Changing Pillows (X-Men; Scott/Jean, Scott/Emma; PG/K+; #67: Pillow)
Title: Changing Pillows
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Characters/Pairing: Scott/Jean, Scott/Emma
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: #67: Pillow
Word Count: 591
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
He approaches his bed slowly, careful that his footsteps on the wooden flooring do not make a sound. He grabs the pillow, replaces it with another, and turns to his closet. It's as he's actually putting the old pillow deep into the bowels of his closet, back behind his boots and other shoes, a place where he knows his new girlfriend will deign to look, that something tiny and red swinging off of the edge of the pillow catches his attention.
He touches it gingerly. A flash of memories pour through his mind as he caresses that single hair that's somehow survived this long without its owner. He remembers their first kiss, their first dance, the first time he met her and was wowed by her mere appearance, the first time they fought side by side, the first time they fought, marrying her on that day that he'd thought would be the most special and best day of his entire life. He recalls raising his son with her, although he was not her son, and later learning that they had a daughter together in the future. He remembers holding her, caressing her, loving her. And as tears fill his eyes and his head drops in shame and sorrow, he remembers burying her time and again.
He releases her pillow into the darkness, leans in the doorway of his closet, and weeps. He trembles from head to foot, trembles from the sorrow that engulfs his heart and soul, the shame he knows he should feel, and the exhaustion of a man who's lived too long. He trembles and shakes and cries some more and is about to hit his knees and land on the floor when his bedroom door quietly opens.
He stands, taut and stiff, caught in the act, as she approaches. Her perfume is the most alluring scent he's ever smelled. Her steps are quiet, silent on the floor, but he knows she's there. He can feel her approaching presence in his mind and in his weary heart. "Emma." His voice is choked with his tears. He does not look at her.
He almost asks her to leave, but then, without a word at first, she wraps her arms tightly around him from behind. He shakes in her embrace as she holds him. He can't look at her, can't let her know he's been crying, again, for the dead. Every time he does, she thinks him to be weak and wonders if he truly loves her. Every time he does, though, she's there for him. She holds him as he has held her. He's never seen her actual tears fall, but he's felt them many times in the psilink they share.
"Sh," she whispers next to his ear and places a tiny kiss on his lobe. "It's okay, Scott. I know you miss her." And she's known, too, for a long time now that he would not always allow her to rest her head on Jean's pillow. She knows he'll always miss her and wonder if he did the right thing, made the right choice between them. It's the price of loving a man whose heart fully belonged to another woman before, but it's a price she's willing to pay to help the only person who's ever truly loved her.
His fingers grasp at her. They embed in the tender flesh of her wrist. He holds her tightly and cries, hearing her tell him it will all be okay but wondering if anything in his life ever will be again.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Characters/Pairing: Scott/Jean, Scott/Emma
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: #67: Pillow
Word Count: 591
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
He approaches his bed slowly, careful that his footsteps on the wooden flooring do not make a sound. He grabs the pillow, replaces it with another, and turns to his closet. It's as he's actually putting the old pillow deep into the bowels of his closet, back behind his boots and other shoes, a place where he knows his new girlfriend will deign to look, that something tiny and red swinging off of the edge of the pillow catches his attention.
He touches it gingerly. A flash of memories pour through his mind as he caresses that single hair that's somehow survived this long without its owner. He remembers their first kiss, their first dance, the first time he met her and was wowed by her mere appearance, the first time they fought side by side, the first time they fought, marrying her on that day that he'd thought would be the most special and best day of his entire life. He recalls raising his son with her, although he was not her son, and later learning that they had a daughter together in the future. He remembers holding her, caressing her, loving her. And as tears fill his eyes and his head drops in shame and sorrow, he remembers burying her time and again.
He releases her pillow into the darkness, leans in the doorway of his closet, and weeps. He trembles from head to foot, trembles from the sorrow that engulfs his heart and soul, the shame he knows he should feel, and the exhaustion of a man who's lived too long. He trembles and shakes and cries some more and is about to hit his knees and land on the floor when his bedroom door quietly opens.
He stands, taut and stiff, caught in the act, as she approaches. Her perfume is the most alluring scent he's ever smelled. Her steps are quiet, silent on the floor, but he knows she's there. He can feel her approaching presence in his mind and in his weary heart. "Emma." His voice is choked with his tears. He does not look at her.
He almost asks her to leave, but then, without a word at first, she wraps her arms tightly around him from behind. He shakes in her embrace as she holds him. He can't look at her, can't let her know he's been crying, again, for the dead. Every time he does, she thinks him to be weak and wonders if he truly loves her. Every time he does, though, she's there for him. She holds him as he has held her. He's never seen her actual tears fall, but he's felt them many times in the psilink they share.
"Sh," she whispers next to his ear and places a tiny kiss on his lobe. "It's okay, Scott. I know you miss her." And she's known, too, for a long time now that he would not always allow her to rest her head on Jean's pillow. She knows he'll always miss her and wonder if he did the right thing, made the right choice between them. It's the price of loving a man whose heart fully belonged to another woman before, but it's a price she's willing to pay to help the only person who's ever truly loved her.
His fingers grasp at her. They embed in the tender flesh of her wrist. He holds her tightly and cries, hearing her tell him it will all be okay but wondering if anything in his life ever will be again.
The End