It had not been the worst day ever. That day was reserved for like, giant tidal waves sweeping out the Eastern Seaboard and Texas-sized asteroids from the sky, or repeats of February 7, 2001, when Rocky, 'This is my third year of seventh grade', 'Blade', Beasley said to him at recess "I'm gonna kick your ass after school", rendering a year of trying not to get on Blade's bad side completely, totally, pointless and ruining the rest of the day because he couldn't muster up a good enough stomach ache to get sent home sick. The worst night ever had been explaining to his father where the black eye, fat lip, and busted thumb had come from, because he didn't know how to throw a punch. And the next night, when he froze his sheets for the first time, that hadn't helped things.

And the worst part about the not-quite-the-worst-day-ever was that Bobby hadn't even woken up in the morning thinking, "this is going to be a bad day." Not that the chances of that happening were good, but it would have been nice to wake up knowing that today was going to be off the Richter Scale of Suck-sicity. Which he guessed just added to the general crappiness of the day because if he had known, there would have been definite consideration of the "fuck it- I'm not getting out of bed'" option.

Breakfast had been his first clue- spilling syrup over himself was bad enough, but freezing everyone's plate so their attention shifted to him, and then having to get up and exit the dining hall with his napkin stuck to his pants, leaving behind frosted footprints on the carpet, was definitely not cool. The added bonus being that he got to be the source of Jubilee's wisecracks for the rest of the day, just in case he forgot for a fraction of a millisecond. Plus, after breakfast, he was late to Professor Summer's class and then subsequently French and Classic Lit until lunch because each professor kept him after to find out why he had taken his time in arriving.

Skipping lunch had also been a bad idea. Originally he had decided he wasn't that hungry anyway, and remembered he had some left over granola bars his mother had sent him a few weeks ago. He could check his email (maybe John had emailed him which was feasible since it had been a week and half since the last time they talked) and work on Dr. McCoy's Classic Lit paper, which read as surf the Internet with the additional bonus of there being no Jubilee in his room (he assumed, but wouldn't put it past her). The granola bars hadn't been that bad although he was left wishing for something thicker than a can of soda to wash them down with, and perhaps a sandwich to completely fill him up. And there had been no Jubilee although every time he stood up he could still feel the fabric of his cargo jeans stick slightly to his thighs because he hadn't had enough time to clean up in the morning, other than switching his pants and quickly running a washcloth over his legs.

The email bit- that had kinda sucked. His mother had sent him an email asking him when he was going to come home for a weekend and were they ever going to visit him at school? And speaking of, when were they going to get to meet some of his friends, maybe that roommate he had mentioned? A whole new set of stomach clenches had begun as he debated how to answer the email and tried not to let himself be brought back to the issue of John because even though it wasn't like he was still pining after two months or anything or anymore or like he didn't have other friends (even the slightly sadistic ones who found it more than adequate entertainment to insult him) but it still wasn't a great feeling when he thought of John and what he might be doing in Australia and who he might be doing it with. The most John had offered on that subject was that he had a 'few friends', which, as far as Bobby knew could be code for 'orgies in the middle of second period and Christ, Drake did you honestly think you had anything to offer me? You were just convenient, dumb ass.'

About that time he had realized he was going to be late for Chemistry. Professor Munroe didn't take bull from anyone and her radar was generally right on target when it came to 'lame ass excuses'. Thankfully he had met up with Warren who had covered his butt by saying that Bobby had helped him pick up his dropped books but for the rest of the day, Bobby's mind was gone. Down to icing his desk when Professor Xavier dropped a pop quiz on them in History. He didn't actually process that those blank spaces on the paper were meant to have answers about the Cultural Revolution in China and his reasons for arriving at those answers until there were three minutes left in the period. But maybe bombing his classes could be used as a good excuse for not letting his parents visit, since 'I'd rather just come home' was starting to wear thin. And at least Professor Xavier hadn't started to beam questions into his head, wondering why Bobby was so distracted.

He had wandered back to his room then, and spent a good half hour tossing and catching his Hackey Sak until he realized he was supposed to be training with Warren and Professor Summers. He had run down to the Danger Room and then had to endure a long lecture while his cheeks went through all the Crayola variations of red.

"Bobby, what's with you today?" Warren asked quietly as they changed in the locker room, not that volume mattered because Professor Summers was working Jubilee and Piotr now and that generally led to loud crashes and the occasional explosion.

"Nothing. Just not my day."

"Not your day- you've been off since breakfast. And back there? Icing your feet to the floor? I've never seen you do that."

"Just a bad day, ok?"

"The kind where you want to talk about it or the kind where you tell me to mind my own business and storm off to your room leaving icicles on the walls?" Bobby sighed and sat back down on the bench, lacing up his shoes. Damn social etiquette. Warren sat next to him and waited.

"With the syrup and the subsequent jokes and being late to all my classes and bombing Professor Xavier's pop quiz and back there, I'm a little out of it." Warren nodded.

"She was just joking."

"I know. Gets to you after a while though."

"Yeah."

"And I got an email from my mom today. She wants to know when I want to come home for a weekend and whether she can come up and visit and I'm running out of excuses other than 'no you can't because my school is really the front for a drug ring and Professor Xavier who is actually a raving crack addict said that if anyone told their parents we'll all be sent to work in the mines in Chile and the reason I can't come home every weekend is because I'm busy working as a drug mule, but you always said you wanted me to travel.'

"You could tell her the truth, that-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna tell my mom that I'm a mutant. I can't tell that I'm b-"Bobby stopped and then shut his mouth, but not fast enough.

"You're what?"

"Nothing." Bobby stood and gathered his things together quickly, shoving his clothes into the locker. He started to leave, ignoring the fact that his left shoe was still untied and hanging barely on his foot every time he picked it up to step.

"No really, b-what? You're what?" Warren shut Bobby's locker for him and caught up, grabbing his shoulder before he could leave the room.

"Nothing."

"Christ Bobby, what is it? I won't tell anyone. I mean-"

"I can't even tell her I'm bisexual." Bobby stared at his left shoe and dropped to his knees to tie it, which, while putting his head dangerously close to Warren's knees and making him an easy target if Warren chose to beat the shit out of him- bash, it would be bash the shit out of him because he's bi, he realized, it did mean he didn't have to look at Warren face-to-face anymore or fight the urge to push Warren's jaw up. After a moment in which Bobby started to stand, to bolt, Warren dropped to his knees too and grabbed his shoulders.

"And you and John, you were.... lovers?"

"We didn't have sex. I mean, we were dating for all of three and a half weeks before his dad showed up. Look, you can't tell anyone, please. Please, Warren-" Bobby stood and tried to shrug Warren's hands off. They stayed, gripping tighter into his sweatshirt and the bare skin underneath because he had been too overheated to put on a T-Shirt.

"A lot of things make sense now."

"Warren, please-"

"I won't. Friends don't do that." Bobby heaved a sigh of relief and felt his heart calm down a little bit. Warren let go.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, your secret is safe with me." Bobby nodded. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I haven't told anyone but John. Ever. Hence the," Bobby lowered his voice, "dating thing." He clenched his fists, feeling the frost of his fingertips melt.

"Oh." Warren ran his fingers through his hair, still attempting to hold Bobby's gaze for more than a moment at a time. "Does he have anything to do with the bad day?"

"I, I still miss him. He left two and almost a half months ago and I still miss him and I feel stupid for doing it cause I mean, he's probably moved on. And it's not like we can still date or anything. The only way we can really talk is email. I mean, sometimes we have these weeks where it's like we're emailing back and forth every three minutes cause he hates instant messenger and then there are these long spaces, where nothing is really said, like now."

"Does anyone know about him... being..."

"With me or anything? No. He said his dad would kill him if he ever came out. He wrote an email a while ago saying that he pretty sure he was gay and not too far off on what would happen if his dad ever knew."

"Oh. So a long distance relationship..."

"I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say, it's not really a possibility. Plus, going out on dates would be hell, the separate continents and everything."

"And do you know that he's dating anyone or seeing anyone over there?"

"He hasn't said. We tend to not really mention... us, cause I mean, it's not really something that would be easily resolved."

"I'd assume he wasn't then. And maybe he's still got a thing for you too. I mean, who wouldn't? You're a nice guy. Smart. Funny. Good looking."

"Warren, are... are you-" Warren closed the distance between them and kissed him. When they broke apart, Warren's lips were slightly blue and frosted over and his taste was swishing around the inside of Bobby's mouth.

Bobby said the first thing that came to mind. "Fuck." He bolted to his room and after making sure the door was locked and ignoring Warren's knocking, climbed under his covers. Maybe it wasn't too late to consider the 'stay in bed' option.