Chapter Text
NOVEMBER 10TH 2023
Robin was laughing loud enough that a couple people at the park turned to look, but he didn’t even notice. He had his arm around Finney’s shoulders, arguing about something dumb like it actually mattered.
“I’m just saying,” Robin said, grinning, “I would’ve won.”
“You literally tripped over nothing,” Vance said flatly.
“That didn’t happen.”
“It did,” Gwen cut in. “You ate it.”
Bruce started laughing again. Billy barely looked up from his phone. Griffin was sitting on the edge of the concrete, listening but pretending not to care.
Ernesto tugged on Robin’s sleeve. Robin glanced down. “What?” Ernesto shrugged, but he didn’t look great. A little pale. A little sweaty. Robin frowned and pressed his hand to Ernesto’s forehead.
“…Dude. You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine,” Ernesto mumbled.
“You are absolutely not fine.”
Ernesto tried to smile. “I think I’m just gonna head home.” Robin’s arm dropped from Finney’s shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Go home. Text me when you get there.”
Ernesto nodded and gave an awkward little wave to everyone. “Bye, guys.”
“Feel better,” Gwen called.
“Drink water,” Bruce added.
“Don’t die,” Vance said, which was probably his version of concern.
Once Ernesto left, things went back to normal. Loud. Dumb. Finney stretched his arms over his head. “So. Pizza?” That immediately got everyone’s attention.
“Yes,” Bruce said.
“Obviously,” Griffin added.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “You’re all paying for your own toppings.”
They stayed another hour or two, messing around, arguing, throwing a football, nothing important. Just normal stuff.
But Robin kept checking his phone.
Finally, he stood up. “I’m gonna head out,” he said, grabbing his bag.
“That was fast,” Finney said.
“Yeah, well. I wanna check on Ernesto.”
That shut them up a little.
“Text us,” Gwen said.
Robin nodded. “Yeah. I will.”
He bumped fists with Vance, shoved Bruce lightly when he tried to hug him too hard, and gave Finney one last grin. “Don’t watch that new movie without me.”
“No promises,” Finney shot back.
Robin rolled his eyes and started walking.
The park got quieter the farther he walked. He checked his phone again. Still nothing from Ernesto.
“Probably passed out,” he muttered.
He cut down the usual shortcut — the one that shaved ten minutes off the walk home. Fewer houses. Fewer people. That’s when he heard the van. Not loud. Just… slow. Tires crunching over gravel behind him. Robin didn’t turn around right away. It kept pace. He glanced over his shoulder.
Black van. Some word on it. Windows too dark to see inside.
His stomach dropped a little, but he told himself not to be stupid. It was just a car. He stepped to the side to let it pass.
It didn’t.
The side door slid open.
Someone lunged.
Robin reacted before he thought about it. He twisted out of the first grab and drove his elbow back hard. There was a shout. A hand caught his hoodie and yanked him off balance.
“Get off me!”
He kicked. Connected with something solid. The grip tightened anyway. He got dragged halfway into the van before he managed to grab the inside handle and slam his shoulder into the person holding him. They both stumbled.
The van door was still open. The engine was still running. Robin saw the steering wheel. He didn’t think. He just moved.
He threw himself forward and grabbed it. “Stop the car!” he shouted, even though he was the one pulling it. The van swerved violently. Someone grabbed him from behind, trying to pull him off. He held on anyway. “Let go!” a voice snarled in his ear.
Robin yanked harder.
The world tilted. Trees filled the windshield way too fast. The crash wasn’t one big sound — it was a bunch of them. Metal folding. Glass breaking. Something slamming into his head so hard his vision went white. For a few seconds, he couldn’t hear anything except ringing.
He was half-sprawled over the dashboard. His hands were still clenched around the wheel. The other man was moving.
Not fast. Not steady.
Reaching for him.
Robin didn’t remember deciding to do it.
He just remembered hands on his throat. The man thrashed. Hit him. Tried to claw at his wrists. Robin squeezed harder. “Stop,” he gasped. “Stop.”
The thrashing got weaker.
Then slower.
Then nothing.
Robin stayed there longer than he needed to, hands locked in place like he couldn’t let go. When he finally pulled back, his head was pounding so hard he thought he might throw up. Blood dripped into his eye. He wiped at it and just smeared it worse.
He looked at the man.
He didn’t look like a monster anymore.
Just a body.
Robin stumbled out of the van on shaking legs. The woods were too quiet. The air smelled like gasoline and dirt and something burnt. He turned in a slow circle. Trees. Just trees.
He tried to remember which direction home was.
He couldn’t.
He took one step.
Then another.
And he didn’t look back.
Ernesto was asleep on the couch when the knock came. Their mom answered it. At first, it sounded normal. Just quiet talking. Polite voices.
Then her tone changed.
“Excuse me?”
Ernesto sat up slowly. The TV was still on. Some late-night rerun playing to no one. He heard his name. He got up and walked toward the door. Two officers stood on the porch. One older. One younger. Their car was still running at the curb.
“Is this Robin Arellano's residence?” the older one asked.
Ernesto felt something twist in his stomach.
Their mom nodded. “Yes. Why?”
The younger officer cleared his throat. “We found a vehicle registered to a missing persons case crashed off Route 17. There were… signs of a struggle.” Ernesto stopped breathing.
“Is he there?” he asked, before anyone else could. The officers exchanged a look. “We haven’t located your son,” the older one said carefully.
Ernesto shook his head immediately. “No. No, he was coming home. He said he was coming home.” Their mom grabbed the doorframe like she needed it to stay standing. “What do you mean you haven’t located him?”
The younger officer spoke softer this time. “There was blood at the scene. We’re expanding the search area into the surrounding woods.”
Blood.
Ernesto’s ears started ringing.
“That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Right? You didn’t say that. You didn’t say that.”
“We don’t know,” the older officer answered.
That was worse.
Finney found out the next morning. Gwen already knew. She was sitting on the curb outside the school when he got there.
Her eyes were red.
“Tell me it’s not true,” he said.
She didn’t answer. He didn’t need her to.
Police cars sat outside Robin’s house all day. Neighbors stood in little clusters whispering. Ernesto stayed on the porch steps the whole time, even when it got dark. Every time headlights turned onto the street, he looked up.
Every time it wasn’t him.
Search parties lasted three days. They found the van. They found blood. They didn’t find Robin. And after a while, people stopped saying “when he comes back.” They started saying “if.”
APRIL 2ND 2026
The last bell rang and everyone spilled out of school like they’d been waiting all day. Gwen was halfway down the sidewalk, laughing at something Finney had said, and Ernesto was walking right beside her, nudging her with his elbow whenever she rolled her eyes. Vance and Bruce were arguing quietly about who could make it to the corner first, but neither actually moved.
Donna rolled her eyes at Ernesto’s serious face and nudged Mona, who laughed and swung her backpack over her shoulder.
“Alright, we need something to do before break starts,” Finney said, falling into step next to Gwen. “Any ideas?”
“Why not just… woods trip?” Griffin suggested, stretching his arms over his head. Billy elbowed him playfully. “Fine, but I’m not carrying you if you trip.” Griffin laughed.
“Stick together this time, yeah?” Bruce said, glancing back at Vance, who just smirked.
They started walking down the usual path out of town, joking, pushing each other lightly, picking at jackets, elbows, shoulders. Donna and Mona kept laughing at their private joke, Griffin and Billy threw quick smirks at each other every now and then, and Gwen and Ernesto bickered quietly over directions.
It wasn’t anything big. Just a little adventure, a little chaos, some time together before break, and a whole lot of noise.
The group had been wandering for a while, stepping over roots and kicking up leaves, joking and pushing each other along the trail. Bruce had tripped over a root and Vance just shook his head. Griffin and Billy were teasing each other about who could jump over a log without falling, while Donna and Mona laughed so hard they had to lean on each other to keep from toppling.
“Come on,” Gwen said, brushing leaves off her pants. “You guys aren’t gonna get anywhere if you keep stopping every two seconds.”
“Relax,” Finney said. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
Ernesto frowned at a particularly thick patch of undergrowth. “Stick together. Don’t wander off too far.”
A rustle came from behind a clump of trees. Everyone froze for a second, then shrugged. “Probably a squirrel,” Griffin said, rolling his eyes.
Then the rustling came again. Louder this time. Closer.
Billy nudged Bruce. “Uh… you hear that?”
Before anyone could answer, a figure burst out from the trees. Clothes torn, dirt streaked across his arms and face, eyes wide and wild. He froze for a moment, then shoved whoever was closest away with a growl.
“Get—back!” the stranger shouted. His voice was rough, low, defensive.
“The fuck?!” Vance yelled, taking a step back. Bruce raised his hands. “Easy! We’re not gonna hurt you!”
The figure spun suddenly, almost slipping, and froze again. Everyone could see now he wasn’t just some random person. He was young. Familiar somehow. But… different.
Ernesto’s chest tightened. His hands went cold. “Robin?!”
“Robin?” Finney’s voice cracked, sharp and almost desperate.
The boy’s eyes flicked to them, narrowed. Recognition? Confusion? Something like it. His body tensed, fists clenched, ready to strike again if needed.
“Who… who are you?” he demanded, voice shaking but fierce.
Ernesto took a careful step forward. “It’s me. Ernesto. Your brother. Don’t—don’t freak out.”
Robin’s jaw tightened. His gaze moved across the group, landing on each of them for a fraction of a second. Something about them felt familiar. A little pull he couldn’t explain. But it wasn’t enough. Not enough to trust.
“Stay back!” he barked, throwing a hand toward Finney, who froze mid-step.
Finn’s stomach dropped. “It’s me. Finn. Don’t hurt him,” he said, voice catching, almost shaking.
Ernesto’s eyes watered slightly. “Robin… it’s okay. You’re alive. I’m right here.”
Robin’s shoulders shook. Panic, adrenaline, and fear all tangled together. He didn’t move forward, didn’t back down, just kept them at arm’s length. His gaze flicked to Ernesto, then to Finn again, and a faint, helpless part of him felt… safe. Confusing, but real.
Meanwhile, Donna and Mona were frozen a little ways back, hearts racing and hands gripping each other’s shoulders. Who the hell was this guy? He looked like he was absolutely insane. Every instinct in their bodies screamed caution.
Gwen and Griffin shifted slightly, exchanging a look. Bruce’s grin had vanished. Billy’s phone was forgotten in his hand. Everyone was holding their breath.
Robin’s eyes scanned the group again, lingering on each face, his mind screaming that he should know them. He didn’t. Not really. But something there, faint, distant, made him growl and lift his hands a little higher.
“You… you’re supposed to be dead,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Ernesto’s hands shook as he reached out slowly. “What? No. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re alive.”
The forest was quiet except for the sound of leaves crunching under feet and Robin’s heavy breathing. He didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. Just watched, defensive, tense, and maybe, just a little lost.
Why can’t he remember?