❛ What do you want me to say? ❜ // @tabbysmith
He was gone. For months and months and months, Bobby was gone, trying desperately to find a way back to the country he loved without having to give up his values in the process. He’d had some contact with his friends, of course, utterly unwilling to let himself be cut off entirely no matter what country he was in, but it wasn’t enough. The world still went to shit. Scott died, Jean went to jail, cops showed up at Sam’s fucking apartment and tried to take Josiah away from him. His godson, they’d tried to take his godson. Bobby was seething at the thought.
And now, there was this. There was the rundown shithole X-Factor had holed up in, the one they were offering Sam a place at. Bobby had to check it out for himself, had to know if he should just buy his best friend a new apartment building someplace where he could be the only tenant to keep him and Josiah safe for just a little while longer. Seeing Tabby there wasn’t unexpected, but... The apathetic greeting stung a little. “Maybe, ‘I missed you, Bobby!’ Or, ‘I’m glad they let you come back to America, ‘Berto!’ Or, ‘You’re still the hottest man I’ve ever kissed!’ You have options! Good options!”
