Rogue's hand reached for him as he sat up and moved away from her, and it hung there in the empty air for a long moment after he was gone. He'd moved so quickly, running from her and whatever he'd seen, that the ache didn't settle into her heart until she heard his footsteps stop
It wasn't about her, she had to remind herself. Whatever he'd seen in his dream, it hadn't been her fault, she'd done nothing to cause him to run away from her like that. She hoped. Because there was always the possibility that, now that he'd seen her scars, he'd been haunted by visions of what might have been done to her. Was it too self-centered to think that? To assume that he might be so bothered by her past to have it affect him so, when he'd been through so many other things?
Yes, it was, and she felt awful for it.
Rogue wanted to rush after him, wrap her arms around him and keep him safe from whatever thoughts and fears were torturing him. But he didn't want her in that moment, or perhaps just didn't need her. Lord knew she could understand that - she dreaded the day he'd see her at her worst, when all she could do was hide in a corner of the room and cry herself sick because she was so lost in her own head.
The thought made her tense and she tried to shove it back down, but the damage had already been done. What was he doing with her? What was he doing with a broken shell of a woman who deserved to be locked up for everything she'd done? He deserved so much better than the likes of her, but she couldn't give him up. She loved him and she was going to be selfish just this once and fight to keep him, even if she didn't deserve him.
Taking a deep, shaking breath, she slid out of the bed as well, straightening the borrowed shirt before wandering down the hall. There was a light on in the bathroom, the door open partway - so that's where he'd gone. Her steps slowed for just a second before she kept going, her head down and her hair a curtain to block the sight of whatever he was going through in there. He'd left the bedroom for a reason and she wasn't going to intrude on his privacy.
She didn't stop until she was in the kitchen, and her hand fumbled for a moment in the darkness before finding a switch for the light over the sink. Her instinct was to make coffee, because that's what she did whenever she woke from a nightmare and couldn't bear to go back to sleep even though she was exhausted, but that wasn't going to help Steve. So tea, then. If he even had anything for tea. He probably didn't, he'd said he didn't have much. But maybe... So she started looking, moving as quietly as she could while she opened drawers and cabinets and saw just how little he really had there.
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It wasn't about her, she had to remind herself. Whatever he'd seen in his dream, it hadn't been her fault, she'd done nothing to cause him to run away from her like that. She hoped. Because there was always the possibility that, now that he'd seen her scars, he'd been haunted by visions of what might have been done to her. Was it too self-centered to think that? To assume that he might be so bothered by her past to have it affect him so, when he'd been through so many other things?
Yes, it was, and she felt awful for it.
Rogue wanted to rush after him, wrap her arms around him and keep him safe from whatever thoughts and fears were torturing him. But he didn't want her in that moment, or perhaps just didn't need her. Lord knew she could understand that - she dreaded the day he'd see her at her worst, when all she could do was hide in a corner of the room and cry herself sick because she was so lost in her own head.
The thought made her tense and she tried to shove it back down, but the damage had already been done. What was he doing with her? What was he doing with a broken shell of a woman who deserved to be locked up for everything she'd done? He deserved so much better than the likes of her, but she couldn't give him up. She loved him and she was going to be selfish just this once and fight to keep him, even if she didn't deserve him.
Taking a deep, shaking breath, she slid out of the bed as well, straightening the borrowed shirt before wandering down the hall. There was a light on in the bathroom, the door open partway - so that's where he'd gone. Her steps slowed for just a second before she kept going, her head down and her hair a curtain to block the sight of whatever he was going through in there. He'd left the bedroom for a reason and she wasn't going to intrude on his privacy.
She didn't stop until she was in the kitchen, and her hand fumbled for a moment in the darkness before finding a switch for the light over the sink. Her instinct was to make coffee, because that's what she did whenever she woke from a nightmare and couldn't bear to go back to sleep even though she was exhausted, but that wasn't going to help Steve. So tea, then. If he even had anything for tea. He probably didn't, he'd said he didn't have much. But maybe... So she started looking, moving as quietly as she could while she opened drawers and cabinets and saw just how little he really had there.