"Oh, I know," John said simply in response to Bobby's declaration, a wry smile curving his lips. "It's one of the reasons why I fell in love with you. That you see the world a different way. That you...care." And John cared, he cared fierce and burned bright, but it was a narrow, grudging thing compared to the sort of compassion Bobby demonstrated on a regular basis. Or so he assumed, anyway.
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: 2016-02-19 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."