Malleable
Bobby sees Rogue the same way he sees oleander plants. She is beautiful, but she is poison. He could live with this fact. They can adjust to suit their differing needs. The only problem is that she is poisonous in more ways than one.
He sees the way her breath hitches when a couple in a movie kisses. He sees how she tenses when anyone touches her, even if she is covered in many layers of clothing. He sees her eyes turn to a color somehow darker than black, how they turn glassy and almost painfully bright, which makes so little sense given their night-sky appearance, and he knows she is trying not to cry. He doesn't have to touch her to feel the small tremors that rack her body in small, nearly invisible motions, because he has them too. He hurts with her, and she doesn't seem to grasp this concept. He knows where every fault line is, where every last space between tectonic plates exists in her soul. He feels the same earthquake she does, and it is his secret, his hidden bond with her. Yet he can't tell her because he knows it would only hurt her more.
Yet he is hurting as well. He loves her, he knows he does, but it is in a way unnatural to human beings. Or, at least it is unnatural to him. He wants to be close to her, to hold her hand when she gets a rabies shot after being bitten by a feral cat roaming the institute's campus, to give her the gentlest of hugs after she fails an algebra test because she mixed up terms in the quadratic formula. Instead, he holds onto her gloved digits, bitter about the fabric hiding her delicate hands. He hates the way that she can only feel the pressure caused by his grasp instead of his grasp itself. Instead, he carefully zips his jacket so that his neck is partially covered by the collar, pulling his sleeves down to cover his wrists, and goes to embrace her. The problem is that she has seen his precautions and is even more upset than before, so she leaves before he can even extend his arms. Bobby scorns the way that he loves her, because he knows that they cannot be apart, just as he knows that they cannot be together.
He hurts further when he sees her reaction whenever Logan enters the same room as her. He watches as her eyes widen and a grin splits across her face. Whatever she is doing, she stops, and she leaves to run to the older man and hug him tightly. Logan is much taller than her, so he doesn't have to be concerned about her face making contact with his neck. He wears leather jackets, and Rogue wears opera gloves, so they hardly have to worry about accidental brushes of skin. All that aside, the Wolverine has a slight resistance to Rogue's powers, given his ability to heal.
In a way, he hates Logan. Yet he knows that Logan is slightly uncomfortable with Rogue's not so subtle interest, even though she is somewhat unaware that she is flirting to begin with. He knows that it is not Logan's fault that Rogue feels the way she does, and he knows that Rogue's affection for him is actually friendship-based, coupled with slight physical attraction. He likes Logan almost as much as he detests him. Logan saved Rogue, he saved the girl that they both cared for—albeit cared for in different ways. He knows that Logan would have saved her, even if he hadn't cared for her. This code of honor was in his nature, born into him from a time long past, although exactly how long ago is still a mystery.
Bobby knows that Rogue loves him, and he knows that he loves her. However, he is not sure how much he can take. He compares himself to Logan often, wondering how the other man is so fortunate to know how to avoid hurting the fragile-pretending-to-be-strong girl without hurting himself. He wonders who Rogue would choose, given the choice. He wonders whether there would really be a choice, and he is angry with her for making him wonder.
All of this is spinning through his mind during a Danger Room session that morning, and it becomes a dizzying concept when Kitty suddenly wraps her arms around him to phase them out of incoming danger. When they split apart, they look at each other for a moment, slightly shocked by the position they are in. He looks down at her—she is nearly a head shorter than him—and sees the way her pupils widen and her cheeks flush. For a split second, he considers kissing her. Instead, he mutters a swift 'thanks, Kitty,' as Logan looks over sharply and points out that there is still a situation to be handled. He comes back to himself then, and feels as if he has committed a great sin. He moves away and concentrates on their task then. He is guilty, and he hopes Rogue did not see his mistake. While he doesn't want to hide anything from her, he also doesn't want her to be hurt over something that only nearly happened.
The session ends barely a minute after Kitty grabbed him, and he is thankful. After the lesson ends, he begins to follow Rogue out. He can't see her face, but through their strange bond, he can feel the tremors. He registers the speed of her walk, and when he asks her what the problem is she speeds up further and snaps that she can't touch him without killing him. He is shocked, and he stops and tells her that that isn't fair, that he's never put any pressure on her.
She looks at him, then, and she sounds almost exasperated as she informs him that he is a guy, and that his mind is only on one thing. He wants to explain to her that he doesn't want a sexual relationship, but by the time his shock wears off, she is gone. He is angry, and once again, his mind wanders back to the Wolverine, remembering the slight edge to his voice when he chastised Bobby and Kitty. It is then that Bobby realizes that Logan knew that Marie had seen their little 'moment'. The man seemed almost flawless, and even his flaws emphasized the rugged goodness of him. He can't find one single instance of something negative, but then he chuckles uncharacteristically darkly for a moment when he thinks of what a horrible instructor the man makes. He is glad that there is at least one non-badass flaw in the man. He finds himself bitter, and thinks that he knows where 'the Wolverine' should stick his claws. It is perhaps the most un-Bobby-ish thing that he has ever thought, and he is aware of this. Then he shrugs it off—after all, no one is positive all the time.
As he walks to his room, he realizes what the difference between him and Logan actually is. Logan is made of adamantium. It is not just Logan's bones that are made of metal, that metal is ninety-nine percent of his personality. Logan is hardened by years of experience. He knows how to react because he doesn't necessarily think of the personal outcomes that will follow. He does not bother being soft or tender, because he knows that it helps nothing. Instead, he is blunt and somehow sharp at the same time. He is honest, and doesn't care to spare anyone's emotions.
Bobby is malleable, like aluminum or copper wire. Bobby is shaped by any occurrence around him, and tries his hardest to react appropriately. It is something that he can't help, it is in his very nature. So as he thinks back to Rogue, and takes Logan into account, he thinks that he knows the problem. He has to stop being gentle with her, because it is only hurting her more. He has to stop treating her carefully because it draws her focus back to the danger of her powers. He has to stop pretending that he isn't bothered by not being able to hold her hand, or by his inability to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear because his fingertips could brush past the skin of her cheekbone or ear.
Logan does not bend under any sort of influence. Bobby understands that he will never be like the man completely, but he intends to take a leaf from his book.