Chapter Text
Suicide is someone tapping on the window, and you can always ignore it. pretend that your phone is more interesting or how many cracks litter the wall
It can be background noise while you're falling asleep.
But other times you steal glances at the person tapping on the window and indulge in the idea of opening it.
But you don’t, instead, you sometimes crack it open just slightly to satisfy the urge.
I never planned to grow up wanting to die, that was never my dream. My dream was to become someone
But even a simple dream of becoming someone, anyone, has proven to be impossible.
Impossible is a strong word. People say nothing is impossible, and I’d like to believe that, but I don’t.
I would do anything to have my hope back.
I sat on my bed writing away in my journal, holding the pen so tight that it started to hurt my hand.
Two days ago, after Scott got the door slammed in his face, logan and I talked for hours like where he gets his strawberry bath bombs.
And about the things he did on the mission other than buy me a super cute keychain, I didn’t mask for once, no fake smile, no fake laugh, I don’t think I even had the energy to pretend if I wanted to.
Eventually we got on the topic of therapists.
But knowing Logan, that sly bastard, he did that on purpose. He told me how he started therapy a little before I came to the mansion.
He told me how the professor practically forced him to, knowing that Logan definitely needed help after going in his brain multiple times.
It reminded me that I had the pleasure of people not being able to read my mind, which was weird. They could block my power, but they still couldn’t read my mind.
I finally let my mind drift to how Logan convinced me to get a therapist.
“At first I told the old lady all the lies, not giving an inch.”
I nodded at his words, listening as he continued fiddling with the keychain I loved so much.
“But she was stubborn and somehow read me like an open book, teaching me that it’s okay to be vulnerable.”
His lips were beautiful, and I knew how they felt. I wanted to feel them again.
I bit my lip to stifle the emotions that I shouldn’t be feeling right now, hopefully my face wasn’t flushing.
Logan was talking about his emotions being vulnerable, and I couldn’t stop the urge of wanting to pounce on him.
It scared me a little bit wanting someone so bad, wanting to bring them in close and tell them everything, share the burden just like he said.
But at the same time it made me want to shove him away, get a grip on reality, and close myself off.
He booped my nose, and I blinked, eyes meeting his. I felt the bed dip as he adjusted his weight.
“Are you even listening to me, sweetheart?”
Of course I was listening- I really was after he told me that she taught him to be vulnerable... and... and with time he also learned how to regulate his emotions better and step back when needed... um
And fuck that nickname, how it sounded on his tongue, fuck what would his tongue feel like against mine? Would he take the lead?
My teeth dig harder into my lip, and I guiltily look away from him while lying to his face, “Yes.”
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “So you want to get a therapist?”
Fuck no, fuck that, no. I didn’t want that ,it sounded like—
Like a good thing for Logan, glad it worked on him and helped him, but it wouldn’t work on me.
“You just said yes.” His voice was sly and cheeky; he knew I lied, and he was playing me.
My face got incredibly hotter. “To—listening!” I raised my hands, covering my face, forgetting about the keychain as it rested in my lap.
He grabs my wrists forcefully but very gently, removing them from my face. In retaliation, I close my eyes and look away.
I can feel him pull my wrists in his direction, and then a hot, wet feeling pressed on the inside of my palm.
My eyes shot open, head turning, legs tensing, he was kissing the palm of my hands, eyes looking warmly at me, head tilted down.
I couldn’t speak, my mouth opened, leaving my lip to rest from the pressure of my teeth.
“Logan!” was all I was able to flicker out with an embarrassed breath.
Something changed in his eyes, like something dark pierced through it, it was dangerous, and it made my body heat up, not just my face.
And then it was gone, and he started pulling back with another cute vampire smile, “It’s not hard to notice when someone is staring at your lips.”
I wanted to hide again, once more cover myself, but I couldn’t, not with my wrists in his hands.
I close my mouth with a forced frown, overwhelmed by all the emotions that I have forgotten could be just as strong as sadness.
He places a kiss on the inside of my wrist and then returns my hands, acting casual.
I look anywhere but at him, biting my lips once more, holding my own hand tightly, resting in my lap.
I could still feel the warmth of his lips on my hands.
“So is that a no?” I didn’t know how he looked while saying it because I was studying the floor like it was the first time I’d seen it.
“I don’t think it would work for me.” I whisper out honestly, my face hurting with how hard I was blushing.
“I don’t think it would hurt to try,” he said, simply shifting once again on the bed.
I thought for a long moment about what could be the worst possible outcome of just listening and going.
It would make the team happy. It's something that I haven’t done in a long time, maybe it would make everyone back off from trying to pry me apart.
It would make Logan happy, or I would assume so since he was currently suggesting it.
I would just lie, but Logan also did that. What if the therapist got to me to? Read me like a book also.
Was I afraid of getting better?
The thought struck across me hard, sending me spiraling fast. I always thought I never wanted to get better.
No, it wasn’t that well, mostly—I was afraid of getting better.
Logan’s hand now rested on my shoulder, his warmth bleeding through the clothes I wore.
“Take some time to think, yeah? It’s a big decision, I know, don’t expect to know immediately"
I nod slowly, anxiety already chipping away at the fact that Logan reminded me I did not have to choose an answer immediately.
“Right.” I wanted more of his warmth. I shouldn’t have been embarrassed to ask after I cried in his arms like a baby.
But I was so, instead, as nonchalantly as possible, scooched over until our thighs touched, which wasn’t far.
“You're beautiful,” he commented as I met his eyes.
And everything rushed back immediately, face hot: “You—you can’t just say that.”
His eyebrow twitched. “Are you not comfortable with that? ...”
“No, I am—it’s just… I don’t know…“ I tried to find the words as quickly as possible, but I was failing.
“It’s... embarrassing?” I say it like a question when I mean it more as a statement.
“It’s embarrassing to be beautiful?” He said with another stupidly handsome, sly smirk that made me want to kiss him and push him off the bed at the same time.
At that moment it hurt badly, to realize how much I loved him, there was no denying it.
It was terrifying.
I shook my head, and I felt like crying again, not for any particular reason, it was probably just for existing
Logan reached for my clenched hand, unfolding it to hold it.
It was like he knew my thoughts started to drift south.
I wanted that happy feeling back from moments ago, I had enough time later to be depressed when I was alone.
I squeeze his hand, and he whispers my name so softly it sounded like a sin.
I look to his face first at his eyes, then his nose, his lips, his chin, and his neck.
And then back at his lips, which now smiled, “You’re beautiful,” he repeated.
I bite my lip trying to stifle the smile that bled through.
I wanted to kiss him again, the urge zapping back to life just as quickly as it disappeared before.
I didn’t want to ask for a kiss, asking for things was scary, so instead I leaned closer and very obviously, even to me, looked at his lips.
His lips that went wider with an even bigger smile, “Want something?”
Of course I wanted something, you dickhead you knew what I wanted this entire time “obviously” I huff out, but not making a move to lean closer.
“Then what?” He leaned forward now, the arm around my shoulder dropping to my waist and I swear I just nutted in my pants.
Yeah, fuck, I lost my words. All he had to do was put his arm around my waist, hold my hand, and I folded like a lawn chair.
Anything for this fucking man, but he’s still an absolute dickhead teasing me like this.
“You know what I want.” I bite my lip, dropping my gaze to his neck. I wonder what it would feel like to leave marks all over him.
“I do,“ he stated proudly, rubbing small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, pulling me closer by my waist.
My stomach did a flip—multiple flips, actually—and if my eyes could go any wider, I would die.
“Then just kiss me.” I haze out, and before I could fully get the words out, he kissed me sweetly, slowly, and passionately.
I didn’t know where to put my free hand. rest it in my lap? Rest it on his shoulder? Feel up his chest?
He was so warm and gentle with me, the hand on my waist rubbing up and down.
I started to push back a little harder, craving the taste of his rougher side, done with the hot, slow kisses.
I loved the slow, loving kisses, don’t get me wrong but I also knew what else he could give me
I nip the bottom of his lip. I wasn’t looking to French kiss or anything, but I wanted him to get the hint.
Suddenly the hand on my waist curled me in, I half fell into his lap, and my hand let go of his and not intentionally fell onto his pecs.
Fuck his juicy fucking pecs, holy shit, depression cured—who knew I just needed to grope the wolverine's tits?
He was holding the back of my head, kissing me harder and wetter, lips taking over any control that I thought I had, taking the lead.
I wanted him to pin me down to the bed and make out with me so hard that I would beg to breathe.
He nipped my lips once, flicking his tongue at my bottom lip, then pulled away, heavy breathing with the look in his eyes that I saw earlier.
Heavy eyes, panting, flexing his hand on my waist, feeling his thighs shift underneath me
“You have no idea,” he licked his lips, looking right at me.
Eyes wide again “no idea what?” God, if he talks to me in that voice again, I’m going to pass away.
He shakes his head and leans in, kissing me shortly, but I wanted more, huffing out as he pulled away again, “Kiss me.”
And he did, but only for a moment. “Let’s get some lunch, yeah? And before you start thinking I want to kiss you."
How dare he read me like that “Then what...?”
“Yesterday was rough, and you still need to mentally rest.”
“Yesterday was yesterday. I’m fine now.” I huff out
“If it was fine, you wouldn’t have contacted me.”
He was right. I hated that he was right. If it was just a normal panic attack or whatever crashout, I would have told no one.
I was scared to leave the room, but I did, going down the stairs and waveing at Rouge before scampering up the stairs like a hamster with my plate of food.
If my powers weren't so drained from healing, I would have probably sprouted vines everywhere from anxiety.
Logan was too considerate, this was the only time I wished he wasn’t because I wanted his lips back on mine immediately.