He lay on his bed. A week without sleep. He felt dizzy, but he knew he could make it through one more night. Just one night. Maybe after this he would be tired enough to sleep without really dreaming.
He could feel his eyes drifting shut and he forced himself to sit up. Must stay awake. He had tried drinking coffee, listening music and reading, but best way to stay awake was to keep moving.
He started pacing beside his bed, restlessly back and forth. Step, two steps, three steps… Five steps from the window to the door. Four steps from the door to his bed. Three and a half to the bathroom door. Four and a half to the window from there. His eyes drifted shut and he fell.
Heavy thud from the room next to hers woke her up. So he was in there after all. Had he gotten rid of his nightmares? Or had he been away? She knew this floor was for guests and extremely dangerous mutants only. For those who couldn’t be trusted enough around other students. She wasn’t a guest. Her skin was the reason they had given her a private room. It was flawless, nearly snow white and deadly poisonous to touch.
With a mighty effort he dragged himself back to reality before dream world pulled him under. Not tonight. Tomorrow he would sleep, but not tonight. He stood up and shook his head. Went in to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Cringed when coldness seeped to his fingers, making all joints ache. For a moment he pondered if he should tape his eyelids open. Decided against it. It would work, but they had used to do it. In the lab. Days after days, bright lights and he had been unable to close his eyes. He walked to the window rubbing his knuckles. Several hours before dawn.
She was tossing and turning now, sleep escaping from her grasp further every passing minute. She flicked on her bedside lamp. It cast a soft glow to her tiny room. She could hear footsteps from the other side of the wall. Was it him? Or had he been just a visitor? Was there somebody else now? Insomniac like her? Curiosity won. She got up, donned her clothes and went to investigate.
Footsteps. Stopping in front of his room. Silent breathing. Steady heartbeat with a slight murmur. Scent of vanilla and peppermint. He waited for a knock. It never came. Instead he could hear the same footsteps retreating. He hurried to the door and yanked it open. Saw a door next to his closing. She lived up here too. Must be a guest. She hardly was a danger to anyone, such a tiny little thing. Not like him. They had pegged him dangerous from the moment they saw him and they didn’t even know the half of it. They hadn’t seen the claws. And if it was up to him, they wouldn’t. Never. It was enough that he knew they were there, buried inside of his forearms.
She had come to her senses. So what if it was him? First, and probably the last time she had seen him she had scared him. They had probably warned him about her. Told him about her skin. Why else had he frozen to statue when she had hugged him? He may have had nightmares, but probably not a death wish. She slipped back in to bed and switched off the light. Concentrated to breathing. In and out in monotonous rhythm. Wishing sleep to come.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000