#caos ff

The slur that rolled off Billy’s tongue like honey. The flash of pain against his cheek when the punch had landed. Harvey’s on his shoulders, desperately trying to pull him away. The anger that flickered in Billy’s eyes, the alcohol surging through his veins that gave him a bravado he wouldn’t have had in a million years. The circle of partygoers tightening around them, the music dimming as the two of them reached a crescendo of their own.

And then, finally, the contents of Theo’s stomach splattering across Billy’s mother’s expensive carpeting. Billy had hit the roof, screaming all kinds of obscenities at him as he wiped his mouth.

“Lick it up, baby!” Theo heard himself say, his newfound cockiness fizzing through him like a livewire. Billy’s eyes had widened, and Theo had laughed. “Lick. It. Up.”

Listen, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

His phone buzzes with messages, no doubt Harvey and Roz and Sabrina wondering where the hell he is and what the hell he’s thinking. In the other pocket, his house keys jangle amongst gum wrappers and bus tickets. He comes to a stop in the middle of the street and half-sits on the low brick wall that runs outside one of the nicer houses.

As sobriety comes to him, so too does regret, and the reality of tonight settles over him with the rain. He takes out his phone, one hand shielding it against the incessant downpour, and his heart sinks a little at the messages.His friends’ messages light up his screen, all asking some variation of “are you okay”?. He sends a quick “I’m okay” into the groupchat, followed by him telling them he’s going home.

Both are lies, obviously. He’s not going home, not yet anyway, and with what he just did, he’s pretty freaking far from fine.

His breath dances in front of him as he exhales. To recap: he just threw up on Billy Nolan. And called him a dickhead. Star football player, expert asshole, and ruiner of Theo’s life since freshman year, Billy Nolan. He puked on him.

Oh god, he’s a dead man.

Theo’s jaw tightens as he thinks what Billy and his goons could do to him. From the second he sets foot in school on Monday, a clock’s going to start ticking. They could track him down in study hall and make him regret he was born. Corner him in the lockers and hang him there like a trophy.

He leans his head back, hoping the rain will clear his head enough to let him think of an escape plan. Faking sick is out, as it’s just delaying the inevitable. He could just skip town, leave a note on the kitchen table and start afresh. Seattle is meant to be nice this time of year. Or maybe California, given that he’s set his college sights there anyway. Yeah, California, the other side of the country and thousands of miles away from Baxter High and Greendale and all that stupid bullshit.

He’s so set in that plan that his hand reaches for his wallet when something catches his eye. The house opposite him sits under a hanging tree, red brick coming out of the dark. Only one light is one, drawing his attention up to the first-floor window. Dim orange light shines behind lace curtains. The thought crosses his mind, who the hell would be up so late, but then he looks in the drive and gets his answer.

An indigo-blue motorbike sits under a small shelter, belonging to one Robin Goodfellow. Greendale’s first-ever New Kid and sits two rows behind him in English and to the right of him in Spanish. He’s been at their school for three weeks, they’ve had two full conversations and Theo has noticedhis tongue getting tied every time Robin enters the room.

Warmth pools in his stomach and Theo realises there’s another way to spend his remaining hours: getting freaky.

He runs across the road, no cars around to stop him, and he’s climbing over Robin’s wall before his sanity can catch up with him. He makes it to the other side with grazes along both his palms and lands not-so-neatly on the grass. He pulls himself up, determined to prove that he’s not still drunk, and scurries across to the house.

A trellis runs up the side, ivy weaving around the wood, and he uses that as his makeshift ladder. His hands shake as they wrap around the thin wood, and it creaks and tilts under his weight at first. There is a brief flash of worry as he climbs higher, realising that breaking your bones in their yard is probably not the best way to make a move on your crush. A sensible person would turn back at this point but the electric currents through his body block out any possibility for sensible behaviour.

He pulls himself up on the window ledge, a grunt escaping him as he heaves himself up. He’s vaguely aware of his legs dangling beneath him and of how his shoulders shake as he holds himself. He reaches up to the window just as the shadow on the other side quickly raises its head. He tugs on the lock once, twice, until it snaps off and scrapes his hand. The world turns upside down as he pulls himself through the open window, a cry of “Jesus” punctuating his less-than-graceful landing on the floor.

Normally he’s more courteous than this, but he’s a dead boy walking, what can he expect?

“Theo?” He jumps to his feet at the sound of his name and runs a hand through his hair. Robin sits on his bed, his green hair falling into his face. There’s a comic book in his hands and Theo recognises it as the same one he’s been reading all week. One of their four conversations was about it, actually.

“What are you doing in my room?” starts conversation number five

“Shhhhhh! Sh, shut up!” he replies sharply. He doesn’t know much about Robin, but he knows the girl who tends to sulk around him is his sister, and the last thing he wants right now is an interruption.

He drops his jacket on the floor as he crosses to the bed. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he even leans against the wall, shirt collar popped up like a regular douchebag.

God, he should not be enjoying this so much.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but I had to see you. Like, right now.”

“Oh,” comes his reply. Robin nods and eyes him in a way that’s curious, but not cautious. Like he knows that whatever Theo broke into his house for, it’s not malevolent. “Any… particular reason?”

“Well,” he begins. “Long story short, I got into a fight with Billy Nolan tonight at a dumb party and he’s going to kill me over it on Monday. And I am not dying a virgin.” He punctuates his point by pushing himself off the wall and pressing his hands together. “Ergo, I’ve decided I must ride you until I break you.”

“Oh,” Robin replies again. A second later, the words actually apparently register, and he responds with “oh” and slowly closes over the comic book. Theo laughs, the sound low and vaguely unfamiliar, and he moves to the end of the bed. He’s only ever seen him at school, mostly hiding in corners of the library with his sister. But now the shy loner new kid exterior he’s become familiar with melts away as he pulls Theo in between his legs and his skin prickles with the excitement.

This close, Theo sees properly the gap in his teeth and dimples in his cheeks. Of fucking course he has dimples.

“So to be clear… you got into a fight with the most popular guy in school-”

“Told him to lick up my puke.”

“Lovely.” He wrinkles his nose. “Anyway, you got into a fight with the most popular guy in school, and your response to your impending social death was to come to… me?”

“Essentially, yes,” he replies. His hands find the back of Robin’s neck and he toys with his hair.

He feels Robin’s pulse in the back of his neck, thrumming like electricity, and his breath hitches.

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m not dying a virgi-”

“Why me?” he asks. The question stops him then, almost freezing his frantic heart entirely. He could lean into the whole thing and mumble some stupid excuse against Robin’s lips. Or he could go the other way; confess his weeks-long crush and tell him how scared he is and how desperately he needs someone and wants him. He goes for the middle ground.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he says. “And because I like you and this might be my last chance before Billy utterly annihilates me on Monday.” He shakes his head. “And high school is stupid and this town drives me insane and the world is messed up and I want to pretend it isn’t. I want to try to make something beautiful. With you.”

There’s a second of silence when Theo debates launching himself out the same window he came in. Risky endeavours don’t always pay off. He waits until Robin breaks into the most enticingly wicked grin Theo’s ever seen.

“That works for me-”

He doesn’t let him finish.

Their tongues and teeth collide as they fall back on the bed together, their hands grabbing at everything they can. Robin tugs at Theo’s shirt while Theo makes quick work of Robin’s belt, hearing it hit the wall with a satisfying thud. As Theo’s boots hit the floor, Robin’s shirt slides off and Theo presses small, intense kisses against his chest.

“God you could’ve warned me about your freaking abs dude,” he teases breathlessly. Robin laughs and runs his finger along Theo’s waistband, his eyebrow raised coyly. Theo takes the hint and wriggles out of his jeans with less grace than he’d like. It doesn’t seem to ruin the mood though, as Robin wraps his arm around his waist and holds him even closer.

Theo goes back to Robin’s chest, his kisses trailing up to his neck. Robin’s breath is hot in his ear, his hands tight on his waist. A spark of bravery pushes Theo to bite down on his neck and he hopes he leaves a mark.

He’s always wanted to leave a mark on someone. And the fact it’s on him… well, that’s even better.

Robin’s back arches and he presses against Theo, his hand curled around his shoulders. Theo feels something pressed against his leg and he pulls away for a second because holy shit, this is happening. This is real, not some elaborate fantasy he’d take to the grave.

“Are you okay?” Robin’s pupils are wide, his hair pushed away from his face. His pants slightly but does it best to hide it, instead softening his grip on Theo’s shoulders. “We can slow down if you want to-”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m fine. I’m great, actually.” It’s true, which is even stranger considering where he was half an hour ago. He can barely remember that though, or anything before this. Robin laughs softly and his eyes crinkle. It’s beautiful, and gentle, and it melts his heart. But it’s also not what he needs right now, so he pulls him into another kiss while their free hands work at his belt.

“Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight.”

“Never was,” he replies. He doesn’t think to ask what he means by that. Instead, he tells Robin to slap him and he does, eliciting a sharp squeak that Theo didn’t even think he could make. He responds by shoving Robin back and kissing his neck until he hears the click of his belt.

There’s a moment, as Theo drags his nails down Robin’s bare back, where the pants hit the floor and he realises this is it oh my god this is it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, muted by the sound of the blood pumping in his ears, he asks himself what next. He shuts that thought up by giving Robin another hickey. He’s not thinking about that now, or anything else.

He shoves Robin roughly back on the bed and grips the headboard. Robin’s smile is breathless and breathtaking, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His hands trail along Theo’s legs and up around his waist, shivers racing through him as he gets closer. He moans as Robin’s tongue slides into his mouth and buries his hand in his hair.

God, he can’t believe he never thought to do this before. Here, now, he can’t believe he ever felt scared before, of Billy Nolan or anyone. His thoughts run away with his beating heart until he can’t understand them himself; all he understands is the way Robin feels beneath him and the way his lips taste against his. It could just be the two of them, in this bed, doing whatever for the rest of his life, and he’d be fine with it. He’d love it.

“Make this whole town disappear,” he thinks, and then realises he said it out loud. He looks down, but Robin isn’t put off. On the contrary, his grin grows wider.

“Okay,” is his whispered reply. “Okay.”

He finishes with his hand in Robin’s hair and his name on his lips, crying out like his life depends on it. He falls off Robin and hits the mattress beside him. The bed shifts slightly and the movement is trangely small after what they just did. Robin lets out a long, ragged breath and runs his hand through his hair. His lips move wordlessly and out of the corner of his eye, Theo sees him turn his head and look down at the space between them.

“I think you tore my mattress.” Theo frowns, but when he looks where Robin is he sees it; a sizeable tear in the sheet and white cotton poking out from it. His cheeks slush red for a new reason this time. He guesses he doesn’t know his own strength. Or that he, you know, had strength.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s cool.”

With nothing else to do, Theo looks up at the ceiling, away from the offending rip. There, he’s greeted by the sight of stars scattered across the inky blackness. Glow-in-the-dark stickers, he realises. Like the ones he used to have in his room.

Beside him, Robin lets out a self-depricating laugh and Theo realises he’s still watching him. “Completely dorky, I know,” he sighs.

“No. They’re awesome.” Robin chuckles softly. They fall silent for a few minutes as the last few minutes settle over them. Robin gets brave and his hand ventures across the mattress to meet Theo’s.

“So… Billy Nolan?”

“I don’t want to talk about Billy Nolan right now,” he replies quickly. He clears his throat. “Or ever.”

It’s stupid, since he knows that avoiding the subject forever is pretty much impossible. Robin doesn’t press though, simply nodding and muttering “okay”. His hand stays where it is, pressed on top of Theo’s. It wouldn’t take much for them to start holding hands now. All he’d have to do is turn his hand around.

God, what a thought.

“You want to stay over?” Robin asks when the silence becomes too much. He shouldn’t, because he barely knows Robin and his dad will be wondering where the hell he is and Robin is going to have some questions to answer tomorrow from whoever he lives with. He should leave, and think about how he’s going to stop Billy from killing him.

But instead, he lets Robin pull the covers over them. As he lays back down, Theo notices a mark on his collarbone, one that wasn’t there when he came in. If his father could see it, he’d have a heart attack. His friends would lose their shit if they knew and beg him for all the details. As for Theo, he feels a strange sense of pride over it. Especially when Robin meets his eye and traces the mark with his fingers.

He doesn’t want to be optimistic about the fact that something might happen here, especially when he’s still due to die on Monday.

And it’s even better this year now that he has a hobgoblin boyfriend to share it with. Right now, he’s wearing one of his dad’s old sweaters and desperately attempting to detangle the lights after they spent 326 days chilling in the attic. He frowns slightly, pulling again and again at the wire, and Theo hides his smile behind his coffee cup.

“Here,” he sighs eventually, holding his hands out. “Let me try, goblin boy.”

“You know, one of these days, your dad is going to hear you call me that,” he remarks. “You got a plan for that?”

“Oh please, my dad just puts everything he doesn’t get about my life down to ‘youths these days’ or a trans thing he doesn’t get but tries to support,” Theo explains. He tugs at the lights and maneuvers the small bulbs slightly, a little extra twist and… “Voila, bitch.” He holds up the completely tangle-free set of lights in front of Robin’s eyes and laughs as his boyfriend’s eyes widen, his mouth falling into a perfect ‘o’.

“You sure you don’t have any magic?” he asks.

“No magic. Just skills.” He hands the other end of the lights to Robin and runs over to the tree, climbing up on top of the chair to get a better vantage point, and starts wrapping the lights around them. He’s got a specific way of doing it, perfected over so many years, that means they get maximum twinkle and a perfect light-to-tinsel ratio.

Maybe he should’ve realised he wasn’t straight and cis sooner than he did.

“Okay, I think that’s the last of it,” his dad announces, stepping into the living room with two boxes in his hands. Theo recognises the handwriting. The oversized T and backwards D can only be his, from when he was about five or six and his dad let him label all the boxes with Sharpie. It might be faded now, but it still being there is a testament to how well his dad looks after everything. “Theo, are you sure you should be on the chair like that?”

“I do this every year,” Theo reminds him, pushing himself up on his toes. He props his elbow against the window for safety, and his dad and Robin share a look.

“And every year, I’m in danger of a heart attack,” he remarks. “Especially now that we’ve got someone taller, who can actually reach up there.”

“I’m offended, father,” Theo gasps. “Besides, Robin is busy holding the lights and looking good doing it.”

“It’s true, I am holding the lights,” Robin adds. His dad rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the fond smile on his face. Something tugs in Theo’s chest, something warm and almost glowing, like the small flames his dad’s got going in their fireplace. “Okay, babe, now plug them in and… Here we go.”

Robin ducks below the tree and puts the plug in the socket, and almost immediately, the tree is lit up in a rainbow of colours, tiny dots of light dancing on the walls and ceiling. The light reflects off the tinsel on the tree, sparkling like miniature starlight. The feeling in his chest grows stronger, and he lets his family’s sentimentality take over for a second.

Especially when he crosses over to Robin’s side, and he wraps his arm around him, his cheek pressed to the top of his head. 

“Not bad,” he murmurs in his ear. He smiles and presses his face into Robin’s chest, the fluff from his sweater tickling against his cheeks.

“Okay, what else have we got?” he asks, turning to his dad. His dad coughs, chasing away the soft proudness on his face, and turns to the boxes. Theo doesn’t say anything, but he gets it. 

“Okay, we have this entire box of family ornaments,” he begins. “And then there’s the Nativity for the front hall… oh, and this box of stuff Theo made in elementary school.”

“Yeah, we don’t need to use any of that,” he says quickly, but Robin is quicker, and his dad is already handing the box to him. It’s not fair since he almost definitely used some of that hobgoblin speed to grab it, and so Theo sticks his tongue out when his dad’s back is turned. Robin just does it right back, already looking through the ghosts of Christmas art past.

“Aw babe,” he says. He lifts out a small clay Santa, or it was meant to be Santa anyway. All that gives it away is the red hat. It’s an abomination, and yet Robin looks at it like it’s hanging in the Lourve. “You made this?”

“I believe that was first grade,” he says dryly. “I think I spent most of that class throwing clay at Billy and Carl.”

“Theo Jesse Putnam,” his dad says. “Don’t make me ground you for something that happened a decade ago.

“They threw it at me first,” he says, both hands up in defense.

“Well, I, for one, think it’s adorable,” Robin says. Theo sighs and pretends the blush creeping up his cheeks is him being too warm in his stupid sweater. He also acts like his eyes don’t linger on Robin as he goes to hang it on the tree and that the sight of Robin bathed in multi-coloured lights isn’t the cause of the smile spreading across his face.

He fails at all of those. Especially when his heart flutters slightly and his breath hitches in his throat. So this is what being in love is like, huh?

“I’m going to go set this up in the hallway,” his dad says softly. He gently nudges Theo’s shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. “You two call if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah.” His dad leaves then, just as Robin finishes hanging Theo’s little monstrosity. There’s a brightness in his eyes, a sparkle Theo doesn’t think he’s seen before. They’ve talked about this before, Robin’s family life with the Pagans, even before Theo knew what he really was. They’ve talked about the whole Christmas thing too, about bringing Robin into their traditions even if he doesn’t celebrate it. He doesn’t need to ask what this means to him. He knows.

“Here.” He grabs the box of Putnam family ornaments and carries it over too. It’s mostly all keepsakes that his family never wanted to get rid of. The music changes as they start decorating, Shakin’ Steven’s ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ bouncing from the cassette player. Robin bobs along as he works, his shoulders shaking almost in time with the beat, and it’s one of the cutest things Theo has ever seen. Aside from well, most things Robin does.

Holy shit, he’s in deep.

As he hangs another one of the ornaments-one that he thinks was his grandma’s back in the day-the finds a stray piece of red tinsel nestled among the branches. He swiftly picks it out with a grin and tucks it behind Robin’s ear. It looks oddly charming against his green hair, even with his confused expression.

“Just giving you some extra sparkle,” he says. Robin chuckles and briefly checks himself in the mirror, his grin widening as he does.

“I think it works,” he says.

“It most definitely does.” They go on hanging ornaments, briefly taking a cookie break, and then taking a slightly-less-brief dancing break at one point. His dad walks in just as Robin is twirling him under his arm and tries to slip out as quietly as possible with the box of kitchen decorations in hand. Almost as if he was worried about interrupting something.

They break apart, and Theo stumbles over to the box, running his hand through his hair as his heart slows back down. The tree is almost fully done, her branches weighed down by the old and new ornaments. The box is nearly empty now, and what remains in it is either broken or torn, or the paint has all faded off. So there’s only one thing left to put on, and a small, childish thrill of excitement runs through him when he pulls it out.

It’s his thing, putting the star on the tree. It always has been since he was in footie pyjamas and had jam in his hair. There’s proof of it too; a photo of him aged one, his dad standing on a chair on holding him up as he places it haphazardly on top. Despite him cutting off the caption at the bottom, he loves that photo. It still sits stuck to his pinboard, right next to old concert tickets and his first day of high school photo. 

“You sure that’s safe enough?” Robin asks. He stands just a little bit behind him as he climbs up on the chair. His arms are folded across his chest, and he wears an expression that’s equal parts worried and bemused.

“I’ll be fine,” he sighs. “I’ve done this like a hundred times.”

“And yet you wonder why we worry about you so much,” Robin replies. Theo ignores him and instead tries to reach over to the top of the tree. Pine needles scratch his arms as he goes, his legs stretching as far as he can, but the top remains just out of reach. He hops down from the chair, not hiding the disappointed pout on his face, and shakes out his sore limbs. 

He’s not giving up. He never would. 

“Okay, maybe if I move the chair around,” he thinks aloud. “I’d have an easier time climbing up. Maybe in front…”

“Maybe,” Robin agrees. “Although… I do have better, and possibly safer, idea.”

“You do?” Theo turns to him. “What is it?”

There’s a moment of silence and a grin that links Robin to his literary counterpart. And then Robin’s arms are around his waist, and Theo lets out a gasp of surprise. In what must be less than a second, he’s perched carefully on Robin’s shoulders, his clutching his boyfriend’s shirt and his heart about to burst out of his chest.

“You couldn’t have warned me you were going to do that?” he asks breathlessly.

“It was more fun this way,” he reasons. “And can you reach now?”

“Well…” He sighs, but when he looks up and stretches out his hand, he gets his answer. “Yeah. I can.”

He doesn’t need to look down to see Robin’s smile as he places the star on top. Knowing now that he’s safe with Robin, he lets go of his shirt and instead runs his hand through Robin’s hair, absent-mindedly toying with his bangs. It’s the same decorations, more or less the same size tree (though maybe slightly bigger) that they have every year. The same background music, the same cookies, even the same damn sweater. But it feels different this time. More magical. And that, Theo decides, he’ll put to the boy whose shoulders he’s sitting on, whose thumbs trace tiny circles on his jeans.

“Happy Solstice, Robin,” he says quietly. Robin hums, dimples forming in his cheeks as he smiles.

Which is how he got here, half-hiding behind a snow-covered shrub, his heart pounding wildly against his chest. Roz is beside him, crouched even lower and frantically tucking her hair beneath her hat. They never officially split into teams, but Harvey and Sabrina are too much in love to fight against each other, even now, two years into their relationship. And since two on one is hardly fair, and since their squishy faced romance shit can get too much even for them, Theo and Roz decided to team up too.

They’re all well aware that they’re missing their movie, but this is way more fun.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Theo says breathlessly, whisps of smoke escaping his mouth. “Load up as much as we can, and then split. I go left, you go right. Wait until we’re in a prime position before attacking.”

“Do you guys surrender?” Harvey calls from behind them. His voice is strained slightly, breathless, and Theo shakes his head.

“Over your dead body,” he calls back. Small puffs of smoke dance in front of his lips and he pulls his jacket tighter around him. This is make-or-break time, he can’t be caught shivering. He looks over at Roz, her dark eyes sparkling, and the resolute nod shows that they’re on the same page. Well, why wouldn’t they be; combine one scrappy asshole who will always throw hands and one overachiever with a lot to prove and you get one hell of a duo. It’s either a match made in Heaven or one made in Hell.

“Hey guys!” Sabrina calls. Laughter shakes the edge of her voice, and Theo frowns. He’d like to think he knows a trick when he hears one. “Truce for just one second.” He’s about to fire back something about how he’s not that dumb, but her next words stop him in his tracks. “Let’s make this interesting; losers buy the winners coffee and donuts at Cerberus’.”

And that grabs Theo’s attention. Because if there’s one thing he likes more than winning, it’s someone else buying him food.

He goes to look at Roz, to ask her, but she’s already yelling “Deal!” across the field. Followed by a wink and “Hope you brought your wallet, Spellman!”. They share one last look before slowly rising to their feet, shaking both with cold and anticipation. If all goes to plan-and they’re more than a little lucky-they’ll have be warm and fed in no time at all.

“Go go go!” Theo screams and then he’s off, hunched down as close to the ground as possible and diving behind the nearby shrub. Sabrina’s snowballs fly past his ears and land pitifully just behind him, melting into the fallen snow. His knees hit the ground, one arm clutching the ammo he’d built up and his free hand digging into the ground. Cold air stings his cheeks and slides down his throat, his heart is erratic in his chest. When he lifts his head, he sees Harvey wide open, his back to him, and Sabrina preoccupied with picking up more snowballs.

A grin spreads across Theo’s face. Slowly, he moves into position, his arm drawing backward. One hit to get his attention, then another to catch him in the chest. He crosses the fingers on his free hand for luck, takes in a sharp breath, and watches as the snowball leaves his hand. Victory is so close he can taste it.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment some new kid walks directly into his trajectory, and the snowball meant for Harvey smacks him right in the face instead.

Theo’s hand flies to his mouth, pushing back the yelp he almost gives out. For a second, he considers hiding and letting Harvey take the blame, but then he remembers his father raised him better than that. Besides, he feels bad. Who wouldn’t.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Theo jumps from his hiding place, the snowball war almost forgotten, and rushes over to the new kid. New kid shakes his head, snow falling off his face and out of his bangs. Up close, Theo can see the red tinge on his cheeks he bets wasn’t there a few seconds ago, and his heart sinks even more. “I am so sorry.”

“What?” New kid looks at him then, one hand pushing his now-damp hair away from his face. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He gives Theo a smile then, one with dimples and laugh lines and a gap in his teeth, and he almost forgets to be embarrassed. Almost.

“Although you did get me pretty good,” he says. “Like, really good. You’ve got a strong arm.”

“Well, I play basketball at my school,” Theo explains. He pretends he doesn’t know why he’s telling the cute boy this, but then he realises he knows. Oh, he knows. “And I was aiming for my friend there.”

“Huh-oh.” New kid turns just in time to see Harvey awkwardly standing there, tossing a snowball between his hands. Sweet summer child that he is, Harvey raises a hand in an awkward wave, and the new kid waves back. They all fall silent, worry creasing the new kid’s face. Theo can almost predict what he’ll say next, and tries to resign himself to the fact that he might just miss his chance with him.

Fortunately, Roz comes to his rescue and nails Harvey in the back. Whether he gets the hint or is just mad, Harvey spins round and chases after her, Sabrina chasing the two of them.

“So I take it I just interrupted something?” new kid asks.

“No, no, not at all,” Theo says. “I mean, you did walk into the path of a rather deadly and intense snowball war, but we should’ve put up signs.”

“Or a fence.”

“Fence works,” he chuckles. New Kid smiles at that, and Theo notices the green streaks in the hair poking out from his beanie. He shoves his hands into his back pockets, willing himself to be still. “Are… are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just moved here. I’m Robin.”

Well, it’s nice not to have to call him ‘new kid’.

“Theo,” he says, and he takes Robin’s outstretched hand. He tries and fails to ignore the prickle of warmth he feels at his touch, or the way his stomach does a mini-backflip.

Behind him, he sees his friends beginning to tire out, and Roz catches his eye and gives him a little thumbs-up, followed by her spinning her finger. Ah, the Roz code. This one is ‘you’re doing great but hurry it up here’.

“So, we were about to go down to Doctor C’s diner,” he says. “Ever been?”

“Not yet,” Robin says. “Though I have gotten flyers for it. I’ve been meaning to try it out.”

“Well,” Theo begins. “If you want, those booths fit five people pretty comfortably. And the coffee there is amazing.”

He bites his tongue for a second and reminds himself that it’s not the end of the world if Robin says no. But by some miracle, he smiles, and that smile is more than enough to chase away the cold.

“That sounds great,” he says. “Uh… should we wait for your friends to finish up here or…”

“Give me one second,” he says, and he scoops up two large snowballs. He goes to get a third, but then Robin picks one up, winks, and Theo somehow falls even harder.

“Hello?”  he asks.

“Robin Goodfellow?”

“Yep.” He’s just a little suspicious, because the voice definitely isn’t one he recognises, and hardly anyone has his number, just Moth and a few close friends. It’s a little unusual, but not too much, and certainly not enough to scare him or anything.

“This is Greendale hospital.We’re calling you because you’re the emergency contact for Theo Putnam.”

Apparently, he spoke too soon.

The first part is enough to send a shiver running up his spine. He thankfully doesn’t have too much experience in hospitals, but the word still puts him on edge. His experiences might be few and far between, but he’s smart enough to know that calls from hospitals mean bad news, 99% of the time.

And yet, that’s not even the part he’s focussing on. Instead he’s focussing on the name uttered on the other line. A name that makes him feel like he’s drowning, and flying, and dying all at once, just at the mention of it.

“Theo?” he asks. Slowly, the information begins to come together, clicking like a jigsaw puzzle. Theo. Hospital. Hospital. Theo. Emergency contact. Him. Emergency. Theo in hospital for an emergency. He breathes out steadily, one hand flat against the wall, and swallows past the lump in his throat. “Theo Putnam?”

“Yes.” The operator’s voice is soft, careful, coaxing him to stay calm, and it would work were it not clearly rehearsed. They’re trained to stay calm in any kind of crisis. Robin is yet to learn that. “He was in a motorbike accident. We’ve tried to get ahold of his father, but we’ve been unable to reach him.” 

Robin looks down at his watch. Of course, he thinks. Thursday night. 8pm. If nothing has changed, then Mr Putnam is out in the fields right now, his phone left on the kitchen table because, in his words, ‘it’s too expensive to take out and get lost’. Theo had tried, and failed, to explain to him that the point of a cellphone is for people to reach him whenever they need to. Briefly, he hopes that the hospital doesn’t see Mr Putnam as some neglectful asshole for this.

But there’s more pressing things than Mr Putnam’s reputation.

“Is-is he okay?” He pushes his hair away from his face and pretends not to notice the trembling hand, or how the warmth has fled his skin entirely.

“Yes. We believe there’s nothing fatal. Like I said, he crashed his motorbike and was badly hurt. And since he’s a minor, we need someone to come in and fill out some paperwork for him, and take him home. He’s in no state to drive himself.”

I bet he isn’t. Robin lets out a soft curse and leans against the wall. Now that the worst-case scenario is over, he lets himself think about how much bullshit this all is, and how much of an asshole Theo is because, seriously dude, you didn’t update your emergency contact info? Why was I even there to begin with?

His heart flutters though, just a little, when he thinks about it, and he tries not to hate himself for it.

“Mr Goodfellow?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I-I’ll be right there. Thanks. Bye.” He hangs up before they can say anything else, and lets the dial tone ring in his ear, flood his mind and leave it blank, before springing into action.

And of course, Moth is standing in the doorway when he turns, her grin only growing wider when he jumps.

“Jesus, Moth.”

“Where you off to, hot shot?” she teases, like she doesn’t know. Like she paused the movie so they could watch it together. Like that name didn’t set alarm bells off for her as much as it did for him.

Moth never liked Theo, and never made an attempt to hide it. Not even when he brought him around, or when Theo tried to get on her good side. He gets it, to some extent, given that they;re brother and sister in all but blood, and protecting him was a job she began early on. But even he soon got bored of her speeches about how Theo isn’t good enough for him, how he’s risking too much for a small town farm boy. He reminded her that he was hardly high class himself-an ex foster care brat who only just got a full-time job as a tattoo artist. Her rants didn’t stop bringing Theo round though, and towards the end he just started tuning her out. He assumed, hoped, that one day she’d get tired, or bored, and then finally see the good in Theo, and they’d all live happily ever after.

So much for that.

She wasn’t necessarily happy when Robin came home that night, eyes full of tears and heart freshly broken. She made him some tea, turned on Taylor Swift and let him cry his sad little heart out. So no, she wasn’t happy. But still.

Now he pushes past her into the living room, grabs his jacket from the coffee table, and prepares himself for some more of her bullshit.

“I guess I owe Mer ten bucks,” she sighs. Her response is so far from what he expected-which was something closer to a rant about how he’s better than this-that he freezes in place, his eyes narrowing in a silent demand for the answer. She just shrugs, her lips pursed like it all makes perfect sense. “She bet me you wouldn’t last six months without him. I thought you were stronger than that, but that’s what I get for believing in you.”

“Okay, first off, can you and your girlfriend stop making bets on my love life,” he says. “And second, he was in an accident, for your information.” He pulls his jacket on and turns down the collar. “He’s in the hospital. I'm his emergency contact.”

“Oh,” is all she says. She’s not one for admitting when she’s wrong, not out loud, so she just steps aside and tosses the keys into his open hand. It’s enough for him though, and he taps her shoulder as he passes her in thanks. “Text me when you’re coming home,” she says just as he opens the door. “And if you need anything. And… if he’s okay.”

He nods, the gesture minute, and jogs outside. He throws himself into the car and peels out of the driveway, shaking fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He picks the first radio station he can and turns it almost all the way up, letting it drown out his thoughts.

It doesn’t work, but no-one can say he didn’t try.

                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s not in the waiting room five minutes before he puts his headphones in. It’s the same logic as the music in the car; drown out the sounds, forget where he is. The paperwork sits on his lap, supported by a wooden clipboard that’s seen better days and a receptionist with tired, sympathetic eyes sporting dark shadows. She tells him she’ll come and get him whenever he can see him, and less than a minute later, appears with a paper cup of coffee. ‘You look like you could use it,’ she said before leaving him to the paperwork.

The coffee sucks, but the gesture is appreciated.

He texts the Midsummer Night's group chat, updating them on what little has happened so far. Moth is surprisingly sympathetic, messaging him privately saying she hopes he’s okay, Merry offering words of comfort and the others piling on with the love and support. It’s beautiful, and it’s sweet, but it’s suffocating. He mutes the chat before he can see someone else asking if there’s anything they can do and puts on a podcast that has yet to let him down. From there he reads through the paperwork and mindlessly puts his signature wherever he needs to. He tenses at the sight of the word ‘surgery’, even if the word ‘minor’ is before it and shudders at the word ‘accident’. He turns the volume up on his podcast every time his thoughts start going down a road he doesn’t like, as if Theo will be okay if he doesn’t let himself think about it.

By the time the nurse taps him on the shoulder, he’s getting dirty looks from the lady two seats down that tells him everything she thinks about his podcast choices.

“Hey,” the nurse quietly, like he might bolt if she scares him. “The surgery went well, and we moved him to the recovery room. He’s awake, if you want to go see him.”

She leads him down a perfectly-polished corridor, neon lights distorted in the shiny reflection, and quickly up in a too-small elevator before stopping outside what must be Theo’s room. Room 203, with the word RECOVERY printed on the wood in grubby white letters. The nurse tells him something in a soft, polite voice and he thanks her before leaving, because he wasn’t raised in a barn, and then it’s just him and the door. And Theo, on the other side of it.

It takes more effort than it should just to put his hand on the handle.

It’s been four months now. Four months, two weeks, five days, because yeah, he counted. Four months since Theo’s insecurities got the better of him and he told Robin to leave, since Robin got tired of trying to work it out and told him that he’d come back whenever he’s ready. A week later, Roz appeared on Robin’s doorstep with most of his things in a box-a mixtape he’d made for Theo’s birthday, one of his shirts, his cap, a book he’d forgotten about. Four months of waiting beside the phone, of not-so-subtly checking out his social medias.

Four months without waking up next to him, or meeting him for coffee, or sharing milkshakes, or having his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Four months had never felt so long, and now here they are.

He doesn’t feel himself turning the handle, only sees the door slowly opening before him, a cold wash spreading over his body. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Stony silence. A potted plant being thrown at his head. A colourful array of curse words telling Robin exactly where to go. Or maybe, in his wildest dreams, Theo bursting into tears and begging him to take him back.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but what he gets is Theo blinking at him, surprise slowly trickling through the medication-induced haze.

“Hi,” he says slowly. That’s the first word Theo has said to him in four months. Hi. His response is ‘hey’, so it’s not like he’s much better, but still. 

He closes the door and moves closer, stopping a good few feet from Theo’s bed. He isn’t an asshole, and so he lets the fog clear a good bit before he starts saying anything. He had planned on going straight into a lecture, but state he’s in, he now feels bad doing so. His skin is almost as pale as the sheets he’s lying on, his right cheek sporting a nasty looking purple bruise, smaller marks and cuts trailing along his neck and jaw. The arm facing Robin is wrapped in layers of white bandage, while the opposite leg sits atop the sheets and wrapped in a cast. He moves, little by little, until he can see that side of his body, which seems to be more bruises than skin. He winces on instinct, and then remembers that he still can’t see what’s beneath the blanket and hospital gown.

“What are you doing here?” Theo asks after a while.

“I’m still your emergency contact,” he replies, and he tries not to laugh when Theo curses under his breath. He chuckles humorlessly. “Seriously, you need to get that changed.”

“Yeah, I’ll make that a priority.”

“Well, you should. I changed my contact info two months ago. When-” The words catch in his throat. When it became clear to him that Theo didn’t want him back. When he texted him and waited around for two days for a reply. When it was obvious that Theo had moved on and he should do the same. “Well, I did.”

“Oh well good for y-” He gasps sharply, the word turning into a strained cry as he clearly pulls on something he shouldn't have. Robin’s at his side in less than a moment, his hands on his shoulders because he’s unsure where else to put them. They stay there, sitting in that half-embrace, as the seconds pass and the tension fades from Theo’s face. Robin watches and resists the urge to run his thumb along Theo’s jaw.

“You okay?”

“Peachy keen,” he replies in a voice that implies anything but. Now that he’s closer, Theo somehow looks worse than he did when he came in. He can see the bruises poking out from beneath the hospital-issued gown, along with freshly-covered cuts. He remembers the nurse telling him something about needing stitches and he tries not to shudder. 

Theo’s eyes follow his and, because Theo is a bastard, he smiles.

“I look pretty badass huh?”

“Not the word I would use.” Theo pouts and damn it, Robin can’t help it. He laughs; he’s not made of stone. Theo laughs too, as much as his beaten-up body will allow, and raises an eyebrow at him. “So is this the part where you tell me ‘I told you so’?”

“No. Because I am not an asshole.”

But in complete fairness, he did tell him so. Several times, in fact. He told him over and over again that that bike was a death trap and would it kill him to wear a helmet for the love of God and there’s no way he should be on that thing when he doesn’t even have a permit and does he know the reason motorbike insurance is so much cheaper than car insurance? He had told him all of that, over and over again, and Theo had just laughed and kissed his cheek and told him he’s cute when he’s protective. 

Well now he’s cute and right.

“No,” Theo says after a pause. “You’re not an asshole.” He tilts his chin slightly and looks at him, his eyes still slightly dazed, probably from the pain meds. “You came all the way out here because you heard I got hurt. That’s not an asshole thing to do.”

“Yeah, well… You’d have done the same for me.” He doesn’t deny it. Instead he just huffs a soft laugh and looks down at his sheets, his free hand toying with the fabric. Maybe it’s just him, he hopes it’s just him, but it feels too bold, what he said. Like he had just asked, or at least implied, something about them not being entirely over. His heart skips a beat, and so he quickly changes the subject. “They said they’re trying to reach your dad. I know he’s usually busy these nights. They said they’ll keep trying to reach him.”

“Oh God.” Theo’s head hits the pillow, a low groan escaping him. “My dad.”

“Yeah.” Theo opens one eye and looks at him and sighs heavily, grunting slightly with his sore chest. “You may not tell me you told me so, but my dad definitely will.”

“Well, to be fair… he told you so.” He chuckles when Theo flips him off, a scowl on his bruised face. Robin feels braver, and moves closer again. 

“Do you know what happened to the bike?” he asks.

“Nope,” he sighs. “I haven’t seen that bike since I crashed it. And I kind of forgot to ask the paramedics what they were going to do with it.” He picks at the sheet. “But given how I ended up, she’s probably scrap metal by now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know how much you loved that bike.”

“No you’re not,” he replies dryly. “You hated it.”

“No, I hated the risk attached to it. That’s different.” He finds himself, somehow, standing at the foot of Theo’s bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he doesn’t know what, and it feels weird. Words always came easy with Theo. That happens when you have someone you can be yourself around. When there’s no need to hide anything because you’re not afraid of what they’ll do. There was never any need for hesitation or hint of discomfort between them. Not until right now.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t want to go either. He’ll stay until his dad comes, he decides. Until he knows Theo’s going to be okay.

And it’s probably a good thing he does, given that his ever-restless ex boyfriend grows bored of laying down and tries to push himself up, despite his beaten-up body’s protests. He gasps sharply, a short, stifled grunt escapes him, but he keeps acting as though it didn’t happen. Robin rolls his eyes and moves over to him; one hand on his arm and the other adjusting his pillows. Theo scowls again, because he would walk on broken legs before asking for help, but he doesn’t push him away.

“Here, careful… there you go.” Theo sits up against the wall, his back supported by pillows. Robin settles next to him on the mattress, watching his face for any indication that he should go. He doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets a smile, and the ghosting of fingertips along his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “For… for coming here.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. His mouth runs dry, his heart beating louder and louder being so close to him. He’s missed him. Holy crap, he’s missed him. He’s missed him for months and it all slams into him now, like a speeding train hitting him. Theo doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t say anything, just keeps tracing patterns on his hand, his finger getting faster and faster by the minute. He knows him well enough to know what that means. He doesn’t push though, because finally being this close to him is something he doesn’t want to risk losing.

“Robin,” he begins after a long while. “About what I said to you-”

“It’s fine,” he says again, a little too quickly this time.

“It’s not,” he says firmly, shaking his head slightly. “It wasn’t. What I said, the way I said it…” He closes his eyes briefly, probably reliving the night they broke up. He’s recalled it countless times since then. “You didn’t deserve it. And don’t-” He holds up his finger to silence him before Robin can even say anything. “Tell me that it’s okay, you Canadian asshole. Because it wasn’t.”

He laughs at that, even if it’s short-lived. He felt bad for thinking it sometimes, but it never felt right, what Theo had said to him. Half-sentences about not wanting to hold him back, how he can’t stay and give up everything just for him. How he ended it with “I don’t want you anymore” and told him to go. Aside from maybe cheating on him, he doesn’t know how it could have been worse. Leaving him with a broken heart and so many unanswered questions.

“Okay, it was,” he says. “Thank you for apologising.” Theo smiles, barely, and his fingers move quicker against his hand. He doesn’t say anything, not out loud, but he does rest his free hand on Theo’s knee. A brave move, maybe, but also a silent signal that it’s okay. That whatever he has to say, he can say it. God knows when they’ll see each other again, so they might as well.

He must hear it, but even so it takes a lifetime for him to say “I got scared.” He leans back on the pillows, the three words having drained him, and Robin processes it.

“You got scared?” he asks. “Scared of what?”

“Of us,” he sighs. “Of you and me and… how serious it was all getting. And… and your family, and my family, and school. And it was all getting so serious and I-I freaked out.” He swallows thickly and pulls his  good knee close to his chest, a small whimper escaping him. He doesn’t know if it’s from the pain or something else. “I’m sorry.”

They fall silent, and Robin digests what he said. For the past few months, he’s lived with constant confusion over their break-up, and it was just over the past week that it was slowly morphing into acceptance that Theo had just outgrown him. Now there’s this, and his view is shaken up again.

“Oh,” he replies. That might be the only thing he’s capable of saying, given how tight his throat is. He tries to clear it, only to find tears blurring his vision. “Theo… what happened?” Something comes back to him, one night near the end, with Theo over at his place. Him arguing quietly with Moth in the kitchen, her whispering that Theo will ‘ruin his life’. It hadn’t occurred to him how thin the walls in their house actually are. “Did you hear me and Moth?”

“Some of it,” he mumbles. Robin opens his mouth, a fire against Moth ready, but Theo holds up his hand, his pained expression grinding him to a halt. “It’s not just Moth though. It’s everyone else. You heard it too right?” He laughs bitterly. “When people said how weird it was that we were getting so serious so fast.”

Robin doesn’t say anything. Theo’s right; people did talk. It wasn’t because it was two boys, which for Greenedale, is saying something. It was the fact that they’d only been together a few weeks before they were staying at each other’s houses. It was that just two months into their relationship, Robin gave Theo his father’s ring. They talked even more when Robin let it slip they were looking at apartments to share for when Theo went off to college. So yes, people talked, but they weren’t listening. Or apparently, he wasn’t.

“Since when do you care what other people think?” he asks after a while.

“I don’t. But I care about you,” he says. “I care because what if they were right? Robin, you were planning on moving out of Greenedale for me.”

“Yeah, and I said I was okay with it.”

“Well what if I wasn’t?” His voice is tight, shaking, and when tears run down his red cheeks, Robin doesn’t hesitate in wiping them away. Theo leans into his touch, shivering slightly at his skin against his. His hand comes up and wraps around his wrist, his thumb rubbing against the back of Robin’s as he tries to compose himself. “What if I wasn’t okay with dragging you across the country?”

“Is that what you think you were doing?” he asks. “Theo… you weren’t dragging me anywhere. I wanted to go with you.” He swallows thickly before adding, “I still do.” Theo closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair, his fingers catching on knots.

“Yeah I know,” he whispers, and Robin isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to himself. “I know that now.” Theo hesitates for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes, but then he wriggles closer, despite his beaten-up body, and Robin does the same until they’re just a breath apart. Close enough for Robin to count the freckles on Theo’s cheeks. Holy crap, he loves those freckles. He loves him, every part of him.

Moth was wrong; he wasn’t lasting six months without him.

“Why did you come here?” Theo asks.

“Because I’m your emergency contact,” he reminds him. 

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head. “Roz is third on the list. You know that. You could have left it to her. Why did you come?”

“Because you were hurt,” he says, and he means it. It’s the truth, but not the whole truth, and they both know it. “Because I miss you.”

Theo laughs, and kisses the inside of his wrist. 

“I miss you too,” he says, and the tears running down Robin’s face aren’t from heartbreak this time.

The kiss starts slowly, their foreheads pressed together before their lips touch. Robin moves to hold the back of Theo’s head, his free hand on his hip, still mindful of the condition his ex(?) boyfriend is in. Theo’s hand curls into Robin’s shirt, his other tangled in his hair. He feels Theo’s grin against his mouth, feels his own heart finally being put back together. Feels the weight of the past four months finally slipping away, leaving a new future open for them. Together.

But he also feels Theo’s hand shaking, his short, pained gasp against his mouth, and so he pulls away, leaving a small frown on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m not going to make out with you on a hospital bed,” he tells him. “No matter how badly I want to.” Theo huffs a laugh and nods. 

“Fair enough,” he says. He doesn’t let go of Robin’s hand though, instead linking their fingers together. “What about when I get out of here, we can maybe talk about this? About you and me and…. Everything. And I can try not to freak out this time.”

Robin pushes Theo’s hair away from his face, mindful of the bruises, and smiles.

“I’d like that.” He moves in to kiss him again, fully intending to keep it small this time, but they’re interrupted by the door opening, and a familiar, frantic voice cutting through the air.

“Theo? Oh my God, I left my phone in the house and I just got the call from the hospital, are you-”

He stops his rant just as Robin turns around, his and Theo’s faces a matching shade of red. He feels flashed back to when Mr Putnam caught them in Theo’s room, his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting between them just like he did then, waiting for an explanation. Except they’re not in Theo’s bedroom this time around, and this is the first time Joe has seen him in months, so he sympathises for him this time around.

“So…” he begins. “You two got back together?”

Theo just laughs and buries his face in Robin’s shoulder.

His answer was simply “when you’re older”, and being 11, that felt an age away to Theo, and he felt his chest sink at the idea of waiting for so long.

In the run up to his fourteenth birthday, he tried again, responding with “a tattoo” when his dad asked what he wanted. He sits cross legged on his bed and pretends he cares less than he does, all the while watching his dad out of the corner of his eye. Either he must look sadder than he thinks he does, or he should look out the window and check for flying pigs, because his dad sighs, but then his face softens and he does the impossible; he relents, just a little.

“Maybe when you’re 18,” he says.

His sophomore year of high school is when things start to get really rough. Nearly every day he comes home with bruises and cuts and his dad is less convinced by his excuses each time. He wakes up every morning and wonders what it’ll be; stuffed in a locker, shirt pulled up, pushed down the stairs. Words are used like weapons and hurt just as much, whether they’re spat in his face or written across a locker. Getting up is a constant battle and some days it just feels impossible. The school parking lot feels like No-Man’s Land at the best of times. His dad brings up the idea of transferring to him at dinner one night, but he just raised his chin and reminded him that he’s a Putnam. And Putnam’s don’t run away.

His dad had smiled at that.

There was some good mixed in with the bad though. He found answers to questions that had plagued him for years. He chose a new name, after the greatest woman he never knew, and found the courage to tell his dad who he really is. It hadn’t been easy, he hadn’t expected it to be, but when his dad drove him down to the Greendale barber that day, it had meant more to him than his dad might have understood.

His friends were amazing, which should go without saying. Of course they would be. And he feels good, in some ways he feels better than he’s ever felt about himself. Like he’s stepping into a new part of his life and while he doesn’t know what’s in front of him, he’s excited to see where it goes.

But as happy as he was, not everyone felt the same. Teachers and students alike struggled with his transition, some at least attempting to feign politeness, others not so much. The cruel words don’t stop just because he uses different pronouns now and he still comes home with the occasional bruised knuckles or bloodied nose.

Add on a few stressful long-distance calls with his mother and his high school experience thus far can only be described the same way his English essays are-“Could Be Better”.

Maybe that’s why, a week before his sixteenth birthday, his dad pops his head around his bedroom door and asks him “Do you still want that tattoo?”.

He looks up from his book, almost sure he’d imagined it. His dad may have changed his stance slightly, but if there’s one trait they share more than anything it’s that intense stubbornness. He was prepared to just ride it out and wait until he’s 18, or maybe even until he moves away to college altogether. But no, here he is, age 15, his dad looking at him expectantly.

“Really?” is all he can reply with.

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, it’s clearly something you want a lot. And I know you’re sensible enough not to get one of those crazy ones that go all the way across your face.” He giggles at that. “And you’ve waited long enough so I figure… why not just let you?”

His mouth falls open and he blinks, waiting for the catch, only for his father to simply shrug at him, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Well if you don’t want to-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because Theo jumps and hugs him before he can.

He enlists Harvey’s help with the design. His drawing skills aren’t bad, but they’re not the best either and if this is going on his body, permanently, he needs to get it right. So he slides up to Harvey on Monday with wide eyes and a smile that’s just the right amount of cute. And if that doesn’t work, he has money in one pocket and a comic book that Harvey really wants in the other.

The other boy looks up with a raised eyebrow and Theo’s glad he brought the back-ups.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Why do you think there is something?” he asks. “Can’t I just be happy to see you? My best friend? My trusted companion I have known since-”

“Oh my God, what did you break?” Sabrina asks. She’s sitting on the desk behind them and her eyes have doubled in size. “Harvey, whatever you do, do not take the fall for him!”

“That was one time, Brina!” he replies. Sabrina bites back a giggle, a twinkle in her eye as she exchanges a look with Roz, and Theo exhales slowly. His cheeks warm, just a little, but he ignores it. Or at least he tries. Same with the nervous prickle of sweat running down his back “Harvey, what I was going to ask was… well, my dad finally said I can get a tattoo, and I was just wondering if maybe you could draw it for me?” His voice gets smaller and smaller as the sentence goes on, and the last word practically limps past his lips. He holds his breath, fingers twitching to grab his two back up plans. But as it turns out, he doesn’t need to, because Harvey bursts into a grin that warms his heart and undoes the knot in his chest.

“Of course I will,” he tells him. “That’s what you were so worried about?”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. Whatever words he had die on his tongue, and they laugh it off as Sabrina pats the space next to her. He jumps up next to her, their feet bumping against each other, and they take advantage of the few precious moments they have before class begins.

Harvey hunches over his desk, his hands moving as swiftly and carefully as only an artist’s can. It’s kind of amazing watching him, watching him lose himself in his work the same way Theo loses himself on the basketball court. No, it’s not the same and Theo knows it. He’s nevertheless fascinated by Harvey’s process and that’s why he’s hovering the way he is.

No other reason.

The nail chewing is also completely irrelevant. He does this all the time and it’s perfectly normal.

As is the pacing.

Eventually, Harvey just sights and pulls a chair up beside him and lets him sit. He only moves slightly, but Theo takes the hint and sits back, willing his heart to slow down. He does everything he can to pass time; jumps through social media apps on his phone, flips through Harvey’s stack of comics, even doodles something on a spare page. All the time waiting with baited breath and one eye on Harvey’s hand.

“Okay.” Harvey leans back in his chair, his fingers slightly greyed with lead. “I’m done.”

Theo leans forward and immediately a smile forms on his face. It’s exactly what he had in mind, the outline of a small bird sitting on a branch, poised to take flight, but Harvey’s drawing is more carefully and painstakingly structured than he could have hoped to make it. All his attempts somehow look flat, boring, but Harvey’s looks alive and it reminds him why he wants this particular picture on his body.

“Thank you.” He leans against him, cheek smushed against Harvey’s shoulder, and wraps his arms around him. He sings his words a little, bringing a smile to both their faces. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harvey plays it down, but he hugs him back just as tightly.

Unfortunately, there are no tattoo places in Greenedale. Theo wonders how, in all his fifteen going on sixteen years of living in this town, he never once picked up on this. Especially since he spent most of that time wanting a tattoo. But no, here he is, the White Pages open on his lap and him staring intensely at the page as if the words tattoo parlour are going to magically appear on the page.

He sighs deeply and scratches his cat behind the ears.

“Well, Lila,” he tells her. “Time to go look beyond Greenedale.” Lila lets out a groan, her little ears flopping down as she rests her head against him, and he takes that as her saying she’s with him. He kisses her head, her fur tickling his nose. “Love you too, baby.”

He finds one close enough, in Woodvale, the next town over. It’s pretty decent money-wise, and while it looks pretty small on the Facebook page, it’s close, and more importantly, his dad goes there for business at least twice a month. He tells him that night he has some errands to run there next week, in fact.

“You can go in, get your tattoo done, then maybe we can go for lunch after,” he says. He shrugs awkwardly, wiping his hand on a tea towel. “You know, if you want. Unless you have plans or something.”

“I don’t have any plans, Dad,” he tells him. “I’d love that.”

He doesn’t miss his dad’s bright smile at his answer.

That night, Lila is sitting around his shoulders as he copies the phone number off the Facebook page. Her tail flicks him in the face and he sighs and adjusts her on his shoulders so she’s more comfortable. His dad sometimes calls her The Queen, and for good reason. That damn cat is more pampered than anything he’s ever known. Even if he does love her and thinks she deserves it.

“Don’t suppose you want to take this phone call for me, do you?” he asks her. She meows back at him, which he takes to mean no you weirdo, make your own appointments, you’re an adult now. She’s right, he doesn’t like it, but she’s right, so he kisses her nose and hits the call button.

“Um, hi, Midsummer Night’s, how can I help?”

Theo clears his throat, glad he had the foresight to chug water right before making the call. Social skills aren’t his best in general and they somehow get worse on the phone. Especially with this kind of appointment-booking stuff. He’s made progress, at least. By that he means he doesn’t feel the need to ask his dad any more. Baby steps.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’d like to book a tattoo. For next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday…” Their voice trails off, the sound of stuff being shoved and moved around filling the silence instead. “Sorry, just bear with me for one second.”

“It’s fine.” He turns on his heel and walks the length of his room again, Lila flicking her tail. It takes him a while to recognise the song playing in the background; Kansas. Carry On My Wayward Son. He’s a little embarrassed; he didn’t spend all that time watching Supernatural to not recognise this song instantly.

He catches himself humming just as the second verse hits.

“Okay, here we go,” the other voice says. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he replies, as though a pink blush isn't colouring his cheeks.

“So that’s next Saturday… what time were you thinking?”

“Is around ten am okay?” he asks. “Sorry, I know it’s like right when you open, but my dad has some business around town that he can’t move and-”

“No, ten’s fine,” they tell him. “And what’s the name?”

“Putnam,” he says, perhaps a little too quickly. “Theo Putnam.”

“Okay, Putnam, Theo Putnam.” It’s a terrible joke, a dad-level terrible joke, but he laughs all the same. “That’s you booked in. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you on Saturday,” he replies, and the flutter of excitement in his chest leaves him breathless.

*****

Midsummer Nights' turns out to be a relatively small shop nestled on a street corner, looking only slightly out of place with its dark blue paint job, contrasting with the more pastel colour palette for the rest of the street, and indeed, the rest of the town. He likes it, and he especially likes the shooting stars painted around the door and windows. Twinkling in the mid-morning sun and outlined in thin black lines, trails of gold and silver shooting out from behind them. They’re tiny and probably there as an afterthought, a way to fill space, but Theo is far more enchanted by them than he is the larger pictures of fairies and mermaids that adorn the walls. The care taken alone leaves him breathless. The bigger pictures are impressive, sure, but the care with which the stars have been painted almost takes his breath away. Whoever did them must have the patience of a saint. He’s never really been one for patience, nor for taking his time, instead always running from one thing to the next. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from this person, whoever they are.

“Woah, calm down there,” he tells himself as he turns the handle. “It’s a painting, not a therapy session.”

Inside isn’t entirely what he expected. Well, he’s not completely sure what he expected. Maybe a bunch of hairy biker types, the faint stench of alcohol in the air and a deer head mounted in the wall for good measure. But no, instead he finds white walls decorated with painted trees and vines and as he looks closer, tiny fairies and gnomes poking their heads around them. A smile tugs on his lips as he looks at it. It’s almost magical; a new creature appearing before his eyes the longer he looks. The space is bright, mostly thanks to the large windows, and someone plays folk music softly in the background.

He approaches the front desk, which in actuality looks more like a glorified coffee table and is manned by a girl with blue strands of her hair. She looks up from her book as he approaches and slips a bookmark in without looking. He takes an instant liking to her, or rather she seems like the kind of person he could like.

“Hey,” she greets nonchalantly. “You have an appointment or are you a walk-in?”

“Uh, an appointment,” he replies, scratching behind his ear. “It’s uh-Theo Putnam.”

“Okay, one second.” She flips open a spiral notebook, twiddling a pen between her fingers. Theo takes the opportunity to have another look around, his eyes once again drawn to the walls. He looks up at them, more than happy to wait. There’s something almost tangible yet so surreal about it; like he believes he could find himself here, just not in this reality. And as he cranes his neck, he spies right where the wall meets the ceiling; the stars from the outside.

“Sorry about that,” the girl says, snapping him back to reality. “So yeah, you’re all booked in, if you just want to go down to the back, Robin will take care of you.” Theo nods, a ‘thank you’ on his lips, but before he can say it, the girl turns her head and screams “ROBIN YOUR PERSON’S HERE!”. Theo stumbles backwards, blown away by and also amazed that all the windows are still intact. She simply turns back, her smile sweet, and opens her book again. “He’ll be down in just a second.”

He can’t decide if he likes her more or less after that.

“Jesus Christ Moth, I’m coming,” someone, he presumes Robin, calls from above them, the voice faint. Theo grins as he realises that he probably wasn’t meant to hear that. He wanders past the front desk, but not before catching the small shit-eating grin on Moth’s face.

He likes her.

Robin (he assumes it’s him anyway) emerges on the bottom step, shooting an annoyed look at Moth that disappears immediately once he sees Theo, instead morphing into an apologetic half-smile.

“I’m sorry about her,” he says. “She’s under the impression that she’s cute. And she’s also a middle child.”

“Ah that explains a lot,” Theo chuckles. “Well, it’s fine. I mean, it seemed to be effective anyway.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Theo’s breath catches in his throat and he can’t work out why. Robin is pretty, but he’s never been the type to lose his words over pretty boys. He’s tall, way taller than Theo, and his short-sleeved black shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. His dark hair is streaked with green and falls forwards into dark eyes, causing him to toss his head to push it back. Normally he’d find that kind of look douchey, but it’s not, not on him, it’s actually kind of cute in a punk-rock slash edgy poet kind of way and suddenly he’s aware how neither one of them have said anything yet.

“I’m Theo. We uh, we spoke on the phone.” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, at least in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember,” he says. “Putnam, Theo Putnam.”

“Yep, that’s me,” he replies, caught between laughing and cringing at himself. If he had known it was going to be like this, he’d have tried to make that phone call way less awkward. Robin doesn’t seem to mind though, instead tapping his arm lightly and gesturing with his head.

“Why don’t you come through with me and we can get started?”

“That’s definitely what I came here to do,” he says, and when Robin smiles, his heart melts and he curses silently.

Dimples. Of course he has dimples. The asshole.

He sits up on a leather chair, his backpack and jacket discarded on the floor and his sleeve rolled up. His feet dangle just above the floor and he’s deliberately not looking at the very pointy needles. It’s not like he’s got a phobia or anything, and he definitely knew this would be part of the process. It’s just a little unnerving.

“You got a design?” Robin asks.

“Uh, yeah here.” He holds the paper out to him. “My friend Harvey drew it. He’s really great at the art stuff. But-but the idea was mine and I… dictated it to him.”

“Cool,” he replies. “And where do you want it?” Theo pulls his sleeve up, his fingers gesturing to just below his shoulder. Robin nods, and his eyes darken slightly, as if his focus is shifting entirely to the tattoo and nothing else. He positions himself as close to him as possible, and they sit in silence as he carefully transfers the design onto tattoo paper.

Then Robin’s hand is against his skin, and the needle is barely an inch from it, and goosebumps prickle along there.

He must look as nervous as he feels, because Robin’s grip on his shoulder softens slightly, as does his face, and his voice comes in a careful whisper.

“Hey,” he tells him. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much. And I promise I’m careful.” Theo nods, even if his nails are digging into the leather beneath him. “Besides, it’s only the first one that really hurts. After that everything’s fine.”

“That’s what she said.” His voice is far weaker than he’d like it, the joke even more so, but Robin busts out laughing and so does he, and he barely realises that he started.

He was right though; while the pain doesn’t necessarily lessen, he gets used to it. If one could ever get used to the feeling of a needle jabbing one’s skin over and over. It kind of helps that he’s got plenty to distract him with the art on the walls and even if he didn’t; Robin is surprisingly easy to talk to.

“So you’re not from around here, are you?” he asks casually. “Sorry, it’s just… here you get to know people pretty quickly. And I’ve never seen you around here.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. He relates of course; small towns are small towns. “I’m from Greenedale. Ever been there?” Robin frowns slightly, his mouth falling half-open as he thinks.

“I think I drove through it once or twice,” he says. “Isn’t that the place that’s obsessed with witches and stuff?”

“That’s the one,” he says. “They’ve got all the spooky sights but unfortunately no tattoo parlours.” He goes to shrug but then remembers one arm is currently being used. “So I had to take a little trip out here.”

“You know when I was driving through I distinctly remember the lack of tattoo parlours,” Robin jokes. “Still. It’s a nice place.”

“I guess,” Theo mumbles. “I was always so focussed on the leaving.” He kicks the ground.  “I’ve never looked around properly.” Greenedale hasn’t exactly been kind to him either. He may love his friends dearly, and it’s not like his memories are all bad, but there are days when the familiar streets are less comforting and more maddening, and the town line feels more like a prison wall. It’s not every day he feels like this, but enough for him to have taken notice.

Robin chuckles beside him, and it’s then he suddenly remembers where he is, and that there is in fact a person beside him. A person he barely knows. And while a blush does creep over his cheeks, he doesn’t feel nearly as embarrassed as he should.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Kind of dumping my tragic backstory on you there.”

“Trust me, you’re not the first,” Robin tells him. “Guess there’s something about a person having a needle shoved into their skin repeatedly that puts them in a sharing mood.” He flips his head, tossing his bangs out of his face. “So what’s the deal with the witch thing?”

“Basically a lot of witches came over from Europe and settled over there,” he explains. “And when it came to picking a town personality trait, it was between either witches or thinly-veiled bigotry.” He goes to shrug, but then remembers the needle against his arm. “I guess ‘we’ll put a spell on you’ is a more catchy slogan than ‘we’re all raging assholes’.”

“Well, that may be true,” Robin says. “Though I’d admire any town with the balls to admit that they’re all assholes.” Theo chuckles again, swinging his feet slightly. Robin must be right; there must be something about getting a tattoo that makes you pretty chatty. That or Robin’s just… easy to talk to. He hasn’t met someone like in a while, not since Sabrina and Roz and Harvey. Something flutters in his chest and he doesn’t quite recognise it. He likes it, though. Even if in the back of his mind he wonders if he should be scared by it.

“Yo.” Moth appears in the doorway, hanging off the wall by her fingertips. She looks over at Theo’s arm, where Robin’s needle is, and a faint smile forms on her lips. “Not bad, Robin.”

“Thanks,” he replies, his eyebrow raised, and he looks up at Theo. “For her ‘not bad’ is possibly the highest praise you can get.”

“Not true. There’s at least two more levels, you just haven’t unlocked them yet,” she adds. “Anywho, I’m going on the coffee run, what do you want?”

“You know my order,” he replies, focussing more on his work than on her.

“So that’s an iced salted caramel latte, then,” she says. Robin’s cheeks turn pink suddenly, his hand slowing but not faltering. Judging by the look on Moth’s face-which can only be described as a shit-eating grin-that was the goal. “Do you want me to ask for whipped cream like last time?”

“No, thank you, Moth,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. The gesture is equal parts exasperated and fondness, like Moth has been a pain in his ass for so long, and he likes it that way. Theo relates.

“He always pulls that ‘you know my order’ crap when a customer’s here,” she explains. “He’s embarrassed ‘cause his actual order isn’t very macho. Plus he thinks the cool and mysterious vibe impresses clients. Especially around the ones he thinks are cute. Anyway, you want anything?”

Theo freezes, his response-whatever it would be-caught in his throat. Moth seems unaffected, checking her nails like nothing is wrong. Maybe nothing is wrong, and he’s just overthinking. Or misheard her and she didn’t actually imply that Robin might find him cute. Either way, there’s probably no reason his cheeks should be as pink as they are now.

“N-no I’m okay thanks,” he says.

“You sure?” she asks. “No extra charge, just give us a good review.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He clears his throat and hopes his voice doesn’t actually sound that high. “I’m going out with my dad after this anyway.”

“Mm. Suit yourself.” She turns on her heel and flounces off, the sound of jangling keys and her boots on the floor growing fainter. Theo doesn’t dare breathe until she’s gone though-the closing door releasing the tie around his chest. When he turns to Robin, the other boy seems far calmer than he is, already back to work with a bemused grin on his face. His eyes meet Theo’s and he shakes his head lightly, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Don’t worry about Moth,” he tells him. “She’s taken it upon herself to try to set me up with every guy that comes in.” He shifts himself slightly. “Trust me, it was nothing.”

“Oh… okay.” The small tug of disappointment comes at a surprise to him, and he searches for a way out. “But was she right about your coffee order though?” Robin chuckles.

“Maybe.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry,” he tells him. “I personally think iced lattes are very macho. Of course we should ask ourselves ‘what is macho’ and then that takes us on a whole lovely journey that you probably don’t want to go through right now.”

“Eh, I might do,” he says. Theo turns to him, and his eyes are the exact mixture of teasing and serious, and the grin on his face widens. “But we can agree that salted caramel lattes rock, right?”

“Absolutely,” he says, and he realises in that moment he really likes this guy.

Which way he likes him though is a question he leaves unanswered.

In what feels like no time at all, Robin is slowly finishing up, an empty coffee cup at his side. At some point, Moth came in and started work on another client, casually talking to Robin above the hum of the tattoo needles. Robin doesn’t stop chatting to him though and they move through things like school (where he learns Robin’s favourite subject is English), music (where Robin actually has to stop and write down Theo’s music recommendations) and pets, where Theo goes on a ten minute rant about Lila and how she’s simultaneously the love of his life and the bane of his existence.

“Your cat sounds amazing,” he says. “Next time you’re in town you should bring her in so I can meet her.”

“You could always come over to Greendale,” he says. It’s so casual he didn’t even think about it before he said it, and he might have freaked himself out. If Robin feels the same, he doesn’t show it, only nodding and saying he might take him up on that.

They turn to talking about Midsummer Nights’ itself; how Robin started working there one summer as a teenager, how only last year he graduated from sweeping floors to taking clients, and how just a few months ago he and Moth (“mostly me,” he added, just loud enough so she could hear) redecorated the entire place, including the outside.

“I did those little stars on the wall outside,” he remarks. “Don’t know if anyone notices them, but they’re my crown jewel as far as I’m concerned.”

“I noticed,” Theo tells him. “I like them.” He doesn’t tell him how entranced he was by his work, but he does notice the softness in Robin’s smile, the pink hue in his cheeks. It makes sense, somehow, that Robin painted those stars. He barely knows him, but he feels like it makes sense.

For the last few minutes, the conversation drops away, and silence falls as all Robin’s focus shifts to his work. It’s a look he recognises from Harvey, an artist’s expression, but it feels deeper with Robin. His movements are so precise, so deliberate, that Theo feels he should hold his breath lest he break his concentration. He imagines him months ago, the same expression on his face as he paints the stars outside, and he’s almost sad he wasn’t there to see it.

Robin groans as he leans back, pushing his hair away from his face, and his eyes light up.

“We’re done,” he says. “You want to see it before we put the bandages on it?”

“Hell yeah I do.” He jumps off the seat and follows Robin, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he goes. Robin leads him to a mirror, his face shining with anxious pride, and Theo gives him a small smile before he turns and his breath is taken away.

“It’s perfect,” he breathes. Perfect as anything could be, really. Clean cut, careful, delicate. There’s so much life in it, even though it’s only ink. The little bird sits perched on its branch, determination strong on its small face. He couldn’t have asked for a better job. It’s everything he dreamed when he was younger, now a physical reality. He takes a deep breath, trying not to be the kind of person that cries after their first tattoo. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No problem,” he says softly and when Theo looks up, he finds Robin’s eyes lingering on him. “Putnam, Theo Putnam.”

                                                                        *****

He and his dad find a little cafe in the middle of town and sit outside, taking advantage of the good weather.

“So was it worth waiting for?” his dad asks. “The tattoo?”

“Yes, it was,” he replies. “Thank you, Dad.” His dad waves his hand dismissively, as though the back-and-forth between them never happened.

“No problem kid,” he says. “It was what you wanted. And the place was good?”

“Yeah.” He pops another French fry in his mouth. “It was really, really good. They were uh… good at their jobs.” His hand moves to where the bandage sits on his arm, the tattoo perfectly preserved beneath it, and yet that’s not what he’s thinking about. Instead his mind drifts back to Robin, with his hair falling into his eyes and his laugh and those damn dimples. He takes a drink just as he feels the heat rush to his cheeks, and his dad eyes him curiously. He sets the glass down, even though his mouth is still dry. “It was great.”

A knowing smile spreads across his dad’s face and he curses under his breath. This is what he gets for having a close relationship with his father. Stupid strong father-son bond.

Theo puts his hand in his pocket and his fingers close around empty fabric, rather than plastic. He hurriedly checks the other pocket, then his jeans, his panic rising each time. His dad turns when he realises Theo is no longer beside him, his feet rooted to the sidewalk instead, and his eyes widen, reflecting Theo’s own alarm back at him.

“Theo?” he asks. “What happened?”

“I-I can’t find my phone!” he sighs. He pulls items out of his pockets one by one, his wallet, his keys, loose change… no phone. He taps every pocket again to make sure, as if it was going to magically appear if he willed it hard enough. No such luck. He mumbles under his breath, a stream of ‘oh shit’ and ‘oh no’ as he tries to fight off the rising panic. He tries to retrace his steps, to remember the last place he had it out, to think of wherever the hell his phone could be in this town-

“Theo!”

Or maybe he doesn’t need to.

“Theo!”

He turns around to see Robin running down the street, skidding to a half just in front of him. His face is bright red, not from teasing his time, his chest heaves and his hair sticks to his face. They look at each other, breathless, and just as Theo opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing, he holds his hand out.

“My phone!” he squeaks.

“Yeah you… you left it in… with me,” he says between gasps. “I was really hoping I’d be able to catch you before you left.”

“Oh God I’m sorry,” he says, taking another look over Robin. The tattoo parlour is far enough from here, and the streets here twist and turn around as they please. And Robin ran through them. For him. In jeans. “Thank you so much, Robin. I-how did you know it was mine?”

“The picture on the lockscreen,” he explains, pointing vaguely. “It was you.” He pushes his hair away from his face. “And… your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend?” he asks. For a second his mind goes blank, then he realises and it nearly knocks the wind out of him. “Oh God no, Harvey’s…. he’s just my friend. No, no I…” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes meeting Robin’s and he can’t work out if the hopeful look on his face is real or his imagination. Either way, he ends up saying “I’m completely single.”

“Oh,” he says, about ten times higher than usual. He clears his throat, his hand sliding into his back pocket. “Uh… me too.”

“Seriously? What the whole jacked as hell, dyed hair tattoo artist thing doesn’t attract anyone?”

“Not around here it doesn’t, apparently,” he says, implying that the reason he’s single is beyond no-one wanting to date a tattoo artist. There’s a pause, a brief moment of silence, and Theo goes to say goodbye, to run before it gets awkward, but Robin holds out a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” he asks as he takes it. Robin ducks his head, his bangs falling in front of his face.

“I hope it’s not too forward,” he begins. “But it-it’s my number.” He shrugs and pushes his hair back. "Just in case you ever want to call me sometime."

“Oh,” he replies. It’s a short, quick word. It hardly means anything. Certainly doesn’t reflect how his stomach as dropped out from under him, or how his brain is vibrating at an insane frequency, or how the unending cry of ‘HE GAVE ME HIS NUMBER’ blasts around his head like a fire alarm. And all the while he just stands there, the paper in his hand, blinking up at Robin like he hasn’t a care in the world. “Um… thanks.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, his face scrunched up. “I-it was too forward, I didn’t mean like that.”

“No,” Theo says, just as Robin’s hand twitches. He slides the paper into his back pocket with a shaky hand and gives him a small smile. “It’s not… like that at all.” It’s really not. It’s not… He’s not sure what it is. All he knows is that Robin’s not at fault. “It’s okay, really.”

He turns slightly and sees his dad standing at the truck, pretending to be interested in a receipt he pulled out of his pocket. His dad hasn’t pressed and knowing him, he’s probably fully intending on giving the two of them as long as they need to work out… whatever it is they’re working out. Anxiety clutches his chest and he backs up suddenly, his hand still slid into his pocket. He needs time all right, but not here.

“I should go,” he says. “But I’ll...” His voice trails off, his fingers fidgeting in mid-air. The piece of paper burns like a small star in his pocket. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Robin says. He tosses his hair again and damn, he should not find that as cute as it is. “Look us up if you’re ever back in town.”

“I will.” He gives a wave to Robin, who responds with a wave, and Theo responds to that with a small finger gun and screams at himself the minute he turns around. He climbs into the truck beside his dad, who already rolled the windows down. Thank God, Theo thinks, because he feels fit to explode. He leans out as his dad pulls away from the curb, closing his eyes as the air tickles his skin.

“So you made a friend?” his dad asks. He doesn’t need to turn around to see the bemused smile on his face.

“He was the guy who did my tattoo,” is his reply. His dad nods, a soft chuckle escaping him, and goosebumps prickle on his skin.

“He gave you his number,” he points out. “Are you gonna call him?”

Theo sighs, his fingers tracing over the paper in his back pocket.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t call him. At least, not right away. Who he does call is Harvey, Roz and Sabrina, who all stand around his bed with him, the offending phone number sitting in the centre. He filled them in as best he could, although with all his energy being focussed on the decision, he’s only really been able to give them ‘I met a guy, he gave me his number’. And now they’ve been standing there, minutes passing in silence, while Theo stares at it with enough intensity to light it on fire.

“I think you should call him,” Roz says eventually.

“Why?”

“Because he gave you his number for that very purpose,” she tells him slowly. Theo pulls a face at her, but it only lasts for a second because… she’s right. She has an infuriating habit of being right. If she wasn’t so cute and supportive and lovely he’d have stopped hanging out with her long ago for that very reason.

“So why haven’t you?” Sabrina asks. “Called him. I mean his number’s right there. What’s stopping you?”

“What isn’t stopping me?” he mumbles, just loud enough for them to hear, and the three friends share an understanding nod. His experience with romance is extremely limited-his first and only “relationship” was the Valentine’s card that appeared in his backpack in third grade. He never chased them up, and that was the end of it. All other knowledge either comes from his friends or movies. At this moment, he feels like he’s on the edge of the deep end, nothing to help him, and he’s not sure he won’t drown when he jumps.

“Hey.” Sabrina appears at his side, her shoulder bumping against his. “I still think you should do it.” He raises his eyebrow at her. She simply shrugs in response, her eyes flitting over to Harvey as she speaks. “I mean… I know it’s a cliche, but you’ll never know until you try.”

“Yeah,” Harvey adds. “I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”

“So many things,” Theo sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He’s not blessed with what Harvey and Sabrina have-a sweet little romance that’s been blossoming since childhood-nor does he have his pick of suitors like Roz does. As far as he knows, this Robin’s his one chance. He shakes his head, his fingers drumming on his arm. “Maybe I just shouldn’t.”

“I disagree,” Roz pipes up. “I think very hot boys giving you their numbers doesn’t just happen every day and since the universe has presented you with this opportunity, I for one think you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” She delivers everything so quickly that it takes a few seconds for him to register it, and then she comes round to his side and slings her arm around his shoulders, all warm smiles and warm eyes, and he rests her head on her shoulder. “Besides, I know you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She’s not wrong. Again. If there’s one idea that scares him more than it not going well, it’s never even happening at all.

“And in the event it goes horribly wrong, we’ll all buy ice cream and we can have a good cry session,” she promises, and the other two nod in agreement. Theo closes his eyes and buries his face in Roz’s shoulder so they won’t see his blush.

God damn it, he loves his friends.

It takes a week for him to call him, even with those assurances. One day he feels braver than usual; he chalks it up to a good day at school and an even better one at practice, and so he sits on his bed and punches Robin’s number into his phone, the note sitting on his pillow. Because yes, he kept the note instead of writing it down. Nothing wrong with that.

“Hello?” Robin picks up too suddenly, and Theo bites back a squeak. He jumps off the bed and pulls on his shirt for some reason.

One chance he reminds himself. One chance.

“Hi, Robin?” he asks. “It’s uh, it’s Theo. Theo from Greenedale? You did my tattoo last week.”

“Oh, Theo, hey,” he replies. “Um, hi. H-how’s it turned out? The tattoo I mean?”

“Perfect,” he confesses. “It’s a hit with the guys on my basketball team. You should be expecting an influx of jocks coming round soon.”

“I’ll let Moth know, we’ll stock up on Gatorade.” Theo chuckles and sits on the edge of his bed, the beating of his heart slowing slightly. Maybe this could work. Maybe, if the stars are right, this won’t fall apart.

“Robin,” he begins quietly. “The reason I called was… em… I wanted to ask you-” The words stick in his throat like grains of sand against rocks. So many questions overlap in his head, each drowning the other out and turning into static. He closes his eyes, takes deep breath in, and back out. No need to overthink it, he tells himself. Just jump.

“Do you have plans on Saturday?” he asks.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he replies. “Why do you ask?”

Theo throws himself on the bed, his legs in the air, and is amazed at just how easy this actually is.

                                                                          *****

They have their first date in Greenedale, seeing a movie at the Paramount, followed by a personalised tour. Robin gives Theo his jacket at some point, the sleeves falling past his hands, and Theo’s heart flutters.

They have their first kiss by the Welcome To Greenedale sign, Robin’s hand caressing his arm, right above where his tattoo is.

A year later, he’s laying in Robin’s bed, his boyfriend’s fingers gently caressing his newest tattoo-free of charge this time around. Theo kisses his bare shoulder before Robin goes to sit up, reminding him that he has to be at work in half an hour. Theo just pouts, grabs his arm, and tries to see if he can get five more minutes out of him.

Beyond that, though, the potion appeared to work and had no other side effects, so Zelda felt confident this potion would allow them to extend Diana’s life... hopefully without the unwanted makeover.

Though it seemed a promising answer, Hell knew how long it’d be effective. It was entirely possible Diana would develop some kind of tolerance to the potion and they’d soon be back in square one.

But this bought them time, quite literally, and Zelda intended to use that time find alternatives; her sister would not die prematurely and leave sweet Sabrina without a mother. Not if their family had anything to say about it.

She knew, even now, that Ambrose was in the basement researching additional ways to save Diana. Perhaps Lilith would have some ideas as well, might as well tap into that deep well of knowledge. Making a note to speak with the witch the next time she visited, which was becoming more frequent, Zelda’s inner musings were interrupted by Diana sighing.

“Well, here’s to hoping.” She attempted a smile, then plugged her nose and threw back the contents of the flask. “Hell,” she gasped, shuddering lightly. “Is there anything we can do about the taste?”

Smirking, Zelda took the flask back and walked it over to the sink, not missing how Diana replaced Heaven with Hell in her vocabulary. They were rubbing off on her. Refocusing, Zelda rinsed the flask. “Perhaps, that would be more Hilda’s expertise than mine. We can certainly try, the good news is, your hair is still the same color.” She nodded at Diana’s head.

Hand flying up to grasp a section of hair and bring it into view, Diana exhaled in relief. At Zelda’s raised brow, the woman shrugged and released her hair. “You know I trust you, Zelda, but after last time I was a little wary.”

A small chuckle escaping her, Zelda dried the flask then her hands. “Understandable,” she conceded, “it seems that for now we’ve accomplished our goal. Let’s go tell Hilda the good news.”

Happily sliding off the kitchen stool where she’d been perched, Diana led the way out to the garden where Hilda had the girls. While her sister was busy harvesting tomatoes, Morgan and Sabrina were kneeling in the dirt, a small basket of seeds between them.

It was only as they neared the two, that Zelda overheard Mo lecturing her little cousin on the properties of sunflowers, how to plant them, and the many things they were used for in both mortal and witching realms. Zelda smiled, Hilda would be proud of how well Morgan paid attention to her herbology lessons, and though Sabrina looked on with rapt attention, Zelda couldn’t help but notice that every time Mo looked away, Sabrina stuffed sunflower seeds into her mouth, chewing quickly to try and hide her transgression.

Sharing a smile with Diana, Zelda caught the girls’ attention. “How many sunflowers have you managed to plant for Aunt Hilda today?”

Her words had both turning, Sabrina with her cheeks still full of seeds, making Morgan frown at her disapprovingly. “‘Brina,” she admonished, taking the seeds from her cousin’s hand, “these ones aren’t for eating, Auntie Hilda set those aside already.” Nodding in agreement, Sabrina promptly snatched another handful from the basket and stuffed it in her mouth, much to Morgan’s chagrin. “Mama!” Morgan exclaimed, looking to them for help. “‘Brina keeps eating the seeds Auntie Hilda wants us to plant!”

Careful to smother her smile, Zelda lowered herself to the ground, Diana next to her. “Is that so?” She asked, reaching over and popping a few seeds into her mouth as well.

Caught between indignation and amusement, Morgan threw up her hands. “Mama!” She exclaimed.

“Morgan.” Zelda teased, tugging her girl into her lap and dropping kisses all over her head and face, making Morgan giggle and squirm though she made no real attempt to escape. “Sabrina can eat a few seeds,” Zelda soothed, brushing Mo’s wild curls away from her newly flushed face. “Though we don’t want to be ruining our appetite for dinner, do we?” She arched a brow as Sabrina reached for more.

Giggling, Sabrina fell into Diana’s lap without taking any more seeds. “No, Auntie Zee.” She chirped, playing with one of Diana’s bracelets, already distracted.

Arms wrapping around Morgan, who really was getting a little too big to be sitting in her lap—not that Zelda would ever have the heart to tell her girl such a thing—Zelda cocked her head. “I see you’re learning quite a bit from your Aunt Hilda.” She noted, just as her sister came to join them, basket full of tomatoes slung on her arm.

Only having caught her name, Hilda cocked her head. “What’s that, Zelds?” She asked, sitting as well and wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

Beaming, Morgan leaned against Zelda. “Mama said I’m learning a lot from you,” she stated proudly. “I was trying to teach ‘Brina, but she kept eating the lesson.” She peered at Sabrina and shook her head, but the little girl just burst into giggles making Morgan lose her sternness and grin.

A soft smile curling her lips, Hilda reached over and cupped Morgan’s cheek. “I’m so glad you are learning a lot, sweetheart. Maybe next time Cee is over you can teach him a thing or two.” Her sister reached over and playfully tweaked Morgan’s nose.

Laughing, Morgan snuggled closer to Zelda. “Is he coming over soon? He promised to bring another book.”

“Morgan,” Zelda chastised softly, “Cerberus doesn’t come around solely to bring you things.”

Lips pouting just a tad, Morgan shifted to look at her. “I know, mama, but this next book is about ghouls, and he said we could read it together.”

Practically melting, Hilda interjected. “So, you want to spend time with Cee? Is that it, Mo?”

Morgan settled back against Zelda and nodded. “Uh huh, he’s nice and funny. And he makes you smile and laugh a lot too, Auntie Hilda.” She observed, playing with the ends of Zelda's hair as she spoke.

Examining her nails, Diana coughed pointedly. “He certainly does.”

Her lips twitching up at the comment, Zelda shared a knowing look with Diana over their daughters’ heads, both suppressing further amusement when they made eye contact. Despite her anxiety when Hilda first expressed interest in the odd mortal, Diana helped her come to terms with the potential relationship. And when the two truly started dating, Zelda went to Diana often for advice on how best to deal with it, how to interact with Cerberus before he knew the truth, and then after he knew as well. While a small part of Zelda still wanted her sister to date a witch or warlock, if only because their lifespans matched, she didn’t want to scare this Cerberus away… not when he really did make Hilda so happy.

Their attention was recaptured when Hilda playfully swatted at Diana and gave Zelda a ‘stern’ glare. “Cee does make me happy, darling, you’re very astute.”

Brow wrinkling, Morgan looked up at Zelda. “Astute means observant, my little demon.” Zelda informed her daughter before the girl could even voice the question.

“Ahh, yes, it’s very important for demons to be astute.” A voice sounded behind them, startling them as they whipped around to find the source.

Ambrose gestured to the witch walking next to him. “Look who appeared in the basement.” He remarked, bending over to swoop Sabrina up into the air when she barreled at him. “Thought I would escort her out here.”

Popping up as well, Morgan grinned widely. “Lilith!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward and hugging the witch hard. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The witch returned the hug in kind and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the top of Morgan’s head—something Zelda noted Lilith had only started doing recently—and smiled. “Well, your mama told me today was another experiment day, I was curious about how it went.” She eyeballed Diana. “Unless you haven’t done it yet?” Her eyes glanced, not so subtly, at the woman’s head.

A blush gracing her cheeks, Diana patted her hair. “Actually, we have, kept my normal hair color this time, so progress.”

Gently disengaging from Morgan—who ran to jump on Ambrose as well, leaving the adults alone— Lilith joined them on the ground. “Well, while magenta isn’t really anyone’s color, dear, you managed to pull it off remarkably well.”

Scoffing in good-natured disbelief, Diana rolled her eyes. “Liar.” She intoned, amusement infusing her words. “But I appreciate it, nonetheless. No, I think Zelda and Hilda might have truly cracked it this time... can, can you sense anything different?” Diana peered up at the Demoness, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

“If anyone can overcome the aging process of mortals, it would be the witches who outwitted and out-brawned the Dark Lord himself.” Her hand landed on Zelda’s shoulder in an act of solidarity, but the innocent gesture had tingles erupting in its wake as Lilith removed her hand and Zelda had to make a conscious effort to keep from leaning into the retreating touch.

She snapped back to attention when a now comforted Diana nodded. “Thank you, Lilith, I know you’re right. I’m in the best hands.” She smiled at Zelda and Hilda, eyes shining a bit. Clearing her throat, Diana turned—each of them following suit—to where Ambrose was playing leapfrog with the girls—Sabrina landing on top of him and Morgan more often than jumping over them.

The women chuckled at the sight, the small amount of anxious energy filling the air at the topic of Diana’s mortality dissipating as they watched the kids play.

Hilda broke the silence first, brushing off her dress as she stood. “Shall we head in for some tea? You have time to stay, right, Lilith?” She asked, automatically reaching down to help Diana.

Inclining her head, Lilith leveraged herself up as well. “Of course, I need to hear more of this potion you’ve allegedly perfected.” She offered a hand to Zelda, which she took with some surprise. “Besides,” she helped Zelda to her feet and smiled when their eyes drew level. “I do enjoy my time with the Spellman clan.” Her brow arched as she released Zelda’s hand and took a step toward the house.

Before Zelda could process the implications of that statement and all the physical contact, Ambrose and the girls joined them, having quit their game when they noticed everyone moving inside.

As they made their way to the porch, Morgan instantly fell into step between Zelda and Lilith, taking one of their hands in each of her own and walking happily between them.

Though touched by her daughter’s sweet behavior, Zelda glanced at Lilith to ensure she was okay—Morgan often expressed more affection than the witch was comfortable with, even with Lilith becoming more open to it—only to find the Demoness smiling softly at her daughter.

And, as if sensing Zelda’s gaze, Lilith brought her eyes up, expression now carefully blank except a minute hint of panic in her eyes, worried she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Certain any type of fondness was considered weakness in Hell, Zelda smiled at the brunette, wanting her to know her treatment of Morgan was not only okay, but encouraged. It would devastate Mo if Lilith were to withdraw because she thought her actions toward the girl would be used against her.

Clearly still unsure of herself, Lilith gave a wavering smile in return then dropped her eyes back to Morgan who had started to chatter away while the two witches had their silent conversation.