Title: Kinda I Want To
Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)
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Kinda I Want To 2 - Through Rogue's Eyes
By Askani'daughter
I'm beginning to grasp what exactly the term "in the closet" means, Professor.
I'm sorry, did I wake you? It's me, Rogue. I need to... talk. Mentally. I don't sound so stupid when I talk mentally. What about? Well.......
What is a closet? Easy enough, right?
A closet is where you store stuff, right? It's a small, dark, cramped little place, where you put all your belongings that you don't want seen. It's very small. It's dark. And more often than not, it gets awful crowded in there. And sometimes you forget what's in there, until you open the door one day and it falls down on top of you, clonking you a good one in the skull.
So let's put that metaphor to use in respects to human sexuality.
"In the closet" is a term often used in respects to homosexual people, or people with homosexual desires, who hide their sexual preferences in their subconscious, so they don't have think or deal with them. Usually because they're ashamed of those feelings, or they're just plain out scared of them. So basically, these sexually confused individuals, in order to please society, put away their desires in a mental "closet".
I don't know how you feel about the matter, Professor, but in all honesty, a closet is no place for someone's sexual preference. A person's sexuality is as much a part of them as their ethics, morality, or even their damned favorite color. It's part of who they are, and to hide it is like hiding away part of yourself. It's denying yourself something so integral and basic to the human nature it's like denying your desire to eat or sleep.
Trust me on this. I've had enough people I my head to grasp this. And having people in your head is a lot different than visiting others' heads, like you do, Professor. I see and understand so much more, because people become a part of me...
So if you lock a part of yourself, a big part, inside this teensy-eensy closet in your head and try to forget about it, then you can go about your life, pretending to be something you're not. But eventually, something's gonna make you go inside that closet to get something. And when you open the door, your sexuality, being so big and cramped in that tiny, dark, little space is gonna fall out on you, and clonk you good on the head.
And there you are, suddenly suffocated by your sexuality, just because you tried to push it away, and now it fell on top of you. Your head is bleeding and you don't know which way is up or down. All you know is that you want somebody you think you shouldn't want. And you want them so bad it hurts. Just like the cracked skull you got for opening the door to your closet.
I know you're wondering why I woke you up to talk about closets. Let me explain.
I like to take walks around the garden at night, it helps me clear my mind, and Lord knows I need all the help I can get with that. But I wasn't the only one in the garden tonight, no sir.
I had gotten near that part where the little stone benches sit around the dried out stone fountain. I was still in the grove when I noticed that Angel was sitting on one of the benches, with the glummest, most forlorn look you ever saw on a person.
I don't know Angel that well at all, Professor. I know he's one of the original X-Men, but to me, he's a new kid on the block. I know he's prettier than all us women on the team, and he's got lovely wings, and his name's Warren, but that's about it.
Maybe that's why I didn't step out, I don't know. Warren's wings were fluttering, almost like a nervous bird. He wore a real nice white silk shirt and dark blue trousers, looking way too dressed up for sitting in a garden at night. Must be a rich people thing. But no matter how nice he dressed, he was real upset, you could tell by looking at his face.
I was just about considering going out there to talk to him when I heard footsteps and out Cyclops popped from the other side of the bushes. I know Scott a little better than Warren, and I can even call him a good friend, but not a close friend. I was mildly surprised to see him, and a little curious, so I just stayed in the bushes, and like the nosy little bitch I am, I listened in.
"Scott!" Warren said, startled, his wings flexing in surprise. Even if you couldn't see his face, his wings conveyed all his emotions. "What are you doing here?"
Scott still stood on the other side of the fountain, regarding Warren evenly. He looked a little dressy himself, wearing a nice red polo and a pair of blue cargo pants. His auburn hair was neatly combed, and he wore a nice pair of sandals. I got the impression that he dressed up just for this. Scott has this complex whenever he's around Angel, I've noticed. And vice versa. Neither man can stand to be outdone by the other.
"I... uh, came to talk to you," Scott finally said after a few moments. His face was blank, but his mouth twitched in a way that suggested he'd rather not be here. I wonder where I picked up all these body language reading abilities? Maybe I've been hanging out with too many telepaths... No offense, Prof.
Warren's wings fluttered again. "Why? And how did you find me?" he asked testily, his tone regaining his normal hard arrogance.
"Actually Jean found you. She just told me where you were," Scott sighed.
"So she sent you after me? If that's the case, then just take your uptight ass the hell back out of here," Warren practically growled. I think he was pissed that Scott was sent here, and didn't come on his own. It hurt his feelings a little, I think.
Huh? Oh, well, of course I knew, Professor. Ya'll think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I've had enough people rolling around my psyche to notice something like what Warren feels for Scott. I know how Warren feels, see. I can understand and sympathize with him. He wants to be loved. Simple as that.
Scott sighed after Warren's nasty outburst, and I saw him run his hand nervously through his hair, tousling the auburn locks. I don't know how, but I could just tell he was regarding Warren with a pained expression.
"Look, Warren, I came to apologize. I overreacted about the barbecue. It's petty and stupid, okay? Would you like a pound of flesh or something?" Scott said, his tone exasperated.
"Sure, carve it off right now," Warren said sarcastically.
"Put it on my tab. You know, I did come here to talk to you, but if you're going to be a jackass, I'll just go back to my bed, where I have a beautiful wife waiting for me," Scott retorted. I wince at the bad choice of his words. Does the guy just not get that Warren likes him?
"Thanks, Scott. While you're over there, be sure to grab some salt so that the next time you see me, you can rub it in my wounds," Warren snarled and turned his back to Scott. Scott just shook his head in frustration and started to walk away.
I thought it was over, right then and there, Professor. Scott came to apologize and between his and Warren's ego, all they accomplished was pissing both of them off more. But Scott saw something when he glanced back, something I caught a second later, gleaming in the moonlight.
Warren was crying.
It was an odd effect, a tear streaking down that beautiful angelic face. Crystal on powder blue. Warren was hurting. About Jean. About Betsy. About Scott. About his whole life. No one was left to comfort him and tell him it was okay, and he was gonna be alright. No one to tell him he wasn't a bad guy after all, just a little misguided at times.
Or so both Warren and I thought, until Scott gave a great sigh, turned around and sat beside Warren on the stone bench.
No words were exchanged at first. I don't think any were necessary. Warren knew what Scott was offering. Scott knew what Warren needed. Scott just put his arms around the blue-skinned angel, and held him like you would a child, or a lover.
At first glance, I think everyone takes Scott to be a heartless hard-ass. No sympathy, no compassion. Bu they're wrong. Scott is one of the most empathetic, compassionate human beings you'll ever find. He can't resist trying to eradicate pain. Especially for someone he cares about.
Warren cried quietly into Scott's shoulder, releasing pain of things I don't even know about. From what I've heard, Warren, despite being rich, has had it rough. His parents are dead, friends have tried to kill him, every girlfriend he ever had has left him or died, he's been literally put through the emotional wringer by Apocalypse, Sabretooth, and even your loss, Professor. Another misconception is that everyone thinks Warren is nothing but a spoiled, rich little playboy. But I'm discovering that he's actually a very sensitive, insecure man.
Scott rocked him a little, an odd site, a grown man rocking another grown man. He smoothed Warren's golden hair, whispering things to him I couldn't hear from where I stood. Whatever Scott said, it worked, and Warren calmed down. There was neither contempt or reluctance in Scott's comfort. There was only concern etched into his chiseled face.
"Warren, it's going to be alright. I promise you. You're not as bad you think you are. Everyone has their faults, even me. Betsy made her own choice, and it's her loss. You'll find someone who'll give you the love you deserve someday, I know it," Scott promised in a normal tone of voice, when Warren was sufficiently calm. Cyclops still held Warren gently in his arms.
Warren's fingers closed around Scott's sleeves when Scott said that. I couldn't see his face, because it was buried in Scott's chest, but I saw the fingers clench at Scott's statement. He lifted his face after a moment, his powder blue skin covered in drying tears.
Warren was looking right into Scott's glasses, crystal blue meeting glowing red in the dark. Something passed between them, without definition, and without boundaries. An intense emotion, an invisible chemistry, animal-fucking-magnetism, or whatever you want to call it. And I realized, in that brief space of a second, in the expressions of their face, the tenseness of their bodies, and in the raw emotions they poured out to the other, that there was *something* between them, and whatever it was, it was mutual, even if only slightly.
It occurred to me that just a minute ago I found the sight of Cyclops and Angel embracing odd. And now it seemed as natural and as acceptable and Scott and Jean together. Maybe it's just the hopeless romantic in me, Professor, but I swear, part of me *wanted* to see them together like that.
Warren's fingers clenched tighter, and he leaned forward, his face nearing Scott's. Both their faces were slack, as if they were both caught in a moment, drugged by fairy wine and enticed towards the other. I couldn't see Scott's eyes, but Warren's lids dropped, his lips moist and almost touching Scott's.
And then Scott backed away and stood up, detaching himself from Warren's grip.
Warren's eyes widened, whether from the shock of Scott pulling away, or realization that he almost kissed *Scott Summers*, X-Men leader extraordinaire, and the seeming bastion of heterosexuality. "Scott, I...." he started, and then trailed off, finding himself speechless, I guess.
"Warren, don't worry about it. You're vulnerable right now.... Look, tomorrow Jean and I are going out to dinner. You can go with us. We'd want you to go with us," Scott offered quickly. His face was blank, with no readable emotion. If only I could see his eyes....
"Afraid to go anywhere with me without your security blanket, Scott?" Warren asked bitterly. His face was flushed dark blue in embarrassment.
"Why do you have to take it out on me, Warren? Why am I always the one you pick on when you're hurting?" Scott sighed shaking his head sadly.
Warren turned his face from Scott, and another tear slipped down it. But whatever magic had caused Scott to comfort Warren before was now spoiled by the almost-kiss. Scott stayed his distance, his face darkening into a troubled expression.
"Just leave, Scott. You wouldn't understand. You wouldn't *want* to understand," Warren sighed, stopping his own flow of tears, and wiping his face.
"Warren, I'm your friend and-" Scott began before Warren cut him off.
"I know you're my *friend*, Scott. That's part of the problem," Warren said coldly, all arrogant rich boy again. He stood up gracefully, his back to Cyclops. He flexed his wings, forcing Scott to back away from those huge, white appendages.
With a great whoosh of air, Warren was up in the air. He doesn't run away from his problems.
He flies away from them.
Scott stood there, watching Warren fly away from him for a very long time. There was pain, confusion, and hurt on his face now. He was very still, very calm.
Jean came a little while later. I should have left a long time ago, but I couldn't. I sat in the bushes, curious, sympathetic, confused... I live my love life vicariously, Professor. I have to....
Scott turned to her slowly. He blinked at her, and I wondered what was running through his head. She had to have known I was here, but she was focused on Scott.
"I think I made it worse," he finally said. There was an odd, confused timbre to his voice I'd never heard before. He sounded lost.
"In more ways than you can imagine. Do you still not get it, Scott?" Jean asked him sadly, sounding more like a teacher, not a wife. I stared at her, wondering what was going on inside her head.
"Get what, Jean?" Scott asked innocently. Innocently. Sweet Jesus, Professor, he didn't understand. He didn't get it. Or did he just not want to?
"I love you so much, Scott...." she said softly, her face hanging down, her fiery red hair blowing softly in the wind.
"I love you too, Jean. With all my heart and soul," Scott smiled taking a step towards his wife, his arms out, meaning to embrace her.
She stopped him. I gaped, and an inexplicable look of hurt passed across his face. Deep hurt.
"I know, Scott. You love me so much you've locked away a part of yourself, and you don't even know it. And I loved you so much that I let you. Do you even know who you are?" she asked him sadly, and I could see tears in the moonlight on her beautiful face.
Scott was confused and anxious. He knew something bad was happening. "Jean, of course I know who I am," he answered testily.
"Do you know who you are? Not us, or we, or you and I, but you?" she pressed, mercilessly.
It was the silence that condemned him. A silence that spoke a thousand words to me, an outsider, and spoke a million to Jean. No, Scott could not define himself, know himself, without her. Scott accepted himself when he was part of Jean Grey-Summers, but he could not define his own desires. His own wants. As strong as he was, he wasn't strong enough to develop his own dreams. He followed your dream, Professor. He became part of Jean's dream. But what about his own dreams? Did he even have any?
"Jean, I... don't understand...." he finally said, sounding like a lost child.
"I love you. You love me. But it's not enough. We're both so strong. We're both so strong we can't go anywhere. It's a dead end, Scott. Neither of us can grow.
"It's over, Scott. But not from lack of love...." Jean finished, tearfully, and gently placed her wedding ring in Scott's hand. His hand gently closed around it, and tears were falling down his face, past his visor.
"Is it Logan? Do you love him? Or Warren? You want to be with him?" Scott started questioning, his voice cracking in pain. Tears fell down my own face as well. It hurt just to watch.
"No, Scott. I'm doing this for you. I need to set you free. You need to be free. And there is someone who needs you right now, needs you so badly... You don't even know or understand yet, but maybe you will. Just remember that I love you and always will......" Jean sobbed and she turned away and ran from her husband.
Scott tried to sit down on the stone benches, but he missed and fell on his ass on the ground, crying like a little boy. He clutched Jean's wedding ring to his chest, and rocked himself slowly, confused, hurt, suffering.
What was Jean thinking? How could she do this to Scott? How could she do this to herself? Why would she do this to either of them? For what? For who?
And then I realized.
Love isn't always about spending the rest of your life with someone. Love is about giving yourself up to someone else, and living to make them happy. It's about complete unselfishness. There's not always a happy ending, you don't always stay together. Scott had lived his life for Jean. And now Jean was setting Scott free to live his own.
She knew Scott's inner feelings, his every thought and desire, better than even himself. I saw that almost-kiss. Part of Scott wanted to share in that kiss as much as Warren did. I've seen how he acts around Warren, how Warren gets under his skin like nobody else can, not even Jean. I've seen how the normally reserved Scott Summers gives out unconditional sympathy to a man who is supposedly his rival. If I could see his eyes, I might even see desire flick into them at the sight of Warren.
Jean loved Scott so much she let him go. He was hurting now, but he wouldn't hurt forever. He was made of sterner stuff than that. And maybe, just maybe, he'll notice a certain winged X-Man's feelings for him, and be able to reciprocate. Then again, maybe not. But I saw the wisdom in her actions, and I understood why she did what she did. My own heart ached for her. And for Scott. And for Warren, who was somehow, inexplicably, caught between them.
You know how I said that sometimes when people open their mental closets that their sexuality will fall out and clonk them on the head? Well, I'm not sure whether it was Scott or Warren's closet, but it seemed to have missed them both when it fell out.
Because stupid, nosy old me was standing behind them, and instead it clonked me on the head.
I left the garden after an hour of watching Scott cry for the loss of his beloved wife. I flew back to my room, and crawled inside my bed, thinking of Remy, but hearing Scott's sobbing still. It stayed with me even after I fell asleep.
I dreamt I was locked in a closet, and couldn't get out. And when someone finally opened the door, the light was so painful it made me cry. Would I go blind now, or would my eyes adjust and I would finally be able to live outside my tiny, dark, cramped little closet?
It's funny, Professor, but I'm not sure if I had wings, a visor, or both in that dream...