Bleached (X-Men Movieverse, John/Bobby)
Title: Bleached
Fandom: X-Men (Movieverse)
Characters: John Allerdyce/Bobby Drake
Prompt: 017 - Brown
Word Count: 380
Rating: PG
It’s strange, seeing himself but not seeing. It shouldn’t make him look so different, but it does. John doesn’t even know why he did it, and he isn’t sure if he regrets it or if he’s proud.
His face is the same, even if his eyes look a little darker, a little more jaded. It’s just his hair, something he’s never really put much thought into before, but it suddenly seems so dramatic.
He’d seen the bleach in a small drug store, shoved it under his sweater without thinking. Brazen about it, practically daring the owner to say something, although they had quietly averted their eyes.
Maybe John’s getting a reputation. Maybe people are starting to recognise him. Or maybe it was just a bad neighbourhood, and the owner probably didn’t care about a stupid hair bleaching kit compared to armed robbery and the like.
He’d cut it himself, because it seemed half-hearted to change the colour but not the style. It’s a little choppy, but that just makes it personal, obviously his own creation, and John holds on to that. Lets a smile take over his face as he considers all the ways he’s taking control of his life now, the small and the huge decisions.
He’s not hiding from the future or himself or his true nature any longer.
John smiles back at his reflection, at short blonde hair and a sharp grin, and decides he likes it. He doubts Magneto will even comment when he returns to the hideout, hopefully with good news about more recruits, but that doesn’t matter. It’s his hair and it’s his life, and Xavier may have tried to dictate John’s actions, but that’s just another reason he’s better off with Magneto.
John tilts his head, examines it from different angles in the smudged mirror in the cramped motel bathroom and, yeah, he definitely likes it.
Except for that flash of uncertainty as he briefly wonders if Bobby will recognise him.
John’s smile falters, looks more like a grimace as, for just a second, he misses his brown hair.
And then it’s swallowed down and John reminds himself that it doesn’t matter, that he’s changed and that he doesn’t care if Bobby recognises him or not.
Although he already knows Bobby always will.
Fandom: X-Men (Movieverse)
Characters: John Allerdyce/Bobby Drake
Prompt: 017 - Brown
Word Count: 380
Rating: PG
It’s strange, seeing himself but not seeing. It shouldn’t make him look so different, but it does. John doesn’t even know why he did it, and he isn’t sure if he regrets it or if he’s proud.
His face is the same, even if his eyes look a little darker, a little more jaded. It’s just his hair, something he’s never really put much thought into before, but it suddenly seems so dramatic.
He’d seen the bleach in a small drug store, shoved it under his sweater without thinking. Brazen about it, practically daring the owner to say something, although they had quietly averted their eyes.
Maybe John’s getting a reputation. Maybe people are starting to recognise him. Or maybe it was just a bad neighbourhood, and the owner probably didn’t care about a stupid hair bleaching kit compared to armed robbery and the like.
He’d cut it himself, because it seemed half-hearted to change the colour but not the style. It’s a little choppy, but that just makes it personal, obviously his own creation, and John holds on to that. Lets a smile take over his face as he considers all the ways he’s taking control of his life now, the small and the huge decisions.
He’s not hiding from the future or himself or his true nature any longer.
John smiles back at his reflection, at short blonde hair and a sharp grin, and decides he likes it. He doubts Magneto will even comment when he returns to the hideout, hopefully with good news about more recruits, but that doesn’t matter. It’s his hair and it’s his life, and Xavier may have tried to dictate John’s actions, but that’s just another reason he’s better off with Magneto.
John tilts his head, examines it from different angles in the smudged mirror in the cramped motel bathroom and, yeah, he definitely likes it.
Except for that flash of uncertainty as he briefly wonders if Bobby will recognise him.
John’s smile falters, looks more like a grimace as, for just a second, he misses his brown hair.
And then it’s swallowed down and John reminds himself that it doesn’t matter, that he’s changed and that he doesn’t care if Bobby recognises him or not.
Although he already knows Bobby always will.