The Violet Hour (X-Men AU)

9: Breathe

CW: depiction of situational anxiety. If you have bad anxiety, you've been warned. Please note that this isn't a stereotypical depiction- I myself have anxiety. (Also, please remember the randomly bolded words are songs that help with the tone and moment!)

Going home, I nearly tripped on the way in. I wondered if Peter's superspeed made him hyper-aware of every crack in the sidewalk. Home was feeling a little empty after I had spent time in Peter's crowded basement. Even with the hundreds of paintings on our walls, nothing could compare to the chaos that was his bedroom filled with nearly useless junk. He still didn't tell me why he had all that other than the fact he had a stealing addiction. I set my bag by the door and wandered to the back porch where I heard the record player softly play out its record. Mother was painting again.

      I opened the porch door as if it was the most shameful thing to do. It wasn't supposed to feel so humiliating, but coming home mid-afternoon from someone's house that wasn't my own... it felt that way. I scrunched my nose at her waiting smile that spread ear-to-ear. Her taunting grin was my greeting. 

      "Late night?" She asked. Oh, that was right, she assumed I must have just woken or stayed at his place this whole afternoon. She didn't know about the DMV trip- did I tell her about that or did I keep it to myself like the restaurant accident?

      I sighed, stepping onto the paint-stained porch and pressing my back to the brick wall. "Not even... I got so much fresh air yesterday that I crashed around nine or... ten. I couldn't make it home."

       She turned in her chair, sitting backwards to face me where I leaned against the wall. "You know he called me? The phone rang last night and when I answer, he goes 'hello Ms.Green, I have your daughter- no wait, that sounds bad- she's staying over because she's tired from driving and swimming and all that.'"

      Hearing what he said wasn't bad made a little bit of me ease up. Thank god it wasn't too awkward. Mother found a joke in it, rather than something concerning. "He was nice to let me stay. To make sure that I wasn't kidnapped on the way home or anything. What did you say?"

       Trying to remember, she scratched her head. "Well, I was half asleep, so I just told him that it was fine and he bid me goodnight and I hung up. Nothing more, really. He seems sweet enough. When does he come for dinner, darling?"

        I rocked on my heels, "Tonight?" 

        "Tonight?!" She repeated. The look on her face was absolutely priceless. Her eyes immediately lit up and she looked at me for the confirmation I had just looked to her for. She was obviously saying yes, so I nodded and she burst to her feet, tying her curls up into a bun. 

       Her moves after that were quick and with purpose, the excitement never leaving her eyes as she stepped around the stool and pushed open the door to rush right into the kitchen, immediately putting on her orange apron. I followed on careful feet, not wanting to trip again. She was already pulling things out of the fridge like a madwoman, the counter covered in many choices of food. She didn't know what Peter liked... knowing my mother, she was probably going to attempt to make all of it and let him choose his dishes to eat. Her enthusiasm was extremely apparent. 

          We hadn't had guests to the house in about a year in a half and I hadn't had a friend over in nearly seven years. You would bet she was thrilled. "Venus, get that green dress on!" She yelled at me, rather than to me and I was taken aback, expecting to be of help in the kitchen. I shot her a confused look, "Go on, now!" She shooed me, hands flopping in the general direction of the stairs. I was being exiled.

    "You- Mom-You know you're not meeting my boyfriend? Peter and I aren't-" I was cut off by her yelling a very exasperated 'I KNOW!' and she shooed me again. Alright, she knew this wasn't that sort of ordeal, but the thing was, she ached for any sort of ordeal or social gathering. She was really going all out and I couldn't stop her, but it was an excuse for her to spoil another child with her cooking, which seemed to make her happy.