The other room
Scott was in the bathroom. He wasn't doing anything. All he was doing was... standing. He was in front of the mirror. His hands holding the sink. They were holding the sink so strongly that it was starting to hurt. He had a reason to hold the sink so strongly, right? What was it? He knew it was an emotion. But which one, he wasn't sure. Maybe he was mad? Yes. He was mad. But why? Why was he so... mad? He didn't know why. He wanted to know. He wanted answers. But. He didn't have them. He wished he had. He wanted them. So he started to think. Think for answers.
Scott looked in the mirror. All he sees is red. A red version of him. He knows he isn't red, but he doesn't remember colours. He knows his skin isn't red. But. He doesn't remember the colour. He doesn't remember any colours. Except. Blue.
Scott was holding the sink with a lot of strength. More than before. His hands were seriously starting to hurt. But why couldn't he stop? Why couldn't he stop holding the sink so tightly?
He knew why. It was that stupid memory. The memory he hates. The memory that changed his life forever.
He was trying to distract himself from the memory. But it was difficult, especially because all he sees is red.
Scott tried to remember colours. But all he remembers is blue. That one colour. Blue. All he knows it red and blue. Why blue? Why did it have to be blue? He liked blue. Well. Before everything happened. He still likes it. But not as much. And he likes it because it's the only colour he remembers besides red.
Scott sighed. He wanted to punch the mirror and break it. But he stopped and calmed himself. He then took one last look in the mirror.
He looks at his eyes that were behind the glasses. He wanted to take them off. To see the world. To see the real world. To see colours. To be able to walk around without worrying about killing anyone if his glasses weren't on. To see his own eye colour. What was his eye colour? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember his hair colour. Why couldn't he remember? Was it blond? Was it ginger? Or was it brown? Why couldn't he remember? Jean has told him multiple times what colour it was. But why didn't he remember?
The truth is. He dies remember what Jean said. But. For some reason. He doesn't believe it. He wants to believe it. But he can't. Why? Why can't he believe his own girlfriend?
Scott was lost in thoughts. The thoughts were loud. But silent at the same time. It was weird.
As he kept thinking. One thought stood out for him.
Did Jean really love him? Did she actually love him? She always says he loves him. But. He doesn't feel the love. He doesn't feel her love that she says she has.
Then it hit Scott.
Did he love Jean?
That question stayed on his head for a good five minutes. And in reality he didn't have the answer. Or at least that's what he told himself. He wanted to lie and say yes, he loved her. But. He knew he would be lying to himself and Jean. He would be waisting his time. He would be waisting her time. She deserved someone better than Scott.
But. Scott. He didn't want to leave Jean. Why? Why didn't he want to leave her?
Scott pretended not to know the answer. But. Deep down. He knew it. He just didn't want to know the answer. But why? Was it because... he was... afraid. He was afraid of the answer. The answer scared him. No. No, it didn't. What scared him was the meaning of it. He was scared of the truth. If he tells Jean how he truly feels. She would leave him. That's the truth. And he was scared of the truth. Because if Jean leaves him. Then. Then what? He would be alone. Again. Scott doesn't want to be alone. He hates to be alone. That's why he doesn't want to leave Jean. He's scared of being alone. He wants to be together with someone. But is that someone really Jean? Is she really the one for him? Well. Scott didn't care. As long as he wouldn't be alone...
Scott exited the bathroom and entered his and Jean's room. He was quiet. He didn't want to wake Jean up. She's already sleeping. Well. Of course she is. It's late. Scott should be sleeping too, but he doesn't want to. He sits down on his side of the bed. And just sits there for a while. He doesn't know what to do. He looked at Jean. She was sleeping so peacefully. It just made Scott feel worse about himself. He was keeping Jean for himself even tho he didn't really love her back. It made him feel guilty every time he looked at her. The guilt was eating him alive. He hates it. He hates how he has to stay with Jean so he isn't alone. It's not fair. It's not fair for Jean. He's lying to her. To her face. Sometimes, he wonders if Charles or Jean had read his mind and knew how he was lying to her. Or if they haven't figured it out yet.
Scott looked out the window. It was snowing. It looked beautiful. It was beautiful. He liked snow. It was calming. Tho. He hated when the snow blurred his glasses or visor.
Scott thought of going outside. He was still in his suit. But then he thought otherwise. It wouldn't be a good idea. He would freeze. Scott wasn't really in the mood to freeze. But then he heard footsteps. They were so quiet he barely could listen to them. He decided to check on it. To see who it is. And why they are wake at this hour.
Scott got up and left the room quietly. He followed the footsteps. He then heard the front door open and close. So he fast walked to the door and opened it. He got outside and quickly closed it. So that the cold wouldn't get inside.
As he looked. He saw Logan. Logan was sitting down. He knows Logan heard him. Or smelled him. Damn Logan had a good nose. But for some reason, Logan didn't say anything. Normally he would have told Scott to fuck off. But he didn't.
Scott then decided to sit down next to him...