It’s over. It’s all over.
Bobby shot awake. He was uncharacteristically cold, and as he glanced around, he noticed a thin sheet of frost covering every available surface in the room. He had dealt with this before. Of course, he had. But it had been at least a few years since the last time he woke up in a frosty room.
“Almost like someone else was helping to regulate the temperature with you.” A traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispered. He shook his head to clear the thought and began to warm the room up. At least having a power that regulates the temperature meant he had a solid heat/AC system in thei— he stopped himself. It wasn’t their room anymore.
It had been a couple of days since John had left, and Bobby had not been coping well. He knew at the time that he should’ve gone after him— should’ve fought by his side. He’s not really sure why he didn’t.
Everything in the room felt emptier without John. Even though the other boy hadn’t really had much, he had somehow pressed himself into every inch of the room. Bobby could see where his jacket used to always hang, the exact spot his textbook had always landed, and if he listened hard enough, he felt like he would hear the familiar click of his lighter. These little reminders made Bobby forget he was gone sometimes, but his powers were always a harsh wake-up call.
Bobby knew his reaction to John leaving was irrational. He hadn’t seen anyone in days. They had been knocking on his door, but he just ignored them. He couldn’t face a world where John wasn’t with him. At first, he had thought that John would be back immediately. But by the third day, he had given up hope. The longer he was gone, the harder it was for Bobby to remember whether the world had always had a gray feeling about it.
He forced himself to make his bed and tidy the small space. It didn’t help— he still wondered whether John missed him just as much.
Tried to keep himself from thinking that like it or not, there was a time when he absolutely would have left the ship with John. They were attached at the hip, and Bobby could have never imagined not having John around. And he didn’t want to admit to himself that he knew exactly when that had stopped.
Rogue. He had immediately been drawn to the clueless, new girl persona that he had projected onto her. He had clung to her— thoughts of how his parents would accept him for being a mutant if he had a perfect girlfriend who could keep the idea of a normal home with grandkids alive in their minds. It had been even more convenient that they couldn’t touch— that he had an excuse to search out Johnny and seek comfort in a way she couldn’t provide him.
It had worked until it didn’t, and now, here he was— no Rogue, she was off with Logan, and no John. How was that fair? How had he become Anakin Skywalker in this analogy?
Bobby shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t give in to his own self-pity. It would just make everything hurt even more. Already, the shadows were starting to creep back in, forcing him to sit back on the bed. He had left so many things between them unsaid— especially the words that they both knew were there but neither could lend their voice to. Without Johnny, Bobby was scared that whatever was left unsaid will disappear.
Fuck. The weight of the world was crashing down on him. He wishes he’d said sorry. He wishes he’d asked him to stay. Now, as Bobby crawls back under his blankets, he feels weighed down by all the things he had meant to say.