Building a Life

"How does that make you feel?" Bobby hated that question, especially coming from her. And she knew it.

Despite the fact that this was a phoned in session, Bobby still felt like he was in her office. As such, it only took a moment for her question to drive him to his feet. Pacing in the small living room of their apartment, Bobby cussed under his breath.

"Ya know damn well how that makes me feel," he gave her in response, his tone clipped. He said it, even knowing that she would not accept it as an answer.

And he was right. Her light laugh filtered over the phone. She knew she had him. "Even if I do, Robert, that does not mean I'm not going to insist that you tell me. You called me, remember? You didn't have to."

She always had him in moments like that and he always responded the same way. He always told her. Except this time. This time he just hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. "That's how I feel about it, bitch."

[184 words]

Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you

She worked in the kitchen and he watched her. That was what he did now, he watched. It was all he could do. He was waiting for her to snap, for her to finally get around to blaming him for what happened.

No matter what anyone told him, he would always feel responsible. Part of that came from his belief that the child had been his and part of that came from his ingrained sense of being a failure. He had only his own father to thank for that, but there was little that would change his mind on the matter.

So he watched her and waited for her to finally be fed up with him.

Yet, every time she caught him looking at her, she just smiled. There was no blame in the smile, no accusation. No matter how hard he looked, he could only see love in her eyes. A love that he didn't believe should still be there. He was to blame and she would not.

Her belief in him made it hard for him to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her smile, always there for him when she looked at him, stole away at his resolve. Her smile started to warm him, fill him.

Her smile finally started to make him feel whole again. So he kept watching her. What else could he do.

[232 words]

24.2 - 13 things you love about your significant other.
1. He's a stubborn bastard
2. He's a handsome bastard
3. He does this seriously cute little squirming thing if I hug him in the middle of the night
4. He doesn't put up with my shit, except when he does
5. He understands that I'm not perfect
6. He's not perfect, either
7. She loves Leo as much as she loves me
8. She wants to be a part of us, even when it's hard
9. She carried our baby to the best of her ability
10. She doesn't take my shit, either
12. She's funnier than I would have guessed
13. They both stay, even if I don't deserve them

In the last couple of weeks, I have come to a conclusion. I have an amazing number of fair weather friends. As soon as the shit hit the fan in our personal life, everyone fled like we were all contagious.

EVERYONE.

How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel? I have stood next to people through some pretty major shit. My world falls down around my ears and suddenly I might as well have the plague.

Fuck all of you.

Some support would have been nice.

Now, now I don't want it. I will do this without your fucking help.

It's too late. There's nothing left to rebuild here. All the bridges are burned. I'm using what's left of them to feed my hate. It's the only thing keeping me warm.


[ooc: Stage Two of the Kübler-Ross model is Anger. Anger is going to last for a while.]

[ooc: Backdated to Saturday, October 18th, in the evening]

Bobby had very carefully picked out the collar, even going so far as to have a tag that had culo on it made to go with it. He was quite certain he would have gotten looks, if he had not been shopping at both the fetish store and the pet store before.

He decided that he would collar Giac in his studio. He didn't want to go too far from home. He really wanted to share with Leo. And, admittedly, he wanted to feed off Leo and Mel's time together, too. It was like having an orgy in separate rooms. Bobby was looking forward to it.

He put the collar and leash on the daybed that lived in the studio, then got himself a beer. Only after the beer was open did he put the call out for Giac. He trusted that the other man would find himself coming to the right place. So he stripped his shirt off, took another drink of his beer, then went back to work on Leo's scultpure while he waited.

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
Mad Word - Gary Jules

He dozed off out back, behind his studio. It was a novel concept, being back in Italy, and he'd been taking advantage of it. They had no place to go, no one expecting them. They had time to just be. And, at this moment, Bobby was being asleep under the Italian sun.

He'd had his morning to himself and had lost hours working on Leo's lion. It took Bette demanding to go outside to get him to even look up. That was the only reason he was outside, because of Bette. That dog was determined to make sure he took care of himself, even if no one else was around.

It was to the sound of her playing in the grass that he dozed off. So it was the sound of grass that filled his dream.

He sat at a picnic table in a park. It wasn't a place familiar to him and certainly not anyplace he could remember having been. He had a sketch pad in front of him, but he wasn't paying attention to what he was drawing. It didn't later, it was just an exercise in letting go. He knew it was something he needed to do more often when he was awake. It was clarifying and cleansing.

While his hand moved over paper, he watched kids play on a nearby playground. They didn't have a care in the world, these mysterious kids. Their work was play and Bobby envied them, even as he considered that much of his own work these days was the same thing.

Without thought, he flipped the page on his pad and started again. He took not time to look at what he was doing, the children a far better distraction than whatever was dumping from his mind. So focused on the kids, he didn't hear the sound behind him. He didn't hear the scream or the report of the blast.

So focused on the children, on their fun, that he didn't notice the white hot flash or the wave of heat that caught his clothing and his sketch pad on fire. In his mind, even as he burned, as the children burned and the playground melted, he was still watching them play.

His eyes slowly opened and he sat up, Bette immediately running over to him and licking his face. When he blinked, he could still see the burning children, running around a melting jungle gym. A small smile played at his lips as he felt Bette leave him.

She was back a moment later with her ball. She wanted to play. With a laugh, he stood up and nodded, running down the hill with the dog barking at his heels. He wanted to play, too. He wanted to be a child again for a little while, even if it meant he burned.

[473 words]

[ooc: Some bendy time here, but he demanded.]

Bobby felt a little bad for teasing Percy the way he had. Only a little. So he made arrangements for he and Arsene to have transport to France. And he started looking for a place to buy him. An outsider would be tempted to call Bobby their toy, but he knew better.

Bobby was toy to no one. But, in his slow acceptance of his immortality, he was cultivating long term relationships. This was no exception.

Once everything was arranged, he decided it was time to see Percy. He sent word for him, then waited for him, sketching to pass the time.

In an effort to be respectful of the promises he'd made, Bobby didn't cancel his therapy appointment. He just paid to fly his doctor to where he was. In this case, that meant she got a few days on the beach to relax after seeing him. Bobby figured it was only fair.

They were using one of her local colleagues' offices. It was unfamiliar ground for Bobby, which naturally set him even more on edge. She, however, looked perfectly at home.

"Tell me, Bobby, how have you been?"

He snorted softly. "Ya know, ya only call me Bobby when ya think ya've got something that'll make me open up."

She gave him a coy little smile and shrugged. "Maybe I do. Maybe I just want you to think I do. It is a simple question, though. So, how have you been?"

"Just fucking dandy. My life is all wine and roses. Birds sing when I walk by, flowers bloom." He sank down into the chair across from her and propped his chin on his fist, his elbow on the arm of the chair, and stared at her.

She held his gaze for a few moments before glancing down at her notes. She wrote for a moment, then laughed. "Robert, why are you in California this time? Hiding again?"

"Fuck ya," he stood as quickly as he'd sat down, growling at her before he started toward the window. The office had a lovely overlook of the business district and he found himself watching the small people moving from place to place. He wondered if Mel was down there, if Tony had taken her shopping. He hoped they were having fun.

From behind him, she cleared her throat, reminding him that she was, in fact, still there. When he turned around to glare at her, she shrugged. "Robert, I don't understand why you are surprised that I would say that. Running away isn't rebellious. It isn't on the vanguard of adult behavior. Has it once helped you?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed and he bite his lip a moment before turning back to the window. Maybe, with his back turned, it wasn't a complete admission of defeat. "No."

She failed miserably at containing her huff of triumph. "Now, perhaps you'd like to sit down, so we can talk about some more appropriate coping mechanisms."

He stayed at the window, looking out. He wasn't ready for her to see the defeat in his eyes. "When I went back to New York this last time, Mel had gone on back to Italy. Only Leo was there." He turned back to her as he wiped at the tears on his cheeks. "I run cause sometimes it feels like the only way he'll notice me is if I fuck up. Stupid, ain't it. He's my husband, we're stuck together forever. But there are times when it feel like he wishes he hadn't done it. Times when it feels like he'd rather be rid of me, be free to do whatever he wants without having to worry 'bout how it effects me."

Bobby walked back to the chair and sat. "Can't say I blame 'im, either. Not really. Don't think I'd wanna be burdened with me." He looked up at her and sighed. "I run to piss him off. I run so that when I get back, he'll beat me. I do it so he'll pay attention. Rebellious enough for ya?"

[572 words]