Scenelet and Log: Bobby at home, Bobby and Angelo.

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

Tuesday evening Bobby discovers something about his brother that he doesn't know how to deal with, so he runs away, instead.


"Bobby, could you grab your brother's scarf and gloves out of his room on your way down?" Mrs. Drake called up the stairs to her elder son.

"Sure thing, mom!" Bobby yelled back, combing his hair in front of the mirror and checking that his tie was straight. He hit the light switch as he ducked out of the bathroom and back into his room, grabbing his coat and scarf--he didn't need either, but for the sake of fitting in, he had to wear them. No one 'normal' went on a sleigh ride in Massachusetts in December in just a sweater, after all.

He wrapped the scarf around his neck and headed for the stairs, hearing the car warming up in the driveway. He made it down two steps before remembering Ronnie's stuff and quickly hurrying to his brother's room.

The scarf was draped over the back of the chair, gloves tossed on top of the desk. Bobby grabbed them both--and then froze, praying he wasn't seeing what his eyes were trying to tell him he was seeing.

The gloves fell from his hand and he reached for the pamphlet with the familiar, hated logo. Please. Not Ronnie. Not them, he thought frantically, unfolding the Friends of Humanity literature, glancing over it. He knew his brother was still struggling to accept him, to accept that he was a mutant, but he had no idea the hatred ran this deep.

"Bobby? Come on, we're waiting!" his mother called from the garage door.

"Just a minute...I--I'm on the phone," Bobby lied, a brick of ice forming in his stomach that had nothing to do with his mutation.

He could hear the impatience in his mother's voice as she acknowledged this, but only vaguely. There was a rushing noise in his ears, and he crouched, hanging his head, feeling dizzy. He grabbed the fallen gloves and stood slowly, his gaze wandering over the messy desktop. More evidence, there under a school folder. A stack of fliers for a rally. It was true. Ronnie really was involved with the FoH.

He walked down the stairs, running into his mother returning to the house for a third time. "Bobby, what's taking--what's wrong?" She looked concerned and...scared. For him? Of him? Who knew?

Bobby swallowed and licked his lips, holding out Ronnie's scarf and gloves. "I--I can't go, mom. Something's come up. Uh, at school. I have to go back."

"What's going on, Bobby? Is everything all right? Is there--"

"I have to go, mom. It's fine--they just need me back there for some...stuff."

Madeline Drake took the scarf and gloves. "You look pale, Bobby." She looked torn, like she wanted to push for more information--and at the same time, wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Bobby turned away, heading toward the stairs. "Have a good time, mom. I'll call you soon."

"...All right, dear. Drive carefully--you know how the roads can be." His mother hesitated and then went out the door again.

Bobby heard the car pull away as he threw his clothes into his suitcase. He fought the urge to watch them drive away--he didn't want to see his brother's face. Not two days ago, everything had seemed if not perfect, at least better between them. And now...

Now he just wanted to go home.

Late Tuesday night, Bobby arrives back at the mansion and wakes his suitemate coming in. He doesn't talk about what happened, but at least he's not sleeping alone.


Bobby arrived back at the mansion shortly after midnight, which was kind of a relief. He carefully gathered his clothes and his gifts and went up to his room, where he had to set half of it down again to get his keys out.

Angelo frowned, hearing the rustling outside the door, and went to investigate. He blinked sleepily at Bobby. "...You're back."

Bobby paused, trying to grab a sweater as it threatened to slither from the top of the pile in his arms. "Yeah. Uh. Change of plans," he said quietly, bitterly, and headed for his room.

Blink. Then Angelo picked up some fallen clothes and followed. "In the middle of the night."

"Yep." Bobby opened his door, dropped the pile of stuff onto his desk, suitcase on the floor, and collapsed on his bed, without bothering to turn on the light. Or close the door, because he knew Angelo wasn't going to let this go.

He knew his roomie well. Angelo dumped the things in his arms on Bobby's floor, then leaned in the doorway looking at him. "What happened?"

Betrayal and shame burned in Bobby's stomach, making him feel sick. "I just couldn't take any more of my family. And I missed Terry." Both reasons were completely true--and completely evasive.

Joyita padded out of Angelo's room, flopping at his feet to look up at Bobby. "What'd your family do this time?"

Bobby sighed and stared at the ceiling. He didn't want to say it out loud. Five hours of driving in the dark had been enough time to make it feel almost dreamlike, if he didn't think about it. Saying the words would make it irrevocably real. "Just...stupid family stuff," he muttered, flinging an arm over his eyes.

"Okay." Enough to drive you home early, in the middle of the night. "Want to tell me, or be left alone?"

Bobby was quiet for a few moments. "...I know you're trying to help, man...but I don't wanna talk about it." Not now, maybe not ever.

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, I didn't mean to wake you up." Bobby sat up, toeing his shoes off and pulling his shirt over his head. "You should go back to bed."

"Okay, man. I'll see you in the morning." Joyita, however, thought different, padding forward and jumping up on Bobby's bed.

Bobby smiled faintly at her, reaching over to rest a hand on her back, scratching gently. "You too, Joyita. Bedtime," he said quietly. "Don't get comfortable."

She didn't move. Angelo raised his eyebrows. "Good luck movin' her, man, if she's decided to stay there tonight."

Bobby shrugged and patted her head. "I guess she's sleeping in here, then." He didn't seem too bothered by the idea.

"Right." Angelo pushed himself off the doorframe. "Night, then."

"Night." Bobby stood up to close the door behind Angelo, pausing to give Joyita one last look, one more chance to change her mind and escape before the door was closed. She just thumped her tail against the bed. He shrugged and shut the door, then started getting ready for bed.