That fury, that...rejection dragged something out of John, something ugly and bitter. "Why the fuck would I be jealous of you? You're a fucking mess," he snapped. "You run away from everything, from everyone, from your life,from the X-Men, from me. Don't think I haven't heard what happened with Rogue. That was happening to us, sweetheart, and you weren't doing shit because you don't like to deal with anything. And now you're running again. Good for you."

John wound his arms tight around his chest, rocking a bit back and forth on his heels. He wasn't sure if he wanted to fight or to fall apart, and there was too much for him to feel to be easily contained. He was gonna cry. He was gonna fucking cry. God, he was fucking crying.

"When you feel better - and you will feel better, someday," it was something of a prophecy and a threat, John blinking away tears as he spoke. "You can call me. Because there will never, ever, ever be anyone else for me. And that's the shit I have to deal with." He held onto Bobby's gaze for a few moments before it was too much and he stared down at the carpet.