[SCENES] *winces*

[hellion-x.livejournal.com]

"Ow!"

Hissing, Ali leaned on one leg, bringing her foot up and hobbling forward. Someone was incessantly knocking at her door and she'd stubbed her toe on some ratty old textbook on the way across the room.

"Ow, god," she cursed softly, nearly falling onto the slab of wood before swinging the door open.

She paused, eyebrows coming up in slight surprise; she caught a flash of Julian's hard thoughtful expression before he pushed into her domain without invitation.

"Uh... hi," she intoned, following the tense set of his back. He easily overstepped the same book that was still causing her some pain, pulled out her computer chair, and sat wordlessly into it, sinking down into the ripped cushions. Licking her lips, Ali closed the door, observing his profile and his blank side glance in her direction.

"Hi," he said simply.

"Been a while since you've knocked on my door." She climbed onto her bed, sitting cross legged atop the rumpled comforter. "How you been?"

"Fine," he answered in a monotone, glaring steadily at her. If she were anyone else, she might have felt uncomfortable under his unmoving gaze. She watched as his lips tightened into a line and took his moody stark silence to observe his tired features and the purple welts growing underneath his eyes, the messy disarray of his hair, lengthening locks already nipping at his ears. "You?" It seemed like an afterthought.

"Same old." The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, their silence stretching out over a minute or two. It felt like eternity. She studied his face, his eyes not looking at her, but past her--through her, maybe, if he could. She waited.

He blinked, finally--the stone set of his expression weakening enough to soften his eyes, lips parting to release a puff of air. She played with the hem of her blanket, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry." She blinked, finally. "Sorry for the other day. Sorry for yelling at you like that."

"Oh." Her fingers stopped tuning the fabrics over in her hands for a moment. "Yeah, it's okay." She watched for a reaction, head cocked slightly to the side. "Is...uhm, are you okay? I mean, you know, after...with Amara--" She dropped the blanket, hands reaching out inadvertently as she spoke, straightening. "You look like shit, man. What's going on?"

He looked away at her question, head bowing, eyes finding his lap. "I'm going... I'm going away for awhile," he said evasively, slouching further down in her chair. His knees nearly hit the bed, closing some space that separated them. "I'm going home this weekend."

"For how long?"

"I don't know." His stared at her hands as they reached again for the comforter. Something glazed over his gaze after a moment, and he spoke the words quietly. "James is sick."

She closed her eyes, drowning in the sound of his breathing; the sounds of his pain. "How sick?"

His breath seemed to stop altogether, and his voice was strained and disbelieving. "He's going to die."

She crawled forward to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs sliding between his, her hands taking his. Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry, Julian."

His fingers tightened around hers, his head dropping to hide the agony he felt.

Eyes closed and he leaned forward towards her, the sound of his shaking sigh resonating between them. A moment passed, two, his face a mask of struggling pain. "I thought telling someone might help," he explained, sucking breath in only to gasp it out. He swallowed quickly, lashes fiercely pressing down on his cheeks.

"Did it?" She asked, leaning in closer.

He drew in another awful, sharp breath. "No."

"Come here." She left no room for argument and, in truth, Julian hadn't the strength to fight her. He fell into her arms stiffly, and his best friend cradled his back as he softened, trying to find comfort in the tenderness of her embrace. He clutched her waist and she ran her fingers through his tangled hair, down his neck, across his shoulders.

He couldn't tell for sure, but he thought she was humming softly. He didn't know if it was to calm him, or her. He latched onto the gentle sweet sound, resting his forehead into the crook of her shoulder. Her palm rubbed his spine and he felt a sudden rush clutching his lungs, the moment he let his eyes close once again. He choked on the raising sob and pushed it back, but he couldn't stop the thick wet tears that splashed against her collarbone. Lips twisted and he tugged her closer, enough to hold back the second sob in a startled gasp.

She held him fiercely, tightening her hold on him with each sob that rocked them both. "I'm here..." She was, and he clung to her. "I'm so sorry..." The sound that escaped him vibrated through her and she thought she could imagine the agony he felt. It scared her. His arms readjusted around her, his large hands grabbing fistfuls of her shirt. She slid further towards the edge by his strength alone, her own eyes pricking with almost-tears.

A wavering moan left him before his breath slowed, strangled underneath the control he failed to use to suppress it. She waited.

Her voice cracked as she spoke again, betraying her own tears. "When are you leaving?"

"Soon," he forced out, the word muffled against her neck. "Saturday," he answered hoarsely. The heat rolling off of him made her sweat, and his tears made a wet mess against her collar.

She didn't know what to say, so she simply held him. Her fingers slowly ran down his spine, then back up, soothing him. Her arms held no solace for him, but Julian was glad for her anyway. They stayed like this for a while, each folded around the other, breathing slowly, softly. Eventually he moved, pulling away from her, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He avoided her eyes, sniffing back the snot in his nose and turning his attention past the window, rubbing away the spare tears.

"Don't tell anyone," he requested hoarsely, as if he needed to.

"One condition."

"What?" There was a moment of panic in his eyes.

"You come find me if you need anything, Keller." She was smiling but her eyes were serious. "I'm here for you, okay?"

He relaxed and swallowed, holding her gaze before nodding gently. "Okay." There was a pause, something bristling into his eyes for a moment. He cleared his throat shortly. "You can tell... you can tell Marie, if you..." He sighed and looked down, the syllables of her name tight. "If you want to. If you need to, I mean. Just... no one else, okay?"

"I won't tell anyone." She shifted, her joints cracked.

"Okay," he agreed, finally looking up at her again.

---

"Hey," she sighed, poking her head inside his room.

Amara leaned against the doorframe with a worried smile, observing as he seemed to flinch out of his thoughts, surprised eyes and raised brows turning towards her. His hand dropped from his jaw and he straightened in his desk chair, swivelling only an inch towards her. "Hey," he replied.

"What are you doing?" She kept that hesitant smile at her lips and walked further from his ajar door.

He looked into his lap, eyes straying towards the window. "I was studying," he exhaled the words. His laptop was on but the screen was black; books were open but neglected.

She frowned. "Doesn't look like it."

He looked up as she came closer, hand brushing against hers. "Trying," he amended with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

She let out a short low laugh and settled sideways into his lap. Silence reigned and Amara bit her lip, shifting slightly to lean against his torso. She blinked out into space just as he did, both minds millions of miles away despite their physical closeness. She didn't know what to say to him anymore, and she didn't understand the serious line he'd formed with his lips over the last few weeks, or the way he'd look down, deep in thought, oblivious to her.

He was doing it now, again, arm drapped around her waist, eyes to the floor. His brows were furrowed, which was something that seemed to happen often lately as well.

She just wanted to know what was wrong, but she didn't want to know, not when the past week was still eating away at her. Not when she was almost sure it was about Rogue.

"Sweetheart?"

"Huh?" She nearly jumped, gaze snapping back to his face.

His fingers were against his lips and he wasn't looking at her. Her stomach curled.

He inhaled, the way someone inhales to lift their shoulders, preparing themselves for hard words. She tensed and waiting, knowing, fearing.

"James is sick," he whispered, the air rushing out of him. Her lips parted in shock. "He has a brain tumor. He's going to die. I have to go home to say goodbye."

"What?!" She whispered shockingly, some parts of her body tensing moreso. "But... he can't die, Jules. I mean, isn't there treatment or..." Her voice trailed off, remembering memories, remembering that she was always fond of his brother, and she suddenly realized why Julian had been behaving the way he was, why he kept his distance.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out, looking at him fully. "Jules, I am so so sorry."

He finally turned to capture her gaze, the full weight of his grief settled between his irises. "I'm leaving Saturday," he said quietly. "I'll be back after..." He stopped, unable to finish the sentence, his throat blocked. She quickly nodded in understanding, leaning her forehead toward his and her fingers found his, trying to console.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll -- you'll make it through this, Jules."

He held her eyes, his lips thinning. Palms cupped her jaw, brows furrowing. He didn't say a word as he pulled her sgainst him, arms wrapping around her back.