It was something that could’ve stayed hidden forever, if he really wanted to. It’s been years since Robby lost control of the change. He knew his limits, the timing of it, how to stay put while the moon was on.

But hiding things from you was not a winning game.

You had the uncanny, unnerving ability to notice every little detail — even when he tried like hell to hide it.

So, at some point, he had to come clean. It was just going to be a pain in the ass for both of you if he waited, and you found out on your own anyway.

"Wait." You sit on the couch, dumbfounded. "You're telling me that werewolves are real."

Robby leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed. He’s trying to read your reaction to this — trying to keep his own emotions out of the situation.

“They’re very real. My family has been living with the curse from the beginning.”

You stare at him for a long moment, waiting for him to admit he’s just pulling your leg.

Nothing. He actually looks pretty damn serious.

“I… wow.” You blink, look away. “And you —”

You’re not laughing. You don’t even look that shocked, really. It’s like… you need a moment to process this — which is a completely reasonable response, if you ask him.

Maybe you’re too exhausted to be anything more than surprised.

It had been a rough week in the hospital — your entire class was drowning in work, barely able to catch a breath. And now you’re staring at your boyfriend, who just admitted he was part of a very real werewolf urban legend.

You rub your temples. “Okay. Okay, so you’re a — that.” You gesture to him vaguely with one hand. “And you decided not to tell me sooner because…”

Good at reading people, like always.

Robby lets out a heavy breath, his fingers digging into his arms.

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing I could just bring up,” he says gruffly. “It took me years to get used to it myself.”

He watches you closely, waiting for the freak-out. It doesn’t come.

"You stay here during the full moon?"

“I usually chain myself in the basement beforehand, just to make sure,” he answers — still half-expecting you to jump from the couch and dart out of the house.

“There’s salt around the doors and windows, and I take a sedative to keep me asleep during the change.”

His mouth twists in a frown as he tries to gauge your response.

“It’s not a pleasant experience.”

Now that he brought in sedatives, you look uneasy.

You’ve always been a little protective of Robby’s… well, everything, really — especially his health.

You glance down at his arms, his hands. You remember all the times you noticed he looked exhausted but refused to admit anything was wrong. You remember waking up in the middle of the night a few days ago, the bed colder next to you.

Realizing now that he had probably been locked in his basement the same night.

"I noticed some things. Like, you eating more."

“Yeah, that’s part of it.” He pauses. “My metabolism skyrockets during the full moon, and my sense of smell sharpens. I need — more.”

You can only guess the amount of self-control he’d have to exercise even before the transformation.

“That’s why I keep the freezer fully stocked. Also… my body burns through its reserves more easily.”

The weight loss. The exhaustion. The fact that he had never looked this tired even after his longest, most brutal shifts.

You rub your temples. “Jesus.”

It’s a lot of effort to remain human when everything else, including your body, is trying to pull you back to your most animal form.

You don’t have a point of reference for this. But you imagine it’s similar to having a hunger that can never be fully sated — your mouth watering at every smell, your stomach twisting and gnawing on itself.

“You’re taking sedatives,” you say quietly after a moment. “I think I remember… a few weeks ago.”

Robby pauses. Slowly pushes himself away from the back of the couch, shifting on his feet awkwardly. He can remember the night you mean perfectly well.

“It was — the last full moon. I took a higher dose than usual. I thought it would work better, and —”

“And it knocked you out so hard you didn’t wake up for hours,” you finish for him. "I wish you had told me before. But I understand why you didn't."

You’re trying. You’re really, really trying.

It’s a hard thing to swallow — the idea that the man you’ve been sharing your bed with is part wolf.

There’s a part of you that’s still wondering if he’s just pulling your leg. Or you got knocked out on the last call shift and everything from your last shower to this weird conversation is just a dream.

It can’t be real.

But Robby is still there, standing in front of you looking too tired to be pulling off a prank.

"Do you have ruts and all?"

“Ruts. Mating season.” He runs a hand over his face, still half expecting you to call him a freak and throw a shoe at him. “Yes.”

"Wow, so the fanfictions I wrote at high school were truthful."

If he wasn’t too tired to be mortified, he’d roll his eyes at that. He gives you a look instead.

“You’re not going to ask me to howl at the moon or something, right?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so exasperated. He just hates how the thought makes him feel — this weird swirl of anger at how the legends have portrayed him (a mindless animal with no control over itself) and shame (at how close that image really is to the truth).

But you seem to take it in stride.

“You hate the whole thing, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

Robby sighs, crossing his arms again.

There’s no use sugarcoating it.

“To hell and back.”

It’s the truth — he does hate it. It’s a constant, invisible battle that’s impossible to truly win. Against his own biology, against the animal part of him that’s fighting to get out. Against the fact that he’s constantly balancing between humanity and the savage instincts that are a part of him forever.

His grandparents always treated him well, but knowing that his grandson was probably condemned to pay for his parents' sins forever.

What would have happened if they hadn’t taken him in?

Robby didn’t want to think about that possibility at all. He’d gotten into enough trouble with his wolf-senses as a teenager. He probably would’ve ended up a dropout, running around the streets of Pittsburgh alone and feral.

Not a good thing to think about.

He sighs again. There were still a million things he didn’t like to think about. The nightmares, for one. Or the dreams.

He runs a hand over his face. “The moon affects my head,” he says finally.

There were days where he’d wondered if the family was still suffering for something done centuries ago.

Or if a great-great-grandfather had just made one very bad deal.

His grandparents never looked at Robby with fear in their eyes, but he knew what was going through their minds — that they were living with a monster, and that they had no choice but to love that monster anyway.

And he hated it.

After his grandparents died, he’d been sure he’d spend the rest of his life alone.

It hadn’t been easy so far, trying to find someone who could handle his schedule. Who would get his sense of humor. Who would put up with his general bullshit.

It had seemed easier just to stop trying.

But then he’d met you.

You were the most patient and understanding person he’d ever met. Hell, you’d dealt with him on bad days without even knowing about the whole werewolf thing.

Now, you’re not looking at him as if he’s a freak of nature.

Just like he’s a slightly more exhausted than usual, still completely human boyfriend who just happens to turn into a giant wolf once a month.

• Jack is IN FACT Robby's emergency contact. It was a little fandom headcanon and it became real!!!! I'm so happy!!!

• I really hope that Baran gets the help she needs. She's an amazing doctor and person. Her crying scene broke my heart 💔

• Mel and Trinity are basically one of my favorite friendships right. I NEED to write about them. I want them doing things together. I WANT THEM WASTED TOGETHER.

• All the baby Jane Doe and Robby scene??? OH MY GOD??? I CRIED. ALL THE TIME.

• As a Rabbot fan, I was FED. My belly is FULL. I'm NOT hungry!!!

• Robby is one of my favorite characters because, as Langdon said, he projects his own standards onto others, even if they are impossible to reach. When people or he himself don't come close to meeting them, he gets mad. And this is basically my life 🫠