Notes: This story is just something I wrote. I'm not sure if there's more
inside me. If you like it, I'll try for more. The next chapter of Angel
eyes should be out soon for anyone who so desperately wants it *laughs at
it's unlikelyness* tell me what you think.
Forever in Your Arms, Chapter One.
His feet pounded out his frustrations on the ground as he ran.
One day left.
The concert had sold out the first hour tickets had been on sale. He never thought he would make it into a band, let alone one as popular as the X- men.
His mind flashed back to the lecture they had received earlier that day.
"Just because everyone loves you now doesn't mean they will in two days." Xavier said, pacing. It meant as much to him as it did to any of them. He was old, no longer in his prime, and he couldn't do this for much longer. They were his last chance at success. "If you're nervous, or if you miss a word or a chord, it won't matter, but the whole picture will. No one wants to see one of you trip up. Being idols means not having faults. Until they learn to love you for who you are, faults and all, you won't be able to misstep.
"You've all come very far. Worked very hard, and I know you're ready. But you still have a day before the concert, and you need to know that I'm not letting you laze around." Did he ever? "You need to be in the studio by ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. And I know you need your sleep, but you also need to be on time." He paused and looked at them, a wry smile on his face. "Please don't be late, otherwise, I will personally castrate you." Everyone laughed. "Okay, fine, I won't castrate you. But I need you to be on time." He paused, and rubbed the back of his neck. "This is a very important time for all of us. Now, go to your rooms, and get to sleep."
They all nodded, and walked out.
Xavier rubbed his temples. They couldn't chance messing it up either. They were all young, but they would never walk upright again if it didn't go well.
Jean was the oldest, the most seasoned, and she didn't really fit in with the rest of them. If it weren't for the fact that she was the best keyboardist Xavier had-make that the only good keyboardist he had-she wouldn't have made the cut.
Being five years older wasn't good, even if she was the fiancé of the drummer. Even if she looked younger.but he couldn't change it.
But the rest of them had no experience, no chance at making it if they screwed it up. Ororo would go back to her parents in Africa, they would accept her back into their home, and she would be none the worse except for the ache of failing. Scott could trail along in Jeans success-but not for long, because she would get sick of him, as he knew she always did.
But for him, for Logan, there was no other choice. He couldn't go back to his family-he didn't have one anymore-he couldn't trace a lover, because all he had ever had were one night stands.
All he could do was go back to being a short order cook and sometimes whore.
And his life would be hell.
All he could imagine was the failure, the crowds disliking him, disliking the band, the image.
He couldn't imagine what everyone else did:
Fame.
Fortune.
Love.
Because this was the first thing he had ever done right. And he had probably already screwed it up. Just like everything else he screwed up.
He could remember it easily, no matter how he tried to forget.
The yelling, the cursing, the sharp sting of the belt against his back. It had forged him, like iron in fire, but now he was hard, brittle, and would never be pure again.
And that, he supposed, was what his father had wanted all along.
"Logan, I know this is big for you." Charles had said, stopping him before he walked out the door. "It is for everyone, but you more than the rest." Xavier had always been able to see right through him. "I want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about." He chuckled. "Every woman teenaged through fifty has got you on their wall. If something goes wrong, you won't be blamed."
"Unless I fall flat on my face." He said. "And break it." He had been born handsome, and despised what it brought to him.
"Don't worry about that." Charles said. "Now, go, run it off, and then get some sleep. Tomorrow is important."
And so he had, and it helped.
But now he couldn't breathe, his fears were lessened, but the sting in his feet, and the tightness in his lungs were almost the same, and as a branch hit him as he ran by it, it reminded him of his childhood. And he couldn't move.
His father would probably see him on television tomorrow. Then he would know where his son was, and probably do something to ring a bit of cash flow out of him.
Shit.
He groaned, and then sat down on a nearby bench. The trees that surrounded him almost suffocated him, the crisp night air in his lungs feeling like small knives.
Then he leaned back, and growled. The night always made him itchy with something he couldn't explain. And as he breathed in, he heard a noise, a slight crack, like a twig breaking.
"Who's there?" He asked, but the woods made no noise.
Forever in Your Arms, Chapter One.
His feet pounded out his frustrations on the ground as he ran.
One day left.
The concert had sold out the first hour tickets had been on sale. He never thought he would make it into a band, let alone one as popular as the X- men.
His mind flashed back to the lecture they had received earlier that day.
"Just because everyone loves you now doesn't mean they will in two days." Xavier said, pacing. It meant as much to him as it did to any of them. He was old, no longer in his prime, and he couldn't do this for much longer. They were his last chance at success. "If you're nervous, or if you miss a word or a chord, it won't matter, but the whole picture will. No one wants to see one of you trip up. Being idols means not having faults. Until they learn to love you for who you are, faults and all, you won't be able to misstep.
"You've all come very far. Worked very hard, and I know you're ready. But you still have a day before the concert, and you need to know that I'm not letting you laze around." Did he ever? "You need to be in the studio by ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. And I know you need your sleep, but you also need to be on time." He paused and looked at them, a wry smile on his face. "Please don't be late, otherwise, I will personally castrate you." Everyone laughed. "Okay, fine, I won't castrate you. But I need you to be on time." He paused, and rubbed the back of his neck. "This is a very important time for all of us. Now, go to your rooms, and get to sleep."
They all nodded, and walked out.
Xavier rubbed his temples. They couldn't chance messing it up either. They were all young, but they would never walk upright again if it didn't go well.
Jean was the oldest, the most seasoned, and she didn't really fit in with the rest of them. If it weren't for the fact that she was the best keyboardist Xavier had-make that the only good keyboardist he had-she wouldn't have made the cut.
Being five years older wasn't good, even if she was the fiancé of the drummer. Even if she looked younger.but he couldn't change it.
But the rest of them had no experience, no chance at making it if they screwed it up. Ororo would go back to her parents in Africa, they would accept her back into their home, and she would be none the worse except for the ache of failing. Scott could trail along in Jeans success-but not for long, because she would get sick of him, as he knew she always did.
But for him, for Logan, there was no other choice. He couldn't go back to his family-he didn't have one anymore-he couldn't trace a lover, because all he had ever had were one night stands.
All he could do was go back to being a short order cook and sometimes whore.
And his life would be hell.
All he could imagine was the failure, the crowds disliking him, disliking the band, the image.
He couldn't imagine what everyone else did:
Fame.
Fortune.
Love.
Because this was the first thing he had ever done right. And he had probably already screwed it up. Just like everything else he screwed up.
He could remember it easily, no matter how he tried to forget.
The yelling, the cursing, the sharp sting of the belt against his back. It had forged him, like iron in fire, but now he was hard, brittle, and would never be pure again.
And that, he supposed, was what his father had wanted all along.
"Logan, I know this is big for you." Charles had said, stopping him before he walked out the door. "It is for everyone, but you more than the rest." Xavier had always been able to see right through him. "I want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about." He chuckled. "Every woman teenaged through fifty has got you on their wall. If something goes wrong, you won't be blamed."
"Unless I fall flat on my face." He said. "And break it." He had been born handsome, and despised what it brought to him.
"Don't worry about that." Charles said. "Now, go, run it off, and then get some sleep. Tomorrow is important."
And so he had, and it helped.
But now he couldn't breathe, his fears were lessened, but the sting in his feet, and the tightness in his lungs were almost the same, and as a branch hit him as he ran by it, it reminded him of his childhood. And he couldn't move.
His father would probably see him on television tomorrow. Then he would know where his son was, and probably do something to ring a bit of cash flow out of him.
Shit.
He groaned, and then sat down on a nearby bench. The trees that surrounded him almost suffocated him, the crisp night air in his lungs feeling like small knives.
Then he leaned back, and growled. The night always made him itchy with something he couldn't explain. And as he breathed in, he heard a noise, a slight crack, like a twig breaking.
"Who's there?" He asked, but the woods made no noise.