Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Finney is really, really, really in love with his best friend.

He could rant for hours about how he treasures spending time with the tan-skinned boy, or about the exact moment he unashamedly fell in love with him, how cute he thinks the furrow in his eyebrows is when he can't understand complicated number problems, how nice that bandana looks holding up his straight black hair, or how many old scars mark the length of his knuckles. However, he doesn't have time for that, and thank God, because Bruce would strangle him with his bare hands if he heard him sigh heavily for Robin again.

He buries his face in a fluffy pillow and lets out a strangled cry. Behind him, Bruce rolls his eyes, grabbing another pillow to smack him from behind. They're hanging out in the Japanese boy's room before they have to part ways for their respective baseball practices.

It's hot outside; it's the summer of '82 in a drab suburb of Denver, Colorado. The air conditioning barely cools them, so they feel the bed sheets sticking to their sweaty skin, leaving a sensation far less than pleasant. Bruce's younger sister, Amy, yells from the living room that he needs to hurry to the baseball field or he'll be forced to run laps for being late.

"Come on, get up. I want some ice cream before practice today." He pats Finney's ankle, and he gets up with regret, pinching his face against the pillow. They grab their bags and, cap in hand, Bruce says goodbye to his sister and leads Finney down the street toward their destination. Look, Bruce doesn't really want to ask, but seeing his friend more absent than usual, with a silence that scorches the air, his eyes glued to his shoes and his lower lip tucked between his teeth in anguish, he motivates him to speak. "Fineee, tell me what happened this time with Robin. And i promise, i'm not being sarcastic."

"Nothing's wrong." He replies simply with a shrug, downplaying it.

"Nothing? Finney, you're upset. He must have done something. Is it because of Sam's love confession this morning? I thought he'd rejected her." Finney shakes his head, mildly surprising his companion.

"He didn't... But he didn't accept it either."

"Then it's a stalemate."

"It's a I'll think about it. Saying yes or no is because you know what you want. But what would be the point of saying, 'I don't think i have an answer now, ask me later'?" He quotes Robin's words, since he was a few feet away, witnessing the event. He innocently believed it would be like the previous times; Robin rejected every girl without exception, respectful enough to hear them talk about their crush on him, only to then decline a date with due subtlety and an imperturbable demeanor.

He was greatly surprised when he answered that girl with a hesitant voice, something that hadn't happened before and that might have been overlooked by anyone else, but not Finney. He had met Robin at age 10 when the boy moved from Mexico after his father's death. He was new to the neighborhood, so the gossip about the recent arrival of a widow and her son was all the rage. Finney's mother had told him that Mrs. Arellano was quite friendly and somewhat shy, although her face showed disconsolate dismay. They always greeted each other in the mornings while doing the day's shopping, and on several occasions, when these boys accompanied their mothers, they talked about the latest issue of a popular comic and the most recent episode of their favorite cartoons.

As the years passed, they grew closer, to the point where they invited each other to their birthday parties and spent summer afternoons sitting on the dry grass of Robin's yard. A key point in their relationship was the fact that Robin often bailed him out of tight spots. Finney was never an acclaimed fighter like his friend, but if he put his mind to it, he could match him toe-to-toe and elbow-to-toe.

"Hey, i think it's time you told him." Bruce snaps him out of his stupor by placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Listen, i know i don't have the space to tell you this because i'm in the same position as you, but are you going to be stuck forever as just a friend? Finney, we can't live forever with fear gnawing away at us, preventing us from taking a step forward and causing us to regret doing nothing in the future. You know what? I want to live my life without ties, malicious eyes following you everywhere, or mouths maliciously gossiping behind your back. I don't want to stay here forever because that would be a complete waste of my life... But that's hardly possible. " He says with a longing look at the sky, clenching his fists in annoyance. "I wish everything were easier in this shitty town. "

"Leaving here is an option, although i don't want to leave Gwen or all of you behind. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose Robin."

"You're not going to lose us." Bruce smiles warmly at him. "We're still young, we have the right to fail and make mistakes again and again. That means you can tell Robin how much you like him. If you fail, it's fine, although i doubt you'd fail at something like that."

"I hate to admit it, but you're good at giving advice." The dark-haired boy gives him a shit-eating grin. "Hypothetically speaking, how should i confess?"

"Write a letter, a poem, ask him out for a movie or a milkshake, i don't know, you're smart, you'll figure it out." At this rate, they've already overlooked at least three ice cream shops, ignored because they're so caught up in their small talk.

"No way! Just thinking about a confession like that makes me nervous about ruining everything."

"Oh come on! I've seen the way that guy looks at you. I can literally see how his pupils form hearts. You could punch him in the face as a show of affection, and he'd take it without hesitation." He gestures with his hands to emphasize his words.

"You're a jerk." Finney punches him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. They soon arrive at the baseball field and have to part ways, but not before making a promise to Bruce that they'll go get ice cream next time.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

It's 6 o'clock and Finney is already home for dinner. He takes a long shower that relaxes his muscles after a hard sports practice and changes into his comfortable, cool blue flannel pajamas. At the dining room table, Gwen sets the dishes and is about to sit down with a drink when his sister asks him for a favor.

"Can you take my things to my room? I'm serving dinner and i don't want them to get ruined." Her brother nods readily. The things in question are notebooks and textbooks; she probably spent the entire afternoon on homework. Finney leaves the supplies on Gwen's wooden desk and turns to leave the room when he sees it.

Face down on the floor under the bed is a magazine with a cover of a group of teenagers in trendy clothes. He opens it to reveal a page of love advice in reddish-pink letters. Is this what Gwen has in mind right now? Oh no, on the next page is a completed test to determine your personality; Finney isn't even surprised by that anymore. Leaving his sister's answers aside, he focuses his reading on how to improve his romantic situation by following the top five tips from experts on the subject.

"This is so stupid." He mutters after reading a couple of lines with a grimace on his face. He leaves the magazine where he found it and hurries back to the dining room. His father and sister are already seated, waiting for him to start dinner.

"What took you so long?" Gwen asks.

"I was just looking at some of the photographs you have."

"Oh, good." Finney shovels a spoonful of pasta into his mouth to stop himself from talking.

Later that night, when Finney can't sleep and is tired of tossing and turning like he has bedbugs biting his skin, after going over the day's events in his head and realizing what he can accomplish, he decides to confess to Robin. He doesn't think it can be that difficult; it's just Robin, his best friend and partner in crime. His closest confidant for a long time, his comrade who supports him in every decision, no matter how nerdy and silly it may sound, the friend who held his hand at his mother's funeral so he'd have enough strength to take Gwen's, the person who encouraged him to defend himself against the abuse of boys his own age, the young man who brought a smile to his face when he broke up with his first girlfriend, the boy who supported him when his father finally stopped drowning in alcohol and hitting his children. He can't ruin a bond like that.

To be honest, Finney had tried to make advances before, but as it might expect, they didn't yield effective results. But he doesn't blame him; he had once tried to intertwine their pinkies on a horror movie night at the local drive-in, although Robin didn't flinch, listening attentively throughout the film with a special twinkle in his eye. On another occasion, Finney leaned close to Robin's face to wipe cake crumbs off his face during one of their get-togethers with the boys, but the butterflies in Finney's stomach were stifled by the shameless burp Robin threw in his face. He could go on and on listing his failed attempts at what he calls subtle flirtation; Bruce calls it cowardly flirtation.

However, there was one fruitful response that Finney can't forget. During one of their occasional sleepovers, Robin and Finney sleep in the same bed without any problem. They never touch their limbs or bump into each other while sleeping, nor do they share the same sheet. But one day they woke up cuddled up. In their dreams, they probably ended up tangling their legs and putting their arms behind each other's backs. Finney claimed it was a dream, so he moved deeper into the hollow of Robin's neck and collarbone, inhaling his scent. They never spoke about why they ended up that way; they simply got up as if it had been a platonic encounter between friends. For Finney, it was a victory that Robin wasn't upset about it, and it pains him deeply that it wouldn't happen again.

Because it´s hurt him inside that can't express the affection he holds within his crystal heart, not because it's fragile, but because the love he has for his friend can be seen through it. He feels the suffocation of rosebush thorns surrounding his hot throat, the heavy anxiety in the palm of his hands, and the pit of his stomach wanting to vomit up endless jumbled words so they can be revealed to their beloved recipient.He doesn't want to damage his friendship with Robin, but not telling him about his feelings will end up withering him from the roots. He believed, he truly believed, he could overcome it, that he could keep silent forever, but as time passes, it only hurts him more.

Damn it, he needed the tips from that ridiculous magazine urgently.

Chapter Text

"What's the point of following that absurd magazine? You said you'd tried to get close to him before. Do you think anything's going to change if you bat your eyelashes and whisper sweet nothings in his ear?" Gwen asks diligently.

And Finney agrees.

It's not as if he hadn't thought about it before; it's not for nothing that he has purple bags under his eyes and a possible headache from being sleepless. He didn't sleep a wink all night, so he's considered every possibility regarding his haughty plan. For better or worse, he's already explored every avenue to follow. First, he had to read the entire contents of the magazine, so early in the morning, as his sister was getting ready for the day, he sneaked into her room to steal the key piece of his plan. It was still there, carelessly forgotten under the bed, and as he was examining the colorful paper in his hands, his sister caught him from behind the wooden door. He knew hhe had to tear out the page right away so this wouldn't happen again, well It doesn't matter anymore.

Hairbrush in hand, her eyes still sleepy, Gwen asked him what he was doing in her room, and Finney made no excuses. Since he'd been caught red-handed, he had to tell her the full truth. After all, it's not like he's hiding things from his most bloodthirsty confidant, except for his crush on Robin; which she had a sneaky suspicion didn't need to be addressed; his sister knew it like the deep creases in her hand.

Gwen would occasionally linger with her gaze when Finney and Robin chatted on the porch of the latter's house. Before, the brunette had foolishly believed Gwen harbored romantic feelings for his friend, but he quickly realized she wasn't interested in that kind of stuff, at least not for now. She knew the analyzing look in those moments wasn't for nothing, but Finney always left the conversation for another time. If he could avoid it, he'd throw it under the shaggy rug in his room and forget it for eternity.

Back to the main topic, it’s easy to go off on tangents; Finney had indeed thought about what his sister had said earlier Was there any sense in keeping up with the magazine's nonsense? The answer is yes. Finney thought he could get something out of it; the purpose of the magazine is to win your boy over, so if he could change Robin´s perspective from friendly to romantic, Finney would gladly accept it. Likewise, he knew that with his new behavior, Robin could reveal his true feelings for Finney, perhaps a small sign of reciprocal love, or if things went badly, make it clear that they were just best friends.

"Look, this is my last chance." Finney says, sitting on the floor in the indian position, his sister leaning against the edge of the mattress, looking at him expectantly. "If this time it doesn't work, if he really doesn't have feelings for me, i'm going to reject what i feel for him, i'm going to forget everything. But if i manage to make him like me even a little, i'm going to make an effort to make him fall in love with me."

"Don't you think he already has feelings for you?"

"That would save me a lot of things, following every step of the magazine, for example," He says calmly. "But i guess that's something i would already know. It's not for nothing that he hasn't reciprocated any of my flirtations."

"I haven't even witnessed your pathetic flirtations, but i'm sure they're not obvious." Finney narrows her eyes at him in offense. "You're all grown up now, you know what you're doing. I'm just going to be your moral support. Now we could stay here and waste time with your fascinating ideas, or you could go to work, because you're running late."

"Shit." Finney jumps up after Gwen points to her clock. It's a quarter to eight, and the boy is still in his pajamas, a tangle of hair on his head and an empty stomach. He rushes to his room to change, quickly run a comb through his unruly curls, and rush to the kitchen for something to eat. He leaves the house, saying goodbye to his father, who responds with a grunt of confirmation. He hops on his bike and pedals through the city streets with an apple in his mouth and the thought of not losing his summer job for being late. Luck is on his side because he arrives just in time.

The place where he works is a painting business, an illustrious one-floor establishment with a wooden plank sign and two-tone windows. Finney likes it quite a bit, so he takes the morning shift, six hours a day, all week except for sundays, since that's the only day they're closed. He helps the owner take inventory, dispatch customers with their purchases, and dust from the highest shelves to the most cluttered racks. Upon entering, he cheerfully greets his boss, Mr. Smith, and puts on a dull blue apron. Automatically, he puts a smile on his face as he flips the sign on the door from Closed to Open.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Time passes in a flash, but he still has enough sense to think about Robin and the confession that was made to him the day before; he has to take it all in stride, so he's going to let it pass as if it hadn't happened. Finney can say he had a smooth shift with no repercussions or upset customers. The familiar ringing of the bell on the door rings once again, announcing the arrival of a new customer; it's just Robin coming to pick Finney up, as always. Today they're going out for a drink.

"Hello Mr. Smith." He hears behind him as he finishes packing a couple of cans of paint into a cardboard box.

"Hello Robin, nice to see you again." The older man replies. He has wrinkles on his forehead and cheekbones drooping with age. His ashen hair is regularly combed with wax, and he keeps a fine gold watch tucked into one of his pants pockets. It's endearing if you ask Finney. The conversation between the two doesn't stop there; the brown-haired boy listens to them talk about the muggy weather, the day's sales, and Robin's own job at the drive-in before it hits 2:00 and he can leave.

"Okay Mr. Smith, I'm leaving now. I left the cans of spray paint in the storage room, and the Addams' order is on the counter ready for pickup."

"Thanks for your effort today, Finney. See you tomorrow during regular business hours. Have fun, guys. Don't misbehave like those vandals at the end of Colfax Avenue."

"See you tomorrow." Finney says, waving goodbye.

"We're not promising anything." Robin says in a sing-song tone.

At the entrance, they meet the guy from the afternoon shift. They greet him with a few words and head down the sidewalk, chatting animatedly. Finney is busy carrying his bike, and Robin looks at him disdainfully, his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans.

"So, how did you sleep?" Finney asks with genuine interest, or at least that's what he seems to be doing. It's time to follow the magazine's first piece of tip.

"I should be the one asking you that. You look like a roadkill raccoon." The Mexican guy says ironically. "Was it another one of those sleepless nights?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Que jodido." He says in his native language. "Do that thing where you drink warm milk. You said it worked for you."

"Yeah, but we're out of cartons of milk." He kicks a pebble on the ground as Robin shrugs. "What movie is playing at the drive-in today?"

"The Thing. I like it even though it's been getting negative reviews."

"Mhm, is it bad?"

"I wouldn't say that. I think it's more because the recent release of E.T. It blew the whole audience away with that damn alien, and expectations were really high."

"I was planning on going tonight. I don't know, maybe just to pass the time while we make fun of couples in love."

"You know i can always smuggle you in." He says slyly, as if his coworkers don't know about Finney's presence every time he sneaks into the snack shop. "We'll steal a couple of treats and watch the movie from the west's hill."

"Someday you're going to get us in trouble." Finney leans his bike against the wall of the convenience store and then enters through the metal door.

"Not while i can find someone to cover for me. Besides, why are you going to the drive-in? I can't get fired for that." Robin heads straight to the coolers where the sodas are kept.

"I'm obviously going to make out with my lover. Why would i want to watch a movie if i have you?" He blurts out, distracted, searching for his favorite soda among the many.

"Aaaw, what are you saying? Do you want to kiss me, Finn?" Robin mocks him. Finney stops in his tracks, replaying the entire conversation in his head. The aforementioned words are burned into his mind with panic, and if it weren't for the fact that he's in a company right now, he'd smash his forehead against the tempered glass in front of him. "It would be an honor if you asked me, come on precioso, kiss me, muah muah muah!."

"You really do have some charm, you know that?" Out of nerves, he doesn't register the previous compliment. Perhaps if he thought a little he could guess its meaning in english, but he focuses firmly on responding to Robin and his air kisses. He leans his back against the cold glass and haughtily crosses his arms over his chest. "That's certainly attention-grabbing."

"Really?" Robin leans closer to him; he can feel his breathing increasingly intertwining with his. "Does it catch your attention?" He emphasizes to Finney, who looks at him longingly.

"A lot, i'd say." Finney bites his tongue captive; any more and blood might flow from a wound. Robin looks at him with a mixture of emotions that he can't quite explain. After a few seconds that feel like eternity, the black-haired boy lets out a giggle and shakes his head.

"Tonto." He says affectionately once again in spanish, now able to translate the word after years of spending time with all kinds of swear words. The tan-skinned boy steps away and takes two fizzy purple carbonated drinks out of one of the refrigerators. "I found them." He shakes gently so as not to shake the two bottles and walks gallantly to the register to pay. Finney stands desolate in the drinks aisle, his heart in his throat, wanting to burst out of his chest if only he could grow legs to move to another country, maybe another continent.

He groans to himself and trudges toward the exit. Robin follows behind him, and they sit shoulder to shoulder in the asphalt parking lot. Neither of them mentions their proximity, nor how close their knobby knees are, nor Robin's arm around Finney's neck in a friendly gesture.

"So mi flaco, meet me at 7 at the entrance to the drive-in? The popcorn's on me." The brown-haired boy thinks about it for a moment; there's really nothing to think about. With a big smile, he nods, and that's how they spend their afternoon before they each have to head home.

It's a date. Finney's tongue itches to say something, but he doesn't; it's not the right time.

Tip #1: Show interest. Successfully completed.

Chapter Text

Robin and Finney's non-date went quite well, without a doubt.

They met late before 7 p.m., just outside the drive-in theater grounds. Under the uniform regulations that Robin must follow, he wore a tucked-in off-white shirt along with his ever-reliable jeans, held up by his somewhat worn black leather belt, and his hair tied in a low ponytail, not a single strand escaping as a sign of rebellion; his bandana was nowhere to be seen. It was a cool night in the middle of summer, the kind that makes leaves shed from the trees in swirling winds flaunt themselves, so Finney clutched his dark denim jacket tightly. He wished he hadn't worn a short-sleeved shirt that he claimed looked good on him. After all those years of playing sports in the afternoons, they had to pay off, but it is not warm enough to retain heat. Wait, is he sure he looks fine? Maybe he should have brought that orange-striped cotton sweater; it's a nicer, brighter color after all, and it's more likely to look better with the jacket.

"You look good, buddy. I can hear your thoughts from here. Since when do you care so much about your appearance? "

Since i have someone to impress. Finney thinks, but it doesn't come out.

"You never know who might be watching." He says instead, and his friend agrees.

Robin spent most of his time with him, except for a couple of errands he had to run for his job. He had gotten him a couple of chocolate bars filled with fresh mint and a bucket of popcorn, which he assured him weren't stale but had a peculiar flavor that definitely wasn't butter, but Finney had to overlook it anyway. They shared a disposable cup of soda just to save a little money and sat on the previously mentioned west’s hills since neither of them drove a car. They joined a couple of families who wanted to enjoy the starry night on a thin picnic blanket.

Finney didn't expect to bond even further at that moment. While going to see a movie can be very romantic, it’s just going to do that: see a movie. However, the brunette is sharp, so the way Robin holds him by the sleeve of his jacket to guide him up the hill or the way, he smiles calmly at him every time he flinches at a scene that takes him by surprise makes his heart warm with pure emotion.

At the end of the evening, Robin must stay to ensure that the service and concession stands are in order. Finney stays to wait for him so they can walk home together. He glances around the parking lot; the discernible tire patterns on the dusty ground give him pause. Oh man, he hopes to have his own car soon to take Robin on a proper date, maybe pick him up, and go around wildly pursuing whatever unexpected plans occur to them in their prime of life. To avoid leaving him completely stranded, while cleaning, Robin throws out some recent comments he's heard from the director about the film, the star cast, and its unusual shoot; he listens, tossing off a few random questions that cross his mind.

When it was time to go home, they walked side by side, Finney on the left and Robin on the right, closer to the street line. Now, Robin wasn't a music fanatic, but that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy listening to it; sometimes, when he's relaxed, he'll hum a couple of symphonies without actually singing them. It's Finney's job to learn the lyrics and belt them out at the top of his lungs when no one's looking.

It's refreshing this way. Robin uses clapping, clicking, stamping, his own voice, or any part of his body to harmonize a euphony, and Finney sings, frightened by his partner's reaction. He usually only sings in the shower, but Robin always makes him feel better with a compliment on his exquisite voice, with no malice between the lines.

It's on the tip of his tongue. Finney swears the lyrics are on the tip of his tongue, yet no matter how hard he tries, he can't even remember the title of the tune. Robin doesn't seem to care; he keeps his gaze straight ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his brown windbreaker, staring at the waning moon shining in the night sky. Finney wonders what would have happened if he hadn't brought something to keep warm; Donna, his first and only girlfriend, often told him about those romantic movies she likes to watch where a guy bundled the girl up in his sports team jacket so she wouldn't suffer in the frigid temperature. Donna wished Finney would do something like that for her but their relationship ended as soon as it came, they weren't even together in Winter season. And as stupid as it sounds, Finney also wanted something like that; for it to happen right now, to be specific.

Neither of them mentioned the events from earlier in the afternoon or the most recent declaration of love from the day before, either to minimize the relevance of the situation or because they wanted to focus on the present, on spending time together. Finney thought about it a lot. He wants to know what Robin thinks about Sam, but at the same time, he's afraid of those thoughts. What would happen if he really questions going out with her? His whole plan would go down the drain, although, isn't it better to know his feelings and thus stop them from moving? When the young man leaves his cowardice hidden in a corner and bravely dares to speak, he runs out of time since he reaches the entrance of his house. He figures it's a conversation for another time.

"Thanks for today, Robin. The movie was great." He stands nervously on the sidewalk, hooking his thumbs in his pants waistband, not knowing where else to put them. "Even with your film-critic comments, i had a lot of fun."

"Mhm." He snorts. "Of course i do, niño bonito. You always have so much fun with me." The brown-haired boy rolls his eyes at the mocking nickname. His ex-girlfriend affectionately called him "Pretty Boy" when no one else was around. Finney wishes he'd never told Robin about it; he's got a damn genius for creating silly nicknames with his spanish variant. "And it makes me happy to know. It's nice to have nights like this with friends." He can sense a hidden connotation when he mentions the contested word.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

Robin waits expectantly for an answer. Finney is frozen in place, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Geez. What should he say now? If Robin said it, it was for a reason. Oh, is this how he decides to put an end to Finney's silly games?

One more heartbeat. Another heartbeat.

"Yes... Y-yes yes yes." He quickly answers when he's stumbling. "Of course, it's always nice to spend more time with friends. Well, it already feels like we're joined at the hip because we have occasional outings alone together. And with the boys too! You know how Vance and Bruce are, like us haha, they're always together, but not together in that sense. But a movie night... That's always good."

"Sure..." If Robin is disappointed, he's very good at hiding it because there isn't a hint of sadness in his expression. However, his tone of voice is briefly drier. "I have to go home now, Mom's waiting for me." He walks backward before turning completely around. "Sleep well, Finn. See you later."

"See you." Finney raises his hand to say goodbye, even if Robin can't see him. He huffs in frustration before pulling out his house keys to let himself in.

He screwed up. He definitely screwed up. Maybe that's why Finney should give himself a couple of days to follow the magazine's next tip.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Said and done, at least three monotonous days passed with no progress in Finney's love life, but he can't be blamed. Maybe he is. Because Robin hadn't made an appearance since movie night; no sudden visits during Finney's break at work or walks near the stream where they used to go and launch homemade rockets.

In the past, Finney wouldn't have shed a single drop of worry about not having Robin orbiting around him; he was free to attend to his own business without having to tell the brunette everything, but their last conversation planted a bittersweet thorn in his chest.

The next time he ran into Robin wasn't what he imagined.

Well, the things with Robin never usually go the way he imagined, but this time the weight of the actions falls on Finney. Or something like that.

Finney's doing the weekly shopping when he sees her; Donna in the cereal aisle. He debates whether to stop by and say hello or skip to the next section. He actually stayed on good terms with the girl; they just realized things changed when they went from being friends who started dating and didn't get along at all. Finney ruefully recalls how painful their first breakup was. Still, they greeted each other occasionally at heated baseball games and celebrated each other's academic achievements during exam time at school, but this is the first time he's seen her during the summer vacation.

"Hi. What are you doing here?" Donna glances over her shoulder as Finney stands next to her, holding a cardboard box of sugary flakes with a cartoonish drawing on the front.

"Here, in the cereal aisle?" The young woman smiles at him mockingly. "I'm looking for food for my cat."

"That's aisle 7 for pet supplies." Finney nods to the left. "Between the cleaning supplies aisle and the school supplies aisle."

"Wow." She says, surprised. "I didn't know you worked here. I thought you worked at the paint store on Sherman Street."

"I work double shifts." He says, walking toward the cereal box that his family often eats. "No, but seriously, I still work at Mr. Smith's."

"Oh, good. And how are you doing with that?" Donna and Finney head to the nearby aisles to purchase items from their shopping list, stopping occasionally to wonder if they should buy this or that.

"It's quiet. I like it when we don't have angry customers demanding a refund because they didn't like the paint they brought, and the pay is good." Donna nods. "What about you? I heard you're looking into college."

"Oh, yeah, there are a couple that catch my eye in the surrounding cities, but i'm not sure about anything. I want to think it over calmly." It's the boy's turn to nod.

"That's something i haven't thought about clearly." The next thing they do is pay one after the other at the cash register. It was a short farewell conversation, but it left a pleasant taste in Finney's mouth.

What does this have to do with Robin? Well, as they left the establishment and went their separate ways, Finney kissed Donna goodbye, and she responded with a big smile and words of encouragement.

Turning his head, he found Robin looking at him skeptically, his eyebrows raised so high he swore they reached his hairline.

Chapter Text

Finney is definitely very bad at this love thing.

"Robin, hi! How... How are you? It's been a while since we were together, i mean, we saw each other, hehe," He says, cradling the paper bag of groceries in his arms, glancing sideways at Robin.

"I didn't know you were dating Donna again." Robin's presumed lack of interest makes him more nervous than he already is. "But you know what? It's no surprise. Donde hubo fuego, cenizas quedan." He blurts out assault, finally entering the supermarket. If Finney searches deep in his brain, he'll remember an old saying Robin's mother liked to say while watching dramas on television; the well-known telenovelas. Without wasting any more time, he follows the tan-skinned boy down the grocery aisles.

If you saw them, they'd remind you of a master with his dog following him without question. Finney wants to resume the conversation but can't find the right words, doesn't want to take a step forward only to take three more back by questioning the wrong thing. Robin gives him a couple of doubtful glances before sighing and ending the suffocating silence.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at your feet, or are you finally going to say something?"

"I... Um, sorry."

"Why?" They look into each other's eyes, trying to convey everything without the use of words. Robin's eyes change like the weather: rain, tears. Thunder, anger. Pecks of sunlight, happiness. And if Finney could guess now, he'd say clouds, sadness. "Do you even know what you feel?"

"Yes." He answers hastily. "The other day i said something that's been bothering me ever since, and i know it bothers you too." When i said they weren't together in that sense, didn't mean it to sound mean, i swear. It's just... I was nervous that night becauseiI thought maybe i was misunderstanding things.

"Nervous?" He asks incredulously, and Finney just nods in resignation. "Why did you think you were misunderstanding things? What the hell does that mean?"

"Do i really have to explain everything to you, Robin?" Finney says in a pitiful tone, exasperated by the boy's abject attitude. "I was wrong about something i said, and i feel bad about it. I apologized, and you still think it's not enough."

"Sorry, you're right... I think I'm very defensive. I hear all kinds of homophobic comments from my uncle, and it's funny because he gets racial slurs every day. But it really bothers me when people pick on someone just because they're attracted to the same gender."

"Or both." He swallows as if it were an involuntary tic. "Well, i've been called a faggot my whole life, so... I know the feeling pretty well."

"Yeah, but you... Would it bother you if one of our friends was gay?"

"Hell, of course not!" He exclaims, offended. "We don't choose who we fall in love with, it just happens naturally. Like when you have a favorite color; the mind associates it because it reminds you of certain things or because you like how it looks in your clothes, it generates sensations that make us feel good. The same thing happens when you fall in love, only this time you follow your heart."

"That's nice." The scarlet glow on Finney's cheeks should be Robin's favorite color.

"Whatever." Finney wants to leave as soon as possible; he can't believe he said something like that. He wants to go home and hide under hundreds of blankets until the sweltering heat on his face fades. "Are we okay?"

"We're okay."

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Click click click.

The silence in the Blake house is broken by the flickering of the old tungsten bulbs in the kitchen ceiling. The youngest of the family is focused on her task of washing the dishes, her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows and wearing a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves. The sun has already set in the sky, her father is relaxing on the new sofa he bought with a few extra dollars from work, and Finney can only sit on his lonely solid wood stool and sigh.

"I swear, if i hear you sigh one more time, i'll..." Gwen squirts water at her brother when she hears him moan for the umpteenth time in the span of five minutes. Fed up with Finney's supposed boredom, she turns on the radio to liven up the small room.

A song plays that makes Finney lift his forehead from the dining room table. It's a well-known song, but why is he supposed to remember it? Hearing the lyrics brings to mind a person. Of course! It's that song Robin hummed that time when he walked him home from the drive-in. It's been a hit for a few years, released shortly after Finney was born, and throughout his life he's heard it in different versions by different artists, although it was originally performed by Frankie Valli in '67.

"Can't take my eyes off you... That's the song!" Gwen looks at him strangely, even soaking a plate in water to look at him with the same expression. "It's the song that Robin was humming the other day.

"That's disgusting. Now i won't be able to listen to the song without thinking about you two making out." She says with feigned disgust.

"Robin and i didn't do anything! I just couldn't remember what the song was. And not long ago you wanted to marry that actor from The Partridge Family."

"I was 11, get over it! Besides, Danny Bonaduce was gorgeous on that show." Finney snorts in amusement as he gets up from his stool. "I stopped liking him a long time ago. I haven't had a crush on a guy in years."

"I wish I had the same problem you had."

"The only problem you're going to have is covering up the black eye i'm going to give you because you were supposed to be drying the dishes."

"I'm sorry, didn't hear you because i'm going to my room." Gwen yells his name, but that doesn't bring him back. He glances into the living room, where his father is already looking at him curiously. Finney gives him a half-smile as an apology for the noise, and so, his father closes his eyes to try to get some sleep.

While the man hasn't completely given up alcohol, he barely drinks it occasionally; besides, he hasn't raised a hand to them in years. Although there are occasional occasions when he raises his voice to raise them with a firm hand, just like he was raised when he was a child.

Finney throws himself backward onto the mattress and stares for a while at his bedroom ceiling, chipped in a couple of corners from the cheap paint that was used. The doorbell rings, but it's not his jurisdiction to go and find out who it is. He reaches up to cover his eyes and pretends to be asleep so no one comes to bother him. Just in case.

Gasp.

In horror, he inhales deeply, his mouth open from the scare they've put him through. Bruce looms over him, hands floating in the air, a mischievous grin on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling into crescents.

"Hey Finney, what's up?"

"Jesus, Bruce, you almost scared me to death." He runs a hand through his hair, following a tired exhale.

"So, how was i supposed to wake you up? Don't say it with a kiss, because that's Robin's job."

"Don't talk nonsense. Did you just come to bother me?"

"I'd love to. That's my bread and butter." He says with a jubilant tone, balling his fists up to his chest. "But no, i came to get you to go to the Arcade. The guys should already be waiting for us there."

"Who are the guys?"

"You know. Vance, Robin, even Billy's coming. It's incredible that he agreed to come knowing how scared Vance is of him. Shake off that laziness and let's go." Bruce tugs at his wrist to force him out of bed.

"No, no, no." He says, shaking his head, his eyes wide open. "Robin will be there. I don't want to see him."

"No way. Did you really confess?" He says incredulously.

"No!"

"So you two kissed?"

"No." He blurts out, distressed.

"So what's the damn problem?" There's annoyance in his voice, and Finney just looks at him irritably, sitting cross-legged like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Don't let a guy ruin your night, or your life, or whatever. Come on." He finally drags him out of the house and heads for the arcade. "And you're definitely telling me what happened."

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

"That sounds really homophobic if you ask me."

"Thank God i wasn't asking." Finney tells him what happened, except for the part about following some silly tips from his sister's magazine. He digs his hands into the pockets of his dark denim jacket. The evening hues of the sun bathe the horizon with flickering marigolds and a fervent salmon color battling the approaching midnight indigo. The breeze is cool now that the sun is no longer shining at its brightest.

"Look, it's not a big deal. At least, you worked that out. " He said he took it too seriously, and you didn't really mean to say me and Vance are together."

"But you'd like to."

"Oh that's too bad, Finney, but Bruce's love gallery is closed for today. Now, put on your best smile because you look like constipated ."

"Haha hilarious. " As they enter the venue, pink, yellow, and blue neon lights explode in their faces, and a cacophony of thunderous laughter and 8-bit synthesized music plays everywhere. They can't find their friends at first glance, so after wandering around the arcade machines for a couple of seconds, Billy Showalter waves at them from the platform games as an invitation to join them.

"Jeez, guys, what took you so long? " Billy says, his arm resting on the back of a chair while playing a racing game. With his other hand, he holds a disposable cup of some kind of soda that must be more sugar than drink, because Finney can smell the sweetness from where he's standing.

"Oh, you know, Finney dressed to impress. " The Japanese boy mockingly points out, elbowing the aforementioned. However, he gets an elbow to the stomach in return.

"Come on, Bruce, you never know who might be watching." Robin smiles at him in that charming way that makes his pulse race.

I'm just a lovesick idiot. Finney thinks foolishly.

"Hey idiots, shut the fuck up." Vance expresses his displeasure at all the talk. He focuses on eliminating as many enemies as possible in Tempest; according to what Billy tells them, the older boy has done a great job handling the spaceship over the last 15 levels on the extreme difficulty setting. He only needs a couple of shots and he'll be able to reach the end of the game; he can feel it. The crowd cheers his presumed victory; it's not just his friends cheering him on like a euphoric wave, but a couple more kids who are waiting for the final verdict.

Huh?!

A power outage provokes frightened shrieks from the gang of young people. Finney can't even see his own hands, but a fading glimmer of moonlight filters through the club's window. He hears a frustrated Vance to his right, then a dull noise that shocks him; he must have kicked the arcade machine out of pure anger. He feels shove after shove as he struggles to stay on his feet; there's too much distressing noise to even analyze what's happening.

Suddenly, a presence slips between his fingers. Finney instinctively flinches and struggles to free himself, yet the grip persists. With his free hand, he cups the stranger's hand and then feels a braided leather bracelet.

It's Robin.

Tip #2: Maintain eye contact. Completed with difficulty.

Chapter Text

Chaos. It's all he can think about.

Faced with the frantic tug on the back of his hand, Finney allows himself to be led out of the Arcade. He hears Billy's anguished screams, Vance's furious clattering with each step, and he can't say anything about Bruce because he has no idea what happened to the boy. A stomp here, another there.

The place wasn't even crowded; it was a serene Wednesday night for hanging out. However, people's fear is what sets off a commotion of crashes and screams, added to the fact that it is not a particularly large space.

Finney concentrates on not taking awkward steps so he can leave without looking like an idiot; the heat of having Robin's hand intertwined with him leaves his mind blank. Already outside on the street, groups of kids are talking to each other, murmuring incontestable words in barely a whisper. His labored breathing is shaky across Robin's shadowed face. He doesn't know what expression he should have, but the subtle caress of her fingertips helps him steady himself a little.

And suddenly, the streetlights burst into life. It was a fleeting blackout that lasted only a few seconds. The arcade explodes with neon flashes and the squawks of video game characters. Still, due to the commotion, most of the kids head home, although a few more decide to retrace their steps and pretend nothing happened amidst apathetic laughter.

"Hey buddy, are you okay?" The guy in front of him says, his eyes lowered in concern.

"Oh, uh..." He scratches his head. "Sure, it just caught me by surprise... Sorry i slapped you, Robin."

"It's okay, maybe i should have called you first. I thought it would be best to stay together in case things got a little crazy. Más vale prevenir que curar."

"Mhm, thanks for that."

"No problem, just... How did you know it was me?" He exclaims, running a finger under his nose.

Oh right, the bracelet.

It's an earthy brown and somewhat frayed at the ends, yes, but it remains special to Robin. He wears it only in his spare time. His father left it for him as a gift before he went off to war; Finney doesn't even remember which one. He never met the man; he'd already passed away before Finney met Robin, but that doesn't change the fact that Robin never spoke of his father. He looked a lot like Robin, judging by the old photos hanging on the wall at home; the same button nose, rather good-looking bushy eyebrows, and rounded ears. He did, however, take after his mother's charming eyes.

"What? Do you think i can't recognize your hands despite the darkness?"

"It's not like you've known from the start."

"Well, i had an incentive... Your bracelet." Points with his finger the bracelet. Robin looks at him in recognition, raising their hands, because of course, they're still joined.

"I see... So you can't recognize my hands, but you can recognize my bracelet... Mhm, maybe we should hold hands more often." He raises his eyebrows and looks at him with a seductive affection he remembers seeing in romantic movies.

This is your chance, Finney. Don't screw up again. He thinks with the goal of giving himself courage.

"If it avoids these kinds of problems, of course, why not? What other part of each other's body would you like to know?" Robin just looks at him incredulously with a static smile; his eyes are wider than usual, and for a moment, he doesn't seem to breathe, as if he's holding back the laughter in his throat. It bursts out in a rush, barely resembling a cough.

Such an idiot, Finney! You had to do one thing, just one! He squeals, embarrassed, inside.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me? Precioso." He grins mischievously, tongue between his teeth. A captivating crimson glow adorns his cheeks, nothing compared to Finney's blushing mess. They stare at each other for a few seconds until their bubble shatters when a couple of boys run up and shove Robin by the shoulders. The boy clicks his tongue in reply.

"I think we should find the boys." Robin nods, and they unhurriedly untangle their hands, briefly locking their pinkies before separating them completely. Finney allows himself to savor that sensation just a little longer. "Forget what i said... It was stupid."

"Well, it's not a bad idea, is it? Are you embarrassed to know my body?"

"Robin!" He shuts him up with nervous laughter, punching him in the arm.

"You put it on the table! I haven't even mentioned which body part yet, you pervert."

"I'm not! You thought it wrong first!"

"What else was i supposed to think? Huh?"

"I don't know! Your arms maybe?" He gestures uneasily with his hands, then fanned his face in search of more fresh air.

"I can take off my jacket right now if you want to admire my strong arms, mi flaco. I wouldn't mind doing it for you."

"Geez, shut your mouth." The curly-haired boy turned his back to laugh timidly. A few feet away, he finally notices Bruce, who's signaling for everyone to gather around, since a rather grumpy Vance and a perplexed Billy are standing next to him.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Bruce exclaims, arms crossed and eyes skeptical.

"Where the hell have you two gone?" Billy asks this time.

"No, where the hell have you gone? We've been waiting for you for a while." Finney reproaches.

"I don't give a shit about that." Vance says sarcastically. "That stupid power outage ruined my score, and before i could rip the wires out of that damn machine, this one here." He points at the Japanese boy, who, not at all impressed, raises an eyebrow at him. "Took me out to the street and i still have a couple of punches to throw. "

"Come on, Pinball Vance. Why don't you fight that anger with some food?" Robin pats him on the shoulder, a friendly exchange to lighten the mood.

"Oh yeah! Let's go get some cheeseburgers." Billy yells excitedly.

"It's a deal. Cheeseburgers it is." Robin speaks again and leads the group to the nearest food establishment. The dirty-blond boy sighs angrily but reluctantly follows them. Behind him, Bruce reminds Vance to count to help him cool down, but receives silence in return.

That night is a bit more tropical than the previous ones; warm clothes aren't needed to lower body temperature, so once again Finney can't take advantage of the "I'm cold" card to use Robin's jacket. Never mind, he's not really hoping for that, no sir.

"Next time, we'll have to bring our bikes. I mean, don't just have it for my job, you know?"

"It's incredible that you've been a paperboy for so long and yet you've had the same bike since you were 8." Everyone, except for Vance and Billy, snickers.

"Shut up Bruce, that's not true, and i've had it since I was 10." A wave of laughter silences him as the tips of his ears burn. "Oh yeah? Well, you've been in the minor leagues for years without any progress. Even Finney has improved quite a bit more than you. And he won the last game!"

"Ouch, thanks for saying i don't suck at playing anymore, and you know what? Don't drag me into this. Fight your battles alone." He quickly retorts before his name gets tarnished.

"Thanks for the support, buddy." The paperboy replies pitifully, attracting another pair of giggles.

He feels the pebbles of the pavement beneath his feet, and the indigo view of the starry sky makes him sigh dreamily. Consequently, the tan-skinned boy tries to match his stride and offer another of his comforting smiles. His walk is overshadowed by three skinny figures who haven't changed over the years: Buzz, Matt, and Matty, or as he liked to call them, Matt Squared.

"Hey Vance, brother! What are you doing? You've got Yamada, Showalter, and Blake. All the gays in town are gathered! Not you, Arellano. We'd never think that of you." The pale redhead looks at them contemptuously.

"Fuck off Buzz, get out of here before my knuckles meet your ugly face."

"Oh, i didn't mean to touch a nerve." He puts a hand to his chest, sounding superficially hurt, then feigns surprise at what he says next. "Unless... Wait... Don't tell me hanging around them also turned you into a fairy. Let me guess, Finney Blake is your personal whore, right? You've always had a preference for his ass."

"¡Hijo de perra, no hables así de él!" Robin grabs him by the collar with an aggression that chills Finney to the bone; he'd seen him in more explosive fights, though, never with that kind of rising anger in his eyes. He and Bruce lunge to get him off them, struggling to separate them but failing miserably; Robin's grip is strong. The other guys roar with laughter at his outburst.

"You were right, Buzz! What do you say, Vance? Which one of them do you let suck you off?"

"Are you calling me a faggot? You little shit." He spits with a furious air that makes the pair of snobby boys, Billy included, retreat despite being a few steps behind Vance. Vance clenches his fists and grits his teeth, he’s getting ready to throw the first punch, because he certainly has the desire.

"Wow hey, relax, we're just joking. We know you're not really a sick like them." Matt comments, putting all his weight on Vance's shoulder.

"You're all fucking homophobic!" Robin shouts, still holding Buzz. "Let me go, i'm going to smash this pendejo's face in!"

"We may be homophobic and all that, but at least we don't enjoy sucking dick! Right, Vance?!" Matt elbows him confidently, hoping for a positive comeback this time.

"Being homophobic means being afraid of gays and i'm not afraid of anything." At that moment everyone freezes, no one dares to breathe or move a only muscle. Finney glances at Bruce in bewilderment out of the corner of his eye, and he does exactly the same; not even the Mexican boy can help but feel stunned and continue strangling the other's throat.

They are brought out of their stupor by the sound of a thud: flesh hitting flesh, moans of pain, and the echo of a broken bone. Vance finds himself pinning Matty to the pavement, slamming his face in over and over again. Bruce runs to stop him, and so, with one arm free, Robin throws a punch to Buzz's eye. Finney calls his name repeatedly without a response, then is knocked to the ground by one of the remaining thugs. Before he even thinks to touch Finney, Robin is already beating Matt up.

Finney doesn't know what he should do. Thinking before acting has always been his strong suit, but when it comes to Robin, he tends to be quite impulsive; that's why, upon seeing the two-on-one brawl he's facing, he doesn't hesitate to kick the fluffy-haired brunette in the mouth, knocking the wind out of him.

"Shit. Guys, we have to go!" Billy, who had incredibly stood there watching the entire fight without participating, shouts, each shout more distressed than the last. "Guys, seriously! The Fuzz is coming this way, and i'm not spending the night at the station!"

"Fuck." Finney curses, hearing the colloquial slang used to refer to the police. Can't he have a night without riots?

Chapter Text

A chorus of voices shouting "Come on, come on, come on!", "Let's go!", and "Leave it Vance, that's enough!" rush to get up from the asphalt and run before a pair of police officers on duty catch up. Flashing cherry-red and berry-blue lights flash a few feet away. The patrol car doesn't sound its siren, but Finney doesn't hesitate and practically drags Robin off the ground with a "Let's go!"

"This counts as disorderly conduct. If they catch us, we'll go to jail!" Billy says, scandalized, making his way in the opposite direction from where the fight was taking place. "And I can't go to jail, Krypto's waiting for me at home!"

"Just keep running, Superboy!" Robin yells as the boy runs past him and out of sight around the next corner. He must recognize the terrain after years of working as a newspaper delivery boy. "It's as if his dog's name gives him superpowers."

"Shameless idiots!" Brama Vance, a little behind them, obscenely confronts the trio of insolent boys who dared to sour his night. Bruce pulls him along to sneak between a pair of narrow streets; Robin and Finney continue running in the direction of the nearest house.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Breathing heavily, Finney helps his friend squeeze through the splintered window of his room, promising him to be quiet. His father wouldn't like the idea of ​​knowing he went out to have fun with his friends and returned with red-hot scrapes and a Robin Arellano covered in blood and future bruises, adding to the added bonus of the near-chase by the police.

Terrence Blake, from the comfort of his reclining sofa, is watching a television series about a powerful billionaire family in Dallas County, the show's eponymous name. It's as if that's his point of appearance every day, because he doesn't seem to leave the room unless it's to go to work. Finney prays that he can go straight to his room, barely announcing his arrival. Despite his efforts, his father notices his presence.

"You came back early." The metal springs creak as the adult leans back.

"Oh yeah, there was a power outage at the arcade, and we lost the desire to play." Under his father's scrutinizing gaze, he runs his hand over his face to wipe away a few drops of sweat. "And besides, it's hot outside; it was getting unbearable."

"What happened to your face? Looks gross." He gestures to his own face, hesitant because of the dirt and scarlet liquid glistening on his son's skin.

“Uuu, a cat scratched me on my way home.” He lies, barely touching the cut on his cheekbone out of pure reflex. “Honestly, it really itches, so i’ll go wash up.” If Finney doesn’t make a big deal out of it, his father shouldn’t either, so he lets it go.

“I see. Gwenny left you leftovers for dinner in the microwave. Heat them up if you’re hungry.” His gaze returns to the broadcast, increasing the volume monotonously. Finney huffs in relief and heads to the kitchen for that plate of food; he watches it spin for a full minute, the yellow light bathing it in warmth, then he grabs a can of cold soda and stumbles upstairs, stopping in the bathroom and trying to juggle the old, battered emergency kit.

When he enters his room, he finds Robin with his hair disheveled and his forehead bare, is waiting for him, sitting on the rug at the foot of the bed, already clutching a shirt that Finney remembers tossing into his dirty clothes hamper. He takes it from his hands to cover the can and push it against Robin's face to ease the pain and the gradual swelling.

"Yeah, sure. Feel free to ruin any of my shirts. It's not like i know how to wash blood out of clothes."

"In my defense, it's a black one, and i actually know how to deal with blood stains."

"How thoughtful." He snorts and, with a cloth soaked in isopropyl alcohol, scrubs the ragged calluses on his hands. Robin sucks air in through his mouth, making it into a pitiful grimace. His knuckles have stopped bleeding, the ones Finney has mended so many times since they were little, and they hold more memories than one'd think; every fight and every blow remains etched into his tan skin like an untold story, and for now, it's wrapped in a bandage like a blanket that protects him. "Thanks for defending me back there."

"Don't even mention it. Someday they'll have to learn to stop being so loud. I don't care if it's through punches."

"We're 17 and you still have to fight my battles for me, huh?" He lets out an ironic laugh that sounds more like a discouraging snort.

"No one fights alone, Finn. Your problems become my problems too. I wasn't going to let them talk shit about you, and don't forget that you also got involved in the fight. I think you broke Matt's jaw with that kick." Robin says, causing a more natural chuckle from Finney. "Don’t pay attention to what they said, they're prejudiced idiots." He sighs in exasperation. He looks at Finney with an easily decipherable expression in his eyes. "Are you okay?" Finney answers by ducking his head. Robin brings him back to face him with a hand on his chin for support. He lowers the can so his hand is free, but Finney retrieves it and holds it against his face. Robin takes care of the scratch on his face; he cleans it and puts a band-aid on it.

"What if what they said about me was true?" His voice sounds broken. He presses his lips together, avoiding looking at his friend. "What they've said all this time... That i am... That i like..."

"I'd tell you we're in the same boat." The lash on Finney's head should hurt, but that doesn't matter.

"I like boys... And girls." Finney rushes out without thinking much about it. This is the third time he's told it; the first time, he told Gwen, though technically he didn't. From a young age, his sister has been proudly connected to her sense of perception, so she never asked him directly, but already had an idea why Finney's gaze lingered on Clint Eastwood when they watched movies together. The second time, it was with Bruce a couple of weeks ago (it was actually an accident, and the first time he said it out loud) Bruce had been drooling over Vance while idly chatting with Robin. The boy blurted out a heated comment about Vance's beefy arms and how much he'd like to be between them, then panicked at Finney's questioning look, and to calm him down, he had to admit he has feelings for Robin, as if that would help the situation. "Great, i only like boys. But you know." Robin shrugs, a small smile gracing his face. A couple of seconds pass in static silence until he leans toward Finney. "Y hay un chico que me gusta mucho." He says in his native language, his voice soft.

The way Robin looks at him makes Finney think he might kiss him.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone knocks on the door. Its appearance is like popping a balloon in a quiet room. Both boys start apart, like a deer in headlights; once they're on their feet, they run to opposite ends of the room. Robin, restless, whispers something like "I'd better go home, Mom's waiting for me." Standing next to the door, Finney asks him to stay, but it's no use.

"Hey Finney, you didn't tell me you were home... Did something happen to your face?" On the other side of the door, the younger Blake girl is frowning, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I ran into a cat on my way here, it's just a minor scratch."

"Mhm. I hope it didn't ruin your night with the guys." She murmurs, disbelieving him. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"I was about to, but you're still here."

"Okay, got it. You want me to leave. Tell your cat not to forget to close the window next time. Good night, Finney." She smiles sardonically before leaving.

Finney is left alone in his room with an untouched dinner plate, a horrible smell of antiseptic, and a bandana left behind.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Today is Thursday. Today there is baseball practice. And also today marks one week since he made the wise decision to follow those crazy tips in Gwen's magazine.

I'm definitely skipping the next piece of plan’s tip. It's incoherent and pointless. Robin won't like me after seeing me like a flash of lightning, nor will he pine for me until the next meeting. The other day, my big mouth and i ruined it over a misunderstanding. I don't need another one. Especially with what happened last night, it all felt as intimate as a confession... Does that count as a love confession? Wait, what did he say before left? Something about a boy. It could be about me, right? Then maybe i should follow the next tip, to make things easier... Or screw them up worse. Urgh, stupid and indecisive me. Finney muses as he labels some paint cans by color as a request from his boss.

Later, after his internal rant, Bruce comes to pick him up after work to take him home to eat and go to practice at the city's athletic fields. While they're not on the same team, there's enough space for everyone thanks to the sprawling grounds divided into three sections. One field for baseball, one for soccer, and one open to the public; they alternate weekly so one team uses the baseball diamond and the other uses the public, as an order so everyone can enjoy the space without crowding. This is courtesy of Mayor McNichols.

After hanging out at the Yamada home, Finney and Bruce walk to a nice-looking ice cream shop nearby, still waiting for that sweet treat from a few days ago. Finney chooses walnut, Bruce prefers mint.

"A penny for your thoughts?" The curly-haired boy says, suspicious of his partner's hesitant silence throughout the day.

"Okay, i'll offer you two cents then... Neither? You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Anyway, i wanted to tell you something that happened yesterday after we met... " Some of the words spoken must have clicked in Bruce's mind because he's suddenly speaking in a rush.

"Vance asked me out on a date. "

"Holy shit, forget what i was saying. That's amazing! Tell me how it went, come on. Oh man, can't believe you made it before me, you lucky bastard." He chatters excitedly, while Bruce avoids eye contact with a noticeable blush on his cheeks.

"Oh look, it's Robin. "

"I'm not falling for that, you're trying to divert the topic!...No, wait, actually, it is Robin. " Finney enthusiastically waves his hand at the embarrassed boy crossing the street, who is talking to a young woman he recognizes very well.  "Focus Bruce, tell me how he asked you. "

"Oof, i just... I walked him home after we hid from the fuzz, and he started telling me all these… Uhm, charming? things about me, and i felt so bewildered and dizzy. And it was weird because he was covered in bruises and dried blood, but i still thought he was the most attractive guy i've ever met."

"Wait, what things?"

"I'm not going to tell you! It's...uhm...private."

"Well, i didn't want to know anyway." He rolls his eyes. "When's the date?"

"The thing is... His mom interrupted us before i could say yes. I've been feeling like an idiot all day, just standing there not saying anything." He finishes the sentence with a pitiful groan.

"Reiterate that i said you were damn lucky, i have to tell Robin about this." Despite Bruce's don't-do-it look, Finney runs without hesitation to his boy.

Tip #3: Keep your encounters short. Not completed with merit.

Chapter Text

It turns out Robin is talking to Sam Giddings. A charming hazel-eyed blonde girl in his grade who had confessed her love for Robin a few days earlier. Finney feels a burning unease in the pit of his stomach; perhaps the blueberry Pop Tart he had for snack was expired, or perhaps the lactose in his walnut ice cream is proving difficult to digest. Either way, there's nothing to worry about, because the poor girl apologizes profusely, shakes her head, and sadly says goodbye when Finney appears. Unfortunately for Bruce, he doesn't manage to cross the street in time when the traffic light changes from red to green, so he has to wait a good 12 seconds, anxiously watching the cars go by.

"Sorry, i didn't mean to interrupt, but you really need to hear this." Robin hesitates. Finney takes a breath to look at the violet-blue bruise fading to cerulean green on the boy's cheek, but nonetheless continues as if it's the greatest discovery of his short life. "Guess who has a date?"

"Um certainly not me."

"Certainly... Certainly not you?"

"Remember what i told you last night?" Robin raises his eyebrows uncertainly, and Finney feels like he can breathe again. Because of course, Robin can't like Sam like that.

"Oh right, how could i forget. Well, yes, certainly not you."

"And... Certainly not you either?" Finney shakes his head, his short curls bouncing from side to side, giving him an almost comical look. Bruce calls out angrily when he finally makes it through to the other side. "Um then, Bruce?"

"Bruce was supposed to have a date with Vance, but no, because he forgot how to even talk and didn't respond."

"Did he... Did he forget? Hahaha." Robin laughs between pauses, and Finney joins in. Bruce's face is flushed with a feverish combination of embarrassment and annoyance.

"You are a bunch of little shits, don't judge me!"

"A simple 'I'll think about it' would have sufficed, you know?"

"Oh just like you left Sam waiting for an answer, right? Yeah, very eloquent of you." Bruce says sardonically, to which Robin scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"I had my reasons... That doesn't matter, i want to hear the story from your own mouth."

"No. Screw you and screw Finney. You guys were really meant to be together."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Finney declares happily.

"It's okay, Bruce." Robin pats the aforementioned guy's shoulder in a sympathetic sort of way. "You were so nervous you didn't know what to say, weren't you? Finn tends to trip over his own tongue all the time."

"Hey!" The brown-haired boy punches him in the shoulder blade with a closed fist. Robin lets out a stifled groan between giggles, ignoring the sting and reveling in the pack of butterflies fluttering inside him.

"And i was right all along." Bruce's murmur is barely intelligible; Finney and Robin would have missed it if not for the boy's weary eye roll.

"What was that?"

"I said Finney is a terrible friend and a first-class traitor."

"Oooww." Finney's expression is one of mock sadness, his lower lip jutting out in a pout and his forehead furrowed in false concern.

"Yeah i can't believe you're standing here making fun of me when you clearly have an embarrassing crush on y-"

"Shh shh! You don't know what you're talking about!" He stifles his words hastily. "Practice. Baseball. Yes. We should go. Come on, Bruce."

"Oh no precioso, let him finish. I'm sure that's something I'd love to hear."

"Precioso? Doesn't that mean precious?" The Japanese boy questions for his own pleasure, his lips twisting into a smug snarl, reveling in Robin's silence and Finney's heated face; Finney feels like a complete idiot for not having made a comparison like that before. Robin has been calling him that for a while. Mi flaco too. The "my" as a noun of belonging, as if Finney belonged to Robin. He looks at him with shining eyes; like a lost cat on the street, expectant, craving his attention.

"Wait, really?" Robin doesn't insist on answering, instead looking around for the next way out. Finney gets a little annoyed, still bitter about the way Robin vanished the night before. "Here comes the part where Robin excuses himself by saying his mom is waiting for him at home like always."

"Well it's because my mom is waiting for me at home."

"Yeah but you don't have to use it every time you want to escape from something or someone... Especially me." Finney and Robin, face to face, their eyes shining with something neither of them can name. Bruce, with anger shrinking from the force of emotion, shifts uncomfortably from where he is standing because he doesn't know how to read the environment he is in.

"I think i'm going to go now." He clears his throat to get their attention. "I've been disgraced enough for today, and i don't think want to know what's going on between you two... Whatever is going on between you two."

"Nothing's happening." Finney says, a second before Robin.

"You still haven't finished telling me your story with Vance."

"Finney will do it for me later. You see how he loves to talk about things that don't concern him." The boy sticks his tongue out at him.

"Hahaha, like when he said you popped a pimple in front of Mrs. Sherman and all the shit fell on her face. She was so upset she hit you with her cane."

"Were you the one who told everyone?!" The flames of his anger rekindle like a fire crackling in a scorching, enveloping heat. Bruce raises his hands to cup Finney's neck, though Finney is faster and steps around him, dodging his grasp and starting to run. "They called me Pimply Bruce for weeks! Weeks, Finney!"

"Troublemaker." He says to Robin in a loud, clear tone as he walks away, drowned out by Bruce's "I'm going to kill you!" "Hey! You left your bandana at my house. I'll give it back later if Bruce doesn't get rid of my body first!" Then he sets off down the street with Bruce hot on his heels. Robin watches them go, the corners of his lips curl into a blissful smile, and he sighs fondly. Finally, he turns around and walks to Vance's house.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

Finney is stuck. He can still feel the roar of the wind whistling in his ears, the rattle of his bike chains sparking in the air, muffling a dull rumble. He's not paying attention to the conversation a few tables away, where his sister and her friends are chatting away, rant and rattle, juicy gossip that can't wait to be unleashed. Across from him sits Bruce, also dragged into this mess, sipping a chocolate milkshake with more whipped cream than milkshake.

He doesn't want to sound like a heartless brother; he loves Gwen very much, he really does, but babysitting isn't one of the things he's most excited about. They hang out at Root Down, a busy diner that's two or so miles away from their house, the main reason their father wouldn't let Gwen go alone and just shoved a couple of bills in Finney's palm to buy hot dogs or whatever his kids like.

At the nearby table, besides Gwen, sit Amy, Susie, and Griffin Stagg, one of their sister's classmates who recently joined their group of friends. He doesn't usually talk much and can sometimes be unsettling, and he often wears colorful band-aids on his knees and shoes stained with mud. Finney likes him.

Giggling and with a force of disguise, Amy and Susie stroll over to the jukebox and switch to a song they like. Gwen leans back in her seat, her gaze fixed on Finney.

"Okay, enough with those depressed faces... What did Finney do this time?"

"Why do you think it was me?" Gwen raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, her expression reading as, "Are you really asking?"

"You know, just Finney being a gossip bitch." Bruce sips through his straw, whipped cream oozing from the corners of his mouth.

"I already said i was sorry."

"Your apologies aren't welcome. You told everyone a disgraceful fact about me. I need something in return. A coin to pay for us to be even."

"Something that will make him squirm with embarrassment when his secret is out." Griffin joins the conversation.

"Yeah, exactly!" Bruce says, a little too excited for Finney's liking.

"Like, Finney flirting with Robin after reading a teen magazine about tips on how to make him fall in love with him?"

"That's not..." Finney begins, wide-eyed with panic, stiffening in his seat, afraid of the smile blossoming on Bruce's face.

"Oh my God..." He says, in disbelief. "And you were making fun of me with Vance!"

"What about Vance?" Griffin asks, an involuntary shiver running down his spine.

"Gwen you weren't supposed to say that!"

"And you weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend."

"Woah." Griffin says, with no hint of surprise.

"I want to die." He drops his head onto the table, his forehead pressed against the unclean plastic surface, redolent of a fried aroma and oily texture. He'll regret it later.

"Yeah, i'm sure you want him. Almost as much as you want Robin. I mean, really Finney? Tips for making him fall in love with you?"

"I'm desperate." His voice is muffled.

"Was that enough for him to take revenge? You might as well let everyone know." Now Finney isn't so sure he still likes Griffin. "Forget it, that's probably not good."

"Oh, of course ." Finney is overcome with electrifying fear, pushing his chaotic nerves deep into his chest, wanting them to disappear. "But i'm not as ruthless as he is. I'd never do that to a friend. He's had enough with us knowing."

"Thanks..." He lets out a sigh.

"But i'm telling the boys."

"No Bruce... Don't do that. I don't tell them about Vance!"

"You told Robin."

"Seriously, what's going on with Vance?" Griffin whispers, knowing at the end of the day he's being ignored again.

"You literally told Robin two seconds after i told you."

"Well, maybe i just wanted an excuse to talk to him."

"Well, maybe you should have talked about yourself and your feelings."

"And you said yes to Vance." Gwen and Griffin's heads move side to side like in a tennis match, according to the guys' answers.

"Why would you say yes to Vance? What did he ask?" Amy questions disinterestedly.

"Mind your own business." Bruce answers quickly. Amy wearily rolls her eyes at him and then calls the waiter over to order her next order of fries.

"I feel like we missed something important and we were only gone for a few minutes. We're supposed to come here to gossip. It's not fair that only you guys get to do that!" Susie says, combing her two braids. They're short and a bit crooked, but Finney has no right to comment on the girl's hairstyle. "You have to tell us about this whole thing with Vance. I deserve to know, you got it? I..."

"You look like Pippi Långstrump..." Griffin exclaims, abruptly cutting off the girl's rant. She angrily shakes him by the shoulders, calling him an idiot. Griffin blinks indifferently while the others snicker. Soon the subject of Vance is forgotten; Robin isn't mentioned again for the rest of the night.

Finney certainly doesn't know how to feel after two more people find out about his stupid love plan.

Chapter Text

The next time Finney meets Robin, it's at the creek a couple of miles from their houses.

Taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't have work today, with a phone call in between, Finney sought to return the bandana had left at his house a few nights ago, but Robin pulled out the card of melancholy; he missed those days when they spent hot summer afternoons in the creek building dams and catching tadpoles with their bare hands. When they’d until late at night making inside jokes with twinkling stars as their lookouts and then got scolded by their parents for coming home late. He didn’t have to insist much for the boy to agree.

Now they walk, with time-worn bags stuffed with snacks worth less than a dollar, along a flat path that winds alongside the body of water. Robin breaks the silence with a story from last Friday, where his uncle let him help with the maintenance and tuning of his car's engine. Although Finney's mind is full of his own thoughts, his mental acuity is focused on tip number four; the one he believes is the most important of all.

About 40 minutes ago, when they ended their call, the curly-haired guy flipped through the damn magazine in hysterics. He's never flirted in his life! Not even with Donna! How is he supposed to do it now?! He flipped through line after line of failed flirting that was recommended right there.

"I want to be your mirror. So that every morning i could look at you." Too dull.

"Are you free on Sunday? If so, then come over to my house so it can be a really fun and sexy day." Too suggestive!

"I ate four packs of chips thinking about you. If i keep this up, i'll get fat real fast." Too disgusting. Seriously, who wrote this nonsense?

Finney knows he has to act soon. Last time, he didn't complete step 3 of his plan, and if he keeps this up, Robin will never fall for him. So he's memorized a couple of scripts that didn't seem too bad to him. He just has to wait for the right moment, when the atmosphere feels right and not at all artificial, and poof! Finney will fire a courtship bullet straight into Robin's heart. It shouldn't be that hard. But when it comes to Finney Blake, anything can happen.

"And then i asked him if i could borrow his car someday." The tan-skinned guy continues his chatter, clearing the fog from his thoughts. "And you know what he said? That i had to get MY own car with MY own money. I swear he said it emphatically. And i reply, 'How am i supposed to buy it when barely make enough at the drive-in?' And he said that wasn't his problem. Look, if he had just said he didn't want to lend me his stupid car, i would have understood, but he didn't have to be such hijo de puta about it.

"I mean, you don't even know how to drive."

"Exactly! I wanted to hear from him if he'd give me any driving lessons, but no, my uncle had to be puto egoísta. Urg whatever. What’s up with you, Finn?"

"Me?" He tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"Yeaaah." He draws out the word humorously. "I'm glad Bruce let you escape alive, but seriously dude, what was that all about?"

"I should ask you, gossip. Now Bruce went out of his way to force a secret out of me."

"And he succeeded?" Robin interested, catches his lower lip between his teeth. Finney avoids his gaze, concentrating on the road ahead. "Oh my God, he did it! Come on, you have to tell me."

"Huh huh, it's become clear to me that you can't keep secrets."

"I'm very good at keeping secrets!" He reproaches, shoving him in the shoulder.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out last time."

"In my defense, i needed the conversation to take a different turn. Bruce was already carrying a lot of weight."

"Oh, so you're on Bruce's side now?" Finney stops and crosses his arms in mock annoyance, a smile trying to escape his lips.

"Don't be jealous, mi flaco."

"I'm not jealous."

"Sure, and i can't see your pout from here."

"Yeah?" Finney turns around, facing Robin head-on. Then, in the quietest voice possible, he says "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What would you like me to do?" Robin takes a step closer, moving into his space.

"Surprise me." He looks straight into his eyes, hoping he'll lean over and kiss him as deeply as he's dreamed of all these years. Instead, Robin lifts a hand and gently cups his face, brushing his thumb over the area of ​​his plush lips; as if he can memorize their shape. His gaze wavers, as if he can't allow himself to do this. And then he pulls away.

Leaving Finney yearning for more, as always. He freezes for a second, the words so painfully close to release, caught in his windpipe, solidifying like a cube of ice.

"I talked to Vance the other day." His boots crunch against the dry twigs and leaves of the path.

"Did you do it?" It takes Finney a moment to compose himself and catch up with his friend. He doesn't want to just settle the matter at that. He's lost count of the number of times Robin seems to lean in for a kiss, only to pull away or something else happens. He takes it as a sign from the universe telling him not to push anymore, to give up.

I'm a coward. I'm a fucking coward. Finney moans in his head.

"Mhm." Robin hums. "He said he wanted to talk to Bruce as soon as possible, that he wouldn't wait too long for an answer."

"No wonder he likes Bruce. He's confident, a good friend, and a pretty good listener, and Vance is... Too volatile; opposites attract, all the same."

"And don't forget he's attractive." Under his friend's narrowed, irritated eyes, Robin continues, guilt-free. "Well i like boys, and it just so happens that all my friends are boys and pretty attractive!"

"It must be nice to have your feelings reciprocated." He swallows hard and ignores him, barely glancing at him. "And that they have the courage to say it out loud."

"Finn..."

"We're here." After a 20 minutes walk, they reach their destination. He throws his backpack near a large rock and stands in front of a lovely natural pool; the stream at its best. It's not crystal blue as many would think, but rather an olive hue that balances the rugged green of the trees, grasses, and short plants in the area, and the moss lacks a vivid color, looking more like terracotta, contrasting with its rocky bed.

Finney closes his eyes and inhales deeply, sensing the humidity of the forest and listening to the steady murmur of the water pumping in his ears. He exhales calmly through his mouth, wishing he were in his room with Gwen stroking his hair. Although his sister is probably complaining about the summer homework the school assigned right now, he can almost hear her protesting, "It's vacation. Why do i have to do homework on vacation?!" and almost bursts out laughing.

"It's..." Finney feels a closeness and then a pause, reluctantly opening one eye to notice that Robin isn't looking back. "A good day to spend the whole afternoon with this incredible sunshine."

"I don't think i'll stay all afternoon."

"Then we should enjoy the time while we're here. Come on, let's go inside."

"What the..." The question hangs in the air. Robin pulls him toward him, downplaying the fact that they're still covered from head to toe: their shoes on, their jeans that will soon be heavy with accumulated water, and their shorts t-shirts that cling to their skin. "No Robin, wait let me change first." Finney digs his heels into the slippery mud and uses half his body to throw Robin toward the ground.

"Fine, fine, you win." Robin laughs, his face pressed against Finney's collarbone, who finds himself paralyzed again by his friend. Robin rolls off him and offers a hand to help him jump up. No more words are needed; they strip off each other, leaving them in their underwear. Finney makes a painful effort not to glance at the tantalizing tanned skin and run his hands over it.

He submerges himself completely in the stream, wanting to drown his thoughts. The current isn't strong enough to drag him against his will, and the depth is shallow, just a few inches so he can touch the bottom with his feet. Finney breaks the surface of the water as he comes up for air, his hair sticking to his forehead, and he runs a hand over it to brush it away. Robin floats a little further than him, then begins to swim in orbiting circles, like a shark stalking its prey.

"What are you doing?" Finney follows him with his eyes until he's out of sight behind him, then comes out once more to his side and disappears again on the other side. The cycle repeats a couple of times until the boy tires and starts throwing water at him with his hands. "Stop stupid."

"You're not funny." Robin snorts. "Or what? Did i scare you?"

"Yeah right, like your pirated interpretation of Jaws was convincing."

"You're going to regret saying that." Robin dives under, losing himself for a couple of seconds deep in the water. Finney hesitates, wanting to get back to land before he gets scared half to death. He doesn't manage to swim far when a pair of hugs encircle his waist and pull him back. Finney gasps at the sudden contact of wet skin, a hot breath on his neck that sends tingles down his spine and makes his own skin prickle. "Where do you think you're going, hmm?"

"Away from you."

"Ooow why would you do something like that, precioso? "

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What do you mean, like that?"

"Like you feel it."

"Because i feel it, Finney. I feel you. " That takes his breath away. Finney rolls over and goes on autopilot, placing his hands on Robin's shoulders, as if that will help steady him; his thumbs massage the flesh beneath, the palm continuing to roam and trace caresses over his chest, feeling the steady throb.

Robin's heartbeat; a counterrhythm to his own frantic pulse.

"You're a surprise package of mischief. I wonder what else i'll see in the future." He doesn't waste the opportunity, and although it feels a bit forced, Finney throws out that flirtatious line he'd chosen earlier. He feels an embarrassing heat spreading across his cheeks, but it's worth it if Robin's radiant smile is because of him.

At first, Finney only feels a touch. Something barely perceptible that causes an electric shock he's never felt before; Robin is kissing him. He places his hands on his shoulders, and Robin keeps his hands firmly against his lower back, pulling them closer from below, their stomachs bumping as if they want to merge.

With each passing second, the kiss becomes more intense, more passionate, more real. Years of mutual longing love finally find their destiny.

Finney wants to record Robin's mouth in his mind, play it back, rewind, erase, and record again from the beginning. Robin begs that their fervent moment does not crumble into stardust or drown in a dark sea without light.

"So... Can you tell me how a guy can impress you?" Finney blurts out, as if the previous kiss had done nothing but turn his brain into mush. Robin, as if aware of this fact and seeking to torture him further, leans in to kiss him again.

Tip #4: Flirt. Completed...?

Chapter Text

Finney can't believe it happened.

He kissed Robin! He finally did it! Or should he say Robin kissed him? In any case, it's Finney's greatest achievement, and he might be jumping up and down excitedly riht now if he weren't already packing his things.

And i almost gave up. Finney thinks with shame.

At dusk, when the scorching sun hides its glare on the horizon and the sky is vaguely bathed in torrid hues of red, orange, and scattered violet, Finney and Robin are returning home.

Tiny droplets of water trickle from the undefined curls, and an icy gust of wind nips at his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Frogs croak out of sync near the path, and the bustle of the streets with passing cars becomes a cacophony that becomes increasingly present as they return to civilization.

They don't touch hands, they don't talk about the kiss, although its ghost is still present; they only exchange glances filled with an unspoken secret.

For a long moment, they are accompanied by silence. Finney wants to say something (Anything would do) but nothing comes out of his mouth. Now he finds himself overthinking whether the kiss with Robin was a good one. Had he kissed that badly? Did Robin regret it now that the heat of the moment has faded? Will this change their friendship? Finney has to stop his thoughts faster than a steam-powered locomotive, so he prepares to say the stupidest thing in the world if it will make the lack of noise disappear.

However, when Finney fixes his gaze on Robin’s face, the words die in a breath before they find their way out. The boy is already looking at him, with an absolute adoration Finney didn't even know existed, much less was directed at someone like him. There's no expression more apt to describe the emotion on his face, but he would sum it up with that powerful little Word of four letters.

And that's how he realizes they don't need anything else, at least not for now.

"So... Here we are." Finney says after a while, when their steps take them in front of the Arellano residence.

"Here we are." Robin repeats, kicking an imaginary rock. "Thanks for walking me home and for agreeing to go out with me today... I had a good time, fun and all that."

"At my expense, as always."

"No no no... Well yeah, i always have a good time with you." He scratches the back of his neck uneasily. "You're my best friend, Finn. And i don't mean that in a bad way! You're great in every way, and i enjoy spending our time together... Puta madre, que difícil es todo esto. Ahora entiendo porque siempre se te traba la lengua.

"Translation, please."

"Learn Spanish."

"Hijo de puta aprovechado." He searches the little spanish he's learned over the years in the back of his mind, in the gaps of distant conversations with Robin.

"Hey that sounded really good! I'm proud." A smug smile spread across his face, and the brown-haired boy rolls his eyes.

"I really need a translation. "

"Um basically, i said "Damn, this is all so hard. Now i understand why you're always tongue-tied."

"Uh-huh..." Finney raises a questioning eyebrow.

"It was because of the misunderstanding a few days ago, where someone didn't explain themselves well enough to keep me from getting mad at him."

"Oh, yeah, that thing about friends."

"Friends who aren't together in that sense."

"You'll never let it go, will you?"

"Nope." He says, popping the "p" with a delighted smile. "Even less so now that we know Bruce and Vance could be together in that sense very soon."

"It doesn't matter, now you understand how nervous you make me." He says before his brain even registers his words. "Mhm i mean, these kinds of difficult situations where i don't know how to express myself... Because I'm not good with words, you already know that."

"Aha, good save."

"Shut up... Wait, does that mean you were nervous too?" Emotion seeps in steadily, Robin turns his head to break eye contact, and Finney throws a hand to his mouth in animated astonishment. "Oh my God, you're nervous. Robin Arellano is nervous, and it's all because of me!"

"Leave it." He mumbles through his teeth, his face flushed and grumpy.

"This is the best day of my life."

"Of course it's the best day of your life, i kissed you. Why wouldn't it be?"

"It would be better if you kissed me goodnight before i went home."

"Apparently we're feeling pretty brave today, aren't we, Finney?"

"Let me come into your room and we'll find out."

"Santa Madre de Dios... Never cease to amaze me, Finney Blake."

"I wasn't going to stop. And don't stop calling me nicknames either. I like them, although i don't know what they mean most of the time."

"Okay mi flaco, leave me tell you that's my favorite. In Mexico, we affectionately call someone close to us that way, usually someone who's thin."

"Maybe i can give you a nickname someday."

"I'd love that, Finn." They stood like that for a moment, still, letting the steady beat of their hearts speak for them. Then he notices the figure standing outside the window; Robin's uncle is watching them with such a deeply furrowed brow that Finney thinks there's something wrong with the enchiladas that he's eating.

"Before i forget, here." He rummages through his bag for Robin's bandana, and seeing Finney's withdrawn reaction, he turns to signal his uncle that he will be coming in soon, muttering under his breath a "Pinche metiche" under his breath. "I keep saying I'll give it back to you, and i don't."

"Keep it."

"What? No no no." Shaking his own hands, Robin takes the bandana and places it over his forehead as he does every day, sealing an unspoken promise.

"It looks better on you than it does on me."

"You really know how to make me feel special." He says softly, his heart fluttering against his chest, the softest pink Robin has ever seen dusted across his cheeks.

"And you already have everything to impress me." He smiles captivatingly, remembering their earlier conversation, and walks backward up the porch steps. "Go to home, Finn. I'll pick you up from work tomorrow."

"Yeah sure, see you." He waves goodbye, and Robin heads inside, but not before blowing his friend a knowing kiss.

Finney thanks whoever is up there in the empyrean that Robin didn't dare leave him halfway there and then back out again. He sighs dreamily and then hurries home to tell Gwen, Bruce, or whoever else is available about his blossoming romance with the boy of his dreams.

He sighs dreamily and then rushes home to tell Gwen, Bruce, or whoever else is available about his blossoming romance with the boy of his dreams.

≪ ◦ ∘°∘♡∘°∘ ◦ ≫ 

"Fuck Finney, what the hell happened to you, dude?!" Croaks a staticky voice through an old speaker. After returning home, Finney went straight to his sister's room to give her a quick rundown of the kiss (Or kisses) with Robin, Gwen giving him both thumbs up and a grimace he could barely call a smile. Then Finney ran to the landline in the kitchen to call Bruce, making sure his father wasn't around. "It's like the spirit of seduction possessed you! You really had it in you."

"I know, Bruce!" He squeals excitedly, balling his bandana into a fist. "I felt like a completely different person. I don't even know where got the courage." From his position on the floor, sitting with his legs stretched out and his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling, his index finger tangling and untangling the telephone cord. "And he gave me one of his bandanas, it'll be mine forever."

"I told you, that boy is as in love with you as you are with him."

"You never told me that."

"Well, i'll tell you now. And look, who knew your advice would get you somewhere... Anyway, what exactly do it say?"

"Why? Interested in putting it into practice?" Finney says playfully.

"I'm asking out of curiosity."

"Sureee." He draws out the word, not believing him in the least.

"I'm being serious."

"Uh huh, i think you actually want me to lend you the magazine. It's Gwen's anyway, so i'd have to ask her first."

"I don't want that stupid magazine!" Although Finney can't see it, he imagines the annoyed pout Bruce is making and almost laughs. However, it would only make his friend angrier. He knows he must soon reward him with a nice loot; he's the one who endures his nervous breakdowns over Robin and listens to him every time he's pining for love. Finney is grateful that their paths crossed and they've grown closer over time.

"I don't know, Bruce. I hear a certain desperation in your voice."

"Die."

"Just admit it."

"Geez." He snorts in resignation. "Ugh i want to know how to behave with Vance and not scare him off in the process. Satisfied?"

"I knew it, see? It wasn't that difficult."

"They say you become what you share with the people you hang out with. What was the saying? Oh yeah, tell me who you hang out with and i'll tell you who you are.

"I didn't give you stupidity; you were born that way."

"Maybe we share the same level of stupidity and we share it equally. And don't forget the fact that we have an arm fetish. You with Robin's, me with Vance's."

"That's why we're best friends." There's a fleeting pause that swings through the air, from end to end through both boys, a wave of intangible current; the white noise of the television playing a movie Amy is watching in the background, the vibrant hum of the Blakes' refrigerator, and the fragile flicker of a light bulb, whose origin they don't know from which side.

"We're all just a couple of stupid gay teenagers in love." The eldest Yamada says, making sure his sister isn't sneaking around while he stands in the foyer of the house, the only place that allows him to stretch the telephone cord without interruptions of any kind. "Except for Billy. I think he can only feel love for his dog."

"I agree with that. Now tell me what's the news with Vance."

"He stopped by a while ago. He said he wouldn't leave until i gave him an answer, even if it was a no."

"I don't think you were stupid enough to say no."

"Damn, who do you take me for?!" Finney takes his ear off the contraption at the Japanese guy's sudden yell. "I said yes, obviously."

"And now you have a date."

"Ha! Something else i'm in front of you about."

"Hey! Robin and i go on dates all the time."

"They don't count if you don't call them real dates. What you guys do is just casual hangouts with friends."

"But they’re could be dates."

"But they're not."

"They are if I say so."

"Okay, but has Robin ever told you that you make him feel like there's this burning feeling inside you that you can't name, no matter how annoying it is?" Finney replies with a small "no." "Or that your head spins and you lose control when he only wants to protect you because of the shit other people say about you? No, right?"

"Gosh, i didn't expect Vance to be a hopeless romantic."

"Me neither, but i'm definitely not complaining."

"I'm still ahead because i made out with Robin, which you haven't done with Vance. Victory. Checkmate. Jackpot." He leans on his palms to adjust himself into a better position, the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, preventing it from falling.

"You're so full of yourself. When i see you at practice tomorrow, i'm going to kick your ass."

"Not if i kick yours first." And without saying goodbye, the call ends.

Chapter Text

Like two idiots in love, neither Finney nor Robin paid any attention to what had happened.

They spent the next few days following their same old routine. On Monday, Robin stopped by the paint store where Finney works, distracting him from work and causing Mr. Smith to scold him and kick him out. On Tuesday, he picked him up from work as usual, and they hung out at the local park, strolling until their toes went numb and they had to return to their respective homes. On Wednesday, Robin invited him (on behalf of his mother) to bake a couple of green apple and wild cherry pies that were delicious, so much so that there wasn't a crumb left to pick up. On Thursday, Robin stayed for the entire two-hour baseball practice, cheering Finney on for his upcoming game under the blazing sun and buying him an ice-cold can of Dr. Pepper. On Friday, they were supposed to spend their afternoon in Robin's comfortable bedroom listening to his uncle's new acquisition, a Mecano vinyl recor.; an album released that same year by a rising band in Spain.

But the county fair was just around the corner, and the whole group had arranged to spend the night surrounded by piles of greasy food and shooting games.

None of those outings saw any more kisses. But you can't blame them, because they all had an expectant audience unaware of the facade they had to maintain.

The dark melody of dusk arrived, painted with streaks of starry blue and deep purple in a perfect symphony. The bright lights of the rides contrasted with the cover of night, the laughter of joy interspersed with popular live classic rock songs vibrating in the background gave it a scorching heat, and the aroma of frying oil from the food would whet the appetite of anyone who entered the fairgrounds.

Finney arrived with Gwen at the municipal plaza, but they soon split up to join their respective friends, despite their father making them pinky promise not to separate. The boy made his way through the food stalls until he found his group of friends, laughing uproariously, their faces smeared with something shiny in the natural moonlight, probably caramel or grease. Billy held a corn dog in each hand; Bruce, giggling, took small sips of his seemingly endless apple cider; Vance animatedly took large bites of a roasted turkey leg, while Robin chatted animatedly with them, his hands tucked into his back pockets.

"And here comes the star of the night, Finney Blake, finally making his grand entrance." Bruce said, holding the paper cup in his hand, as if making a toast. "You're well known as the one who's always late in the group."

"With a grace of 15 minutes late, it's not that bad." Finney leans toward Robin, their arms wanting to touch at least a little, but there's still a narrow space between them.

"Finally!" Billy blurts out, or at least he tries to, since his mouth is stuffed with sausage bites; he looks like a small orange hamster with chubby cheeks filled with food. "Quick, i saw a Snoopy plush i have to win for Krypto."

"We'll catch up now. Finney and i will go get something to eat first." Robin takes Finney by the elbow and they walk toward a food stand. Bruce tells them not to take too long, and together with the other two, they disappear into a sea of ​​people.

The curly-haired boy and the tan-skinned boy are waiting in line at a colorful tent of freshly baked dessert; a fried funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar. Further on, salted popcorn, juicy caramel apples, and cotton candy are sold; some other stands serve junk food like hot pizza slices, hamburgers overflowing with melted cheese, and fries that look like they're dripping with oil. All the stands have a variety of handmade signs in neon colors and large black letters to attract customers' attention.

"Haven't you eaten anything?" Finney says with a hint of surprise at Robin's first stomach rumbling, who nervously scratches the back of his neck.

"No, i wanted to wait for you."

"Oh, sorry to have kept you waiting." Finney says very quietly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Next time, he won't keep Robin waiting.

"I don't mind, i can always wait for you." When it was his turn to order and pay, Robin repeatedly refused to let Finney pay for his food; the Mexican boy pushed the offered couple of coins back to their owner, saying it wasn't necessary. Finney tried to thank him by paying for their drinks, but received another "no" in response.

"Give me the pleasure of treating you this time, let me be the gentleman for tonight."

"Okay, but next time i'll pay."

"Ya veremos." Robin replies with a mischievous smile.

They walk a few meters until they meet with Billy throwing small plastic hoops decorated with a glittery band that spirals around them toward the mouths of a pile of bottles on a plastic crate, Bruce encourages him with effusive words of encouragement, and Vance reproaches him that he could be doing better. It's his second game, and he fails badly in the first; the last hoop he has left falls thunderously into the grass before even hitting a bottle.

"Bad luck for you, my dear friend! Up for a third round? Or would anyone else like to try their luck? We have plenty of spots, it's only a dollar for three tries!" Says the stand owner in a sing-song voice, not caring one bit if the boy is down; all he wants is to make more money that goes straight into his pocket..

"I'll go for another round!" However, his enthusiasm isn't enough to win, because he loses once again.

"I'll show you how it's done." Vance snatches the trio of hoops from the owner's hand and leaves a couple of coins in exchange. One after the other, he throws the three hoops, each one landing in a bottle. Billy stands open-mouthed and humiliated beside him. Bruce claps excitedly, and Finney and Robin pat each of them on the back, congratulating Vance and comforting Billy.

"Pick one."  A smug Vance tells Bruce after the owner reluctantly asks him to claim his prize. Bruce is visibly excited when he chooses a flashing tree frog keychain, which he claims to have attached to his house keys.

"Thanks." Bruce nudges him with his shoulder, straining his body for a second longer than he should have. Finney and Robin look at each other with smiles on their faces, knowing what's behind it. Billy just stands there, lamenting the fact that he didn't get a prize for the most beloved member of his family.

"I failed you, Krypto. I'm sorry." He whimpers pitifully, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Finney rubs his back to make him feel better, encouraging him to try more games he's sure to like more. And if Robin's gaze lingered on Finney longer being a good friend, well, he doesn't have to know that.

The night passes in good spirits, the boys going from game to game, enjoying the experience with playful glee. Bruce and Finney have a friendly game of knocking down a couple of cans with a ball, Vance and Robin face off to the death in a darts game, and Billy tries to dunk a basketball through a basket with frayed ropes. Everyone is having a good time, even crossing paths with Gwen and her friends playing duck fishing, with Griffin clearly winning over the girls.

Then they board the Himalaya, the mechanical ride that spins rapidly in circles accompanied by loud songs. They ride the bumper cars where they crash into each other in unexpected bounces. They scream in ecstasy at the speed of the Gravitron, the circular attraction that uses centrifugal force as its main element. They sulk when they're not allowed on the carousel horses and burst out laughing in the funhouse when they see their distorted reflections in the mirrors.

The last stop is the best of all: the Ferris wheel. As throughout the evening, Finney and Robin never left each other's sides and request a ride together. Their bodies press together amid the rocking of the car, their hands are sticky from all the snacks they ate, and so they're not alone during their evening, they're accompanied by a pair of plush teddy bears with sewn-on button eyes. They remind Finney of themselves. Robin said they looked like they were married, so they shouldn't be separated.

Finney likes this feeling; the freedom of being himself. Laughing with his friends, letting go of life's bad times, and learning to breathe with an old love who may seem unfamiliar. Now everything felt right, like the missing pieces of a puzzle finally found a way to fit together and reveal the final image they were meant to represent.

"I want to tell you something." Finney ventured in a calm voice, despite the dizzy tangle of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep exhalation from the bottom of his lungs before continuing. It was time for his truth. "I've been in love with you for a while, and uhm maybe you've noticed i've been acting different these days... It was because i wanted you to like me, or at least try to get close to you." I know i can mess things up, and actually did, but it was because i wanted to make sure you felt the same way... I was really scared, you know? Of ruining things between us. Because losing you would be like losing myself.

"Oh Finney." Robin says, his voice suspended in a peaceful sweetness, taking his hands, leaving the teddy bears resting in their laps. "You didn't have to try so hard. Before you even said a word, you'd have me on my knees. I'm in love too. It's not just a crush, or the affection that you started acting differently. It's you, it's always been you. The boy i've always liked, all this time i was talking about you." He clarifies, looking at Finney's surprised eyes, as if he can't believe his love is reciprocated.

As he reaches the top of the ride, the attraction stops. Robin doesn't think about it for a second as he leans down to kiss Finney's lips, a chaste kiss that splits into several others: one on the forehead, another on the temple, and one closer to the chin.

"It was worth the wait in the end." The brunette murmurs against his guy's lips, his eyes half-closed, barely seeing Robin in a thin line across his eyelids. Feeling like all of this is just another of his feverish dreams.

"Déjame ser tu novio." Robin says in his native language in the same low tone.

"Yes, i'd love to." He replies, easily understanding the message, his brain already plotting what he wants to share. The corners of his lips lift, revealing a beautiful smile filled with joy, so much so that it reaches his eyes, forming crescents that blur at the corners.

The darkness of the night is nothing against the warmth of a nascent fire. Two boys in love intertwine their fingers in a figurative embrace that welcomes their fears as if they were old friends. Finney's adventure is over; however, a new one begins, only this time with Robin as his companion.

#Tip 5. Be yourself. Completed with perfection.

Congratulations! If you've completed all the steps, you have that boy eating out of the palm of your hand. Now all that's left is to water, nurture, and let their blossoming little love grow. Remember that relationships don't depend on just one person, but on two. Good luck on your journey!

Chapter Text

Robin believes he was born loving Finney Blake. No, he doesn't. He knows.

The recognition of that love didn't hit him like a bucket of cold water that chilled his bones, nor like a truck without brakes driving straight toward his way and slamming into him, much less like a paralyzing realization of feelings that leaves you breathless and grounded. It was something slower and gentler, a natural occurrence that was always there. A love that many would call "at first sight" and that never faded, but rather, over time, grew stronger and stronger.

Robin doesn't remember ever loving anyone other than Finney.

The young man never felt wrong with loving him; it was as easy as breathing. His mother had always taught him that it was okay to fall in love. She told him stories of her romance with her late husband and encouraged her son to never back down from anyone, not even in a fight, even though she wasn't entirely happy about her son coming home with the skin on his knuckles torn and thick reddish drops running down his nose.

Robin had never faced such a complex challenge.

At 17, he only had eyes for Finn and couldn't bear the thought of sharing him with anyone else. He'd never lost a fight, but when his friend arrived that day at school, during fifth period, with a dazzling smile, and told him that Donna had agreed to be his girlfriend, something inside him switched off. A girl, Robin, had lost to a girl, and she didn't even have to throw the first blow. That battle always had a clear winner, and Robin had to lock his yearning heart with a sad chain and a key of resignation.

But then they broke up, and Finney needed a shoulder to cry on, so Robin lent him his, and everything seemed like it was before, something he could live with if it kept his friend by his side. Until, well, Vance had to open his mouth.

Vance was a handsome young man; if he had a better temper, anyone could get along with him, but he tended to alienate people with his explosive attitude and the belief that everything could be settled with fists. So Robin was surprised when he approached him to tell that if he didn't hurry up, he was going to steal Finney from his.

Robin's blood boiled in a flash.

Of course, Vance was joking; he just wanted to mess with Robin; though that didn't stop the heated exchange of words (and insults) that soon escalated in intensity and nearly ended in blows.

For weeks, the dirty blond boy tried to convince Robin to make the first move, and in return Robin encouraged him to work things out with Bruce, because of course he wasn't stupid and knew about the glances exchanged between those two. That's how he let Vance cajole him, giving him the idea that he should make Finney jealous, and he almost agreed to go out with the next girl who confess to him: Sam. But Robin backed down because he shouldn't give the poor girl false hope. So he changed tactics, mentioning a few things here and there, leaving cards on the table for Finney to pick up and give him the go-ahead. That didn't work either, though, because the boy made things even more tense.

Robin thought about it for days; not only did Finney screw up, but he did too. When his crush approached him with suggestive phrases, Robin always retraced his steps. Just like the opportunities presented at the Grab N Go, that night at the Blakes' house after the Arcade, and in their conversation before arriving at the creek the other day. Finney always stepped up for them, but Robin backed down like a cobarde, in his own words. It's funny how Robin never said no to a fight, but always shied away from courtship and romance.

However, that same day, he bravely charged forward to flirt and kiss Finney once and for all. It felt right, real and natural. As if his lips belonged to Finney's.

Afterward, Robin thanked the Virgen de Guadalupe for not missing the fair that night to go work at the drive-in. He owes one to his freckled coworker and her loudmouthed, bottle-glasses friend who covered his shift big time. He'll get them a couple of weed joints, and they'll be delighted.

And now he had the boy in his room. Pressing his hips against the mattress, causing the springs to creak under his weight, kissing, biting, and sighing against those lips that have stolen his breaths for years. His hands wander to the line of Finney's shirt, lifting it to reveal his navel. Robin concentrates on tracing the lean muscles of Finney's stomach with his fingertips.

They break the kiss with a pop, stare at each other for a full second that feels like an eternity, and Finney pulls him back where he belongs, melting into his mouth. Robin sucks on Finney's bottom lip, and in return, he delves his hands under him Robin's tank top mapping his sculpted, tan-skinned back.

"We have to stop." The curly-haired boy whispers, afraid of being overheard. "Your uncle's downstairs, he could surprise us at any moment."

"Que se vaya al carajo." Robin initiates another kiss, nipping just beyond his boyfriend's waist, his skin darkening a shade of red and heating up at the touch. But Finney pushes him away by the shoulders.

"I'm serious, amor."

"Amor?" He says, a smile breaking through the cute Word in his language.

"Yeah. I thought it would be cute to start calling you nicknames."

"You're corny. I love it." He pecks Finney's lips, and Finney's nose wrinkles with a giggle escaping.

"As much as i'd love to stay curled up in your bed, you promised we'd listen to that pending album."

"Oh, right, that's it... Let's just say i have something much better." Finney raises a questioning eyebrow, and Robin jumps up to pick up a cassette from his shelf.

When he fixes his gaze on the other, a breathless breath escapes; he has Finney with a gorgeous blush dusted across his cheeks that extends to part of his neck, his hair disheveled from rocking against the pillow, his lips swollen and his shirt still lifted halfway up his torso. Like an invitation to fulfill all his fantasies.

"Oh Dios, you're so tempting me right now."

"Focus, Robin." He says, adjusting his shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're asking a lot. i've got you here, looking pretty and kissable in my own bed. I could reach out right now and take what's mine."

"Robin." He begins in a warning tone.

"Yeah well, okay okay." He raises his hands in feigned innocence and, with a reproachful pout, sits down next to him, thighs pressed together as if there were no more room on the bed. "I have a gift for you. I know how much you love music, so i recorded a playlist of songs that, uhm, remind me of you, and others i like."

"Oh, Robin." He says more softly this time, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and a shy smile on the face.

The cassette case was adorned with marker drawings of silver rocket ships, shooting comets with purple outlines and twinkling stars in gold glitter. Also engraved in messy calligraphy was the word "Para mi flaco" on a piece of tape, and inside the case was a note with the songs on each side of the cassette written in small, tightly packed boxes.

On one side, Finney's; it's written in list form:

“Your Song” - Elton John

“Hopelessly Devoted to You” - Olivia Newton-John

“Just the Way You Are” - Billy Joel

“How Deep Is Your Love” - Bee Gees

“Can't Take My Eyes off You” - Frankie Valli

While on Robin's side, there was a variety of songs:

“Bésame Mucho” - Consuelo Velázquez

“Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?” - Rod Stewart

“Como é grande o meu amor por você” - Roberto Carlos

“Si Nos Dejan” - José Alfredo Jiménez

“Stand by Me” - Ben E. King

“Let me hear it.” He says, jumping excitedly on the mattress.

“It's not a need, if you don’t want. You can listen to it at home. On your Walkman. By yourself.”

“You made me a damn mixtape, Robin. Of course i want to listen to it right now.”

"Well, at your service, mi rey." Since the headphones on Robin's own Walkman weren't suitable for both of them, he went to his uncle's room to get his personal tape recorder. They stood at the foot of the bed, their backs against the frame and their legs stretched out on the floor.

Robin spent the afternoon telling Finney how he recorded the songs; some from his uncle's vinyl, for others he spent with his ear glued to the radio until the perfect song for Finney came out. He also told him how he ruined the first tape after not turning off the record in time and the radio announcer's voice stood out over the melody. He also told him how between pauses in the songs, background noises could be heard, like the sound of his mother washing the dishes or Robin's bare feet on the floor after getting excited about a song and starting to dance. Finney thought it felt more unique that way, as if it had Robin's very essence.

He also told him the meaning behind each lyrical story. On Finney's side, there was mostly a romantic atmosphere, most of the songs playing in movies, except for the last one, which reminded them more of them, like their own song. And on Robin's side, there was longing and a promise that he would love him no matter what. Although the second one on the list seemed more playful and somehow suited Robin.

The tan-skinned boy catches his boyfriend staring at the peeling paint at the top of his wall, his face focused, overthinking as is his habit. He analyzes every tiny reflection on his face, his eyes shining for a moment as if he were about to cry, moved, he gives him a kiss on the cheek to reassure him.

"I don't want to might sound sentimental right now, but gosh, Robin… Nobody has ever done anything so nice to me. It feels like i don't deserve it.

"You deserve it, Finn." He kisses each of his eyelids with absolute delight and dedication, then takes his hand and places it palm-open toward his face, resting his cheek against it. "You deserve to love and be loved. You deserve to have love songs dedicated to you, to be asked out in the evenings, to be kissed good morning and goodnight, to be cheered on at your baseball games even if you lose and to be there for you when you need it."

"Shut up, you're making me cry." He sniffs while Robin wipes away his tears.

"It's okay, if i'm the one making you cry and drying your tears, then it's okay."

"I want to be there for you too." He says, his voice cracking, amazed by how exceptional the boy in front of him can be. "I want to sing all those love songs, i want to sneak away in the wee hours of the morning, i want to heal your wounds with kisses, i want to face our battles together and i want to spend every moment by your side." As if it were a fairy tale, they seal their promise with a kiss of true love.

And when the cassette ends, they rewind it again and again. Listening, breathing, and loving in their own world of love.