Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Summary: He wasn't obsessed, he told himself. It was a perfectly normal way of dealing with loss. No, he wasn't depressed. He just liked the way the flame felt when it touched his skin. Short angst one shot. Bobby/John.

Normal text.

"Talking"

'Thinking.'

The classroom was completely silent as the test began; only filled with the sound of pencil on paper and the occasional shuffle of a student in their chair. Then there was a small click. A pause. And then a sharper, louder click.

Storm, who had been writing notes for her next class on the board, stilled at the familiar sound. She twisted round to face the class, now-misted eyes narrowed dangerously. He wasn't there. She blinked, eyes returning to normal, at her students. They hadn't even looked up from their desks. Confused, she sought out a different face. Pale skin, brown-and-blond hair, blue eyes…Ah.

Bobby Drake looked up as he felt his teachers eyes on him. She smiled softly, encouragingly. This was the first time he had come back to classes since Alkali lake. He gave her a weak smile in return, looking back to his work. Storm gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment before she heard it again. A soft click followed by a louder one. A few of the students looked up from their work briefly to scowl behind them. A few others, the ones that recognised the sound, looked around startled before slowly refocusing.

The two clicks happened again. Storm eyed the class, each student, thoroughly. Her eyed landed on Rogue who was staring to her right with an odd expression on her face. Something between anger, fear, worry and confusion. The teacher followed her gaze and was brought back to Bobby. He was looking at his desk, at his papers, completely unfocused. His right hand was holding his pencil and was poised to the paper while his left hung by his side, curled loosely around something.

Storm watched his hand intently, waiting to see if it would move. Just seconds later; it did. And Storm recognised the rectangular metal in his hand immediately.

Bobby's thumb opened the lighter and flicked it on with a small click. His face remained the same, even as his hand moved again to snap the metal lid shut with a louder snap. Storm watched him the whole lesson. Flicking the familiar lighter on and off while filling in his paper lazily. When the class ended, he slipped the metal into his pocket and picked up his bag before striding out; without a word to anyone and leaving his paper on the desk. Storm stared after him, Rogue and Kitty doing the same out f the corners of their eyes as they packed up with the rest of the class.

Bobby walked into his room calmly; shutting and locking the door behind him. He dropped his bag onto the floor, not caring that it opened and that its contents spilled out, before flopping onto his bed. He turned his head to eye the other side of the room sadly. It was just as his room mate had left it; messily organised so that only its owner could find anything in it. He had refused to clear it out. To move the junk. After all, he didn't want anyone else living there. And he certainly didn't want John to become just a memory.

Bobby blinked hard, forcing himself to look away. His hand twitched and he sighed, biting his lip. He twisted slightly to his side, just enough for him to be able to pull out a silver lighter. Turning it over in his hands he smiled sadly at the design. Flames on the bottom half and the icicles on the top; the two elements almost touching. He could remember giving this to John, for his last birthday. It was full of meaning and trust and the pyromaniac had adored it; naming it 'Bobby' and keeping it under his pillow.

The real Bobby flicked it on, watching the flame as John's delighted eyes seemed to dance in it. John hadn't been surprised by the gift. It was almost tradition for Bobby to give his friend a lighter for his birthday. John had given this one special meaning because it meant that they were still good; still the same like before Rogue came. There was only one that John had treasured as much as this and that was the 'shark' lighter that Bobby had gotten him around two years ago. When they had first decided to take their friendship to a new level.

Bobby waved his hand over the flame. The heat not even effecting his cold skin. He placed one finger close to the fire and paused, waiting. A few seconds passed and then Bobby's finger felt warm. A few more seconds and it continued to heat before it started stinging. Knowing the drill, Bobby tensed. He made no sound as the flame finally burnt his cool skin, but pulled away sharply, closing the lighter with a snap. He allowed the pain to dull before pulling up his sleeve; revealing a series of dark streaks going across his arm. He eyed them gently while re-lighting 'Bobby'. His arm moved to be outstretched in front of him and then the lighter was underneath it, licking at a bit of unmarked skin with no pain.

He wasn't obsessed, he told himself. It was a perfectly normal way of dealing with loss. No, he wasn't depressed. He just liked the way the flame felt when it touched his skin.

He tensed again as he felt the stinging start. This time, when the burning began, he let out a low hiss; the skin on the underside of his arm was a lot more sensitive than that of his finger. He remained there though. Still as a statue as the flame darkened and bruised his pale skin in a line-like-streak. He waited, timing himself, before snapping the lighter shut and letting his arm fall. He waited for the pain to dull again, this one taking longer, as he regained the steadiness of his breath. Placing the lighter carefully in his lap, he held his arm up and turned it over, inspecting it. The new streak was darker than the older, fading ones but around the same size. He felt a sick twinge of pride. He was getting good at this.

Bobby pressed down on the new mark and whimpered just slightly at the pain. Icy blue eyes travelled up his arm to look at the oldest ones. He could probably start going over them next time, since they were so faded and didn't hurt even when he banged them in training. Good, this way he wouldn't have to go any lower on his arm. He couldn't risk anyone seeing them, after all.

'John… Look at what you have me reduced to. Burning myself… hurting myself… just to feel like you're near me.' He snorted. He was really messed up over his friend - his room-mate. His lover - leaving him. He wondered if 'Pyro' was missing him too.

Bobby sighed, turning his head to look at the other side of the room. His slight wavered and he could almost see a hauntingly familiar figure laying casually on the bed. Dark eyed lit up as the vision of John smirked at Bobby. The ice mutant grinned back.

Yep. He was really messed up.

AN: And somewhere, miles away, John on chewing on ice. LOL.

I haven't seen any of the X-men movies in a while but I seem to have become re-obsessed with this couple. XD Ahaha, enjoy the surge while it lasts.

xxx