[For Bobby] Ghosts that we knew.
Dec. 6th, 2015 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
John felt weary as he clambered up the couple of steps to the porch. His legs were lead; his brow creased; his spine stiff and uncomfortable. He'd only stopped for one drink and that had clearly not been enough. It wasn't that he was tired, for his head was chasing itself around with unproductive, dark thoughts at fifty miles an hour.
Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out the keys and even sliding them home in the lock seemed too much of a task. Around him the London gloom seemed oppressive, and it didn't seem to lift inside the house, all dark rooms and black windows, papers not done, books unread, the products of a life - his life - aimless and artless.
He hid the rings behind some boxes at the bottom shelf of one of many bookcases in his study, safe in the knowledge that Bobby didn't really infringe upon his privacy, didn't really impose, didn't really push - but god, sometimes he wished he did. Sometimes he was just plain tired of hiding things, of sorting through the truths to tell and parsing them, of biting his tongue, of pushing it down, of being - well, not a good guy, but a dishonest guy. Because that what it felt like.
Who did he have to confess to, now that no-one could ever figure out his crimes?
Closing his eyes, he pushed himself back up, and god, he felt old. He'd set fire to two businesses earlier that day, and it had felt good. Enjoyable, even. Pure. He'd kept himself to strict limits, there'd be no casualties, and he'd walked away with a chuckle in his eyes, but...it was the kind of shit he'd pulled when he was a kid. Petty. Angry. Us versus them. And running into Em, and hearing her story; and then running into Jag - it reminded him there were different ways of using power, of loving fire, of being him.
Bobby was probably upstairs, but John didn't go up. It felt too much like forgiveness. Bobby always did, even at Alcatraz. Then, it had just made him angrier. Now, it shamed him. So he rummaged around in the kitchen for the bottle of vodka he stashed away for nights like this, and retired to the couch to drink, and drink, and drink.
Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out the keys and even sliding them home in the lock seemed too much of a task. Around him the London gloom seemed oppressive, and it didn't seem to lift inside the house, all dark rooms and black windows, papers not done, books unread, the products of a life - his life - aimless and artless.
He hid the rings behind some boxes at the bottom shelf of one of many bookcases in his study, safe in the knowledge that Bobby didn't really infringe upon his privacy, didn't really impose, didn't really push - but god, sometimes he wished he did. Sometimes he was just plain tired of hiding things, of sorting through the truths to tell and parsing them, of biting his tongue, of pushing it down, of being - well, not a good guy, but a dishonest guy. Because that what it felt like.
Who did he have to confess to, now that no-one could ever figure out his crimes?
Closing his eyes, he pushed himself back up, and god, he felt old. He'd set fire to two businesses earlier that day, and it had felt good. Enjoyable, even. Pure. He'd kept himself to strict limits, there'd be no casualties, and he'd walked away with a chuckle in his eyes, but...it was the kind of shit he'd pulled when he was a kid. Petty. Angry. Us versus them. And running into Em, and hearing her story; and then running into Jag - it reminded him there were different ways of using power, of loving fire, of being him.
Bobby was probably upstairs, but John didn't go up. It felt too much like forgiveness. Bobby always did, even at Alcatraz. Then, it had just made him angrier. Now, it shamed him. So he rummaged around in the kitchen for the bottle of vodka he stashed away for nights like this, and retired to the couch to drink, and drink, and drink.
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Date: 2015-12-31 01:48 am (UTC)"...Hey," he said from the doorway, frowning a little at the sight of John on the couch with the bottle. "You okay?"
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Date: 2016-01-06 08:12 am (UTC)"...And I was a bit of a dumbass today, too, and I just. It wasn't a great day, for me. I'm sorry for being a mess- it's why I didn't want to come up to bed." If he was gonna tear the bandage off, might as well do it all real quick.
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Date: 2016-01-08 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 10:35 am (UTC)"...Apparently, that version of me got out early," he said, looking somewhere over Bobby's head, a fixed point in the wall. He didn't need to explain further what this Pyro had gotten out of, but he continued before the silence got too much. "And he and the other Bobby have some kind of...tangled emotional history, so it's nice to see some things are constant. But the other Bobby has a girlfriend - hell, he has an open relationship, apparently; and this other me has a girlfriend. Or had a girlfriend, anyway."
He sighed a little, and reached for the bottle to take a swig, before putting it back down. "...It's Em. They were together. Meeting me has probably completely done her head in and I didn't even know." He was sad for her, and sorry for himself.
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Date: 2016-01-08 10:42 am (UTC)Finally, he reached for the bottle and took a hefty slug of it for himself, eyes watering a little as he set it back down. "Wow," he repeated softly.
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Date: 2016-01-08 10:59 am (UTC)"Yeah," he said, heavily. "I mean, I didn't ask for details about everything, I just..." His mouth opened a few times, unable to form words even as the tears started to trail down his cheeks. "I fucked up, Bobby, I fucked up so badly, and ever since then the only way I was able to deal with it was to tell myself that it was always gonna happen, that my buttons were pressed, that it was inevitable. But this guy, this me, he was good enough and wise enough to get the hell away and be okay with living with the team and all the rest of it."
The tears came steadily now, and the sniffling, and John wiped them away. "Tonight I even....I did some stupid things, and I'm the fuck up. I'm the villain, okay, and I don't deserve you."
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Date: 2016-01-08 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-10 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-10 10:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-13 08:19 am (UTC)"I know you say that, and I know you mean that, but....you don't talk about things, sweetheart. Some really important things. And I get why, but it's my past too. So if you're avoiding things, then," John said, extra carefully, "why would you want to wake up every day and look at me? I'm a bundle of bad memories."
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Date: 2016-01-20 01:14 am (UTC)He pulled away a bit at the rest of what John said, tensing up a little at the turn in the topic, but out of frustration more than anything. "I'm not avoiding things," he protested, rubbing his forehead. "I just don't see what the point in talking about them is. It's not going to change what happened. I don't want to live in the past. "And...yeah, there are some bad memories. Some memories that I 100% don't like. But there are so many good memories of us too. Way more than the bad ones. And we're building even more good memories together now. Am I supposed to let a few bad memories chase me away from a relationship that makes me happier than I've ever been?"
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Date: 2016-01-20 10:58 pm (UTC)"You don't know what I did, not really. You don't know what I'm likely to do. I did fuck up, but the way I see it was that I selected the wrong target, that's all. If anyone pulled a knife on you in London? They wouldn't last very long. I set off a couple of fires tonight because some people were being bigots and I don't have the patience to deal with assholes any other way. That's the kind of person you're with. I'm a killer. And when you really get that, you'll leave."
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Date: 2016-02-01 10:26 pm (UTC)He sighed, rubbing his thumb over John's hand comfortingly. "And for the record, anyone that pulled a knife on either of us in London...would get what was coming to them." Unlike John, he wasn't a killer, but to protect him he would do whatever was necessary, and he wouldn't expect any less from John.
"Although...I want to talk about these fires," he added with a stern note.
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Date: 2016-02-04 02:32 am (UTC)Bobby knew. Bobby accepted John on his terms (now was not a time to get into a debate on who was innocent and who was not) and Bobby was not the kind of guy who would lie to someone in a relationship.
Okay, conceal maybe. John's head hadn't been so far up his own ass back at school that he wasn't able to see the bunch of things Bobby and Rogue never bothered to talk about. But not lie.
"...You're almost as good for me as I am for you," he murmured, with a trace of a small, roguish grin as he pushed himself up to sit properly on the couch, the grin falling away as his face became serious. And it was true: John knew he was good for Bobby, that was plain. Because of or despite of Bobby's capital-I Issues, he needed someone to anchor him and be anchored.
"...Of course you do," he remarked, still holding Bobby's hand. "It's been a big, emotional day, so why don't we just do it now and get it over with." Better to cry once and work through his shit and not be a blubbering wreck more than once a week, in his opinion.
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Date: 2016-02-05 11:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-07 06:38 am (UTC)But he wrenched his mind away from black thoughts, knowing that part would never be satisfied, and took a breath. "I was...buying your Christmas present, and two of the stores I went to - they didn't like the idea I was buying something for my boyfriend." He kept a loose hold on Bobby's hand, but didn't press himself any closer as he spoke. "You know, the usual crap, about not having the right range of stock or that I might want to shop somewhere more appropriate. And I just...I got so angry that it's still fucking like this, you know? That the world's still so full of hate and fear and just...stupid fucking assholes. I could feel sparks in the wall from old, faulty wiring, and as I walked away, I just...held onto one of those sparks and kept it going for just a bit longer, enough to catch." John sighed. "I stopped the fire, both times, a few minutes later. No-one was ever in any danger, but I just wanted...I just could stand these fuckers insulting me to my face. Insulting us. Being bigots. All of the above."
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Date: 2016-02-07 09:03 am (UTC)"The best way to fight a bigot is to stand up to them, not set their business on fire." He took a deep breath and brought John's hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles before adding softly, "But I'm proud of you for stopping it, for not hurting anyone. Thank you."
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Date: 2016-02-10 10:08 am (UTC)"The best way to fight a bigot is to educate people, but I can't do that as much as I used because we don't exist any more," he replied acidly. And while his thesis was looking at some aspects of homophobia, it didn't quite ring true to John the way his mutant tutorials had. "Of course I just lashed out,, lashing out is all I've got left. Not that you'd know, you just dumped me in a jail cell or walked out or whatever. I get it. You play fair and you play nice and you don't like trouble. Everyone gets good guy hugs, in your world. But me? Trouble follows me, and I have never accepted the idiocy of my fellow human beings as something I have to tolerate. Between that and the girlfriend from another dimension it was kind of a shit day."
John took a breath and stood, crossing his arms defensively as he paced a little in front of the couch. "I love you, and I thank you for the good intentions, but you don't know what's driven me to be the person I am now. A lot happened to me since Alcatraz. You know almost nothing about it. I'm sure I'd be more reasonable as a person if I had a nice family and nice friends and built houses for charity and just accepted everything."
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Date: 2016-02-12 08:01 am (UTC)He was about to add that he thought John went looking for trouble, that it didn't follow him, but then John kept talking, and he shook his head, eyes filling with tears. "You're right. I'm the golden boy, everything in my life has been just great since that night." He stood, moving for the door. "Enjoy your vodka and your self-pity, John. I'm going to bed." In his old room, the one that now sat vacant.
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Date: 2016-02-12 08:56 am (UTC)John's voice broke on the next words. "I'm sorry that I was too busy being locked up to be there for you, to be whatever you needed then. But you're not perfect and you're not the golden child and I don't think you are. The golden child doesn't end up with someone like me," John added, with a sad smile. Because yeah, there was gonna be a bit of self-pity about that. He was entitled. "I just don't get it sometimes, the way you can be so good and so right and make the proper moral choice, the one I never see. But I'm glad you ain't perfect, because that means you can be with me, and I do love you, Bobby Drake. It just hurt," he admitted, face crumpling, tears welling again, his voice a low and broken thing. Waking up in custody had felt like a betrayal, as if he deserved nothing less than to wake up in the mansion basement in some suitably civilised confinement, and get to cook pancakes and engage in snarky banter. "And I hate what they did to me in there. And I hate that they made me feel weak and helpless." A moment passed: he needed a moment to collect himself, drawing in a shaky breath. "And I'm sorry I took that out on you."
John's posture was cowed, even ashamed, seeking something from his boyfriend, trying to ignore the litany of murmurings that concluded that this was it, the end, that Bobby would leave him, that Bobby had to leave him.
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Date: 2016-02-12 09:22 am (UTC)But then he slowly turned as John kept talking, swallowing hard as tears trickled down his face. "I hate what they did to you too," he said hoarsely. "I never wanted that for you." He wiped his face and laughed bitterly. "What I wanted was to have my best friend back. But I didn't think--" he broke off as a sob caught in his throat, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "I didn't think I'd ever get that, much less what we have."
He took a few steps back toward John, stopping just outside of his personal space. "I know--I know you don't see the world like I do, and I--I'm mostly okay with that, but--I can't just...just stand by and say nothing if you're setting fires just because you're angry, or hurt. You know I can't." He shrugged helplessly. He just wasn't built like that. He did believe in doing the right thing, in laws and compassion and taking care of and lifting up his fellow man. It was just who he was.
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Date: 2016-02-19 10:36 am (UTC)He had noticed the stiff line of Bobby's body at first, and when Bobby turned finally, and he saw those tears glistening, the moment ended. It would have been easy to toss off a bitter, angry remark about how Bobby really didn't know what had been done to him, to spit it all out in a river of venom and condemnation, but that was an old Pyro trick, forever pointing out how wrong people were, or how they didn't get it. Forever seeking understanding and approval.
Since then, John had learned that understanding didn't really happen. He'd learned in in the feel of the cure, cold, deadening his veins; he'd learned in in the smack of a fist to his face, a boot on his hand. He'd learned it in endless sessions with a counsellor that had helped him work on his rage but done little to assuage the simple fact John Allerdyce lived in a fucking unfair world. So he didn't shoot a barb at Bobby, or spill his guts out.
And so John hardened himself, a little. What he'd heard about, from Em - what he'd dared think about - well, fuck it. Maybe some guy with his face and his name had handled things better way over in other universe yonder, but he couldn't afford to think like that. Introspection was for prison cells and therapy sessions. He had been right when he'd told Bobby earlier that the only way he'd managed to keep himself together was to tell himself it was always going to happen. He wasn't that other Pyro; that wasn't his universe, his people, his Bobby. And he got the guy, so what was there to worry about?
He. Got. The. Guy. That was proof enough for him. It had to be. Thinking too hard and falling apart was not an option. But John knew he needed something, something more.
John kept his secrets and held his pain closer and didn't want to see his guy cry anymore. He didn't want to be the cause of tears running down Bobby's cheek. "What we have..." he said gently, taking another step forward into Bobby's personal space, seeing how he reacted, "is good. Is better than good." He took another step, and reached out to wipe a tear away from Bobby's face. "Let's get to bed, okay? It's been a long day, and a rough night, for both of us."
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Date: 2016-02-23 09:18 am (UTC)But a much larger part just wanted everything to be okay again right now, wanted to wrap himself around John and show him that no matter what they'd both done, it didn't change what they were together now. It wouldn't. He took a shaky breath and nodded, opening his eyes to give John a wan smile. "Yeah, okay." He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of John's mouth. "Bed sounds good."