He was right. I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I watched him walk into the dining area talking with her, smiling, and I felt something inside of me twist. The cereal I was suddenly not going down my throat and my stomach rejected any further thought of food. The spoon clanged loudly as I dropped it into the bowl, not setting it aside, but knowing I would be having no more.
They grabbed their breakfasts and made their way over to my table, sitting and smiling amiably at me. I watched as Logan dug into his meal with the same ferocity with which he tackled everything else. Jean merely picked at her bagel. They continued talking, mostly about nonsense. Logan complained that he preferred something more solid than eggs for breakfast. Jean laughed and said something witty like, "Oh, Logan," and continued nibbling at her bagel. They were so shamelessly flirting, I felt like slapping them both.
Instead, I heard myself say, "So, Logan, we going dancing tonight?"
Jean left her bagel alone and Logan swallowed his mouthful of food before training his eyes on mine. "I don't dance, kid."
I nodded and said, "It's just, well, you've been dancing around Jean the whole time you've been here."
"Rogue!" Jean exclaimed. Guess that ruffled her feathers. Another time, I would have apologized. But this time, I was angry.
Logan was angry, too. His eyes narrowed, his eyebrows knit together in fury. I'm surprised he didn't bare his teeth at me.
I didn't stick around to hear what he would say. I stood up and said, "Really. What would Scott say, Jean?" It was unfair probably. A venomous accusation by someone who had no right to make it but at that point, I didn't care.
Running out of the room, I heard Logan call out, "Now, wait a minute--"
It was too late. I was gone.
It was a long day. I spent most of it in my room, curled up in bed, trying to concentrate on my book.
I was reading Therese Raquin and I inadvertently cast Jean as Therese and Logan as her lover. I couldn't really picture Scott as the weakling husband, but I tried anyway. It was sickening, they way I couldn't get them out of my mind.
Thoughts of Logan in Jean's bed flickered through my head and, I had to throw the book across the room so I'd stop torturing myself. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I realized how pathetic I must've seemed to Logan: begging for his touch.
After a while, feeling sorry for myself started weighing too heavily on me and I decided I need some fresh air. I decided I'd go out to the lake. It was a pretty miserable day, cold and cloudy, so I didn't think anyone would be out there. I was right. The area was deserted.
I lay myself on some grass and looked up to the gray sky. It was horrible. I was still feeling sorry for myself, just in a new, slightly more depressing, setting.
I kept thinking about how, yes life had been rough on me, but I'd complicated things so much more with my stupid ideas. Trying to get Logan to touch me was just one of them.
Just as I was getting ready to throw myself into the lake, ready to emulate the mad Ophelia, I heard the crunch of footsteps behind me. The darkening sky was replaced by Logan's scowling face.
No exchange of pleasantries for us. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
I didn't move. I just watched as his countenance grew as dark as the heavens above. "Answer me, Rogue!"
Sitting up, I shook my head. His anger was unabated by my silence. "This was a bad idea," he said.
A well of anger burst inside of me, and I suddenly remembered why I'd been so upset that morning. "Someone had to say something!" I shouted. "It's embarrassing, watching the two of you. Flirting right in front of everyone, as if you were teenagers."
"It's none of your--" he began.
"I know," I interrupted. "It's none of my business. So what? It wasn't any of her business either, was it? What was going on with us? That didn't stop her from butting in. And of course, she's Jean Grey, and whatever Jean says, Logan listens to. What did she say to you, Logan? Did she tell you to leave me alone? Did she tell you she'd sleep with you instead?"
He reached down and jerked me violently to my feet, his face contorted in fury. "Shut up, Rogue," he whispered roughly. "Shut up."
"Why?" I could feel my eyes begin to sting, but I wasn't going to let the tears loose. "Why the hell should I, Logan? She's married. Or don't you give a fuck about breaking up a marriage, as long as you get what you want?"
He pushed me down again, so I landed on the hard ground. "You stupid girl," he growled.
I wasn't going to let him look down on me. I rose to my feet and moved until I was just inches away from him. "I was stupid. I was stupid for thinking you could possibly care about me. I was stupid for letting myself beg and plead for something.God! What an idiot I've been. What happened, Logan? You decided I wasn't good enough to satisfy your urges with?"
I saw him flinch and, before I knew, he'd pulled my body up to his. I felt the world tilt and I was on the ground and he was on top of me, his body pressing into mine. His fingers were digging into my sides, a thigh pressing up, between my legs. I gasped and he said, "This is what you want? Is it Rogue? You want me to satisfy your urges, don't you?"
I shook my head, the tears insistent now, begging to be released. He took my hands and pinned them above my head, holding them both in one of his hands. For a second, I struggled against him, moving frantically. But then, he moved his other hand to the juncture between my legs, his mouth moved down to my chest. And as I cursed him, I closed my eyes and let him. I let him touch me, even though he hated me. I needed him to touch me.
His mouth was hot and moist against my breast; his hand was resting, unmoving between my legs. I felt cold. The wind was blowing cool against my head and neck, the moisture on the grass chilled me to the bone. I was freezing except for where he was touching me. There, I was burning. He moved his mouth to my other breast and bit down, hard. I winced with the pain, but didn't say anything. I let him. I let him do everything. My other breast, a ring of moisture surrounding it, grew immediately cold, the absence of his mouth immediately felt. I wondered if that's how I would feel when he was gone from me: cold and empty.
He pressed his hand against me and I felt a rush a sensation that left me shaking. He continued pressing, kneading, and it seemed to me I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. I opened my eyes and was left to stare at that dark, bitter sky, the moon and the stars brightening only to be swallowed immediately by the black clouds.
I heard my own heaving breath, strange to my ears. I felt the pressure build inside of my body. I saw Logan look into my eyes; his own inscrutable in the shadows of the evening. His hand moved against me one more time before the damn broke and the pressure dissipated, and my own body was left trembling against his. And the tears finally escaped.
And I watched as he rolled away from me, running away into the overwhelming night. I closed my eyes and felt the winds envelope me, replacing Logan's warm hands with their own, chilled and hard, sweeping against me furiously. And the tears continued falling.
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