Bobby was depressed. No matter that he could now be honest with himself and the other Institute residents. No matter that he had made his peace with Rogue and Jubilee and everyone else. He couldn't stop thinking about the angry exchange he'd overheard between Rogue and John in the kitchen, or the deep, affectionate hug they'd shared. That had been earlier on in the evening, and it was now quite late.

An affectionate hug that he'd never gotten from Rogue.

She's my ex-girlfriend! He screamed mentally at John.

Jean twitched.

"Bobby," she said softly. "Come sit down."

She patted the space next to her on the sofa and he moved across the rec room to her. Folding his left leg under him, he flopped down, and Jean placed a hand on the back of his. Her mental voice seemed stronger with the physical contact.

There's more here going on than you know about. Let them work it out. They'll be done in a second. She handed him a cookie. He took it, biting into it, and subsided his mental mutterings. He sat there for perhaps ten seconds, then suddenly stood up and stormed out of the room, heading for the room he shared with John.

Once there, he walked into the ensuite bathroom, and turned on the shower. Whenever he felt depressed, he had a shower. It always helped his thinking. Shucking his clothes and opening the glass door, he stepped in, and allowed the cool water to massage his head. His blond hair was soon streaming with water. Bobby redirected the shower head against the wall, and rested his forehead on the wall, directly beneath the shower head. He turned the temperature control a few degrees to the left, turning it hotter.

The water was pure, cleansing. Hotter. He tried to remove all thoughts of Rogue and John hugging. Hotter. Steam clouds rising up, the hot water meeting his body, slightly below normal temperature. Hotter. Rogue had moved from the mental scene, and it was now him and John that were hugging. Hotter. Hugging, kissing. Hotter.

He needed to be what he wasn't, warm. He needed the person who he wasn't, the fire mutant. He turned the control to the limit. His skin started to turn red from the heat of the water cascading from the shower head, but Bobby didn't turn the temperature down. He wanted the heat, wanted it to claim him, make him reckless, dangerous like fire, not calm and deliberate, slow and purposeful like ice. His eyes leaked saltwater tears, as he cried for all that he could not have and all that he wanted to be. His sobs were audible over the crashing of the water.

---

John broke from the hug from Rogue, just in time to see a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. He went back to the common room, looking for Bobby. Jean was sitting on the sofa, half a cookie lying next to her. John raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"He's gone upstairs, I think he's gone for a shower," said Jean. "His mind's a mess at the moment. Can you go and see if he's all right? He seemed pretty angry just now about something."

"Sure, Miss Grey," he said.

He exited the room, following Bobby's path to the shared room, but at a much slower pace. He walked into the main room, and he could hear the hiss of water from the shower head. The bathroom door was open, and John could see the steam clouds roiling from the cubicle. He heard quiet sobs form the shower, and it took him a second to figure out that Bobby was crying.

Bobby? Crying? That made no sense… wait, the conversation with Rogue. It flashed through his mind, one particular phrase standing out in particular.

"…torn up over you since the day you came to this school three years ago, broken, tired, hungry and alone, having to suffer the torment of watching you grow up from four feet away in the room you two share, knowing that he can never have what he wants, because 'poor little John' is straight and would run a mile…"

"Oh, Bobby," he whispered. "How wrong you are."

He quickly undressed, and prepared to take the biggest risk of his life, praying to all the gods he knew of and didn't believe in to let the gamble pay off.

---

The water was now thundering through the spray head, and Bobby was so wrapped up in his own private anguish that he failed to hear the glass door being opened from without. The small rush of cooler air into the large cubicle was his only warning that he was no longer alone.

A pair of arms snaked round his hips, and he felt a body press up against him from behind. The door was closed. Bobby was still leaning his head against the wall, and didn't move. He knew instantly who it was from the heat the body gave off. "John, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you in my shower?"

John didn't answer. He slowly pulled Bobby away from the wall and moved his hands up Bobby's chest, wrapping the taller boy in a tight hug from behind. He rested his head on Bobby's back, and said, "I'm sorry I've been such a retard. I thought that you'd stop being my friend if I told you I was gay."

Bobby opened his eyes. He'd had his suspicions throughout the time that he'd known John, right from the moment that John had put his small bag of belongings at the bottom of the bed all those years ago. However, vindication wasn't exactly the dominant thought at this precise moment. He wasn't sure what the hell to do. They were both naked, in a shower together, with John holding him tightly. He attempted to loosen John's hold, even though in his heart he didn't want to. He managed to turn around, getting a good look at the smaller boy. Their eyes met, and suddenly, Bobby's head was pulled down by John and their lips met.

Bobby responded, his hands encircling John and pulling him closer, eyes closing in surprise, which rapidly changed to contentment. His grip moved slowly downwards, and his fingers traced a path from John's upper back down to his hips, and back again. Still they kissed, John now mirroring the actions of Bobby.

John ceased running his hands up and down Bobby's back long enough to turn off the water. The thundering abruptly slowed to a trickle, and the only sound was the dripping of water from the shower head and the two teens. They finally separated, gazing deep into each other's eyes, neither speaking for fear of breaking the moment. Both became aware of an acute problem at the same time, and Bobby blushed.

John moved first, taking Bobby's hand and reaching for a couple of towels at the same time. Pulling the towels round their waists, they made their way into the bedroom. John pushed Bobby down onto his bed, and laid himself down next to Bobby, facing each other. John rested his hand on Bobby's hip, laying a proprietary claim to the ice-caster. Bobby tilted his head forward, and their lips met again.

Bobby was shocked at how rapidly things went from bad to good to better.

And then, to best.