John is tired of having to hide their relationship, tired of watching Marie hang all over Bobby, tired of not being able to kiss or hold hands with his boyfriend, he's just tired.
Bobby is scared to tell everyone, and John tried to understand that, but he can't because it's against his nature to care what the others thing, but Bobby's scared of the looks they'll get, the whispers, the disappointment, but mostly he's scared he'll lose John.
And he's right to be scared because John's walking away from him for good, the last thing he says to Bobby is "You're scared of the truth and I'm tired of the lies" and then he's gone.
((Also, you kill me with the 3 sentence thing. XD))
Their statuses mean nothing in this world across the mirror. Not with their green tattoos and the cold, cruel, cunning queen interested in turning their now-lively, emotive bodies into cicada husks. So they hide among the books and the sick and the scared, never an arm's length apart, finding comfort in that they at least have each other.
Sanctuary, Kate Freelander, samosas - PGmyfloralbonnetFebruary 13 2010, 08:33:39 UTC
She doesn't want to be here in Mumbai, but her mom insisted and Kate won't argue, even as she hates her cousin for planning a wedding on the day her dad died. She bites into the samosa from the street cart tentatively; it's too spicy and greasy and not at all like her mom's cooking.
Ten hours later, she's vomiting into the crappy toilet, sick and crying and wishing she could be home instead.
The X-Men are scattered, and both the government and Magneto are after us.
I almost meet my end at mall outside Boston, when the official mutant-hunting squads make a brick wall fall on me; there's really no freezing your way out of that one.
I need a hero to save me now, but I can barely move and there's no way to call Storm or Scott for help, even if I knew how, but then I feel a hand pulling me, and it hurts like hell but I know it's pulling me out, and then I see him and I know he must have been following me, and I see the flames surrounding us and the smoke keeping us out of sight, and I realize, sometimes it doesn't have to be a hero who saves you
Like every important event she seemed destined to never witness, and yet still feel the echoes vibrate through her core like a plucked string on a harp: the Doctor, the man, the creature, whom which she shared the most extravagant memories she'd never recollect, became born again; bearing yet another new mask.
And as with all other events past that she had not set eyes upon herself, this too would ripple through her life, around her like a rock disrupting the flow of things that were and will be still.
Her time, like he who interlopes and reshapes as if he were the one truly in charge, is not yet done.
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Bobby is scared to tell everyone, and John tried to understand that, but he can't because it's against his nature to care what the others thing, but Bobby's scared of the looks they'll get, the whispers, the disappointment, but mostly he's scared he'll lose John.
And he's right to be scared because John's walking away from him for good, the last thing he says to Bobby is "You're scared of the truth and I'm tired of the lies" and then he's gone.
((Also, you kill me with the 3 sentence thing. XD))
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I'm always amazed how much you can do with only 3 phrases.
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Thanks! <3
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Thank you.
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Ten hours later, she's vomiting into the crappy toilet, sick and crying and wishing she could be home instead.
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I need a hero
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I almost meet my end at mall outside Boston, when the official mutant-hunting squads make a brick wall fall on me; there's really no freezing your way out of that one.
I need a hero to save me now, but I can barely move and there's no way to call Storm or Scott for help, even if I knew how, but then I feel a hand pulling me, and it hurts like hell but I know it's pulling me out, and then I see him and I know he must have been following me, and I see the flames surrounding us and the smoke keeping us out of sight, and I realize, sometimes it doesn't have to be a hero who saves you
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Thanks.
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And as with all other events past that she had not set eyes upon herself, this too would ripple through her life, around her like a rock disrupting the flow of things that were and will be still.
Her time, like he who interlopes and reshapes as if he were the one truly in charge, is not yet done.
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