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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
1,116
Chapters:
1/1
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8
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1,088

One Last Chance

Summary:

Rating: FRT
Fandom: X-Men Slash Fic
Pairing: Logan/Remy
Permission to post: Anyone who wants it, feel free, just give me credit.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish it weren't true, Logan and Remy aren't mine; I'm just having a bit of fun. They belong to Marvel, not me.
Summary: "He's not up there because he's looking for attention and it's not because he's too scared to go through with it. It's because he's giving us-all of us-one last chance to prove to him that there's someone out there who loves him. That he's not alone."

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

One Last Chance
by Xanax

 

Logan POV.

He's been up there for what seems like an eternity, but it's been less than an hour. I can see his shadow stretched out across the front lawn, wavering in the moonlight and looking so fragile that it tears at my heart. He didn't make a fuss, didn't even really say anything, but we all know what he's doing up there as if by some unspoken agreement.

We're supposed to leave him alone; it's just one of his attention-seeking stunts is what Scott says, but he's wrong. It's not attention the kid wantsâ€"he gets plenty of that as it isâ€"it's love. He's not up there because he's looking for attention and it's not because he's too scared to go through with it. It's because he's giving usâ€"all of usâ€"one last chance to prove to him that there's someone out there who loves him. That he's not alone.

It kills me to see how hypocritical we all areâ€"how hypocritical we've all become. We preach the gospel of acceptance but here we are driving one of our own away in the most permanent way possible just because he made a mistake...just because we need someone to blame. His death is going to be theirâ€"ourâ€"fault because no one will take that one little step and accept him flaws and all...because we're too proud to admit that we've made mistakes, too.

Even I have to admit how implausible it is that I, of all people, would be the one to end up loving him unconditionally. It's so ridiculousâ€"so out of character for meâ€"that even I can barely believe it, but it's staring me right in the face. I love him...I want him safe.

Would he believe me if I went up there...if I humbled myself and told him that I love him, that I care more about him than he could ever imagine? I don't know...it's so ludicrous sounding that even I can barely believe what my heart is telling me, but there's no denying it.

The truth is that my decision isn't reliant on whether or not he'll believe me. I have to do itâ€"have to admit itâ€"if I intend to try to bring him back...if I ever want to see him again. My pride isn't all that's at stake here and there'll be a lot more hurt that comes about from my not trying than from my trying and failing.

-------

I'm sure he must think I'm up here to tell him to stop worrying and get it over with...I can see it in the sadness in his eyes and in the way his shoulders are slumped in defeat and ridiculously, inappropriately, I'm struck all over again by the beauty that is Remy. He's not scared; I can see that much in his eyes, he's quietly resigned to his fate.

He doesn't say anything, just turns to look at me with sad, haunted eyes, with the wind blowing his bangs across his eyes and the moonlight glinting off the blonde summer highlights in his hair, and the look he gives me is like having the wind knocked out of me. If there was ever any doubt in my mind that he was serious, it's been destroyed by that heartrending sadness. No one so young should have so much guilt to bear.

Heartbeats go by before he breaks my gaze and turns back to staring at the moon, arms outstretched and fingers trailing through the cool breeze that suddenly seems to be mockingly out of place. He doesn't move from the spot he's been standing in for the last hour, just turns back to contemplating the moon and the starry sky and where his life has taken him, and I can't bring myself to speak...to break the surreal feeling of being up here, trying to convince him of something I've only just realized myself.

He doesn't seem to be in any rush...to all outward appearances he seems calm and unconcerned, but I've seen that look before and I know what it means. He's not calm because he's changed his mind...he's calm because all the emotion is gone, because he's resigned and somehow that's more frightening for me than if he were hysterically emotional.

Without even thinking about what I'm doing, I find myself watching him...taking in his bare feet against the rough shingles, the way his battered jeans fit in just the right way, the slumped set of his shoulders, the way his hair shines in the moonlight and I know that I love him, that there Is a reason why we're together up here, at the crossroads of our future, with two paths ahead of us.

He flinches when I lay a hand on his shoulder, but his eyes never leave the star-scattered sky. He's miles away from here...away from all the pain and sadness he's tolerated for so long, but I know that all I have to do is say the words that will bring him back, if I can find the courage.

"Rem..." It's barely more than a whisper, but he shifts his gaze from the sky back to me, the moonlight making the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent and somewhere in there I can see a faint glimmer of hope.

We stand there like that, staring at each other, neither one of us speaking, for what seems like an eternity but can't be more than a few heartbeats, feeling the unspoken need that hangs in the air between us like the clouds dotting the nighttime sky above our heads and waiting.

"I love you." I force the words out before I lose my courage and hold my breath as I wait, watching as he shifts his gaze back up to the sky, the wind blowing his bangs in front of his eyes, shielding whatever emotion I might have seen there and whipping the tail of his ratty t-shirt.

Just when I think that I'm not going to get an answerâ€"that my offering has been rejectedâ€"he turns back to me and nods quietly, moonlight glinting off the tears that are brimming in his eyes and I barely have time to brace myself before he practically throws himself into my arms, mindless of the awkward mechanics of itâ€"of our height difference and the sharp pitch of the roofâ€"and somehow, standing there, I know that Remy isn't the only one who's been given a second chance.

END

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Xanax.
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