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Finney was nervous. Why was he nervous? He was only going to hang out with his best friend, Robin Arellano, like he does almost every other weekend, nothing special. Except this particular weekend, his hands were slipping off the handlebars of his bike with sweat, and his heart rate simply refused to slow down. He tried to convince himself it’s because they’re watching a horror movie, and he’d never been a huge fan of those, but especially not now that he’s killed someone himself. And seen other people killed. If Robin wasn’t trapped down there with him on the other side of that phone he might never have made it out alive.
About three weeks ago now, Finney was kidnapped by a murderer nicknamed “The Grabber” by their local newspapers, a twisted man who went after children, his spree lasting nearly two, long, and very dragged out years before Finney killed him. When he was taken, he got thrown into the Grabber’s basement, supposedly with no way out, but there was something down there the killer forgot to consider. The black phone hanging on the wall, a phone that rang every day with calls from the kids that were taken before Finney.
Each time they called to help him, from whatever room they were being held in, the kidnapper found out and killed them. But luckily for Finney, Robin was different. He was a fighter, and he fended off that psycho until Finney could find him, and they took him down together. On the way out, they searched the houses for the others, hoping that by some small chance they were still alive. No such luck.
But he wasn’t scared anymore. At least, that’s what he told himself. Still though, The Grabber’s words stuck with him; “No, that was someone else…” Of course, it was a lie, a lie that had been disproven. But still, he wondered if there maybe was someone else out there. Someone with a fake grin on a mask and a bunch of black balloons in a van, just waiting for the chance to-
Finney arrived at Robin’s house just as the sun began to sink into the horizon. He threw his bike onto the ground, having nowhere to lock it, being painfully reminded of the bike lock once on the killer’s door. He swallowed thickly, trying his best to push down those thoughts. It was no good being scared anymore. It’s over, he told himself, taking a few deep breaths in and shaking his hands out a bit, wiping the sweat off on his shirt.
“Hey Finney,” said a low voice, directed right into his ear. It startled the boy so much he almost jumped out of his skin, gasping comically and swinging around to see who it was. Of course, it was only Robin. He must have been hiding in the garden somewhere to scare him. Finney immediately felt his heart-rate slow, but as he took in the other boy’s appearance it quickly picked up again. He was wearing a basic graphic tee with the sleeves cut off, blue jeans, and a bandana around his head like he did every other day, but it felt different. Special. It felt like home.
“Uhh… Finn? You there?” Finney’s head snapped up at the sound of the nickname. He didn’t realise, but he’d been staring very obviously at Robin, not saying anything. What was wrong with him?
“Yeah, of course. Sorry,” he said, avoiding eye contact. Whatever had gotten into him today had to stop. Like, right now.
“Okay whatever, you want popcorn?” Robin said, pulling his hand and leading him through the house and into his kitchen. Finney nodded his head, and Robin pulled two packets of jiffy pop out of his pantry and placed them both on the stove, turning to Finney while they waited for the kernels to pop.
“You excited?” Robin asked, grinning at Finney knowing damn well he was not looking forward to it. As much as he liked to blame it on his father’s strictness for the fact he’d never seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Robin saw right through him. He always had, ever since they were in elementary school and Finney tried to convince Robin his life was perfect. No bullies, no abusive drunk of a father, no “crazy” mother who killed herself when it got to be too much. Just a perfect, happy life.
Robin cracked him after only two weeks of talking. He could still remember that day; the two boys laying on Robin’s bed, poring over the pages of the newest Batman comic. A page came up that showed a flashback to his parent’s death, and that’s when he finally admitted it.
“My mom is dead. She committed suicide when i was six, and my little sister was four.” He said, never once taking his eyes off the comic. Robin said nothing, only pushing the comic off the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around his best friend. They stayed like that for anything that could’ve been five minutes or five hours, but it was long enough that Finney cried, and then stopped, and then cried some more, and soon enough Robin’s mom was telling him that his father called and wanted him back home.
The next confession from Finney was when Robin came over to his house for the first time. His father was passed out on the couch, beer in his hand and football blaring on their small television. Finney silently grabbed the bottle and threw it out, as well as a fee others around it, throwing them in the bin before switching off the TV and signalling for Robin to follow him quietly around to his room.
From the floor of Finney’s bedroom, he explained that his father had started drinking when his mother died, and he hadn’t really stopped since. Not to mention the belt, the hitting. Once again Robin said nothing, only providing comfort in the form of a hug. This time, the stayed that way so long that Terrance Blake woke up, and Robin was sent home before he could see how the man would respond to finding his son in another boy’s arms.
The next day, Finney showed up to school with a gash on the back of his right hand. And behind the locker room during phys. ed, Robin kissed it better. They never spoke of it again.
“Fuck off, Robbie,” Finney grumbled, making Robin swing his arm out to smack him in the arm. Only lightly of course - although Robin has a reputation of beating people up, he would never hurt his best friend.
“Dork.”
“Jerk.”
Their bickering was cut off when the jiffy pop began to go off, pop after pop of the corn bursting. After only a few short moments, it slowed down, and soon after, stopped. Robin grabbed a tea towel and attempted to pull the hot foil off the stove without burning himself.
After a little bit of struggle, and a lot of embarrassment, they managed to make their way to the couch with minimal spillage. The boys first sat at a respectful distance, but Robin’s blanket really wasn’t wide enough for that, so he was oh-so-unfortunately forced to squish himself against Finney in order to share. He didn’t miss the blush that crept fast over the other boy’s face.
“You ready to watch the greatest film ever made?”
“The second greatest, remember?”
“Whatever, asshole.” Robin rolled his eyes fondly, and with that, he grabbed the remote, and pressed play.
Only a little way into the movie, and the suspense was already building. Finney felt his heart-rate speed up, this time it was actually due to the movie though. As the first victim was killed, he turned his head into Robin’s shoulder, shielding his face from the screen. As soon as he realised what he’d done, he began to lift his head up, but Robin gave him a comfortable squeeze on his own shoulder, indicating he could stay if he wanted.
When Robin first laid his arm there, Finney had no idea, but he sure was aware of it now. He kept his face close to the other boy, relishing in the safety of his arms.
“You alright, Finney?” He asked, but there was no sarcasm in his voice, no teasing edge. He wasn’t mocking him for being a wuss, he was genuinely asking. The thought made Finney’s stomach go wild with butterflies, his brain feel like he was short circuiting.
“Finney?” Robin looked down at the boy who was leaning into his chest now, a look of concern on his face. He reached over and switched the movie off, causing Finney to look up at him, confused.
“Everything okay?” He asked, his heart going a mile a minute now. Great, he’d gone and got himself caught. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking the things he was thinking about his best friend, about any boy for that matter, but especially this one. And now he’d gone and worked it out and he was going to beat him up and tell everyone and then he’d have no friends except for Gwen.
“No Finney, everything is not okay.”
He closed his eyes and waited for that swing, certain it was on its way. But it never came.
“I’m worried about you.”
Wait, what?
“Wait, what?” Finney asked, dumbstruck.
“You’re acting strange. You’re usually way more talkative than this, you can barely look at me, and you haven’t even so much as brushed hands with me since- well, in a long time. And now you want to cuddle? What’s going on? You can talk to me, you know that right?” Robin looked at Finney as though he might explode, and who knows, maybe he will. He sure felt like it. Robin expected a million things; for him to brush it off as nothing, tell him to mind his own business, call him a queer who was obsessed with him (okay, maybe he didn’t expect this, but a small part of him was scared of it), actually open up, anything. But the last thing he expected was for Finney to burst into tears.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here,” Robin said softly, pulling Finney in again, this time squeezing him as close as possible. But instead of allowing himself to be held closer, he pulled away.
“No, everything is not okay! Nothing is okay!” Finney burst out, turning away from Robin completely and allowing his head to fall into his hands.
“Talk to me,” Robin said, barely above a whisper, working to remove Finney’s hands from his face.
“You’ll hate me,” Finney said back, in the same quiet tone of voice.
“Finn, I could never hate you.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Every time you do, I fall a little bit harder for you, and I hate it.”
“Wait, what? You like me?” Finney prepared himself. For the punches, the insults, the slurs. He nodded.
Instead of a bruise, he received… a smile? Robin was looking at him like he was the most beautiful boy alive, and he believed it too. He took Finney’s hands in his own, and pulled him in. The moment their lips touched, the world melted away. Finney couldn’t see anything, even before he had the sense to close his eyes. His ears had gone empty as well, a faint static buzzing, like the ringing in your ears after fireworks. Lightning crackled in his mind, sending sparks behind his lips, where he could feel the pressure of the other boy’s. And then the lack of it, when they separated for air, which was far too soon in Finney’s opinion.
“I like you too, Finney Blake,” Robin confirmed, before pulling the other boy in once more, the movie long since forgotten to the spinning of the room around them.
Maybe they were young, maybe it wouldn’t last. But in that moment, they could swear they would last forever. And maybe they would.