft.
      John's made up of hundreds of gentle edges fragile with this epic
      longing for . . . something. I doubt it's me. He has the palest
      pout. My apartment burned down or up, I'm not sure which way you'd
      describe it."
      "Did John do it?" said Rogue, her eyes wide.
      Jill laughed. "No. He kind of saved me, I guess."
      "Oh."
      "I loathe infatuations," said Jill, her voice slow and gentle. "They
      never lead to anything else. They make you feel less lonely, but
      they're often created from loneliness."
      Rogue glanced behind her and saw John standing in the doorway.
      "I guess I should go," said Rogue. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
      Jill smiled and Rogue walked past John into the hallway. Then she
      tickled her black gloved fingers against his palm.
      "I thought you didn't want to hold hands," she said, tilting her head
      slightly to the side, studying the flawless motionless of his perfect
      face.
      "I changed my mind," he said. "No one told me about her."
      Rogue smiled softly, "Good for you."
      Then she walked down the hall and for once he didn't feel the desire
      to look after her.
      He entered the room and closed the door quietly. Jill sat cross-
      legged on the bed, her skirt pulled up over her knees. She was still
      playing with the oval-shaped pearl ring.
      Her eyes glanced at him, then returned to her jewelry.
      "This was my mother's ring," she said. "It was the only thing that
      didn't burn. There's this saying, `flames wouldn't be eternal if
      they actually consumed anything.'"
      "Who says?"
      "It was on a television show," said Jill. "This guy tried to save
      the woman he loved from hell. He just wanted to give her peace."
      "Just another myth," said John.
      "Hell or peace?"
      "Maybe both."
      He stood against the door, wearing a long sleeved burnt orange
      shirt. In his hand he held his shark-mouthed metal lighter and
      flicked it open. Jill watched the flame flow towards her and a thin
      ring of fire embraced her. The heat was soft and warm.
      "You ever run your fingers through the candle flame? You have to be
      quick. I used to think it was magic," she said, the tip of her
      fingers lingering near the rushing fire circle. She didn't dare to
      touch the reddish-orange heat enclosing her. "It took me so long not
      to be afraid to light matches. Now I like to play with matches, but
      I'm not very good when it comes to putting the fire out. How long
      can you keep it going?"
      "As long as I want," he said.
      "Guess I'm trapped," said Jill.
      He smiled slightly. "I'm not gonna let you go."
      "I'll never be cold," she said, staring at him.
      John pulled the fire back into the palm of his hand and closed his
      fingers over it.
      "I guess no one tells you to be careful."
      "I can get burned," he said. "If I let myself."
      Her dirty blonde sea-swept cascading hair possessed a dull glow; her
      skin was bright and pale like jasmine milk. He went to her and
      touched the faint scar on her chin; her small body was always so
      cold, but she never shivered. She looked fragile, but she was much
      stronger. John's dark eyes gleamed over the faded cuts on her inner
      arms and he kissed her. She didn't pull away from him; she knew what
      he wanted from her. She knew she didn't have to give it to him, but
      she kind of wanted to. Her lips tasted like champagne.
      His hand caressed her left breast without unhooking her black bra and
      he placed his lighter beside her thigh.
      She glanced down at it, but didn't pick it up. He noticed her look
      and said, "Don't touch it. Ever. It's mine. I don't like people
      touching it."
      "You don't have to tell me. I know," she said. "I wish it would
      snow for Halloween."
      John lay down on the bed, his hand slipping playfully under her skirt
      and stroking her leg.
      "I know someone who could make it snow," he said, thinking of Storm.
      Jill looked into his eyes, their unflinching gleam like dark silver
      full moons.
      He nodded. "This is the home for tricks and freaks."
      "I don't think anyone here is a freak," she said, his hand moving
      deeper underneath her skirt. He was no longer looking at her face.
      "You haven't met everyone here," he said.
      "I think everyone here is blessed. Do you like playing with fire?"
      He looked up at her, his voice sullen and serious. "I don't play."
      The virginity thing no longer haunted him. He didn't really
      understand why some girls seemed to hold on to the idea of it. Then
      he decided it was about letting someone inside. He didn't like to
      let people inside; he had lost his virginity when he was fifteen in
      complete drunken confusion. It had been quick and emotionally
      impersonal, which was weird because the flesh was very personal in
      nature. He wondered how Jill viewed the night they had sex for the
      first time – her literal first time and his first time with her.
      John secretly liked that it had been him, but he didn't tell her.
      Sometimes he thought about it when he looked at her, but he really
      couldn't figure out what she was thinking when she looked at him.
      Her hazel-blue eyes were either distant or dreamy, he couldn't choose
      which one, but they were full of undeniable kindness.
      What they shared together was supposed to be the detached one night
      stand, but it was becoming something else, something unspoken and
      deep and real; it was strange to him.
      When Jill slept she looked perfect and cozy. She made him feel
      safe. Her smile made him feel normal. When they smiled together
      their spirits seemed free; the smiling was easy, neither one of them
      had to pretend. Her voice was serene and she moved with offbeat
      grace and beauty. Jill was his little match girl.
      "What happened to your skin?"
      She glanced shamelessly at the faded scars on her inner arms. "When
      I was fourteen I was into cutting. It made me feel more connected to
      myself."
      John realized the fire inside him calmed when he was with her and it
      made him want to hold on to her. Maybe inside wasn't as terrifying
      as he believed it to be.
      Her cheeks glowed softly with dandelion pink blush. He wanted to
      touch her, her breasts, her fingers, her eyelashes; he wanted to feel
      her when she was sleeping and when she wasn't sleeping. Fire burned
      in his blood and he didn't hesitate in unleashing it; in her blood
      there was suppressed self-intoxicating poison.
      "Why?"
      The defensive glaze over his dark eyes seemed to momentarily vanish.
      There was just him and just her.
      Jill looked at him and in her usual fairy tale sedated voice, she
      said, "I wanted to see how red my blood was."
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.