Bobby's Interlude - High School Love
Author's Note: Sorry about the really slow updates. I'm trying, honestly. I intended to finish the Tempting Fate Arc (hosted on Nightscrawlers because it was started a long time ago), but found myself stuck. And for the past week I've had Bobby jabbering away in my head to write his interlude. So my profuse apologies.
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"Women are like ice cream. The instant they get all mushy they're no fun anymore." ~Bobby Drake
.
.
I hate it when this happens. I hate these stupid little arguments. Why can't we just have a big old blowout fight and get it over with? At least I'd be able to blame someone.
I feel awful. Damn. It's like I want to go get something to eat or watch TV or play X-Box or just do anything, but she's everywhere. It's like one of those bad country songs. I just can't get her out of my head.
I'm so damn mad at her. Mad at myself too, but that keeps slipping to the back of my mind. Where does she get away with treating me like a consolation prize? This isn't high school. They may think I'm a kid but I'm not.
And why do I feel so lousy? I mean, I told her how I felt and it doesn't help one damn bit.
A few hours ago, drinking, Remy said something (I think. It's not like he was making that much sense anyway. Too many tequilas.) about talking it over. Oh crap, I'm taking relationship advice from Remy. How does that go? "Hey sugah I'm leavin' you in Antarctica?" "Love you too, chere."?
One a.m. and I've got one thing to be grateful for. I'm not them.
I hate that. I hate that I can't be the lowest of the low. Bobby Drake, in the middle, unnoticed, yet again.
I just need to go apologize. I need to go get her out of my head.
These hallways are dang cold at night. And lonely. My guess is that Kurt's awake writing a letter or down in the Danger Room, Rogue's conked out on the couch, Remy's conked out on the bed, Hank's conked out in the lab, Jean's conked out in her room, and Scott's got the insomnia from Hell but won't admit it. And Lorna's asleep on the bed I fixed last afternoon.
My chances: she's barely awake and she tells me to shut up and go to bed, or she's barely awake and cranky and she tells me to shut the fuck up and get my ass to bed.
Why am I shaking? It's not like I love her anymore or anything.
Right, Bobby. Just keep fooling yourself.
"Bobby?" What, she was awake? And yes, she's on the couch.
Don't look back now, Mr. Drake.
"Lorna?" Well, now I know why the movies always do that. All those actors asking each other's names before they say anything. It's like a Valley Girl 'like'. It's a stall. An 'umm'.
I hear a sniff. Oh my God, is she crying?
"Bobby, can you come over here?" Well, I came here to see her and she's not telling me to shut the fuck up and get my ass to bed. "Can you sit right there?"
In the back of my head, the little voice says I'm letting her control me again. But it's now or never. Or maybe later if not now. "Lorna, I just- "
"God, Bobby, I'm so sorry. I'm a royal bitch." It's not what she's saying that's surprising me as much as that she just wrapped her arms around my neck and is holding me closer than she ever has before. "Bobby, I'm just so sorry. I love you, I really do, but I just - I love you but-"
It's what I want, isn't it? It's what I really want, right?
"Lorna, why?" I have to ask. I have to.
"I'm just so scared I'll get attached again. Last time I got attached, he ran off with that little-!" She breaks out into sobs. Guess I'm going to have to change shirts.
Shirts. That's all I can think about.
"I just don't want you to be him!" She sobs.
Silence has a name. It's called Alex.
What can I do? What can I do, knowing she still in love with Alex, even if she loves me too?
"I'm not Alex, Lorna." I'm holding her now too. I just want her so close. "I'm Bobby."
The way her voice is so icy cold scares me. "I know."
Remy and Rogue have that touch problem. Lorna and I have an ex.
Fantastic.
I can't even hear what she's saying now. It's just going into my shirt. And quite honestly, if it's anything like how she greeted me, I agree. She has been a bitch. I've been a jackass. What a pair.
"Lorna, could you stop breaking my ribs? I can't breathe when you hold me like that."
Of course she's not listening. She never listens.
"Ummm...goodnight, Lorna?" She's still crying into my shirt. "Well, okay...I'll stay a little while."
God, I'm tired.
I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, because I'm in a tuxedo and she's in a white wedding dress with red roses. And for once, she's not thinking about Alex. And for once, silence has only one name. Silence.
When I wake up, she's still in my arms and the birds are breaking the silence.
Author's Note: Sorry about the really slow updates. I'm trying, honestly. I intended to finish the Tempting Fate Arc (hosted on Nightscrawlers because it was started a long time ago), but found myself stuck. And for the past week I've had Bobby jabbering away in my head to write his interlude. So my profuse apologies.
.
.
"Women are like ice cream. The instant they get all mushy they're no fun anymore." ~Bobby Drake
.
.
I hate it when this happens. I hate these stupid little arguments. Why can't we just have a big old blowout fight and get it over with? At least I'd be able to blame someone.
I feel awful. Damn. It's like I want to go get something to eat or watch TV or play X-Box or just do anything, but she's everywhere. It's like one of those bad country songs. I just can't get her out of my head.
I'm so damn mad at her. Mad at myself too, but that keeps slipping to the back of my mind. Where does she get away with treating me like a consolation prize? This isn't high school. They may think I'm a kid but I'm not.
And why do I feel so lousy? I mean, I told her how I felt and it doesn't help one damn bit.
A few hours ago, drinking, Remy said something (I think. It's not like he was making that much sense anyway. Too many tequilas.) about talking it over. Oh crap, I'm taking relationship advice from Remy. How does that go? "Hey sugah I'm leavin' you in Antarctica?" "Love you too, chere."?
One a.m. and I've got one thing to be grateful for. I'm not them.
I hate that. I hate that I can't be the lowest of the low. Bobby Drake, in the middle, unnoticed, yet again.
I just need to go apologize. I need to go get her out of my head.
These hallways are dang cold at night. And lonely. My guess is that Kurt's awake writing a letter or down in the Danger Room, Rogue's conked out on the couch, Remy's conked out on the bed, Hank's conked out in the lab, Jean's conked out in her room, and Scott's got the insomnia from Hell but won't admit it. And Lorna's asleep on the bed I fixed last afternoon.
My chances: she's barely awake and she tells me to shut up and go to bed, or she's barely awake and cranky and she tells me to shut the fuck up and get my ass to bed.
Why am I shaking? It's not like I love her anymore or anything.
Right, Bobby. Just keep fooling yourself.
"Bobby?" What, she was awake? And yes, she's on the couch.
Don't look back now, Mr. Drake.
"Lorna?" Well, now I know why the movies always do that. All those actors asking each other's names before they say anything. It's like a Valley Girl 'like'. It's a stall. An 'umm'.
I hear a sniff. Oh my God, is she crying?
"Bobby, can you come over here?" Well, I came here to see her and she's not telling me to shut the fuck up and get my ass to bed. "Can you sit right there?"
In the back of my head, the little voice says I'm letting her control me again. But it's now or never. Or maybe later if not now. "Lorna, I just- "
"God, Bobby, I'm so sorry. I'm a royal bitch." It's not what she's saying that's surprising me as much as that she just wrapped her arms around my neck and is holding me closer than she ever has before. "Bobby, I'm just so sorry. I love you, I really do, but I just - I love you but-"
It's what I want, isn't it? It's what I really want, right?
"Lorna, why?" I have to ask. I have to.
"I'm just so scared I'll get attached again. Last time I got attached, he ran off with that little-!" She breaks out into sobs. Guess I'm going to have to change shirts.
Shirts. That's all I can think about.
"I just don't want you to be him!" She sobs.
Silence has a name. It's called Alex.
What can I do? What can I do, knowing she still in love with Alex, even if she loves me too?
"I'm not Alex, Lorna." I'm holding her now too. I just want her so close. "I'm Bobby."
The way her voice is so icy cold scares me. "I know."
Remy and Rogue have that touch problem. Lorna and I have an ex.
Fantastic.
I can't even hear what she's saying now. It's just going into my shirt. And quite honestly, if it's anything like how she greeted me, I agree. She has been a bitch. I've been a jackass. What a pair.
"Lorna, could you stop breaking my ribs? I can't breathe when you hold me like that."
Of course she's not listening. She never listens.
"Ummm...goodnight, Lorna?" She's still crying into my shirt. "Well, okay...I'll stay a little while."
God, I'm tired.
I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, because I'm in a tuxedo and she's in a white wedding dress with red roses. And for once, she's not thinking about Alex. And for once, silence has only one name. Silence.
When I wake up, she's still in my arms and the birds are breaking the silence.