"Sit down," John told him, with a touch of the old cranky fondness. Bobby looked like someone could knock him over with a feather right now, and John did not want to explain things if he fainted or some shit.

"I'm not kidding," he continued, voice deliberately flat, brisk, just wanting to get this over with, before the emotions poured back in. "I'm breaking up with you because - because because I fell in love with a guy when I was fifteen and I don't recognise him much these days." Okay, so the emotional control was a little shaky. "Because I don't want stand here and watch you do this to yourself. It's not healthy, Bobby. I don't know if it's a guilt thing or a control thing, but you can't get it up half the time and yet you keep pushing yourself to do more. Next thing you know, instead of your dick it'll be your powers that go on the fritz."

Now, now he was blinking away angry tears: "Because I'm not happy and finally I understand that I deserve to be." His entire body was tense, taut, rocking a little in the chair.