Bobby Drake (takes place after issue 35)
Bobby continued to feel the tears filling his eyes as he laid on his bed on his stomach, his head resting against his forearms as he stayed on a Skype call with Johnny, Peter, Angelica, and MJ.
After what he would refer to as the birthday dinner from hell, Bobby could hardly help himself as he continued crying the rest of the night. He still felt the embarrassment his parents had caused him that night. He could still hardly dare to believe his parents had confronted him like that in a public setting. Out of all places they could have done it, they had to do it on his birthday, in a restaurant.
If Bobby were to have his way, the conversation would have taken place in the privacy of his home back in Boston. He would have been more than willing to take a ride up to Boston for a weekend and speak about it with his family. But every phone call he'd been having with his father and mother had consisted nothing of arguments that usually ended with him crying, and trying to drown his sorrows with games of Injustice and Mortal Kombat.
"I – I just can't believe that they . . . that they did that to me," he said to his friends as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He desperately tried swiping them away, but they just kept coming down. He was worried he was going to drown in a puddle of his own salt tears at this point.
"Bobby, I'm sorry to hear that," Johnny said. "You know you always have a place with me, Sue and Reed. Why don't you come over on Friday? I'm sure Sue wouldn't mind you joining us for dinner."
"Isn't that your and Ange's date night?" asked Bobby, his eyes continuing to fill with more tears.
"It is. But you're more important," declared Angelica. "We'll do whatever we can to help make it up to you."
"Thanks, Ange," Bobby said, his voice choking more as he said, "Y-You guys . . . what did I . . . what did I – I do to deserve h-having you g-guys as – as friends?"
"You didn't have to do anything at all, Bobby. We chose you as a friend because we do not give a flying crap about you being a mutant, let alone gay. It should not matter," MJ said.
"She's right," Peter said in agreement with MJ. "We'll see you tomorrow at school, alright?"
"I – I just wish m-my parents w-would h-have stayed to . . . you know . . . at least see me try-out for track and field," Bobby said.
"I know," Johnny said. "But my sister's coming tomorrow, and my future brother-in-law. You have their love, Bobby. My sister adores the crap out of you Bobby. You know what she says about you? That you are the best possible thing I ever could have brought home. Because when she learned that I made a new friend at school, she was terrified about who I picked. Then she meets you, and you, along with Pete, are like the sons she never had. And I think Reed is just happy I have another friend who is good at math; he sees that as free math tutoring for me, meaning he doesn't have to pay for anything."
"And you know Aunt May loves you, too. She says the same exact thing about you that Sue says. Trust me on that. You left your mark on our families, Bobby," said Peter.
"Y-Yeah, I – I know," Bobby said, managing a watery smile. "I'll see you all tomorrow."
"We'll talk to you later, buddy. Just hang in there," Peter said, and with that, they hung up Skype.
Bobby closed his laptop and leaned back against his bed this time on his back, tears continuing to fill his eyes as his sobs threatened to escape his chest. He was still feeling horribly after the series of events that had occurred with his family that night.
His fifteenth birthday had turned into a complete and utter fiasco.
I'd never thought that my family would do something like that to me, in a public place at that. In many ways, I am lucky to have such amazing friends in Johnny, Angelica, MJ and Peter. They've been more of a family to me than my own parents have been in the recent months.
Just thinking about my family shutting me out the way that they have been has been making me feel so sick lately. In the recent weeks leading up to my birthday it had been translating to a physical sickness, where I'd awoken with diarrhea due to the heaviness of it all.
It's almost as though every conversation that I have with my family has been leading to an argument. Every time I try to open up to my mother or my father, it's almost as though they've stopped caring. They dismiss my feelings and they showcase deflection at its finest.
I hate it more than anything else.
However, I saw it coming.
Maybe Warren is right when he says that I am consistently ready for a fight. It's what I constantly expect from my parents because I am always underneath the impression that they are going to fight me. But I can hardly help it, because that's all it's been recently.
My relationship with my parents has been growing to be so toxic that my anxiety has been coming back and getting worse. I still remember how weeks ago; I'd came out as gay to Scott and Warren. I remember how terrified I'd been, telling them about how I felt as though I did not fit in, even though we constantly say that when you're with the X-men you're never alone. Telling them had released a heavy weight off my chest. And they had both accepted me with open arms – literally and figuratively by the them both hugging me. I remember how their arms wrapped around me, and it made me feel as though for once, I was going to be taken care of. I remember how Warren told me that night it was all going to be fine. Those words alone made it easier to breathe, as if I was no longer suffocating with anxiety of needing to hide who I was.
Scott had never failed since day one to love me and care about me, like a true brother. And Warren has been just as successful, if not more.
Just knowing that Scott and Warren accept me is something that brings me just a small amount of comfort. But my parents not accepting me is what hurts even worse.
It feels like a constant stabbing at my heart whenever I try and talk to my parents. If anything was proved tonight, it was that my parents cannot stand me or my presence. They're disgusted just by the sight of me alone. I don't need to be a mind-reader to know that.
I can tell because every time I am around them, it's written all over their faces. Jean may say otherwise, but I know my parents best. She doesn't. She came from a well-off, big family with several brothers and sisters. Her parents – from her description – had been perfect. Her family had been perfect in every way. She hadn't struggled with finding a common ground with her parents. Her older brothers and sisters had spoiled her and her identical twin sister rotten; in fact, her oldest brother had practically been her godfather. She cannot even begin to understand where I'm coming from. She may try because she's a mind-reader, but she could never fully get it. I wouldn't expect her to get it. I love Jean, but she needs to stop acting like she understands. She may have empathy, but it doesn't mean she's walked a mile in my shoes and experienced what it's like to have your parents be disgusted by you.
Even Scott doesn't get it fully. His parents may have been militaristic hard-asses who made him do a hundred push-ups as punishment for being disrespectful, but even then, that's not so bad. They didn't berate him like my parents do. They never talked down to him or made him feel worthless. I would take doing a hundred push-ups in the freezing cold over being talked down to by my parents. I know Scott was physically and mentally abused by a foster father, but he doesn't understand what it is like to have your blood reject you.
I'd tried my best to be open and honest with them tonight. I'd tried by showing them that I respect myself enough to share with them the part of myself that I'd hated for so long. And the fact that they rejected me shows what they really think of me.
They hate me. I just know they hate me.
It hurts.
Bobby could feel the nausea hitting him again as more tears filled his eyes. He darted to his bathroom and he leaned over the toilet, preparing for the onslaught of vomiting. However, he'd already emptied the contents of his stomach earlier. Now, all he could do was dry-heave, clutching his stomach.
Closing his eyes, he heaved into the toilet, though nothing was spewing past his lips. Allowing another sob to escape his throat, he closed the toilet seat and just sat on the bathroom floor, burrowing his face into his hands as he broke down. He cried harder than he did earlier outside the restaurant.
"W-Why?" he asked himself out loud, shaking violently. "W-Why d-don't they – they w-want me?! W-What d-did I do – do wrong?"
I just do not understand what the hell it is that I did that was so bad. My whole life, I wanted nothing more than to please my parents. Knowing that they're disgusted by me makes me feel sick. It's like I cannot do anything right at all in their eyes.
Why can't I do anything right? Am I not trying hard enough? What do I have to do to prove myself to them? I just wish that I knew what it was.
I cannot not be who I am. They cannot expect me to just change. Knowing my mother, she's more than likely going to want me to check into conversion therapy as an ultimatum to get us to start talking again. Hell, the woman gave me a purity ring in eight grade! She'd tried shoving those Focus on the Family pamphlets down my throat throughout the seventh grade. She'd tried to teach me abstinence-only education so that she could avoid talking to me about sex.
She wants me to believe that anything related to sex is a deviant. But she can keep attempting at changing me all she wants to. She's not going to succeed with it. As a result, I'm going to continue being a failure in the eyes of my mother and father.
I can only wonder if this was how Warren had felt when his parents had thrown him out.
Bobby continued to sit on the tile floor, sobbing into his knees as he rocked backward and forward, shaking violently as he felt Warren's presence near him. He could feel Warren's arm wrapping around his shoulders out of effort to soothe him. Leaning into Warren's touch, Bobby felt the urgency to ask.
"Is – Is this h-how it – it f-felt . . . you know? W-When y-your p-parents threw y-you out?" he asked.
Warren just breathed out a sigh, hugging Bobby a little bit harder before saying, "Yeah. Yeah, it felt like this," he whispered, before getting up and patting Bobby on the shoulder. "Just know, no matter what if you need anything my door's always open. You can always come to me."
Bobby just rose to his feet and grabbed Warren into a hug of his own, closing his eyes tightly as the tears continuing to make their journey down his cheeks. He could feel his back being rubbed.
"It's gonna be alright. Just give it time," Warren murmured.
"Y-Yeah . . . h-how much time?" Bobby asked.
"It's different for everyone," Warren said before making his leave. "It took me six years to begin communication with my parents again. Take it a day at a time. Sometimes, you just have to let it all go, at least until it passes by."
"Yeah, I-I know. But at least I know how they feel," Bobby whispered.
Hearing Warren speak about his experience of being disowned by his family, and eventually reconciling with them, gives me only a small once of hope. I just do not know if things will go the same way with my mother and father. But he keeps telling me, day by day, that it will eventually get better. He keeps telling me to have patience.
But just how much patience am I supposed to have?
He was once again interrupted from his thoughts as he went back into his bedroom and laid back down on his bed. Scott was leaned against the frame of his bedroom door, a case holding a CD in his hand as he walked in. He didn't quite know what to say that would make Bobby feel any better. He hadn't had anything like that occur to him at all in his life. But the least he could do was provide some empathy, in his own way of doing it.
Scott just went over and placed the CD down onto Bobby's bed.
"That's from Jean and I," he said. "I figured we should give you something to look forward to, especially since your parents didn't get you anything."
"You . . . You didn't have to," Bobby insisted.
"No, we didn't. We just wanted to because you deserve it," Scott said. "Jean and I both spent our allowances on that. I recommend listening to track number six on that. It could help. Also, just know you could always come to Jean and I for empathy."
Bobby nodded as Scott left the room to leave him in solitude again. Going over to his computer where his headphones were currently plugged in, Bobby placed the CD into the disk drive to allow it to play. He went to track number six, as Scott suggested.
The blaring sound of a guitar solo playing in his ears blocked everything out as he soon enough heard vocals singing lyrics Bobby hadn't realized that he needed to hear that night.
The walls between
You and I
Always pushing us apart nothing left but scars fight after fight
The space between
Our calm and rage
Started growing shorter, disappearing slowly day after day
I was sitting there waiting in my room for you
You were waiting for me too
And it makes me wonder
The older I get
Will I get over it?
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I didn't know then it would hurt like this, but I think
The older I get
Maybe I'll get over it
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I can't believe it still hurts like this
It's simple gestures like this that make me realize how lucky I am to have Scott and Jean as friends. Jean had been the first to truly accept me and embrace me for who I am. And Scott's support that followed was something that I hadn't expected at all from him given what a hard-ass he is. Scott is one I would think that has got such a huge stick up his ass, that I wouldn't think he'd have a side to him that's sensitive. If anything, his birthday gift to me shows that he does care. He doesn't express it with words, but with actions. His actions are more than enough for me. He and Jean had been nothing but kind to me from day one, and have done nothing but take me into consideration.
I don't think I've ever been more grateful to have friends who could act as family to me. Right now, I can take comfort in the fact that the X-men will always be there for me.
Bobby kept his eyes closed as he allowed the song to continue playing in his ears. He sat back in his desk and allowed the lyrics to soothe him into a state of exhaustion as he slumped against his desk.
The time between
Those cutting words
Built up our defenses never made no sense, it just made me hurt
Do you believe
That time heals all wounds?
It started getting better, but it's easy not to fight when I'm not with you
I was sitting there waiting in my room for you
You were waiting for me too
And it makes me wonder
The older I get
Will I get over it?
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I didn't know then it would hurt like this, but I think
The older I get
Maybe I'll get over it
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I can't believe it still hurts like this
What was I waiting for?
I should have taken less and given you more
I should have weathered the storm
I need to say so bad
What were you waiting for?
This could have been the best we ever had
The older I get
Will I get over it?
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I didn't know then it would hurt like this, but I think
The older I get
Maybe I'll get over it
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I can't believe it still hurts like this
I'm just getting older
I'm not getting over you, I'm trying to
I wish it didn't hurt like this
It's been way too long for the times we missed
I can't believe it still hurts like this
Up next: Warren Worthington III
A/N: The song Bobby was listening to is titled "The Older I Get" by Skillet, one of my all-time favorite songs. Like with these characters, I do not own any music mentioned here.
Also, Merry Christmas to you all!
