|peja (peja) wrote in promptsrus,|
@ 2009-03-24 18:51:00
|Entry tags:||fandom: xmen|
Summary: the knife sort of slipped
Warning: not a death fic. promise, well, maybe..., suicide attempt
Prompt: From the PromptsRUs journal - http://asylums.insanejournal.com/prompt
General thanks to all of you folks who are requesting short fics and improvs in the various fandoms. You're keeping the words flowing.
List Written for: http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/7days
I write dozens of fandoms, adding new ones all the time. to stay in the know, keep tabs on either the Journal or the archive.
Disclaimer. does not belong to me. no money made in this
Note: The author allows forwarding of her work, provided she knows where its going and any feedback is forwarded back.
Note 2: The author allows frustrated readers to continue any WIP from the clearly marked end chapter, provided the author who creates this fic tree credits the original author with what is hers and provides a copy of the extension for her personal pleasure AND archiving on the wwomb
He hadn't intended to kill himself. The knife just sort of...slipped.
At least that was the story he was sticking to if on the off chance someone decided to stick their head in and check on how he was doing, not that he expected that to happen. Only one who even bothered to check on him once in the blue moon was Logan. Besides, even if someone decided he was worth the effort, even if he got the chance to tell his side, he doubted that many of the team of infamous mutants would believe it had been an accident.
Maybe he didn't even believe it himself if he was honest with himself. He'd taken to sliding into a warm bath with the dangerously beautiful little stiletto and taking long leisurely strokes at his body for so long he supposed he could have wanted to die, but had been afraid. Until now. Sighing weakly he wondered if it had been in his mind all this time that maybe he would get lucky one of these times. That just maybe, if he wasn't careful enough, wasn't paying close enough attention, the knife would cut too deep, would sever too severely. Ah, what matter that he die, hey? None would miss him, not even his beloved sister of the soul, Ororo. Well, her maybe a little, but even she had turned away from him after..
He breathed a sad little chuckle. What matter, now, when death waited so close? The past is in the past. The future, not worth worrying about. His pain was too alive in him. He smiled, his soul danced for joy with approaching death in his minds eye and he mentally reached out to join that gay union. What matter? He'd been locking himself down here in the boathouse for so long he figured no one would even bat an eye when they found his lifeless body slumped over in the icy bath.
His red eyed stare narrowed now, watching the blood swirl in the water, forming strange little pictures in his mind. There, that swirl was Nightcrawler's spooky black, well it wasn't black seeing as how it was formed of water and blood, but still.. furred features. And floating down near his feet...he giggled as he picked out the ruby red bunny face peering back at him.
He shook off the insanity floating though his thoughts and considered how he had gotten himself to this point. Contemplated the loneliness of exile since coming back to the mansion after being abandoned in the frozen depthes of Antartica.
But soon that loneliness would end He would be free of this nightmare of rejection that had become his life. He would....
His body slipped lower in the water, so low it lapped at his upper lip. A liquid kiss from a fluid lover.
His only lover...
A vision of Logan flitted through his mind and with it, the wistful thought...if only...
Stupid desires...as if Logan would ever...
With a soft sigh of acceptance, he slid lower, his head submerged with only the wild waves of his dark hair floating about to mark his way.
Does he live? Die?