It's like John never existed.

If they had spoken of him with anger or sadness or mistrust, maybe Bobby could've handled that. If the Professor had just announced one day that the name "John" was never to be spoken in this house again, he could've handled that. He'd have understood that. John had left them. It was a betrayal. So why didn't anybody care?

So what if everyone was busy crying and weeping or sitting in a stony silence. He just couldn't understand why no one but he himself missed Johnny. Sure, Johnny wouldn't have won any prizes for personality, but Logan doesn't exactly have the best disposition either and everyone had been talking about him from his departure to his return. What was wrong with Piotr, with Rogue? Why didn't they say, just once 'I miss John,' or 'Why did he leave, anyway? Why didn't they say something? They never once said 'Remember the time Johnny . . .' or 'John always used to . . .' like they did with Ms. Grey.

And it wasn't that Bobby hadn't liked Ms. Grey. It really wasn't. He had adored her just like every other kid in school. Whether she had been teaching them some math theorem, or how to focus a mutant ability, or talking with one of the girls - sometimes even the guys - about a problem, she had been a good person. Sure, she had been kind of cold until you got to know her, but cold was something Bobby could deal with. So when she died, it hurt. But certainly not like how Johnny's leaving hurt. Because Johnny was still alive. Because Johnny made a choice to leave.

Bobby sighs and headed for the kitchen. Ice cream. Bobby realizes his dependency on ice cream is almost too close for comfort to Rogue's monthly penchant for chocolate-covered macadamias, but hey, you need what you need when you need it. When Bobby is struck by the blues, step one is ice cream. Frozen, sugary goodness. Having a full stomach sometimes makes him feel a little less empty elsewhere. If ice cream can't do the trick, if the pangs can't be chalked up to hunger, then it's the Danger Room. Freezing something. Shattering it into a thousand sharp, glittering particles. Food and violence.

Sometimes, when things are really bad, he brings out the jacket. Johnny's jacket. Not the one he was wearing the day he left, of course, but his other one. The older one that he left hanging on the back of the door of the bathroom he and Bobby shared, the one that still smells of cigarettes and the cologne he always wore. Bobby wears it around the room sometimes, losing himself in the memories. Guilty pleasures. Things he shouldn't think about, but does.

So. Ice cream first.

As Bobby looks into the freezer, he finds himself forced to ponder the eternal question: Rocky road or vanilla, rocky road or vanilla... oh. Wait a second. There's some chocolate peanut butter under the package of waffles. And peanut butter wins every time.

And Bobby knows he shouldn't be eating this right now. It's already after six. He's got a session in the Danger Room in half an hour, and chances are he'll puke this up if he eats it. Guess he could just not eat it. Guess he could just skip the session. But he always skipped with Johnny. If he skipped now, what would be the point? Who would he have to talk to? What would he have to do? It's funny, really, how you don't realize some things, even stupid meaningless things, until after they're gone. Long gone.

Bobby doesn't even notice that Logan is in the kitchen until he hears the slam of a cabinet doors against the wall. After the initial shock, it isn't all that surprising to find Logan here. He's probably in the kitchen more than any other room. His healing factor gives him an unheard-of metabolism, and at times half the fridge has disappeared into Logan's stomach with no problem. So there's nothing wrong with this picture. Until Bobby notices the duffel bag in Logan's hand.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah."

"When are you going?"

"Right about now," Logan says gruffly. And Bobby knows why he's leaving now. It's the busy part of the day. Dinner, Danger Room practice, one on one sessions with the Professor. No one is going to notice that Logan left, at least not until tomorrow. Bobby knows Logan wants to avoid saying all his goodbyes - he's not so good at them. And Mr. Summers depends on Logan now; sometimes Bobby wonders if he does more that that. But that's all. Not really his business. He shouldn't even be wondering, but he was kind of hoping they would get together. He knows they're polar opposites, but they're both alike in the ways that matter; they're both strong, probably stronger than they need to be. Mr. Summers needs to let loose a little, even if right now he's too broken, and everyone at the Mansion knows that once Logan's on your side he'll take care of you forever. And right now Mr. Summers needs someone to take care of him. Maybe it'll work out. And maybe Bobby's imagining things. God, he's stupid sometimes. How many times has he imagined things that weren't really there?

Bobby throws his spoon carelessly into the rapidly melting ice cream. He's not so hungry anymore.

As Logan heads for the door, Bobby reaches out and grabs his shoulder. He feels Logan flinch, and he's not sure if it's because he touched him with his freezing hands or just because he touched him. Logan's strange like that. "Will you do me favor?" Bobby asks hesitantly. He sees the surprise in Logan's eyes, but it's not the bad sort.

"Sure, kid. What?"

"Do you know where Magneto is? Has the Professor said anything?"

"If I knew where he was, I woulda gone after him and dragged John back here, adamantine and all." It seems Logan knows why Bobby was asking.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you ever find out... tell me, okay?"

"I will." Logan shifts uncomfortably. "If ya don't mind me asking, were ya two just... friends?"

It's funny to think of Logan trying to be tactful. He's choosing his words so carefully, and that's not like him at all. But the question sends Bobby spiraling back through his memories, through whispered conversations after lights out, snowball fights where John would melt the snowballs before they got within a foot of him, mornings spent frantically copying each others homework, glimpses of John in the showers that Bobby's mind wanted to forget but his hormones refused to let go of, nights they snuck out and went in to town together, Johnny smoking and the both of them drinking and then sharing one inebriated kiss which John didn't seem to remember the next morning. Or maybe that was all some weird dream of Bobby's, and had never really happened anyway.

Bobby realizes he hasn't answered the question.

"I don't know."

"Ah," Logan grunts. "That's the worst."

And maybe it is. And maybe Logan knows what he's talking about this time. Maybe he and Johnny weren't the only ones around here who don't do transitions well.

"Goodbye, Logan."

"Bye kid."

That night Bobby packs a bag and takes the keys to one of the cars in the garage. He's not sure where he's going, but he's sure almost anywhere is better than here. Bobby puts on Johnny's jacket before he goes, though, and leaves a note telling Rogue not to wait for him. He probably won't be back. At least not for her. One for Mr. Summers that says Logan left too, and when he gets back could you please tell him thanks for the advice? Thank you. And then one for the Professor, saying that it wasn't anything he did or that anyone did, really, it's just that Bobby can't pretend that Johnny's not still out there somewhere. He'll drop a line now and then, let them know he's alive.

As he pulls out of the driveway in the Jag (sorry, Mr. Summers, but what teenage boy could resist? He's sure he'll return it someday), he wonders when the hell life got so complicated, or maybe when did he get so stupid that he had to choose between a non-existent romance with his best friend and everything else. But he knows this is something he has to do. Because you need what you need when you need it. And what he needs - what he's been needing - is Johnny.