TITLE: Everything Always Changes, Even if Some Things Never Do
RATING: R to NC-17
PAIRING: Bobby/John with some implied past Bobby/Marie
SUMMARY: John decides to kidnap Bobby in order to rub the guilt in his face. Instead, he finds himself asking if he can give the boy another chance.
WORD COUNT: 2379
---
"You're a fucking headache, you know that?"
Bobby says nothing, simply watching as John (Pyro now, he reminds himself) leans casually against the door frame. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that he was currently gagged and tied to a chair. He takes a quick look around. Ah. Crappy motel it is then. He supposes he should be glad that at least he's not sitting in front of Magneto.
"You really shouldn't be. Being Mr Perfect and all. But you really are the biggest pain in the ass I have ever met."
Bobby looks at him incredulously. Considering how he was the one who had been knocked out, kidnapped and restrained, he was having a slight difficulty in understanding John's (Pyro's, for fucks sake) problem.
John's jacket slides against the doorframe as he stands straight, the sound making Bobby's breath hitch ever so slightly. He looks away.
"You're a fucking mass of contradictions. You want to be normal but work to be an X-Man. You want your parents love but you hate them at the same time. You want her but you fuck me."
At this Bobby's head shoots up and he stares at John. John laughs, manic and sharp.
"Oh, come on. You didn't think I forgot? Little hard to forget a cock up your ass."
Bobby flinches. The returning laugh is even more cutting.
"Still as ashamed as ever before. Isn't being in the closet getting a little tiring, popsicle?"
With that he walks towards Bobby, presses his hands onto the restrained boy's shoulders and leans over until his lips brush against Bobby's ear. Bobby wants to move, run, leave, but he remains still, the only movement being a sharp intake of breath asJohn's hot breath caresses his skin.
"You're an idiot, you know," John whispers, restraint barely keeping the snarl out of his voice. He rips the gag off. Bobby shivers and answers automatically.
"I know." He wants to leave it at that but John doesn't seem to have heard him.
"You have no idea what the fuck you're doing," John continues and Bobby can practically hear the scowl. John snaps back up and starts to walk around Bobby like a hunter waiting to pounce on his prey. His hands never leave Bobby's shoulders.
"You always think you're right," Bobby quietly replies.
"I am this time." John's answer lacks the edge it had before. Neither acknowledges it. "You think about it."
---
They meet under the tree. Just like they always do. It was never the same back in their room where a slight hint of restraint always surrounded them just in case. Too many people around with the ability to hear through walls, walk through doors, read minds like a goddamn book. But under that tree, right on the outskirts of school property, they were free.the tree and talk. At first about inconsequential things – class, powers, teachers romantic lives. But after weeks, months, they branch out. John tells him about his estranged, abusive, drunkard father and Bobby tells him about having to be Mr Perfect. Neither is shocked to find that the other is broken. Because who isn't, John would say.
They meet under
Secret after secret pours out that they will never repeat to others. And that's okay because they don't need anyone else.
---
It's a little hard to think when you're trying not to suffocate. Or at least that's what Bobby feels like is happening.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
It never used to be so hard.
John's lips smirk ever so slightly, and Bobby knows that he knows. Of course, John always knew how he felt just by looking at him.
It's a little hard to think when all you can focus on is his lips. Pouty and red and deliciously warm like a cup of cocoa in the middle of winter.
"I miss you."
The words come out in a whisper, unintentional and painfully true.
John doesn't stop smirking.
---
They meet under the tree and kiss, soft and gentle and a little bit sad at first. But with time happiness is found and the fires of their desires consume them and that's okay too. He slips his hands under John's t-shirt and strokes the warm skin, moving them around the boy's waist and up his back until he can feel all the scars. He breathes heavily and traces his fingers over them, kissing John harder when he hears the boy's breath hitch. It's tender and peaceful and he can feel the wetness on John's cheek brush his own. But neither of them stop. When it's time to go back to school, Bobby pulls back reluctantly and smiles.
His heart soars when John smiles back.
---
As John watches Bobby's face (he could always tell how Bobby was feeling just by looking at him – moron always wore his fucking heart on his sleeve as though other people would give a shit) he can't help but think that he should have seen it coming. Bobby's never been able to hide anything and yet John waited months before getting over his bout of denial.
It was easy when he saw him look at her they way he used to look at him. It was bound to happen, he had thought. Because she was beautiful and pure while he was a screwed up ball of shit.
And yet somehow he had convinced himself into thinking that Bobby, with his big blue overly earnest eyes, was a Prince out to save his fucking heart.
Fairytales and happy endings are for storybooks. He always knew that. But it took losing his everything to a girl who couldn't be touched to understand it.
---
Bobby rarely went out of line. That was always John's job – to test the boundaries and push. They were exact opposites in that respect because Bobby liked boundaries and rules.
Rule Number 1. Never let anyone know that you're a mutant.
He broke that rule soon enough.
Rule Number 2. Never let anyone know that you're a gay mutant. Ever.
But John kept pushing until Bobby's boundaries collapsed and it wasn't long until he gave in. When he did, he realized that it was okay because John wasn't out to break him.
It's ironic that Bobby's the one to break John instead.
Years of lying to others about what they were can do that. So can pretending to love another girl.
It would be easier, he'd thought, if I loved her. He tried to. He even almost convinced himself that he did. But it was never real because there was John – the one who made him laugh and cry and break so many rules it was getting a bit ridiculous.
So he stopped lying to himself. Almost stopped lying to everyone else too.
But then John walked.
---
"No you don't."
Three little words and Bobby wants to cry.
It's cold. Too cold. But it must be just him because John looks fine.
"Yes I do."
John snorts and runs his hand through his hair. Bobby remembers a time when it would have flopped back onto his forehead. John would huff about it and Bobby would brush the locks away before kissing him. Now it's gelled to perfection and bottle blond of all things.
It's cold. Bobby can feel the tears springing up in his eyes.
"That's too bad."
But John turns away when he says it. He doesn't mean it.
"If you meant that you wouldn't have brought me here."
Jon doesn't say anything for a minute. When he replies his voice is soft, honest in the way it used to be when they talked alone. "I brought you here to rub the guilt in your face. Is it working?"
"Yes."
John wraps his arms around himself.
---
For the first time in a long time he feels cold. But it's not the kind of cold that people feel around him – the surrounding chill in the air that makes you shiver and hug your body in futile attempts to get warm. It isn't the type of cold that hot cocoa and warm blankets can cure. This cold is on the inside, all consuming and unshakeable.
He sits curled up next to the phone, his hand clenching with the itch to just call already. He'll come back if you call, he tells himself. But what will he say? Please. He can hear it as clear as day. Please, come back home. I miss you.
His hand clenches so hard that his nails dig into his skin, crescent shaped marks almost permanently scarred onto his palm. He'll come back if you call.
But he never does. Because somehow he knows that it's a lie.
---
"I never loved her."
John's jaw clenches.
"I loved you."
John growls at that and stomps over behind Bobby to tear the rope off his body. He throws the rope to the side and storms off into the adjoining room.
"Get out."
"No."
John snaps around.
"You can't keep running."
John glares at him. Bobby just lets out a humorless chuckle and calmly stands up.
"I'm not running."
"Liar."
They forget sometimes that Bobby can read John just as well as John can read Bobby.
---
It starts out as an odd pang in his stomach. It rolls around and travels up his body, the burn of bile constantly crawling up his esophagus. He convinces himself that he ate something bad. Twenty four hours later, the nausea doesn't leave and he convinces himself that he's sick. With time the pain grows worse, affecting other organs as it continues to travel upwards.
Six months later he can barely breathe and realizes that perhaps that this is what heart break really is.
If only…
He was starting to hate those words.
---
"Come back home."
John snorts. "Hell, no."
"You don't mean that. You wouldn't have brought me here otherwise."
---
Hate. Hate. Hate. That's all he felt.
That and regret.
Except that he hates the regret too. So he goes to the tree, that tree and waits for Bobby. He knows he'll show eventually (because even when Bobby was sort-of-cheating he was a fucking sap. He just hopes that Bobby doesn't bring her here). When Bobby walks up under the tree alone four hours and thirty two minutes later, the first thing John does is punch him in the face. A few more punches and the boy's knocked out cold.
When Bobby wakes up again, they're in a crappy motel and John can barely breathe. He leans against the doorframe casually and crosses his arms across his chest. The thump, thump of his heart beats against his arms and for the first time in a long time he feels truly panicked. He doesn't let it show.
"You're a fucking headache, you know that?"
---
"I didn't bring you here so I could go back to the mansion, okay?"
John's getting angry now but he's not quite sure at whom. Bobby knows.
"I miss you."
"No, you don't."
Three little words and Bobby almost wants to cry. But he can hear the slight hesitation in John's answer this time and so the tears stay down.
"You miss me too."
And this time they both see the small pause before John's answer. "No."
Bobby clears his throat to stop the hysterical laughter that seems to be bubbling up. "Come here."
John closes his eyes but doesn't turn away. "No," he whispers.
The look on John's face makes up Bobby's mind. When he slips an arm around John and pulls him to his chest with strength that leaves them both breathless, John doesn't struggle. The hesitation that was there a second ago disappears and instead the smaller boy matches the pressure on his lips. It's hard and brutal and a fucking agony at first, but soon enough the ache in both their hearts is forgotten.
John reminds Bobby of heat after a blizzard, warming him, melting him in ways that a cup of cocoa and blankets could never do. Their lips align the way it always has and in a way nothing's changed.
---
Even if everything has.
---
There's one hand raking through John's hair and another on his hip as Bobby pushes.
When he's finally sheathed in John, neither of them move. They lie frozen, in shock that that this is really happening, that this is where they are, warm and wild and together. Bobby's bangs fall over his eyes (and when did it grow so long?) and John brushes them away from his sweaty forehead. His hand moves down Bobby's face to cup his cheek and suddenly he remembers just why he could never forget the boy on top of him. He arches his back, a silent instruction to move, and Bobby obliges.
Another push, and another, and another and it no longer matters that John spent months trying to run away from this and Bobby spent months trying to forget.
Bobby's mouth is wet and hot against John's neck, his nails digging into the skin under his hand.
John moans, teeth biting into his lip as he moves along with the thrusts. The bed creaks and the springs in the mattress make the surface jagged and uncomfortable. But he doesn't think of it as Bobby's hand slides up his thigh and the thrusts gain speed. It's hot and fast and steadfastly becoming brutal like their kiss ten minutes ago.
They moan into each other's mouths as the slap of skin against skin becomes louder every second.
They can both feel it. The intense build up, the loss of control that is akin to jumping off a cliff and falling into the abyss. John sinks his nails into Bobby's shoulders and clings onto him as he lets go. He clenches around Bobby and Bobby shudders and falls too.
When it's over, they lie panting next to each other. John thinks he should leave because, really, he's not sure he can do this again. But before that thought can spur an action, Bobby finds his hand and holds onto it, begging him not to go. Please.
John turns head to look at Bobby and sees a soft smile directed at him.
John doesn't move.