The Violet Hour (X-Men AU)

7: Les Fleurs

A/N: sound system! I like music a lot and listen to it while writing so I thought I'd introduce the sound system to this story. It may evolve and I'm looking for feedback on it, so quickly let me say this: the songs will be in the middle of the story, in bold letters like the ones I'm writing in. It's completely your choice whether you search up that song and let it play as you read or not! I think it adds to the experience. I will only explain this here! Also, chapter 8 will be published after this one.

A week and a half had passed since summer began. I worked on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night to make up for skipping last Thursday. Queenie kept going on about how handsome Peter was, but kept mentioning his odd hair colour. She also kept praising his honesty and how he came in when I couldn't, which I found a little funny.

Peter was truthful when he said he'd bother me and we hung out on Tuesday, the following Thursday, and on Friday night. He was busy helping his sisters the other days and some days I was busy with my mother, running errands and meeting up with her friends who pinched my cheeks and told me how just yesterday I was a wee little three-year-old.

Peter was amused to hear about the women and said it was like a different version of being assumed an old man, to be constantly compared to myself as a baby by women who had seen me three months ago and still remarked on how grown up I looked. The part that amused him most was when I told him about my mother's dearest friend Dottie who felt me up when she greeted me. He wouldn't stop laughing for a good ten minutes while I just sat and sipped the soda he had stolen me, shaking my head. But it was on his mind and he kept sneaking looks and I flicked his nose each time.

He was untameable at times. I found when he had sugar he didn't stop speeding. He would talk fast and speed to places and bring me small items like a cat. He apologized after but I did genuinely find it hilarious. At least these items weren't dead mice.

He never called, at least not yet. He would show up, knock, I would answer. My mother always tried to say hello but I hit Peter in the chest and told him to run. I don't know why I was hiding him from her. Maybe it was the fear she'd make an awkward joke, or try to touch his hair. She thought nothing of it and assumed we already left.

Peter didn't care either, he was too afraid to be accused of the now-healed cut he had left on my nose and the skipping school even though I repeatedly told him she was okay with both of those things.

The most he did around my house was chat with me and say goodbye. On Wednesday I had told him about my mother's dilemmas and he knew it got me down a little and he had hugged me goodbye at the door. It wasn't as odd as I thought it would be. Being that close to anyone, let alone a boy was something I had never done before. I was just short enough that his chin rested on the top of my head.  He wasn't crushing, but it felt good to be hugged by a friend and to be blunt he smelled really nice. Like cologne and strangely of apples. It was only a few seconds long but it was very much appreciated.

So now I sat on my roof in the cool summer morning. I was reading again and eating a bowl of raspberries. It was quiet and cool and the breeze fluttered my hair around my face. I was only in my green silk tank top and shorts, the matching set I had gotten for my birthday last year.

"Venus, love, there's a phone call for you!" Mother called from downstairs. Perfect timing, had just finished my fruit bowl and I knew exactly who was calling. The perks of having one friend.

I pulled myself up from the roof, putting my things inside and climbing in after them. "Coming!" I yelled. Running down the stairs, I nearly tripped down the last step. I smiled at mother, my bed head falling in my face as she handed me the phone with a returning smile.