That evening, Bobby lie on his bed, wishing time would go by a little faster. He couldn't wait until his first class the next morning, because someone told him the new kid was in it. And he'd already decided they were going to be the best of friends.
He sat up, looking around his room. He was hoping to find something to give to John, because he'd said he didn't have anything. But he realized he didn't know anything about him, or what he liked. So, he figured it would be safer to wait until he knew him a little better.
Letting out a sigh, he lay back down on his bed. The effects of the sugar were finally beginning to wear off, and Bobby was getting tired. He started to sit back up, to at least take his shoes off. But he decided it wasn't worth it, and let sleep take over instead.
John stood behind his closed door for a few moments before walking to his bed. He sat down, hands clasped between his knees. He was scared, terrified really. At least on the street he knew what to expect, here, anything could happen.
He lifted his head slowly, and looked at the mirror across from him. He saw a thirteen-year-old boy, lost and confused. A boy who should have been dead, killed in the same fire that took his parents. But he wasn't. He survived, by some "mutant instinct". But if he'd been a little older, maybe he could have saved his parents too.
His hand went to his cheek as the tears started coming down. He hadn't even known he had the ability to cry. Didn't realize there were any tears left. It had been so long since the last time he'd just sat down and cried.
Lying down carefully, he closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.
A/N: Yeah, a little shorted chapter, a little more serious. That's really what this story is about...John, learning to enjoy his life, despite his past, and how Bobby helps him do that.
I'd like to thank my three reviewers, for ya know...reviewing. It was nice to read that.
Any critique is welcomed, I may not listen, but I will appreciate you trying to help me improve my story. That'll mean a lot. And of course...I love compliments too, if you believe I deserve them, and I'm happy to read any ideas you have for the story itself. I might even use them.
Thanks again!