Chapter Text
“Don’t be a coward, Finney!” Gwen walked beside him with her eyebrows raised. “Just tell him what’s going on. It can’t be that hard.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t want to get him in trouble,” Finney muttered, head down, jaw clenched with barely contained anger.
“Get him in trouble? Nobody can get Robin Arellano in trouble.”
Finney snorted. He knew Gwen was right. His dark brown eyes settled on her. Getting out of this mess wasn’t going to be easy—especially not when his little sister kept insisting he tell Robin about the bullying. He couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it made his skin prickle.
Instead of answering, he placed a hand on Gwen’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. It was a smile that never quite convinced her, but at least it made her relax a little.
“Relax, Gwen. If it gets worse, I’ll tell him.”
Gwen’s frown softened, though her eyes still glinted with suspicion. It had been too easy for her liking.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
---
The first blow came without warning. Sharp pain exploded in his head and rang in his ears. Finney brought his hands to his bleeding nose while, from the floor, he stared up at his attackers. Their laughter echoed through the empty hallway. Classes were in session; no one was coming to save him.
“Aw, look at him crying,” one of the boys mocked—he thought his name was Mike.
And it wasn’t a lie. Thick tears slid down his flushed cheeks. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, holding back any complaint or insult. Opening his mouth would only make things worse.
“Only fags cry,” the boy who’d hit him spat, laughing loudly.
Before another bully could step closer, Finney tensed, pressing his back against the metal lockers. Then a familiar voice froze everyone in place. When he looked up, he saw Robin coming out of the bathroom, surprise and anger twisting his face.
“What the fuck?! Let go of Finney, you idiot!” Robin roared, closing in with clenched fists and tense shoulders.
By the time Finney looked away and back again, the boys were gone. They’d scattered like startled rats. All his plans to keep this from Robin had shattered. Now he was doomed to explain.
Robin was already kneeling beside him, gripping his shoulder. Worry bled through the anger, softening his features.
“You okay?” he asked in a whisper. “Those hijos de puta got away, but I’ll deal with them later.”
Finney straightened his aching back. Short coughs shook his chest as he pulled his hand away from his throbbing nose. He looked at Robin with eyes still wet.
“I’m fine…” he murmured, trying to sound brave as he stood up.
Dizziness hit him immediately, forcing him to lean back against the lockers. His cheeks burned with shame. He felt pathetic in front of the great Robin Arellano—who, even as his friend, was still someone important.
Robin frowned, not moving an inch away. He stood up, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “And I’m not letting this happen again.”
Finney swallowed, uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze.
“You don’t have to…” he whispered. “They’ll get bored eventually.”
Robin stepped closer, almost pinning him against the lockers.
“So you’re just going to let those idiots keep hitting you?” he snapped. “I’m not going to let them touch you when no one’s watching.”
Finney shook his head, searching desperately for a way out.
“Robin, seriously. You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
Robin clenched his jaw. His fists stayed closed, but his voice dropped when an idea made his eyes light up. Finney shivered at that look.
“Listen to me, Finney. Starting today, I’m not leaving your side. In the hallways, at recess, after school. No one’s getting near you.”
“No… that’s too much,” Finney replied almost instantly, eyes wide with surprise. “People will talk, and you have your own stuff to do. You can’t be glued to me all the time.”
“Let them talk,” Robin said, sliding his hands to Finney’s shoulders. “And yes, I can. If I have to fight half the school to keep them off you, I will.”
Finney looked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and fear. He didn’t want to be a burden, but the thought of never being alone in those hallways again squeezed his chest in a different way.
He was supposed to be used to the hits; he’d always known how to take them, but he was never willing to give them back. He was terrified of violence. Maybe because of his alcoholic father.
“Robin… I really don’t want you ending up in the principal’s office because of me,” he insisted. “It’s not fair.”
Robin let out an incredulous huff. He tightened his grip on Finney’s shoulders, trying to contain his frustration.
“And it’s fair that they’re beating your face in when no one’s looking?” he asked, dark eyes blazing. “I’m not asking, Finney. I’m telling you how it’s going to be.”
A heavy silence fell. The distant echo of a door slamming mixed with Finney’s ragged breathing.
“No…” he tried to protest, but the word came out weak, without strength.
“Look,” Robin said more slowly. “I’m not letting anything happen to you while I’m here. And I’m going to be here. All the time. Got it? Real men don’t abandon their friends.”
Finney’s eyes welled up again, this time for a different reason. He’d always had that emotional sensitivity his father complained about—calling it faggy, saying he needed to man up. But no matter how much he wanted to, Finney couldn’t control it.
“Robin…”
“Just say yes,” he insisted. “Promise me you won’t try to hide from me or lie if they bother you again.”
Finney took a deep breath. He felt cornered and, strangely, safe. Protected. Cared for.
“Okay…” he finally gave in, voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”
A shadow of satisfaction crossed Robin’s face. He always got what he wanted, one way or another. Though with Finney that rule didn’t apply—he’d always choose the gentle way. Because they were friends.
“Good,” he nodded. “Then I’m promising you something too: I’m not leaving your side.”
Finney nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. For the first time in a long while, the school hallway didn’t feel so vast and empty. The blaring bell startled him. Robin let out an amused chuckle and started gently pushing him toward the nurse’s office.
“Come on, let’s go to the nurse. I don’t want you bleeding out here,” he teased, affection underneath.
“Haha, real funny,” Finney rolled his eyes, sarcastic.
When they arrived, the sharp smell of disinfectant greeted them—not exactly comforting. Both boys remembered the time they got their mandatory measles shots; even Robin, the bravest one, had yelped like a little kid at the sight of the needle.
The nurse wasn’t there. That excited Robin—he’d get to take care of his best friend himself. He guided a confused Finney to a cot and sat him on the edge.
“I’ll fix you up!” Robin announced, rummaging through drawers for cotton, bandages, and alcohol.
Finney blinked, swinging his feet to distract himself as he watched Robin move around. Nerves started creeping in.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the nurse?”
“Nonsense!” Robin returned, arms full. “She wouldn’t get here in time.”
“But it’s just a nosebleed,” he let out a nervous laugh, clutching the cot’s sheets.
Robin soaked a cotton ball in alcohol and turned to him with a smile that looked kind but felt ominous to Finney.
“My medical expertise says you could bleed out and die,” he said, leaning closer.
Finney leaned back, smiling nervously. His eyes fixed on the strong-smelling cotton.
“M-medical expertise?”
A mischievous grin spread across Robin’s lips.
“I read two pages of a medical book,” and without warning, he pressed the cotton to Finney’s nose, earning a sharp gasp. “That should do it.”
Finney narrowed his eyes, glaring, but a smile of amusement slipped through despite the sting.
“Oh, okay, Dr. Arellano,” he mocked, making Robin laugh.
When Robin pressed a little harder, Finney hissed and instinctively grabbed his arm. Robin’s worry flared; he leaned in so close their noses nearly touched. Finney’s cheeks burned.
“Looks like they broke it…” he frowned. “Those sons of bitches…”
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by Finney’s occasional hisses. For reasons neither of them understood, the moment felt deeply intimate—the closeness, the touch—Robin rested his free hand on Finney’s cheek to keep him still—sent an odd pang through both their chests.
But they didn’t think it meant anything. No. They were guys, and guys don’t get nervous when other guys are close. It wasn’t possible.
It was surely just their friendship growing stronger. The anticipation of stopping the bullying. Yeah, that had to be it.