Dying on the Inside

Dying on the Inside

Pairing: John/Bobby (implied), Logan/Bobby

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Angst primarily

Summary: Bobby Drake has some feelings and demons he desperately needs to sort out and he’s going through all the wrong outlets. Meanwhile, Logan recovers from Jean’s sacrifice and tries to come to grips with his feelings for skinny little blue-eyes. Follows X2 (not X3).

Disclaimer: None of it’s mine.

Warnings: Suicide, depression, borderline chan-slash, self-mutilation, slash.

Notes: I don’t know everyone's age in this and I don’t know who teaches what at Xavier’s so I often just threw the professor or whoever was handy at it.


Chapter 1

It’s been a week and a bit since Jean died and the gray tone of death still hasn’t left the institute. People don’t laugh as much around the school. The ice cream in the fridge and any other sort of comfort food is never there. Even the teachers seem depressed and Scott is – bluntly put – inconsolable.

Bobby wonders if this death will ever leave. On days when the sky refuses to show sunlight and the rain drips down the sides of the school, Bobby feels it won’t end… as if this gentle darkness will continue to stay, ingrained inside the school forever until it withered away with the rest of them.

Underneath it all, Bobby is afraid. And whether or not he admits it to himself when he’s lying in his bed at three in the morning, hugging his soft little feather pillow, wrapped in the loss of John and Jean and his family, he knows he is.

Beneath his pathetic façade of class clown, beneath his skin, rooted deep in his tortured little mind are the seeds of hurt that Bobby refuses to look at. Because if he sees them, he knows they exist and if he knows they exist, they can’t be made fun of and they cannot be destroyed with a weapon like laughter.

“John,” he whispers in the caressing darkness, on his side, facing the dresser. It’s 3:27 in the morning. Everyone in the institute is asleep or – if your name is Logan – running off to god knows where with Scott’s motorcycle to get stronger beer and cheaper cigars than what you could normally get around here.

Bobby still childishly refuses to call John by his chosen name. Pyro is the name of the person who took John away from him, who tainted him forever and left them to die in the valley. Pyro is a cruel person who was willing to kill others mercilessly and who wouldn’t stop when he knew they were defenseless… when he knew they were powerless and weak. These are things John would never do.

But the part of Bobby that is rational and locked away tightly in the darker parts of his mind knows better and smelled the darkness inside John as soon as their mouths met for the very first time and poor innocent Bobby said, “I’m not ready for this.”

Because deep inside his cute little baby little head of his, the poor naïve fool that Bobby Drake really isn’t as stupid as he makes everyone – including himself – think he is.

Bobby might fool people with the sweet, innocent, seemingly indestructible masquerade he acts out almost flawlessly but the Iceman knows it’s not real.

The fact that Pyro chose Magneto over Bobby proves it’s real.

And when all’s said and done, and pathetic little Bobby is done crying his tears down his soft, baby face, when little Bobby is done staring at the picture of his former boyfriend that’s still standing on John’s old dresser, the same John who whispered those soft words of love into his ear, Bobby cannot help but feel his perfect mask start to crack right down the middle.

His dreams, his only remaining escape, have abandoned him for nightmares, leaving him so he can rot inside his hollow memories and melt away… just like his frozen statues.


“Bobby, this is unacceptable.”

At times like this, in detention, Bobby wonders how the once-worshipped Storm would react if he were to lip-synch with her as she lectured him.

However, he decides against it. That would be indicating he recognizes that Ororo Munroe exists and that would be the ultimate insult against her, far worse than giving her recognition that her words could affect him. He was, after all, the ice sculptor. Popsicle, they called him at times. And like any Popsicle, Bobby could be cold, hard and devoid of taste.

“Bobby, are you even listening to me?” she asks as she continues to berate him.

This is his seventh consecutive episode of missing her class and his third time in her office being lectured. He almost had her speech memorized. Any second, she will start talking about having to bring this up to the Professor, although in perfectly blunt fairness Charles probably knows. He never reaches for people with his power, but it went without saying that whenever a telepath does the ‘mind slip’ and accidentally communicates something incorrectly, Professor Xavier knows about it even if he is keeping himself slightly out of tune. It was amazing how loudly some children with mental powers could scream.

With Bobby retaining his title of class clown despite his numerous absences from his classes, everyone knew how well people believed he was coping with his losses. Word spread fast in a house of people who could run faster than bullets, on water and through walls. And that was without mentioning the telepaths who could just send the thought into your head.

“It’s clear that you will not listen to me. Therefore, I’ve arranged for the Professor to have a discussion with you,” Ororo finishes, staring at Bobby in disbelief and almost… pity. He was never a student for the marks, which always made her angry because he always knew the answers to anything he was asked. At times Storm wonders if that’s a reflection of Bobby’s own intelligence or whether Bobby just hadn’t matured enough to feel obligated to work… or, barring those, whether Bobby’s lack of work is a reflection of his friend, John, and his influence on the boy.

Bobby looks up into Storm’s misty eyes. Those eyes are almost turning white. She’s troubled by something too. But Bobby doesn’t look into it. He doesn’t care enough to.

On the surface, he averts his eyes from Storm’s and on the inside he feels helplessness take him. This was your doing, his moral side chastises as he seeks refuge inside his head. Naïve fool, his hurtful side whispers, using John’s beautiful voice. ‘We don’t want you anymore,’ is the caustic remark. ‘You did this to yourself. You have no one else to blame, Bobby Drake.’ His eyes fog over as his vision blurs and he blinks with shame as he stares at the floor. He didn’t want to see the Professor. “It won’t happen again,” he says quietly, knowing even if she believes it for the sixth time he truly couldn’t keep that promise.

Storm isn’t so easily deterred. “No Bobby. I think you should see the Professor.”

Bobby looks back to Storm and the calculated part of him gauges whether or not he could potentially tear enough sympathy to afford another day. When it decides against it, Bobby nods quietly in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Storm sighs irritably. “I know,” she admits, almost showing gentleness for a moment but then it is drowned in her adamant nature. “And that’s the part that kills me. Because even when you are sorry, know you’re doing wrong… you still keep doing it.”

Bobby nods, barely tilting his head as he does it. How can he possibly try and counter a statement like that?


“Ororo tells me you’ve been missing classes.”

Bobby can’t say he’s surprised by the quiet, calm tone that the Professor is using. Professor Charles Xavier was truly a paragon of morals and serenity and any attempt to unravel him was pointless. The only man who had a hope of unraveling him into the threads of emotion that all people – humans or otherwise – were composed of was Magneto.

Bobby still doesn’t say anything. He welcomes the silence.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks in his gentle tone that welcomes Bobby to respond with anything.

“I’m okay,” he says numbly. He hasn’t been in the professor’s room for a long time. In fact, Bobby cannot recall the last time he was sitting in one of these chairs in this part of the house.

As he looks at the room, Bobby sees plants and, for a moment, wonders if they belong to the professor and if Charles Xavier secretly enjoys gardening. There are many bookshelves in this room and a large stack of books on the professor’s desk. From what Bobby can make out, they comprise of science journals, Darwin’s Theory and – strangely enough – a copy of the national inquirer.

Professor Xavier seems mildly pleased that he was able to provoke a reaction and continues to press.

“I am to understand that you and Rogue are still together,” he says openly, smiling at him like he was offering Bobby a lifeline.

Bobby feels himself shy away from the offering as he tenses slightly. Unable to form a decent response, Bobby just nods. He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. He supposes he could make a joke, be funny about it and evoke laughs until both of them were content to pretend nothing was wrong, maybe he would have two weeks ago, but now he doesn’t even bother.

Devoid of an answer, Bobby nods his head and returns to his evaluation of the objects in the room.

“Robert,” says the Professor quietly, yet firmly enough to draw Bobby’s attention back to him, “I won’t read your mind because of personal morals and because I do not feel you want me anywhere near your personal thoughts.” No smile graced the Professor’s face. He was not amused by this ordeal. “However, I remind you that this institute is a school and like a school there are rules. I expect you, like anyone else, to show up for classes on time and prepared if it is at all possible.”

Bobby nods his head. “I understand.”

Charles sighs as he watches Bobby become so deflated. It’s tempting to read his mind, to unlock the secrets that lurk within that quiet little head but it is also something he cannot and will not do. He made that resolution a long time ago – not to use his powers unless it was absolutely necessary for him to do so. And this scenario, although serious, was hardly befitting such an act of sheer disregard for someone’s privacy.

“I’m just tired,” says Bobby, still not meeting the Professor’s gaze.

Charles smiles in his wheelchair and exhibits his legendary self-control to keep himself from saying anything he would regret… not something harsh, mind you, but Charles understands that if he pushes too hard, Bobby could go toppling over the edge and fall into the same depths he lost Jean to. It is the fragility beneath Bobby’s façade that truly terrifies the professor.

“I don’t need to read your mind to understand you are feeling pain. Neither does Storm, Robert,” Charles says gently, prompting the boy to open himself. “I do not know what has you troubled… or rather, I have an idea that it is tied to Jean’s death but there is more to it, I am sure. Still… to destroy yourself because of your loss is not why Jean gave herself. She’d want the saved to enjoy their lives; not wither away in grief.”

Bobby looks into the professor and meets his eyes for the first time. He doesn’t know what it is he’s looking for as he stares into Charles’s blue eyes but when he doesn’t find it, he shrinks away, back into his uncomfortable little chair and nods.

And for a moment, Xavier debates whether or not he could justify himself reaching out to this lost person and showing him a way… not necessarily the way, but anything to keep him from withering away like this would be preferable. Even if the path meant that Bobby would never find what he’s looking for.

It would be better than watching him die on the inside.

Bobby appears to disagree with this as he asks if he can leave. And the Professor lets him. Because deep down, as Xavier’s blue eyes track Robert when he walks out barely carrying himself, Charles knows he isn’t needed yet and that whatever small things he could do today are currently unnecessary and will only drive the boy further into his mind and further away from everyone else.

And above all, Charles doesn’t want to see another student drown.


Six days have passed since Bobby was forced into his corner by Charles and Ororo. Almost a week and already Bobby can feel himself becoming weaker and thinner. He hasn’t eaten hardly anything and tries not to sleep at night. He tries not to think about his nightmare because it’s just too much to think about. It’s a horrible, mocking creature that terrifies him and screams at him and binds him and tortures him. He wakes up when his dream Bobby dies. And this monster wears the faces of his family, Jean and, worst of all, John.

And it always says the same cutting words.

“Hi Bobby,” says Rogue as she takes a seat next to her. Her southern accent seems soothing as she greets him and sits down next to him on the bench.

They’re sitting in the garden. The lilacs and lilies are starting to bloom, although Bobby assumes Storm had a hand to play in that. There’s a fountain not to far from this bench with an identical stone bench that he used to sit on, but now Jean’s gravestone lies near it and Bobby refuses to go near it. In his hand, Bobby fingers cradle a small flower.

He then feels sleeved arms wrap themselves around him and somewhere he finds it in himself to hug back. His touch is gelid and numb and he feels guilty for doing this to Rogue and wonders why he doesn’t tell her he thinks he’s dying. Maybe it’s because Rogue is still here and hasn’t vanished into thin air like rest of them… maybe it’s because Rogue still has faith in the world.

Bobby wishes he could believe in something.

“Hi Rogue,” he murmurs quietly as they embrace, holding one another, completely separated by the fabric that was both Rogue’s safeguard and limitation. It let her get close enough to touch others but she never truly touched others… it was always her through something. A thin veil it was, but it was never true human contact.

‘Maybe touch is what I’m missing,’ Bobby thinks as Rogue stares at him with those big, dark brown eyes that constantly crave for something she can’t have. She wants intimacy. She wants to control her powers and force them to yield to her rather than. That’s why she chose Bobby… someone who wouldn’t push her.

“You wanna go out and got something to eat? Like, you, me, Peter and Kitty?” she asks, her slight southern drawl making the outing sound so much more casual. Granted, they were all teenagers but still… to be let out on a weeknight without Xavier locking them down in their tracks was something that almost never happened.

“Sorry, Rogue,” he says quietly. “I’m feeling really sick,” he admits as he stares at her with apologetic eyes. He’s thrown up today but she doesn’t know that. He didn’t fall asleep until 4:16 in the morning but she doesn’t know that either.

Rogue nods in understanding and gives him a kiss on the cheek, just quickly enough so her powers don’t leave him feeling lifeless. “Kay,” she says as she brushes her black gloves over one of his pale cheeks. “Get better,” she says softly before Kitty seems to jump through the wall and runs towards the duo.

“Are you we ready?” she chirps, lips curved in a big, sweet, megawatt smile that seems to light up the entire garden.

Rogue looks at Bobby for a moment and then turns back to Kitty. “Bobby ain’t feeling well,” she begins, but Bobby smiles at her slightly.

“Go,” he says, mouth moving as if it was detached from him. “You guys go and have fun. I’ll be fine.”

Kitty looks at him with bright, chestnut eyes staring at him sympathetically. “Are you sure? We could always just wait until next week or go tomorrow…” she trails off at the end, offering the ending to Bobby, who takes it.

“I’m just feeling sick.” He smiles. “Don’t miss your party because of me.”

Kitty looks like she’s going to protest, but that’s when Peter walks in. He’s colossal, Russian and stares at Rogue, then Bobby, then Kitty’s puppy-eyes expression. He doesn’t speak for a minute but then it dawns on him and looks at Rogue strangely. “He is not?” he says slowly, seeking confirmation from one of the girls.

Rogue shakes her head. “He’s feeling bad.”

At this, Kitty tilts her head back to Bobby’s and stares at him with her pleading gaze that could – under different circumstances – convince a man to kill someone for her. “Are you sure? It won’t be the same without you,” she chides, playing her sweet little teen face.

Bobby averts his eyes. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly. “But I’ll just… I’ll probably get worse if I go out. You guys go and have fun. I’ll be fine.”

Rogue places one quick, small kiss to his cheek that leaves him slightly numb and drained before she turns to her friends and the trio saunter off towards the promise of clubs and food. It isn’t until they’ve left his sight that Bobby starts to feel his stomach and intestines constrict, demanding food that he won’t eat and it isn’t until he sees Peter the colossus place a warm hand on Rogue’s shoulder that he realizes what has happened.

Bobby shakes for a moment as the sick feelings bubbled inside him. Rogue had known about John and their relationship and now she no longer wanted to pursue theirs. That was fair, he told himself silently. It was fair that she could want something that he couldn’t give her.

Bobby doesn’t even know why he’s still at the school anymore. Maybe I should have just locked myself in my room, he thinks miserably. But he hates his room now. They haven’t cleared John’s things away and he hates thinking about John. And yet, despite how much he hates Jogn, he can’t shake the sick, dirty knowledge that if he was here, he would know what to do. John would know how to push Bobby against the wall and kiss him and breathe those three little words that would make everything worth holding on to.

John would know exactly which buttons to press... the buttons that would make Bobby writhe and gasp and *plead* for it.

Silently, his fingers constrict around the flower he’s holding and his fingers freeze it until its petals are so cold they look more like glass than anything else. And inside his fist, he crushes it and lets it fall to the ground like a broken christmas ornament. Then he rises and leaves, feeling the air chill around him as he walks away from the small garden.

He’s almost shocked when he feels himself bump into Rogue as he enters the school. It’s weird. It’s almost seven.

“Aren’t you gong to a party?” he asks curiously.

Rogue nods hastily. “Listen, Bobby,” she begins nervously, although she hides it fairly well, but there’s a slight slip in her tone. “Before I run, I need you to know… you’ve been great. You haven’t asked for anything and you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. The best guy this gal’s ever going to meet.”

Bobby swallows, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But I can’t keep doing this,” she admits and Bobby, knowing exactly what she’s talking about, nods and places his hands on her arms reassuringly, prompting her to keep going.

“Look, Bobby,” she splutters, then stares him straight in the eye, “I said I’d pretend when you were with John but now you’re not.”

The implications of that statement are simple, fair and undeniably true. Bobby was with Rogue so he had a girlfriend he didn’t need to have sexual relations with and to keep his parents off his back, while Rogue took Bobby so she could practice touching other people without having to do the follow-through most touchy relationships demanded.

They had both made the deal, John had been fine with it then, but now there was no longer a need for the deal and “then” no longer existed.

So with the final little bit of the illusion evaporating, Bobby nodded and made a move to walk away but Rogue grabbed him.

“You don’t hate me, do you?” she asks and Bobby shakes his head.

“No,” he says with a smile.

“Can we be friends?” she asks, although in all fairness they’ve never really been anything but friends.

Once again, Bobby nods and she leans up, kisses him quickly and then runs off for the party with her friends.

More than ever, Bobby feels like everything he was holding onto no longer exists and has vanished around him as he watches her go and disappear with Kitty and Peter into the school so they can run to the garage and head out.

And more than ever, Bobby wonders if he will be the next one to vanish… the next one to disappear from his life entirely.


So, yeah… that’s it for now. If you enjoyed it, please review. Also, I am in desperate need of someone with Beta skills because I’m a terrible proof-reader and have probably made several errors. That said… constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.