Pain | By : Gimpy Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male > Remy/Logan Views: 3115 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
Hi everyone, first the legal stuff, I own nothing, nor did I
create them, nor am I benefiting from them in any way,
they all Belong to Marvel and Stan Lee, so ask him if you want them.
In addition, this is my first fan
fic, so any feedback is helpful and I hope to update with some regularity, so I
hope you enjoy.
Remy slowly pulled himself out of
the cab, and threw a fifty at the driver, who simply grunted and drove of after
Remy slammed the door. Turn on his right heel in order to lessen the pain on his
left leg; he faced the looming mansion that he had once called his home. He
stared a the mansion, he could see Ro’s green house on the roof, as well as the
beautiful flowers she had planted a few days before on the front porch. He
could see lights on some of the windows, and he could see the TV. flash in the
rec room, which seemed to filled with people.
“You stupid fuck, you had everything you could want, and now
you have nothing,” he muttered to himself as he began to climb the stairs,
refusing to use the ramp, even as his left leg began to protest. Wincing he
climbed the last step, pausing to catch his breath and press down the pain.
Carefully going through the pockets of his ever-present trench coat, he pulled
out a few deck of cards, still in the wrappers, the number some blonde had
given him before the fight and finally he pulled out his keys. As they sprang
from his pocket, they jingled causing him to look down. He smiled at the New
Orleans keychain, and the and the various keys to various vehicles and
building, but it was a pull tab that made him stop, his smile quickly faded as
a single tear began to form in his eye. “I will not cry over that, I have cried
enough for that lost.” As many times as he paused to look at the pull tab, and
had to stop himself from crying, he could never bring himself to throw it away,
for all the pain it represented, it also represented more love and happiness
then he had felt in a long time, he refused to give it up. Sighing again, put
his key in the door and quickly turned it granting him entrance to the once
happy home.
Remy walked
through the entrance hall and to the left into the kitchen, away from the full
rec room, opening the door he was grateful that the lights were off, which
meant no one was there and he could grab a drink and head to his room. He
pulled the fridge open and grabbed a can of soda, and was about to turn to
leave when he heard a grasp, slumping his shoulders he turned to face the glare
of his sister.
“Stormy, Remy can explain.” He quickly said to the weather
goddess.
Ignoring the fact that he had called her stormy she quickly added,
“Remy, what happen, are you hurt? You should go see Hank. Here I will take you
now.”
“No Stormy, I’m fine, just got into a little fight that’s
all, I just need to sleep it off.” He smiled hoping that she would give up and
let him sleep.
“Okay, brother. Nevertheless, please stop hurting yourself
like this, please, I cannot watch as bring yourself in this way, you need to
stop. I love you brother, we all do, please stop.” She watched as Remy tensed
at the term, we all do, knowing that she had hit a nerve she backed down,
slowing grasping him in hug, she kissed his cheek and wished him a good night.
She left him alone in the kitchen and returned to the rec room.
Finally exiting
the kitchen he walked out of the kitchen and moved towards the stares he was
about to climb when he felt a presence, he turned and saw a figure at the end
of the hall way, he knew who it was and no matter how many times he came home
like this, the figure was always there, never moving and never saying anything.
Sighing he turned backed to the stairs, but before he could climb the first
step and before he could stop himself, he shouted to the figure down the hall
“Why don’t you take a picture, cher. It will last longer and it won’t tell your
secrets either.” When he felt nothing from the figure, he climbed the stairs
and walked down the hall to his room.
Upon
entering his room, he let the mask he wore fell, as he dropped his trench coat
in the chair. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground; he
walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. He closed his eyes, as the
harsh light invaded the space, only then did he noticed that he never turned
the light on in his room, he had done this so many times he knew where
everything was. As his eyes adjusted, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
Before he would have seen what many would call an Adonis of beauty, the perfect
male figure. Now all he saw was a too thin body, not good enough for anyone.
Well not anymore, covered in bruises, some yellow with age, while others have
yet to show up. He chuckled as he noticed that no one had hit his face, he had
had a bad black eye a few weeks ago, but because he had cut his hair earlier he
could not hide it, and it had been the first clue to his action outside of the
house, now he was more careful.
He turned
on the shower on the highest setting and quickly took of his boots and pants, folding
his pants and placing them on the toilet sit, he turned and looked in the
mirror, only this time at his back. There was a yellow bruise run across his
back, from were a bar mate had hit him over the back with a broom handle, it
had hurt but now it was just ugly. ‘Another reason for no one to want me’ he
thought as climbed in the shower. He let the water run down his back and he
watched as the water swirled down the drain, the heat of the shower felt good
as it soaked his back and his muscles began to relax and he in turn began to
relax. After several minute of soaking, he reached out and grabbed his shampoo
and taking a liberal amount, he began to massage it into his short hair, he had
given up his ponytail a few months ago, and just could not bring himself to
re-grow it. Closing his eyes he carefully washed out the shampoo, combing his
hair through his fingers as the soap was washed out. He grabbed the bar of soap
and rag that hung on the rack, and after making a quick lather he rubbed the
rag over his body, wincing as he ran them over the tender bruises and his left
leg, he washed the sweat and dirt of his body.
Stepping under the spray, he rinsed his body, letting
himself remain under the spray for several more minutes as he let the rest of
the tension bleed from his body. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel
around his waist and pulled another over his shoulder.
He walked
back over the sink and opened the mirror; he pulled out his toothbrush and
paste, as well as a bottle of painkillers. He quickly brushed his teeth and
returned them to the shelf. He filled up the small glass that sat on the side
of sink and filled it with water, and shook out four pills, popping them in his
mouth he swallowed them and quickly drank the water. He placed the empty cup on
the sink and turned off the light. Walking back in his room, he walked over the
lamp that sat on the table by his bed and flicked it on, moving to the dresser
on the sidewall; he pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a pair of clean
boxers and a tank top. He quickly pulled them on, and threw the towels back
into the bathroom. Normally he slept in the buff, but it found that he could no
longer without feeling the pain that had been caused to him. Sighing to himself,
he pulled back the covers and quietly slid into bed, get comfy he turned to
turn off light.
He laid
there in the dark staring at the ceiling, wish for the millionth time that he
was not alone and that the one person he loved, loved him enough not to let the
silly comments of others get to him, but he knew, that the changes of that happening
were about as slim as the cards that were his mark. He finally closed his eyes
and willed himself to sleep.
Two floors above him his sister was
settling in to bed, wishing that her brother would tell her who had hurt him,
so that she could hurt them, but her brother would not tell her, and he refused
to let her help in any other way. She hoped whom ever had hurt him would notice
the pain he was putting himself through and stop him from continuing, but she
knew that may never happened and only hoped that she was there to catch him
when he finally could no longer hold up the mask of his carefree self and final
show the terrified innocent person that she knew was there. All she could do
was hope and watch him, as he slowly self-destructed.
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