Okay, it wasn't as bad as Bobby had thought it might be--or it was, it made his heart break a little for John, but it wasn't anything directed at him personally, which was sort of a relief. "I'm sorry," he said softly, because much as he wanted to, he didn't have an answer for John. He knew who he was, and he didn't need other people to know about mutants to be that person. He didn't know how to help John find that, too.
Part of him thought that John would actually do really well if he went back to Westchester, that he could reclaim a part of that by helping the new students adjust, by helping when they were found, going to visit them and guide them, help them realize there was a place where they could be safe, be who they were, without being afraid. But their alma mater was still a sensitive subject for both of them, if for different reasons, and he held the thought for later--likely much, much later, if ever.
"I wish I could help," he said instead, the helpless ache he felt at not being able to fix this writ large on his face. "But I'll always listen if you need to talk about it, to...I don't know, sort through it all? Maybe that will help you figure things out."
no subject
Part of him thought that John would actually do really well if he went back to Westchester, that he could reclaim a part of that by helping the new students adjust, by helping when they were found, going to visit them and guide them, help them realize there was a place where they could be safe, be who they were, without being afraid. But their alma mater was still a sensitive subject for both of them, if for different reasons, and he held the thought for later--likely much, much later, if ever.
"I wish I could help," he said instead, the helpless ache he felt at not being able to fix this writ large on his face. "But I'll always listen if you need to talk about it, to...I don't know, sort through it all? Maybe that will help you figure things out."