For a Love of Words
folder
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,771
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,771
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Fire and Ice
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, Kiddos. Sonnet belongs to Shakespeare. Poem belongs to Robert Frost
Summary: Bobby receives a text message from an old friend.
Warnings: M/M, Anal, Oral, Slash, Lemon
----------------------------
I stared at the vaguely familiar number that appeared on my cell phone, though I couldn’t remember who it was. This wouldn’t bother most of my peers, however it was very troubling to me, seeing as I had only given my number to a select few and had told them not to give it out. I knew it was wasting five cents to read a text message from someone I didn’t know, but curiosity constantly nagged me to read it. Once I finally did, I was thoroughly confused by what it said, though It was a poem I was all too familiar with:
**Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.**
It had been a running joke at school, because John and I had been friends, really close. The day I got here and was assigned to dorm with him, we hit it off and were practically attached at the hip until we got older, going our own path but still staying within arms’ reach. That’s why that day he left I was so angry for not saying anything, because I knew it was the right thing to do, even if I was too chicken-shit to do it. I kept telling myself that he would come back. People kept telling me I had my head in the clouds and needed to come back to reality; they said they saw it coming. Especially since he was bipolar he felt he didn’t fit in here, because he had it so bad, even with his medication he would have outbursts, like that time at my house or that day in the jet when he ran off.
I know things about him that nobody else does. He hats that people call him a delinquent; he’s really not at all. He just skips class quite often because he gets so bored. He has never skipped an English class; he once confided enough in me to tell me why. He said he loves words, more than anything else, and he wants to be a poet. He has a whole three inch binder filled with his favorite words and their definitions, and another binder filled with poetry. Her keeps this in a locked chest in his closet, not because he doesn’t want anyone to see, but because if anything were ever to happen, he wanted it protected. In that chest, he keeps a collection of works by his favorite poets and authors; Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, and Mark Twain. He told me he likes them because they can manipulate words the way that he can manipulate fire. The only reason he hasn’t told everyone is because they don’t ask, he wouldn’t mind telling them if he did. That chest is still in his closet, even though I have a new room mate. I can’t help but think that because it’s still there, he might come back for it one day. It was one of his greatest treasures.
His parents were both in the army, and they were both mutants. His father could manipulate light to create illusions, and his mother could knock people into a coma by singing. They both died in an accident explosion, and the professor brought him to the mansion at age 9, even though his powers hadn’t developed, because it was inevitable that eventually he would have some sort of power. When his powers were discovered, there had been another flame mutant who could start fires, and had accidentally set the couch on fire in the TV room where John had been sitting. He jumped away, hoping the fire would stop. Imagine his surprise when it did.
I replied to the text message. ‘Who is this?’ I asked, and got an answer immediately, though not what I wanted- it still answered the question. ‘I want my chest.’
I was at a loss for words. I wanted to tell him to come get it himself, but at the same time I knew the professor would not like that. At all. And that is why, two days later, I had Pitor help me get the chest off school grounds where John would meet me. I was nervous, wringing my hands out. I sat there, using the chest as a bench, and lost myself thinking about what I would say to him. I knew I wanted to tell him to stay, to not leave me again, and that I was sorry for not telling him before. But somehow, I just couldn’t hear those words coming from my mouth.
“Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
I looked up and stared at him. I never was able to pick up on Shakespeare, so I was a bit confused. He had changed quite a bit. His lighter was no longer in hand, but a piece of paper that was rolled and tied with a ribbon, his hair was cut shirt and dyed red, spiked in all directions. He wore a somewhat tight black shirt that had a metallic rainbow outline of a cross on it, and 100% written inside the cross, as well as baggy blue jeans and his old combat boots. He also wore glassed, which set everything of and made him look incredible; a bit emo, however, incredible.
“Shakespeare wrote that for the Earl of Pembroke; a man. They were lovers.” He told me, I was still staring. “Don’t stare at me like that. I know I look bad. I didn’t feel like putting in my contacts today and I just threw clothes on because I left really early to catch a flight up here. I’m flying back in a few hours because I have work.”
“Oh.” Was all I could muster. After a long quiet pause I spoke, “So, how’ve you been? Is it okay with Magneto?”
“Well, I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear...” He sat down next to me, so close that our thighs were touching, “It’s not like you would think. I really like it, It’s just like I have parents, for once in my life, and that’s what I’ve always wanted, you know?” He sighed, looking up at the sky, “I feel like it’s where I was supposed to be all along. I have a little brother too, he calls me ‘big brother’ like you see on all of those TV sitcoms. And I’ve gotten a few poems published by Random House, so I have some money. After I finish the job I’m at now, at a summer camp, I’m going to Europe to see the Globe Theater, and I’ll be back before school starts, of corse.”
“You’re still in school?”
“Yeah, I’m in public school now, I’m a senior, In all AP classes. I’m also on colorgaurd.”
“Wow, it sounds like you’re really happy now then. I guess you go your happily ever after.” I sighed to myself. I hadn’t expected, nor wanted him to be this happy. I wanted him to say it sucked and all he wanted was to come back to the institute.
“Yeah, almost.”
“Well, I guess your chest is all you needed..”
“Mmmhmm, there was something else I wanted, but It’s no big deal.”
“What was it, I’ll run inside and get it.”
“That’s not... nevermind, don’t worry about it.”
“What was it? It’s not a problem at all.”
“Well... I guess..well...”
He kissed me. His arm around my waist, the other on my jaw, pulling me toward him, and my god he was a great kisser. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth and held me close as I kissed back, closing my eyes slowly. After we pulled apart, I was first to speak; “So, uh, did you need a ride to the airport?” I offered, not looking him in the eye
“Yeah, sure, that’d be good...” He said quietly, fingering the small bow on the diploma-looking paper; I now noticed the paper was light blue with a dark blue bow. We drove in silence and I took him into the airport to make sure he was safe on his way. “I guess I better go sit and wait then... this is for you.” He said, handing me the rolled paper. I turned it over in my hand a few times, then begun to open it, “Bobby, I gotta get going.” He said, turning away. “Thanks, it was good seeing you.” He continued, almost sadly, then walked off toward his terminal. I slowly opened the rolled paper, which seemed like cardstock or scrapbook paper, and began to read:
Bobby:
I’ll try to make this short, so you can catch me if you want, because I planned on giving this to you when I left.
It was a stupid fight, that evening before the attack on the institute. And for that, I’m sorry. I bet you forgot anyway, but I remember it all. You called me a faggot, Bobby, that’s why I had those outbursts leading to Alkali. I know I was acting on impulse at your house, and when I left you in the Jet, but, can you blame me? So here’s the long and short of it:
I love you.
I stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do as I watched him disappear into the crowd. Once he was out of sight I turned and walked away, back to the mansion. I regretted my decision once I laid in my room alone, staring at the empty space in the closet across the room. His presence no longer lingered, and I felt so incredibly alone.
Summary: Bobby receives a text message from an old friend.
Warnings: M/M, Anal, Oral, Slash, Lemon
----------------------------
I stared at the vaguely familiar number that appeared on my cell phone, though I couldn’t remember who it was. This wouldn’t bother most of my peers, however it was very troubling to me, seeing as I had only given my number to a select few and had told them not to give it out. I knew it was wasting five cents to read a text message from someone I didn’t know, but curiosity constantly nagged me to read it. Once I finally did, I was thoroughly confused by what it said, though It was a poem I was all too familiar with:
**Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.**
It had been a running joke at school, because John and I had been friends, really close. The day I got here and was assigned to dorm with him, we hit it off and were practically attached at the hip until we got older, going our own path but still staying within arms’ reach. That’s why that day he left I was so angry for not saying anything, because I knew it was the right thing to do, even if I was too chicken-shit to do it. I kept telling myself that he would come back. People kept telling me I had my head in the clouds and needed to come back to reality; they said they saw it coming. Especially since he was bipolar he felt he didn’t fit in here, because he had it so bad, even with his medication he would have outbursts, like that time at my house or that day in the jet when he ran off.
I know things about him that nobody else does. He hats that people call him a delinquent; he’s really not at all. He just skips class quite often because he gets so bored. He has never skipped an English class; he once confided enough in me to tell me why. He said he loves words, more than anything else, and he wants to be a poet. He has a whole three inch binder filled with his favorite words and their definitions, and another binder filled with poetry. Her keeps this in a locked chest in his closet, not because he doesn’t want anyone to see, but because if anything were ever to happen, he wanted it protected. In that chest, he keeps a collection of works by his favorite poets and authors; Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, and Mark Twain. He told me he likes them because they can manipulate words the way that he can manipulate fire. The only reason he hasn’t told everyone is because they don’t ask, he wouldn’t mind telling them if he did. That chest is still in his closet, even though I have a new room mate. I can’t help but think that because it’s still there, he might come back for it one day. It was one of his greatest treasures.
His parents were both in the army, and they were both mutants. His father could manipulate light to create illusions, and his mother could knock people into a coma by singing. They both died in an accident explosion, and the professor brought him to the mansion at age 9, even though his powers hadn’t developed, because it was inevitable that eventually he would have some sort of power. When his powers were discovered, there had been another flame mutant who could start fires, and had accidentally set the couch on fire in the TV room where John had been sitting. He jumped away, hoping the fire would stop. Imagine his surprise when it did.
I replied to the text message. ‘Who is this?’ I asked, and got an answer immediately, though not what I wanted- it still answered the question. ‘I want my chest.’
I was at a loss for words. I wanted to tell him to come get it himself, but at the same time I knew the professor would not like that. At all. And that is why, two days later, I had Pitor help me get the chest off school grounds where John would meet me. I was nervous, wringing my hands out. I sat there, using the chest as a bench, and lost myself thinking about what I would say to him. I knew I wanted to tell him to stay, to not leave me again, and that I was sorry for not telling him before. But somehow, I just couldn’t hear those words coming from my mouth.
“Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
I looked up and stared at him. I never was able to pick up on Shakespeare, so I was a bit confused. He had changed quite a bit. His lighter was no longer in hand, but a piece of paper that was rolled and tied with a ribbon, his hair was cut shirt and dyed red, spiked in all directions. He wore a somewhat tight black shirt that had a metallic rainbow outline of a cross on it, and 100% written inside the cross, as well as baggy blue jeans and his old combat boots. He also wore glassed, which set everything of and made him look incredible; a bit emo, however, incredible.
“Shakespeare wrote that for the Earl of Pembroke; a man. They were lovers.” He told me, I was still staring. “Don’t stare at me like that. I know I look bad. I didn’t feel like putting in my contacts today and I just threw clothes on because I left really early to catch a flight up here. I’m flying back in a few hours because I have work.”
“Oh.” Was all I could muster. After a long quiet pause I spoke, “So, how’ve you been? Is it okay with Magneto?”
“Well, I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear...” He sat down next to me, so close that our thighs were touching, “It’s not like you would think. I really like it, It’s just like I have parents, for once in my life, and that’s what I’ve always wanted, you know?” He sighed, looking up at the sky, “I feel like it’s where I was supposed to be all along. I have a little brother too, he calls me ‘big brother’ like you see on all of those TV sitcoms. And I’ve gotten a few poems published by Random House, so I have some money. After I finish the job I’m at now, at a summer camp, I’m going to Europe to see the Globe Theater, and I’ll be back before school starts, of corse.”
“You’re still in school?”
“Yeah, I’m in public school now, I’m a senior, In all AP classes. I’m also on colorgaurd.”
“Wow, it sounds like you’re really happy now then. I guess you go your happily ever after.” I sighed to myself. I hadn’t expected, nor wanted him to be this happy. I wanted him to say it sucked and all he wanted was to come back to the institute.
“Yeah, almost.”
“Well, I guess your chest is all you needed..”
“Mmmhmm, there was something else I wanted, but It’s no big deal.”
“What was it, I’ll run inside and get it.”
“That’s not... nevermind, don’t worry about it.”
“What was it? It’s not a problem at all.”
“Well... I guess..well...”
He kissed me. His arm around my waist, the other on my jaw, pulling me toward him, and my god he was a great kisser. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth and held me close as I kissed back, closing my eyes slowly. After we pulled apart, I was first to speak; “So, uh, did you need a ride to the airport?” I offered, not looking him in the eye
“Yeah, sure, that’d be good...” He said quietly, fingering the small bow on the diploma-looking paper; I now noticed the paper was light blue with a dark blue bow. We drove in silence and I took him into the airport to make sure he was safe on his way. “I guess I better go sit and wait then... this is for you.” He said, handing me the rolled paper. I turned it over in my hand a few times, then begun to open it, “Bobby, I gotta get going.” He said, turning away. “Thanks, it was good seeing you.” He continued, almost sadly, then walked off toward his terminal. I slowly opened the rolled paper, which seemed like cardstock or scrapbook paper, and began to read:
Bobby:
I’ll try to make this short, so you can catch me if you want, because I planned on giving this to you when I left.
It was a stupid fight, that evening before the attack on the institute. And for that, I’m sorry. I bet you forgot anyway, but I remember it all. You called me a faggot, Bobby, that’s why I had those outbursts leading to Alkali. I know I was acting on impulse at your house, and when I left you in the Jet, but, can you blame me? So here’s the long and short of it:
I love you.
I stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do as I watched him disappear into the crowd. Once he was out of sight I turned and walked away, back to the mansion. I regretted my decision once I laid in my room alone, staring at the empty space in the closet across the room. His presence no longer lingered, and I felt so incredibly alone.