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Boxing Day
Some of the other kids had gone home for Christmas. They had families that tolerated them, or at least didn’t hate them because of what they were. But some of us just aren’t that lucky. Some of us have parents that, well, just really wanted normal kids. Instead, my parents got me.
And I’m the biggest disappointment ever.
“Have you *tried* not being a mutant?” my mother had whined.
My brother had turned me in to the police.
My father couldn’t even look at me.
I try not to think about them much, but around the holidays it’s weird, and now that I don’t even have John to talk to, everything is worse. Without my best friend, this safe haven, the school that tried to teach me that it’s okay to be different, isn’t even happy. Or at least, it’s not as happy as it could be.
Damn John for leaving. Damn me for caring. And damn my parents for the crappy presents.
Oh, sure, they got me Christmas presents. Sure, they sent me just enough things that it would look like they cared, but I know it’s just a sense of obligation. It’s not like they love me. It’s not like anyone does.
~*~
Yesterday was Christmas Day. I guess my parents sent all of my gifts to the Professor because when I woke up, they were all around the tree. I kind of expected something from Rogue and from Storm, but the rest was a surprise. I hadn’t figured my parents were sending me anything after the incident at home earlier this year.
Although, I can’t blame them. It must be hard to be the parents of a freak.
Rogue got me a really nice necklace. It’s a crystal on a leather cord and it’s pretty cool. She smiled while I was opening it, and afterwards I managed to sneak in a hug. I was very careful not to touch her skin. She’s just been getting weirder on the whole “touching her” thing. Which I get, I really do. But it’s still a little depressing.
And Storm got me a great shaving kit. But mostly, I sat around and watched the other kids open their brightly wrapped packages. It’s really hard to be cheerful when your parents get you things like gloves and a scarf. “To keep you warm, honey. We love you.”
It just proved, once again, that they don’t know me at all.
After almost everything had been unwrapped, one of the kids brought me over another package. I thought it was a mistake, because I’d already opened something from everyone I expected. But there was my name, scrawled in familiar script across the tag.
It couldn’t be from who I thought, though. I looked around to see if someone was playing a prank, but everyone was involved with his or her own gifts.
It couldn’t be from John. I had to be wrong.
~*~
I gathered up my things and the still-wrapped package, and slipped out of the room. If the gift was from John, I wanted to open it in private.
When I got upstairs, I locked the door behind me. The room still seemed really empty. They never got around to giving me a replacement roommate. Maybe they were hoping John would come back. I didn’t really want another person in this room, anyway.
I sat on what I still thought of as John’s bed and looked down at the package in my lap. On closer inspection, I realized that it had to be from John. The edges of the wrapping paper were singed.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until my chest started to hurt and I had to breathe. It was stupid. It wasn’t like John himself was in the small box. I tried not to notice as my fingers trembled when I peeled the wrapping paper back.
I finally got the paper off and lifted the lid. Inside, there was a note on top of a bunch of tissue paper. I stared at the package, confused, and picked up the note.
Bobby,
Well, at least he wasn’t calling me Iceman.
I’m sorry. For everything. But I’m here now and everything will work out. I miss you, though. I miss our friendship.
I felt my throat tighten and I will never admit that my eyes were doing anything but watering. I have allergies. Shut up.
I know you hate me, or something, for leaving, but you’ll probably never understand why I felt like I had to. Please don’t hate me.
I had to blink a few times, but I was still using the allergy excuse.
Anyway, I hope you have a Merry Christmas and like your gift. When you wear them, think of me.
Love,
John
His typically illegible signature was scrawled across most of the bottom of the page. I folded the note back up and set it next to me on the comforter. I pulled back the tissue paper and stared some more at the contents.
John got me boxers. Silk, flame-covered boxers. If it had been anyone else, I would have thought it was stupid. But from John, it was perfect. I pulled them from the box and shook them a little.
I shrugged off my robe and the boxers that I’d slept in and pulled the silk over my skin. It felt really wonderful, and the flames across them made me smile. Opposites attract and all that. It had been the running joke between us. I called him hot – he called me cool.
I really did miss John – more than I missed my family, and in a completely different way. We never talked about it, never acknowledged anything beyond some very harmless flirting, but I’d always been attracted to him. I always knew that I was gay, but once the mutant thing came up, what was I supposed to do? Two strikes against me and before I even got the chance to punt, I was sitting in the penalty box.
Sports metaphors never were my strong suit. John used to laugh at me when I would make some comment like that. He would remind me that there were three strikes in baseball, punting was in football and a penalty box was hockey. And then he’d joke that, if nothing else, I should remember ice hockey references.
God, I missed him. I sat back down in his bed and turned over on my side. The younger kids had woken me up early for the tree and presents and I could use a nap.
But too many thoughts were running through my head. John and everything else…and even after lying there for a while I couldn’t sleep. John’s bed was different than mine. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I could still smell him. The sheets had been changed since John left, but my imagination had a mind of its own.
I felt my cock start to stir in my new boxers. Thinking about John always did this to me. When he was around, it was difficult – and cold showers never did anything for me. I spent a lot of nights jerking off in the shower, praying that no one would come in. Or that John would. I could never decide which I wanted more.
I licked my hand before sliding it down my stomach and wrapping it around my cock. I pretended it was John. Instead of a gift, there had been a knock on the door and he’d come in and apologized and we’d hugged and he wouldn’t have had to wrap the boxers, he just handed them to me.
We would exchange a glance and somehow, John would just know what I needed. He would push me back onto his bed and then he’d kiss me.
I’d imagined our first kiss so many times. Would it be awkward because he’d never kissed a boy before, or would it be hot and deep and everything I ever wanted? This time, I wanted it hot. So his tongue would slip into my mouth and God, it would be perfect.
I started out stroking myself really slow; thinking about this, soft, even strokes that would eventually get me off, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I squeezed a little tighter. John would be rough. I bet he’d be merciless.
I wanted him to be. I wanted his hard fingers and hot mouth to touch me, to feel how hard my cock was for him. I stroked harder, just working towards the end now, needing to come, and needing release.
The moan was completely involuntary, but it couldn’t be helped. Sensation was building at the base of my spine and I was so close, so close that I could almost taste it.
Another low grunt and I was coming so hard that I was shaking. In John’s bed, in John’s boxers, God. It was so wrong
When I finally caught my breath, I curled up and tugged the blanket over me. I ignored the mess that was spread across the sheets and my stomach as I slowly drifted off.
[ main l rps l fps ]
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