And Therefore Is Wing'd Cupid Painted Blind

Age 22

The city still confuses Rogue, but he’s getting the hang of knowing where things are and the best type of transport to get to them.

Rogue sits now in the corner of his art studio, the wooden chair beneath him threatening to buckle under his weight. He’s not sure why he chose to buy such an old second hand chair, though perhaps it had something to do with his lack of money but in truth he knows that the chair reminded him of himself. Comparing an old wooden chair to himself? Rogue must be going nuts. He assumed that the chair would break completely after one or two uses, but two years later the chair is still standing strong, and this only continued to support Rogue’s first thought. Rogue has always been a soft guy, letting the opinions and feelings of other people influence him too much, but never once did he break; there have been times when he was almost to his breaking point, just like his chair, but never once did he fall over the edge, never once did he buckle. His chair is symbolic of him. At least thinking that way makes him feel somewhat better.

He’s completely immersed in the sketch he’s halfway through completing, a mess of charcoal strewn across the page vaguely resembling a man’s face shrouded in shadow, when he heard footsteps approaching. No one should be in here; he doesn’t even know anyone in this city.

“I always knew you were good, but whoa this is a nice space,” Sting says, letting out a whistle as he stares up at the walls.

Rogue twists himself around in his chair quickly, his stick of charcoal dropping to the hard cement floor as he sees Sting standing just inside the entry way. Rogue feels exposed having his works so openly displayed to an outside person’s eye, after watching Sting’s eyes scan over them he suddenly feels that they are too personal for anyone else to see.

“H-How did you find me?” Rogue stutters out shocked.

“You think that you could just leave town without me knowing. You think you could get away without me finding you?” Rogue can see that Sting is staring right into his eyes even though he’s on the other side of the room.

“You followed me?” Rogue questions.

“Haha, no you idiot. Your mother told me where you were. You know that’s rather hurtful, I’m not some kind of creep you know,” Sting says, pretending to look hurt.

“Oh right.” Rogue replies, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Are you disappointed about that?” Sting asks. “Being excited about someone stalking you, that sounds like some sort of fetish Rogue.” He lets out a laugh.

Rouge clenches his fists. How could Sting be acting like this? “What are you doing here, Sting?”

Sting looks as though the answer was obvious. When Rouge says nothing he sighs, walking over to him. “I wanted to see you.”

Rouge couldn’t believe that, there was no way, not after all these years.

“Bullshit.”

Sting’s eyes widen. “What?”

Rogue stares back up at him, seeing his expression. “Why would I believe that?”

“Why would I lie?” Sting asks, his voice laced with hurt.

Rogue lets out a dark chuckle, “Oh I don’t know, it’s not like we haven’t properly spoken in four years.”

“Rogue,” Sting tries, but his voice falls on deaf ears. Rogue simply turns away from him picking up his bit of charcoal off the ground and focusing back on his sketch.

“Can you please leave.” It wasn’t a question. Rogue doesn’t look back over towards Sting.

Sting stands for a moment, half inclined to stay and fix things with Rogue, and the other half convincing him that what happened between them can never be fixed. So Sting turns on his heel and walks out the door, sliding it shut roughly causing the wall to shake.

He doesn’t see Rogue’s head fall into his hands and the silent tears that fall off his chin.



Rouge’s head is still reeling from seeing Sting again when he gets back to his apartment later that day. He goes straight into the tiny kitchen and sets about making himself a tea to calm his nerves.

What the hell was Sting doing here?

He had looked genuinely shocked when Rogue had told him to leave, but what did Sting expect him to do? How did he think he could just walk into Rogue’s studio after four years of taunting and silence, and think that he could joke with Rogue? How did he think that everything could go back to normal? He couldn’t deal with Sting, not anymore. Rogue’s over getting his heart repeatedly broken by the man.

He’d just sat down at his tiny wooden table, big enough for all of two chairs, lifting his hot tea to his lips when he’s interrupted by a hesitant knock on his front door. He sighs heavily, placing his mug back onto the table, and gets up to see who it is. He wishes for anyone other than Sting Eucliffe. He makes it to his door and for once wishes he had a peephole, then if he didn’t want to see the person on the other side of the door he could pretend that he wasn’t home. He reaches for the handle when the person knocks again, Rogue finds this irritating.

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” He says harshly through the door.

Finally getting the chance to open the door it creaks open slowly, he braces himself for his visitor. He’s not at all surprised to see Sting standing in front of him.

Rogue scoffs, “So have you graduated to full on stalker now?” Sting just looks at him. Rogue sighs heavily. “How did you find my address?”

Sting looks up at him innocently. “Your mother, -.”

Rogue realises, “My mother told you. She just can’t keep out of my business.”

“She’s just worried about you, Rogue. She said you hardly keep in contact with her anymore.” Sting looks at him, worry in his blue eyes.

“And how is that any of your business. What are you even doing talking to my mother?” Rogue’s getting angry; Sting and Rogue aren’t friends, not anymore.

Sting continues to look at him. “I’m worried about you too.”

Rogue scoffs again. “You’re about four years too late to start worrying about me.” Sting remains silent, knowing that Rogue’s right, of course he is. “What do you want, Sting?”

“I want to apologize.”

“Why are you trying to fix things now?” Rogue asks him, cautiously.

“I tried to before, don’t you remember?” Sting answers.

Of course Rogue remembers, but he stays silent.

“You slammed the door in my face, Rogue,” Sting continues.

“What did you expect me to do? I hadn’t heard from you in two years, not counting the taunting at school. You think that I would just let you back in that easily?” Rogue has gone from sceptical to full astonished with Sting, as if he hadn’t expected Rogue to react the way that he did.

“Well no, but,-,” Sting starts, wanting desperately for Rogue to understand.

Rogue cuts him off almost instantly, “But what Sting? What could you have possibly say to make me forgive you?” He was getting angry again.

Sting stares at him, replying seriously. “That I’m sorry.”

Rogue scoffs at that. “Yeah I figured that much out myself.”

Sting steps closer to Rogue, so they’re almost both standing on the same step and sucks in a steadying breath. “Look I could give you the whole story about how you freaked me out when you told me you were in love with me, how you made me feel something I had never felt before in my entire life and how that almost scared me to death. I could tell you that I was mad at you for not fighting to keep me with you even when I pushed you away, about how I was mad at you for losing your back bone around me in university.” Sting takes in a shaky breath and curses himself for it. “I could tell you how stupid I was to hold a grudge and ruin our friendship. I told you we would be best friends forever, and I hate myself for breaking that promise. But the whole story doesn’t matter anymore, not if you can’t forgive a naïve guy for all his wrong doings. None of it matters if you can’t see that I’ve changed.”

Rogue remains silent for a moment before speaking. “Did you rehearse that?”

Sting lets out an embarrassed chuckle confirming Rogue’s suspicion.

Rogue stares at him, looking for any sign that he didn’t mean what he said. It’s not like Sting did anything horrible to him anyway, it was mostly Rogue’s fault, he was the one who got carried away with his feelings. But against all his wishes, he still can’t help but love the stupid man in front of him. “God you’re cheesy.”

Sting breaks out in a grin. “Hey if it works, it doesn’t matter if it’s cheesy or not.”

“I didn’t say that it worked,” Rogue states, trying to hide his growing blush.

Sting steps towards him, pinching his cheeks. “Oh come on Roguie, you’re blushing.”

Rogue pushes him off. “I told you not to call me that.”