Cold Cold Heart
I was here first.
I'm going to tell you a story. And you're going to read the whole thing, because you want to know why I left. I don't think it'll make you happy, but I'm past caring.
It started one night last January, Bobby shivering under his covers, before he learned to cope with the cold. I crawled in bed with him and hovered one of those little fireballs over him, like that one I showed you that first day in Storm's class. It was the best I could do back then. He was colder than living people should be, but I guess that's just how he is; I, of course, was plenty hot for two. But he just kept shivering and shivering and he looked so... hot, with his skin covered in goosebumps and his lips turning blue. So I did what any flamey friend would do. And I don't want to hear any more flaming jokes. Heh, not that I have to tell you that. It won't make a difference anyway.
Well, he warmed up after that, and there was the two of us, a pair of "experimenting" teens messing around with our bodies. And I was happy, dammit, spending days in class and nights in Bobby's bed. He thought it was some kind of big game, just whatever it took to get off. It took me a while to realize it meant more than that to me. It took you, actually.
You showed up, and BAM! No more Bobby. Just like that. I'd crawl under the covers and all he'd talk about was you, and he'd just lie there and daydream while I tried to keep the bed from catching on fire. After a while I just gave up. He didn't even notice. I didn't even know what I had until I lost him.
I tried to like you. I really did. You seemed like a nice enough girl. You couldn't help what Bobby felt about you any more than I could. Besides, you were the only way I could get near him anymore. I'm told that's what love's like.
I started messing around with my lighter, causing trouble, anything to get his eyes to light up like they did whenever you said something. That thing in the Smithsonian? At least he looked at me again. He hasn't looked at me - right at me - in ages. Eons, even. Remember his house? Of course you do, it was like yesterday or something. Yeah. I blew up a dozen police cars on his front lawn. It was like being with him again, a rush of power so intense... oh, I can't describe it. I just let go and I didn't care about Bobby or about you our anything but the moment.
That's when I knew I couldn't stay at the School. I can't keep that in a neat little box anymore, softfooting it to a gentle old man like Xavier. I think the only reason I stayed as long as I did was because Bobby was there. But you probably knew that already. Back to his house.
I was standing there, flushed through with power, and everything was smoldering and quiet, and Bobby was doing God knows what, and you stole my power. Rationalize it all you want, you took my best friend and then you took my ability. I've lost everything to you at one point or another, and I don't even hate you for it. It's kind of strange. I guess you hurt as much as I do. And yet - you always come out on top. That's hardly fair.
Take care of Bobby for me, Marie. I'll be back soon enough. And as much as you've taken from me, I don't want to see you hurt. Do yourself a favor and just stay away when the time comes. I've got Bobby in my heart, see, and though outside I'm burning everything in sight, I'm just cold inside.
After all, we can't all be the nice mutants.
-Pyro