Work Text:
They often took breakfast together, the three of them. They sat one on each side of the table, the fourth side left empty, and they made it work.
One was fire, burning fiercely. He was passion and life. He was temper and rashness. He was pride and confidence. He was fun and spontaneity. John Allyrdyce looked at Bobby and Rogue and felt as happy as he had ever felt.
Another was ice, shining brightly. He was consideration and temperance. He was mischievousness and calculation. He was reliability and coolness. He was compassion and stability. Robert Drake looked at John and Rogue and wondered if he had ever felt so happy before.
The last was everything and nothing. She could burn and freeze alternately. Through her, fire froze and ice burned. She brought them together, kept them in tandem. She united them and she eventually drove them apart. Rogue sat at the table and looked at John and Bobby and felt as happy as she would ever feel.
None of them could have put their feelings into words. They simply laughed and talked and carried on as teenagers do. They were children in unstable situations, learning to be adults in an unstable world. They taught each other things, both good and bad, that they each would need to get through the world they faced.
Years from now, when they each ate breakfast alone, they would look around automatically but not realize why. They wouldn’t think about what they were missing, but they would wonder why they didn’t feel the balance that marked their times together at Xavier’s.
Passion would go untempered by compassion. Calculation would lack the companionship of spontaneity. Life was not experienced in tandem. And they were lonely.