#( Oh darling don't you know / My only heart is beating for you ) Dimitri & Rogue

[abrushwithdeath]

@forgivingtouches​

“We Broke Up But I’m Still In Love With You” Sentence Starters

‘‘  you  don’t  know  how  much  it  hurts  me  seeing  you  with  someone  else.  ‘‘

One year. Eight months. Eleven days. That's how long it had been that she'd sat with her broken heart, felt herself hollowed out. An empty, aching, void. She supposed the fault was her own, in hindsight. She and Dimitri had always had their differences- at the core of it, she thought, was how they were raised. His life wasn’t perfect, but he had loving parents. A family. Many of the things he’d been raised to believe and value were things that she had been taught could be used against you. Her childhood had been turbulent- losing her mother, an absent father, authoritative aunt as a caregiver... then she had her anger and hurt molded as a weapon by the two women who had taken her in, the two women she still, to this day, called “mother”. Although love was given, it was just as well withheld when needed. It was something she believed that could be lost at any moment, for any reason... and that terrified her more than anything else possibly could. Because love, beyond all else, was the one thing she craved so deeply that it could be a poison. Add to that being an emotionally stunted girl of just 20 with the power to kill on contact who has spent the last 8 or so years collecting voices in your head… the noise, the self-doubt, the fear, can be suffocating. So much so that you give away pieces of your mind in the hopes of easing the agony of it, even if just for a few moments. And, in return, you become impossible. An amalgamation of too many thoughts that lead to dead ends, no purpose or direction. Of course it eventually becomes easier to close yourself off to the rest of the world for it. To take a step back and think that connection is not something you’re capable of, not something you’re allowed to have. (If she was meant to connect to others, why would her mutation keep her from ever being able to touch another without consequence?) It's cruel to believe such things, to let them grab you by the throat and direct you to hurt the people you love most in the name of some twisted sense of saving them, saving yourself. Of all the people she had hurt with this, her achingly unending thoughts, the subsequent behavior, was the most needlessly cruel to Dimitri. How could she have ever expected him to handle the turbulent parts of herself when even she was, at the time, incapable of it? How could she have ever asked him to stay at her side despite her overbearing urge to push him away? Kindness can only hold people together for so long. So when the end had come at his behest, at her frequent urging in moments of turmoil, it had not been a surprise. It had, however, gutted her. Left her raw and burning in a way she hadn't anticipated. Loneliness, she came to remember, was not a friend. It was just another barrier- one which could keep out the hurt, but which would also keep out the joy.

But one year, eight months, and eleven days was almost enough to help her heal. It was long enough for her to realize he was not coming back this time and her only option was to move forward instead of remaining in the tragedy of the past. She had seen him do as much, after all. Not that they had been in contact, really, but she heard things from Scott who heard things from Julie. He had someone new. And then another. And when Scott opened his mouth to casually mention the next, she shut him down with a raised hand. The thought of him moving on was bittersweet- he should. He should be enjoying this time without her, using the opportunity to find someone who was better than she had been, better than she could ever be. He shouldn’t hold himself back. After all, he had broken up with her for a reason, and she had let him go with those same thoughts: they were not right for each other. Not in the moment. Maybe not ever. In fact, she was sure that she wasn’t right for anyone. Not then, at least. Adding the ups and downs of a relationship to the things she was already dealing with on her own had probably been a poor choice on her part. But when things were good, she had never in her life felt better. The lows, on the other hand, were the worst kind of pain. The kind that seeps into your mind and body, lingers there- metallic, ink stained, ready to be built upon or to bleed as needed. 

And now it was another three months and twenty-four days beyond even that. Three months and twenty-four days of a new relationship. She was far from fixed- fractured and frightened even still. But there was something easier about it now. She thought at first, that it was him that made the difference: Remy LeBeau was kind, he was understanding, and despite the flirtations from early on, he never pushed her to change who she was. He never made her feel bad for the distance she had to keep between them- physical and emotional. But in reflection upon it, she realized that it was not him who made the difference- Dimitri had never once lacked in patience or compassion, he’d never once made her feel like he was expecting something from her that she couldn’t give him. Everything had come down to her. She had not been patient with herself. She had not been kind to herself. She had let the nagging negativity, the insistence that she was not good enough, dig so deeply into her that it had become her. There was, for a time, only darkness. And she had pushed Dimitri away from it with such force that he had no choice but to keep his distance as she imploded in upon herself like a dying star. If he had stayed, she may have destroyed him, too.

But it was now just over two years of separation. Two years in which she had hardly seen him, spoken to him. Two years of getting the help she needed to overcome herself, to mend the parts of her that had been so badly damaged that she’d thought she was beyond repair. She would never be okay. Not completely. But she was better than she had been. She was closer, now, to the person she wished she had been when Dimitri had taken a chance on her. It was often that she wondered how much he had changed, too. If maybe the people they were now were the people they had needed to be to make things work. Sometimes, she even considered calling him just to say hello. Just to see if he ever wondered the same things she did. To maybe, just maybe, hear him say “I miss you”. Even now, even when they both had someone new, the urge stuck her more often than she’d like to admit. Because she had felt love with him unlike anything she had ever felt before. And it didn’t matter that the man she was with now was smart and sweet and funny, because a fraction of her was always wishing he was Dimitri. She questioned if Dimitri ever had that problem, too. She doubted it.

Or, she had doubted it until tonight.  The Avengers and the X-Men were disconnected in many ways, yet the Professor had thought it best to try to bring about a union of sorts. They were better off working together than apart, and letting people see them working together might help ease people into an acceptance. 

Coming to this little “party”, or whatever it was meant to be, Anna Marie knew she might see Dimitri there. The Avengers were, in a way, his family after all. Much like the X-Men were hers. There was, again, an internal conflict inside the young woman- she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to reopen old wounds by watching him talk and laugh with other people while he avoided her. She didn’t want to catch him with his arm around someone else’s waist, let her eyes linger when he kissed them. Yet she wanted him to be there. Wanted to see with her own eyes that he was happy, maybe even more so without her in the picture. She wanted to see him smile, even if it was just a glimpse from across the room, wanted to see the way it reached his eyes in good humor. She wanted to stop him for just a second, if just for the idle conversation of two people who had once been each other’s everything but were now little more than strangers passing one another by. She wanted to ask him, “How have you been?” and keep the details of her own heartbreak to herself as they exchanged momentary pleasantries. She just wanted to hear his voice, something more than the overplayed last message he’d left her two days before they’d been torn apart, still lingering on her phone like she was clinging to a ghost. Yet she was ill prepared when she saw him. There was an arm around her waist, fingers pressed to her hip, Remy speaking to Ororo about something... as she watched him walk in with another girl. God, she was gorgeous, and even in this dress that Kitty had helped her pick out, Anna Marie felt that she paled in comparison. Good. Good for him. It’s what she’d wanted, right? For him to move on. To find someone better.  So why was the jealousy so bitterly settled in her throat? But she turned her attention towards Remy instead, ripped her eyes and mind away from Dimitri. Enough that she didn’t catch the moment that he looked her way. The same moment that Remy leaned down to steal a kiss that reverberated inside of her like a familiar tune. And all evening they played this game. She stole glances in his direction when she thought no one would notice. Watched with heartache as he kept his distance. They were circling one another, it seemed- always moving, never meeting. She had half a mind to find an excuse to “accidentally” bump into him, to apologize for the mistake and spout some lie about “I didn’t realize you were here!” even if she knew he’d see right through it. But she needn’t find an excuse, she soon realized, because Remy had walked away to mingle with some of the others, and this time when she stole a glance in Dimitri’s direction... their eyes met from across the room and her heart stopped. It was a flurry of emotion that spilled through her, and she considered walking right up to him, telling him “I’ve missed you” and praying that he’d say it back. But she felt her chest tighten and when her heart began to thrum in her chest once again, it was with a quick rhythm. Two years. She hadn’t seen him in two years. And yet the reaction she had just from meeting his eyes was so visceral she could hardly even think.  She couldn’t have even suggested how long she stayed like that- a second, an hour, it all felt the same to her, as if time had stopped and sped up all at once. But she knew when she couldn’t maintain it any longer... and with a shuddered breath, she turned away from him, walked her way to an empty corridor to clear her head. She hadn’t heard him follow. Had barely heard the sound of his “hello”. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. She’d thought, so assuredly, that she was past this enough that seeing him here tonight would ease her troubled heart, let her move on. Instead, it was quite the opposite. She had the sudden realization, when he was standing in front of her, that if he asked her to leave with him, she actually might. Because all she wanted to do was reach out to him, pull him into a kiss and see if all the feelings were only in her head or if they were still there, nestled in the space between them.  The conversation was small at first, simple. Maybe even a little awkward while they found their pacing. But there was a comfortable quality to it once they started, as if there had not been two years between their last conversation and now, but only a few hours. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe they could even be friends again? Then a lull causes her to second guess herself, second guess this. She leans back against the wall- an attempt at a casual air? Or an attempt to make herself smaller? To get just a little further away? She’s not entirely sure. In the second that follows, she plans to slip away, to say “It was nice to see you” and end this before she can fall too hard all over again. But he was the first to break the silence, and her whole body ached for it. “You don’t know how much it hurts me seeing you with someone else.” She was quiet, gauging his words, her own response. Should she leave it here? Walk away? Or should she be honest with him? “I think I do.” She finally answered, her words soft, almost ashamed. Because the truth was that it had been hurting her all night. Small daggers to the chest each time.  She crossed her arms loosely- defensive, but not against him. Defensive because she knew she was vulnerable. She knew that, even after this long, in just these few short minutes, she had placed her heart right back into the palm of his hand. “Ya know... I think you’d like ‘im.” She said, the hint of a melancholic smile touching at the edge of her lips, “He’s real nice once ya get to know ‘im. And he’s got the most ridiculous sense’a humor...” But she wasn’t looking at Dimitri anymore, was instead looking down at her shoes- she’d never been a big fan of heels, and right now she was almost regretting wearing them. She was regretting a lot of things. “Dimitri-” Her voice was soft, and she felt so small, so defenseless, and yet so perfectly at home with him so close to her. She could have cried if she wasn’t careful, “I’m sorry. For everything. For... for being so scared. For pushin’ you away. For not... not knowin’ who I was or who I wanted to be, and for placin’ that all on you, like I thought maybe ya could fix me. I was just a kid, but so were you. And you didn’t deserve any’a that misplaced hurt or anger. You were always so patient with me, even when maybe you shouldn’t’a been.” It wasn’t everything she had been wanting to say, but it was enough for now. Maybe he’d find some peace in it. Maybe she would, too.  Though there was one last thought, one small, thing she had to ask because if she didn’t, she’d regret it, “When we were together...” She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes as she looked up at him, and she did her damndest not to let them escape despite how heavily this question weighed on her chest, “Were you ever really happy? ‘Cause I... I think... despite everything... I’ve never been as happy as when I was with you.” And she had the sinking feeling that maybe she never would be again.

[abrushwithdeath]

@forgivingtouches

Send “by your side” for my muse to wake up in the hospital infirmary, with your muse holding their hand.

She couldn’t recall much, to be honest. Just little pieces. Kissing Dimitri goodbye. The flight out. Scott running through the details. And the fight. Just flashes. She remembered her powers not working. The panic. Then... nothing else, really. Not until this moment, anyway. The weight and warmth of a hand in hers. Trying to open her eyes. Exhaustion. How long had she been asleep? Or... unconscious?  What happened? Every thought and memory- her own and others- were swimming in her head, mixing and melding into something incoherent and almost painful. But she managed to give the hand in hers a small squeeze- something to ground her, to let the person at her side know she was alright. But she couldn’t muster the strength to open her eyes, to really wake up... so sleep caught her again, weak and tired.

She remembered this happening a few times- three or four? She wasn’t sure. Single moments where she almost came back and then was dragged beneath the waves of slumber again.  But she fought it a little harder each time. Searched for things to tether her. Muffled voices. The steady beeping of a heart monitor. The feeling of the bed beneath her. The IV settled in a vein. And that same hand in hers. Every time. Until she could open her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, and sensitive to the light. But she blinked a few times, waited for things to come back into focus. The room was quiet, and if not for the fingers laced with her own, she would have thought she was alone. Dimitri was asleep, though. Unaware that she was now awake. Ironic, really. Her first thought was that she didn’t want to wake him. Her second was that he couldn’t possibly be comfortable in that position with his head lowered and resting on the bed, slouched deep in his seat- which begged the question: how long had she been out for? And how long had he been here with her that he was so exhausted that this position was comfortable enough to sleep in? It took her a few seconds, but she soon found her voice- quiet, a bit raspy from lack of use: “Dimitri?” She wanted to move, to lift his hand to her lips or shift close enough that she could kiss his forehead, but her whole body felt heavy, like a weight was being held down on her. Drugs, she supposed. Morphine or something.  It struck her when she watched him open his eyes, though, that she wasn’t wearing her gloves. That he’d been holding her bare hand the whole time. And the urge to pull away was almost overwhelming in that single second of panic. But he wasn’t hurt or dying and she wasn’t sitting here with his memories tapping around in her head. Either her powers weren’t working, or their suspicions from nearly a year ago were true- he could touch her. So instead of asking how she’d ended up here, her first question, though unfinished was: “How are you-?” How are you touching me without getting hurt?

[abrushwithdeath]

@forgivingtouches​​

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” There was a time that maybe she wouldn’t have believed it. A time when she thought that he was saying the words just to sate her... or worse, to manipulate her. Because love was scary territory for a girl like her, and it always felt like it could be ripped away from her at any moment for any reason. But Dimitri had said it back that first night. He’d said it again the morning that followed. And dozens more times since then. He hadn’t changed his mind. He hadn’t taken the words back when she was having a difficult time or behaving irrationally. In turn, she had been more open with him, and it had been just over two months since she’d even tried to push him away. She was still afraid, yes... but she trusted him. She trusted him more than her own doubt and self-loathing. More than the whispers in her head that insisted she wasn’t good enough. He’d been nothing but kind and loving and... If he said he loved her, then it was because he loved her. It was as simple as that. (It probably helped her mental state that, for the last week and a half... nothing bad had happened. Not a damn thing. No fighting. No battles. Just... a bit of well earned summer fun and relaxation.) “I love you, too.” She answered with a soft smile, her eyes locked on his. …Something was up, though. She hadn’t considered that at first because he knew exactly how to draw her attention where he needed it- those pretty blue eyes, that charming smile... the perfect little diversion, and she fell for it every time.  But he’d been inside with Bobby for a few minutes prior while she and Kitty hung out by the pool, and that “You know I love you, right?” had been the first words he’d said when he walked outside. If she hadn’t been so distracted by his cute face and those three little words, she might have noticed something was up earlier. Like the fact that his hands were behind his back. Or the fact that his smile was a hint more mischievous than she’d previously thought. It was Kitty that alerted her to the situation, though. Not intentionally, but with a sudden shriek. She’d been lounging by the poolside just a few seconds ago, but now she was jumping up in shock and Bobby was laughing- an oversized water gun in his hands. And knowing him, he’d been sure that the water was nearly ice cold. Rogue quickly directed her attention back to Dimitri and pointed a finger at him, “Dimitri Barnes, don’t you dare!” But he knew just as well as she did that the words were less of a threat and more of a challenge. That was probably why, at the same time that that last word slipped from her lips, she was hit with an icy blast of water. Despite the shock of it, and despite the fact that her previously dry, black, bikini top was now soaked, it was only a moment before she was laughing and trying to run for cover from yet another shot from his water gun.