Chapter Text
Finney sits on the school bathroom floor, within plain sight of anyone walking in, and contemplates life.
He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his ribs might be cracked, or at least severely bruised. He can’t really bring himself to care.
How many times has he sat here, in this very spot, in this exact situation? Too many to count, that’s for sure.
The tingle of blood running down his lips is a feeling Finney is extremely familiar with, and he wonders if there will ever be a time it catches him by surprise. Today is definitely not that day.
He’s never quite understood how the name ’Finney’ offends people so greatly, but he supposes that’s not really his problem.
Or, well, it is, considering he’s the one that gets beat up for it.
Bullies never really need a concrete reason, though. They simply lock onto a target and boom, that’s it; their victim’s life is now officially hell for the foreseeable future.
Finney’s musings are interrupted by the squeak of the bathroom door, and he looks up, praying it’s not a teacher. The last thing he needs right now is an adult who thinks they know best.
His eyes connect with dark brown ones, and he decides that if someone hands him a gun, right here right now, he will actually pull the trigger.
Because Robin never-lost-a-fight-in-his-life Arellano, best friends with Pinball Vance Hopper and baseball prodigy Bruce Yamada, walks in and stops dead at the sight of Finney slumped against the back wall.
Oh, and did he forget to mention that he just so happens to be Finney’s ex-best friend and long-time crush?
He half wishes the idiots who left him in this position come bursting back in to finish him off, because his bad fortune is getting ridiculous at this point. He will honestly take a teacher coming in and whisking him off to the nurse’s office, if it means he won’t have to sit here in agony while the love of his life uses the bathroom and stares at him weirdly.
Robin seems to have shaken himself out of whatever haze he was in upon first seeing Finney, because he walks up to the taps, flipping on the cold water.
It’s only then that Finney realises Robin has blood dripping from his knuckles, and he has to hide a wince at how painful the wounds look. Ironic really, seeing as his own face is probably ten times worse.
The silence is suffocating, and Finney can’t imagine a place worse than here. Just his luck that of all the people to walk in, it’s Robin Arellano.
It’s stupid, really. They were inseparable for years, friends since they were little kids. Finney remembers the best part of his whole week was going over to the Arellano household on a Friday night, and Robin’s uncle taking them to the drive-in.
Then everything crumbled down three years ago, and Finney still doesn’t understand why. One day they were fine, and the next, they weren’t. Robin just simply… stopped. Stopped talking to him, stopped texting him, hell, he even stopped looking at Finney.
And Finney being the type of person he is, didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to talk to Robin or ask what was wrong. They were inseparable, until all too soon, they weren’t.
Yet, Finney has loved Robin since the age of six, and he doesn’t think that will go away anytime soon. No matter how angry he is, Finney can’t help but fall in love a little deeper every time he hears Robin laugh from across the room or feel a little prouder every time Robin beats up another person for insulting him.
Robin never does anything without reason, so despite the betrayal he feels, Finney will always believe Robin stopped being his friend for a good reason.
He has to believe it. Finney won’t know what to do otherwise. Robin wouldn’t just leave. There had to have been a reason. Right?
The sound of a phone ringing fills the room, and causes Finney to flinch, biting his bottom lip to stifle the whimper that movement brings.
It takes him a second to place the noise, and by then, Robin is already answering the call, phone in the hand with the least amount of blood.
‘’Yeah?’’ Robin sounds like smooth velvet, and Finney thinks in normal circumstances, the dizziness he currently feels would be because of Robin’s gorgeous voice.
‘’I’m in the first-floor bathroom,’’ A pause. ‘’Yeah, that was me.’’
Finney desperately tries to make out what the other person is saying, but to no avail.
‘’It was Moose,’’ Robin rolls his eyes, glancing at his knuckles. ‘’He’s got some damn sharp teeth.’’
Finney blinks, taking the information in slowly. By the time his concussion addled brain figures it out, Robin has ended the call and is cleaning his hands again.
‘’You fought Moose?’’
Robin turns to look at Finney, and for a moment, he can’t understand why – did he say something?
And wow, maybe he really should go to the nurse’s office, or even the hospital, to check for brain damage.
Because it hits him all of a sudden, and about five beats too late, he shoves a hand over his mouth in horror.
Except that’s a terrible idea, as the jolt of moving his arm sends a shock wave through his body, and he keels forward, a pained cry spilling between his fingers.
Genuine tears spring to his eyes, and Finney knows he’s been joking about it, but he really is hurting. It feels like his ribs are on fire, and with the amount of red that’s been pouring out of his nose, he won’t be surprised if he faints from blood loss. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers his head being slammed into the tile wall at one point, which explains the dizziness and nausea.
‘’Finn.’’
The agony fades slightly, and he manages to look up.
Robin is crouching beside him, worry warping his flawless features. Concern is painted into the night sky that are his eyes, and before Finney can be stunned that Robin is right here, wet hands cup his face gently.
‘’What hurts?’’ Robin asks, and Finney has to bite back a choked sob.
‘’Everything.’’ He replies, eyelids drooping.
He’s so tired, the shock over Robin talking to him, and touching him, is lost.
‘’Okay,’’ Robin says quietly. ‘’Okay.’’
Robin lets go of Finney’s face, and he almost whines from the loss of contact.
Robin reaches for his phone and seems to type something quickly, looking satisfied at whatever the other person texts back. He drops his phone and leans to hold Finney’s face again.
‘’Who did you text?’’ Finney can’t help but question, watching as Robin inspects his face carefully.
‘’Vance and Bruce. I told them to bring medical stuff.’’ Robin says, brushing a loose curl away from Finney’s eyes.
Finney has never been good at keeping his mouth shut, despite the usually horrible outcomes that are the consequence of it.
‘’Why?’’
Robin stops examining his black and blue cheeks and focuses on him properly. Over the years, Finney has learned to read between the lines, and the regret twisted into the pull of Robin’s lips confuses him.
‘’I’m sorry for ignoring you earlier.’’ Robin says in lieu of an explanation.
‘’Why?’’ Finney demands, determined to understand.
Robin swallows tightly. ‘’I didn’t know if I was allowed to come near you.’’
Finney can’t even begin to decipher what that means, so he asks something else. ‘’Why’d you fight Moose?’’
Robin shrugs. ‘’He was shit-talking.’’
Finney blinks, staring at him. ‘’Did you hurt him?’’
Robin shakes his head. ‘’Nothing permanent.’’
Moose beat Finney up last year, for knocking him over in the hallway by accident. He can’t say he’s sad to find out that Moose picked a fight with Robin and lost.
Before he can say anything else, the bathroom door flies open.
Vance Hopper and Bruce Yamada walk in, and Finney can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing. Vance and Bruce are the people Robin has replaced him with, and when he sees them together, he can’t help but compare. What do they have that Finney doesn’t?
Bruce smiles when he sees Robin, and Finney thinks it’s funny how fast it drops when Bruce catches sight of him.
He’s only spoken to Bruce on one occasion, and it was about two years ago, right at the start of Bruce’s climb to fame in the baseball world.
See, once upon a time, Finney played and loved the sport, too. And one fateful game, him and Bruce went head-to-head, Bruce coming out on top, obviously.
Afterwards though, when the players were shaking each other’s hands, Bruce had grinned at Finney, and told him his ‘arm was mint’.
Finney quit baseball soon after that game, but from then on, in Finney’s mind, Bruce is the kindest person he’s ever met.
So, in spite of the occasional jealousy he feels when he catches sight of Bruce joking around with Robin, all in all he doesn’t mind him. The angry blonde coming in behind Bruce, however, fills Finney with nothing but anxiety.
Vance Hopper is a loose cannonball, and Finney watches warily as the boy quite literally stomps in.
They’ve never talked, but you don’t have to speak to Vance to know him. Much like Robin, he’s known for fighting, and also being obsessed with the vintage pinball machine that sits in the old gas station. Vance has the high score, and everyone knows that if you mess with him while he’s playing, you must have a death wish.
Robin ends fights, and Vance starts them. That’s the difference between the two.
Finney can’t deny that he’s always been curious as to what Robin sees in him, but if even Bruce Yamada, teachers pet and baseball genius, likes him, then Vance can’t be all bad.
‘’What happened?’’ Bruce looks alarmed, and he takes a seat next to Robin.
Vance hangs back, expression indifferent, although the tick in his brow tells Finney otherwise.
Robin takes a cotton pad and stands up, running it under cold water, before resuming his place on the ground and tilting Finney’s face towards him.
‘’I got beat up.’’ Finney says to Bruce.
The fingers holding his jaw tighten briefly, and the dabbing of the cotton pad on his temple pauses, before returning quickly.
‘’What’d you do to them? You look half dead.’’ Bruce says, following Robin’s lead and wiping around Finney’s nose.
Finney closes his eyes. ‘’Nothing.’’
Someone snaps loudly, and Finney reopens his eyes. Robin is glaring at him.
‘’Don’t shut them. You need to stay awake.’’ He says sternly.
Finney groans, but dutifully keeps them wide open.
‘’Who was it?’’ A voice from the taps says, and Finney looks up at Vance.
‘’What?’’
Vance comes closer, hovering just above Bruce.
‘’Who was it?’’ He repeats.
Finney’s head is pounding, and quite abruptly, he thinks about the possibility of this being a hallucination.
The thought isn’t too far-fetched, and he wonders if he’s actually dying, and the hallucination is the universe giving him a kind send off before passing.
‘’You’re not dying.’’
Finney stares at Robin, processing the words.
‘’Oh.’’ Finney says dumbly. He didn’t mean to say all that out loud.
Robin nods towards Vance. ‘’Answer his question.’’
Finney ignores both of them and glances to Bruce.
‘’Shouldn’t you guys be in class?’’
Bruce smiles sheepishly. ‘’Technically yes, but Robin’s text was urgent, so we both ditched.’’
‘’Sorry,’’ Finney apologises, frowning. ‘’I don’t mean to get you in trouble.’’
‘’Finney, you’re practically bleeding out. This is much more important than some stupid history class.’’ Bruce reassures him.
‘’We need to check your ribs.’’ Robin says, and Finney just looks at him.
Robin furrows his brow, seemingly waiting for something.
‘’He’s asking for permission, dumbass.’’ Vance huffs, gesturing to Finney’s shirt.
‘’Oh. Go ahead.’’ Finney dips his head, waiting.
Careful fingers slide under the bottom of the scarlet stained shirt, and Robin lifts it up slowly.
Finney watches Robin’s facial expression cautiously. He hopes they’re just bruised – he really doesn’t want to have to go to the hospital. His dad will kill him.
Robin is suspiciously blank; eyes void of emotion.
An upset noise has Finney turning to Bruce, seeing as the other boy physically flinches at the sight of Finney’s chest and stomach.
‘’Please don’t tell me something’s broken.’’ Finney breaks the uncomfortable silence, still not daring to have a look himself.
‘’I don’t know yet.’’ Robin replies, and Finney can’t say he’s filled with confidence by the answer.
‘’Did they hit you with a bat?’’ Vance chimes in, staring at what Finney can only imagine is a map of black, blue, purple and red.
Finney thinks about it, biting his lip. Did they have a bat? He can’t remember seeing one, but he believes there was about a five-minute gap where he was unconscious, so the idea is possible.
‘’They might have. I passed out at one point though, so they probably used it during then.’’ Finney responds.
Vance looks troubled, of all things. Finney can’t say Vance Hopper being worried for him is something he ever thought would happen.
Nobody speaks as they assess the injury, and sometimes Robin will press onto an area lightly, and Finney will hiss in discomfort. Everything hurts, and Finney thinks the chance of nothing being broken lessens as time goes on.
‘’You need proper help.’’ Robin says finally, letting the shirt drop.
Finney groans. ‘’Are you sure?’’
‘’It’s really bad.’’ Bruce says, looking sympathetic. Vance nods in agreement from above him.
Finney’s heart fills with dread. He doesn’t want to have to call his dad.
‘’Come on,’’ Robin holds his arm. ‘’I’ll help you up.’’
With a combined effort from Bruce and Robin, he manages to stand up. His knees feel weak, and he puts a hand on the wall behind to steady himself. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to stay stood before collapsing again.
‘’Thanks for trying, I guess.’’ Finney says, wincing as his ribs give an agonizing pinch.
His backpack is crumpled on the floor, and he leans to pick it up, holding an arm over his stomach.
The shrill sound of the bell echoes around the room, and Finney gestures to its general direction.
‘’You should probably go. Missing two classes in a row isn’t good for your attendance.’’
Vance snorts. ‘’Attendance.’’ He mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes.
Bruce elbows Vance in the side, glaring at him.
‘’Finney’s right, if you keep skipping class you’ll get suspended again.’’ He says, crossing his arms together.
Vance rolls his eyes again, but obediently walks to the door and pulls it open.
‘’Are you guys coming or what?’’ He grumbles, not looking at all pleased.
Finney ducks out of the doorway and stops at the sight of kids running through the hallway. He forgot about the other people.
‘’Are you okay?’’ Asks a soft voice by his ear, and he looks to find Robin stood right next to him.
The adrenaline he’s been running on has dissipated, and now he’s just exhausted. Sad, too.
He doesn’t understand Robin at all. He wonders if he ever did; this new Robin is not what he knows.
‘’Fine.’’ He snaps, sick of Robin’s dumb act.
He almost regrets his tone when Robin’s face falls, stepping back. But no, this isn’t Finney’s fault. Robin brought it upon himself – he doesn’t deserve sympathy.
‘’Well,’’ Finney begins, backing away. ‘’Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.’’ He says, smiling awkwardly.
Bruce smiles at him, waving a little, while Vance just turns away. Robin stares at him, and there’s a second when Finney thinks he’s about to say something, but someone across the hallway yells, and the moment passes. Robin raises his hand in a half-hearted wave and turns to follow Vance.
Finney is disappointed, but not surprised. He expected nothing less, and he hopes he won’t have to speak to them again. He’s curious, sure, and Robin is still the love of his life, but he doesn’t think he can handle the drama confrontation will bring.
For now, he has to focus on getting to the nurse’s office alive.
Should be an easy enough task, right?