refraction
When they entered the room she was in a corner, elbows resting on the table as she talked passionately to Vanessa. Logan's gaze was instantly hooked on her, ever since he realized how her delicate features were exactly as he remembered. He froze, inhaling sharply as the memories came back flooding. Her gentle touch, her soft melodic voice, her cute laugh.
This wasn't, of course, his Iris. He tried to pinpoint each difference as soon as he could but both her beauty and her lively nature were tearing him apart.
Her silky blonde hair fell in blowout waves and her lips were a glossy crimson color. She wore a strange piano pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a mesh blouse that showed the bright red bralette she wore underneath. It felt like a desecration to his wife's memory. A sexier, younger, messier version of what she used to be.
Yet she laughed, her eyes crinkling, her small tooth gap showing. And her shoulders shook, and she talked, and her voice was gleeful and melodic. Iris swayed to the music delicately, timidly and then smiled at her friend in front of her.
She was a sight.
Logan felt Wade's hand gently tap his back and understood that he knew. Rage filled him. The little fucker knew, even back when Logan had told him about his dead wife. The little fucker knew and he hadn't told him that it wasn't like that in every universe. Wade knew that in his, Iris was alive and well. He was going to stab him as soon as she was out of sight.
Logan turned to leave but Wade put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him into the picture, acting as if he didn't know what he was doing.
"Wade!" Iris turned around, smiling sweetly, "I thought for a second there that you weren't going to make it! This is actually my outfit for your funeral!"
"It's the most hideous thing I've seen in my life and yet you managed to pull it off!" he answered snappily, with a smile as sweet as hers, "I came back and I brought you a gift."
Logan frowned, not remembering Wade taking anything from the void. Then, he felt his hand firmly press against the back of his neck, like he was some kind of kitten being carried by it's mother, as he dragged him and pulled him onto Iris.
He was actually going to stab him right there.
"For me?" Iris followed him suit, putting a hand softly on Logan's shoulder, but giving him an apologetic look when they made eye contact, "I've always wanted a Wolverine!"
"Oh, sweetheart" Wade pressed his hands together and tilted his head, "I know."
"You shouldn't have..." And then she laughed, and extended her hand out for him to shake, "Iris Finch, a pleasure."
She looked up through her lashes and Iris had always had such plump, soft and inviting lips that, despite knowing it wasn't his wife, he wanted to kiss her.
He managed a nod, his voice barely audible, "Pleasure."
And Logan tried to avoid her for the rest of the night. Emphasis in 'tried', because Wade didn't seem to respect the fact that that was not his dead wife. No, this Iris had dirty blonde hair and she never got her teeth fixed. This Iris used a different perfume, a cheaper one, and seemed to like Wade's jokes far more than what Logan was comfortable with.
But just like his Iris, she had an impecable intuition and every time he wanted to take a look at her, she stared back, giving him a smile. Just like his Iris had, she timidly approached, a known curiosity in her eyes that he missed dearly. And he was back there all over again, feeling endearment for her already.
"I know this is sudden, and maybe a bit forward, but I don't remember you."
"Oh, I'm not from..." he tried to explain, his voice rough, "I'm from another..."
"Timeline, I know" she nodded, fidgeting with the beer in her hand, "I meant..." she looked back at Wade, who was finally talking to Vanessa, and then gave Logan a bashful smile, "What was your Iris' abilities?"
Logan frowned. His Iris. He knew the distinction, he knew the distinction, but how did she know he had a Iris? He licked his lips, feeling uncomfortable, yet he answered "Lucid dreaming."
Iris nodded, "And she never told you what dreamwalking was?"
He felt his nostrils flare and anger start to get a hold of him. He didn't understand why yet, but Iris' existence alone was starting to enrage him. Felt like an impostor, uncanny and profaning.
"No."
The girl, oblivious of his annoyance, smiled widely and started explaining in depth the abilities of his beloved dead wife. To be fair, she was explaining her own abilities but Logan didn't want another version of Iris telling him something about her.
"...And that's why every time I fall asleep, I usually see a Wolverine." she continued, making him raise his eyebrows "And of course I don't think I've met every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I would've remembered you if I had!"
"In order for you to dreamwalk into another universe, you need another you inhabiting it, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, my wif... Iris" he corrected himself, making sure that he was staring straight into her eyes and making himself clear, "Has been dead for over twenty years."
Iris's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.
"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..."
Logan's anger was slowly simmering down, replaced by a cold, hard realization. It wasn't really her fault that she was another version of the love of his life, however fucked up that was.
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft murmur of the crowd. Iris was the first to break it, smiling yet again.
"So, you're my new downstairs neighbor, huh?"