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The halls, a ghost compared to the bustling busy crowd which had formed and dwindled over time. The only people still present were kids who did not possess an ounce of care about the consequences; tardiness. Besides those kids, there stood Finney, still drifting to god knows where, avoiding his class like it was the bubonic plague.
He’d become familiar with the walls of this institution long ago, gliding his fingers across the metal grate of the lockers. He was able to find his way with ease. Yet, he still stood to appear clueless—like a room full of kids was a perilous journey he could not handle; choosing to seem lost instead.
The corridor became much more quiet the further he walked, each step of his feet reverberating a sound—like he was alone. The feeling of loneliness drowning his senses, unaware of the quickening steps behind him.
“Hey Finn,” the boy violently flinched in surprise at the heavy palm that landed square on his shoulder, snapping him out of his daze, turning around to face the familiar tanned boy.
His eyes dart to his best friend before he quickly averts his gaze, refusing to be caught staring for too long–for whatever reason. Likely to avoid any stupid remark his friend is soon to make. He's aware of his disheveled appearance at the moment, dealing with the aftermath of his fathers rage which could be comparable to a thousand suns.
“Jesus,” Robin remarked, yet it held no malice nor mockery. Finney could hear the concern bleeding through his tone regardless, “You look like you're doing time.”
“Doing what?” Finney raised an eyebrow, still quite oblivious to the meaning. The boy evidently appears tired, too tired to meddle with the concepts of metaphoric phrases thrown at him. His gaze appears like he is staring afar, to a distance incomprehensible to the other; in a daze.
Robin snorted at the dry response, “Prison.”
“Oh.” His face flushes slightly in embarrassment; it's subtle, a detail that can only be noticed if paying attention fully on his face. This phrase was an easy one to figure out after all. Much simpler than the other ones.
A soft laugh escaped the only meagerly taller brunette which resulted in the further red rush of color on Finney's cheeks, it appeared to be solid embarrassment on the surface level but deep down, it was something a little more tangible.
“So whatcha up to space cadet?” he leaned close, stray strands of black hair falling into his face despite the purpose of his bandana to keep them in place. To be perceived as an astronaut felt like an attack on him despite that, he brushed it off as casual talk. Afflicted with unresponsiveness, Robin would normally tease further but currently looking at the state of Finney right now, it’d be not the time.
“Bells already rung, you're not the type to skip. Hmm?” he playfully punches his shoulder. For some reason, the closer contact causes Finney's internal system to go haywire. His fluster intensifies as he leans back for space, his thoughts scrambled like an egg, and his speech unfiltered.
“No!” he bursts out, the empty space echoing his voice too loud for his liking. Quickly scanning the area for witnesses, he’s reassured to continue to speak again but Robin is already making him exceed his limits so he just blurts out something quick to resolve this awkward situation.
“No.. I forgot my textbook.” The lie slips out in a panic. He doesn't even understand why he lied but he's pretty sure Robin can buy it.
He's lying through his teeth. “It's in my locker.”
“Finn.” He speaks like he’s unimpressed, attempting to hold an air of nonchalantless around him. His persona falters shortly though, the corners of his mouth tilting up.
“You're holding it.” He says simply, his fingers pointing at the spiral notebook wrapped by his arms.
The moment stills, the air impregnated with silence. Finney's mouth opens, scrambling in an attempt to wield an excuse defensively but it quickly closes, knowing he’s been caught red handed. A hasty conclusion forming in his head; Sometimes it’s not his turn to talk.
In a battle of wits, Robin would be the insurmountable challenger he would fail to defeat. Each excuse could be countered with only a mere sentence as the other tried to speak with a thousand. It’s only foolish to continue further.
But, his mood has lightened with the sentiment. Even if he is unaware of the true reason. He looks at Robin much more clearly than minutes before. This time he isn’t trying to blur his sight, he’s trying to enhance it.
To look at each detail on his bandana, the slight dimple from his smile; it was all the same. Because he was his dear best friend, a remedy for his sadness that he instinctively knew he had.
“Come on.” Robin chirps, immediately pivoting on his foot to turn to the exit of the school premises. His hand grabs one of Finney’s wrists, delicately guiding him to the exit.
“What?” Finney stood dumbfounded as the boy departed without any further explanation.
“Hey–where are we going?” He tries to resist but nonetheless it’s futile, the grip on his hand, so gentle, was much stronger than his will.
“Skipping school and you’re coming with me, genius.”
Finney slumps yet still perseveres and catches up to his companions pace. Each squeak of the solid floors prominent, both of them walking to the light in this kind of peaceful quiet. No interruptions, no bothers, just relief, and relaxation present.
A light breeze flutters his hair as he walks out the unguarded exit with Robin. He could be tired, overwhelmed, or annoyed currently but instead he’s happy. Away from the school which doesn’t welcome him with open arms like his teasing, witty partner in crime does. He’d probably get an earful later from leaving the premises but it's all worth it—to hang out with the one person who makes him feel like he’s in a second home; much better than the dull one he’s lived in constantly.
He shifts his gaze towards the horizon line covered in houses and dull scenery. What could be seen as an average day looks like a beautiful sight filtered through his eyes. Then his eyes linger on Robin a bit, shortly ahead of him with his fast pace. His skin a bit tan, he tucks one of his hands in his pocket.
“So where to?” Robin questions without glancing back, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder to secure it. The presence of Robin makes Finney feel much more relaxed. Perhaps it was his nature? He’s someone who looks at him without an ounce of hatred nor disgust. Each remark meant to make him smile rather than frown. It’s nice being here.
“Grab n’ go?” Finney replies, a less shifty tone. It’s secure.
“Where else?” he sighs heavily, “Not looking forward to running into pinball though.” he shudders at the idea of bumping into the furious blonde.
Even with Robin's secured position as one of the toughest kids in school he wasn't stupid enough to try his luck with hopper. The idea of challenging him made Robin twinge. He wasn't scared though; at least that's what he told himself.