And John held him close in turn, hand smoothing up and down Bobby's back, kissing his hair and temple and murmuring "Sssh, it'll be okay" and variations thereof what felt like a dozen times. While a steady, cold hate built in his heart, he didn't show it. He wouldn't even show it to Bobby's so-called mother. No. Because Bobby needed her and John got what it was like to have a complicated relationship with your mom.

So he let Bobby cry himself out and then reached forward to hold his wrists after Bobby wiped his face and sniffily apologised. "Hey," he murmured, quiet but firm. "You have nothing to be sorry for."