#conservative parents

Robin Buckley x Wheeler!fem user

summary - you and robin have been together for ages. it isn’t the easiest, being in a same sex relationship in the 80’s. but you both manage. you’re in love, so you endure it. One day, you ask your parents if she could come over to have dinner with you. They accept this idea, thinking it’s a boy. They have no clue that their daughter, who they’ve raised on their own extremely conservative beliefs is dating a girl. Things don’t go the best when they find out the nature of your relationship… word count - 11k warnings - conservative parents, homophobia, comfort, fluff, tears, arguments, kissing, light body kissing, slight absence of clothing, no real smut. a/n - i had sooooo much fun writing this!!! if you guys want a part two, i’d be extremely willing to write one!! left it on kind of a cliff hanger in hopes of making a second part!! lmk in the comments! also, i’m obsessed with my girl robin lately, so here we are!!

A quiet hum of unease was settled beneath your ribs, impossible to ignore, too pronounced to take your mind off of. Fear and hope twisted together somewhere deep in your body, and there was one upcoming event to blame. Specifically, a dinner with your parents.

And Robin.

Robin. She’s been your girlfriend for a long time now. Of course, your parents know of her, but they don’t know her. You’ve talked non-stop about the bubbling blonde who always has something to say, no matter the situation. You’ve gushed endlessly about the person who never fails to make you laugh, no matter your mood. There was just one thing you conveniently “forgot” to mention to your extremely conservative parents.

And it was that Robin was a girl.

Your parents hadn’t ever really asked, they just assumed it was a boy. So why bring it up to them? They didn’t support such beliefs, and they had thought she was a boy anyway, so why burst that bubble?

“Where does he work?”

“Is he going to college next year?”

“What does he like to do for fun?”

Those were all questions you’d been asked by them. You never really bothered to rectify them. On one occasion, you came close to correcting them, weakly interjecting. But you stopped. Better to let them believe what they wanted than to possibly have to ruin your relationship.

But you’d grown tired of waiting.

You asked your parents if they’d like to meet Robin. If it’d be okay if “they” came over to have dinner with you. They of course accepted this, open to the idea of meeting your boyfriend. Oh, were they in for quite the shock.

In short, Robin will be arriving in about 10 minutes. And you haven’t been able to tell them. 

You sit at your vanity, the warmth and familiarity of your room the only provided sense of comfort throughout this tangle of nerves. The soft colors, the glow of the lights, the gentle decor. Fuck. So much could go wrong. What if they’re upset with you? Not just upset, but angry? You’ve always tried to be pleasing to your parents, academically and emotionally and in every other way possible.

You were a good kid. Perfect grades, perfect morals, perfect behavior. But you couldn’t help that you fell in love with a girl. That you fell in love with Robin Buckley. It’s the way you were wired.

“Everybody is wired in a certain way. However it is that you are, it’s your business. I like you no matter what you like.”

That’s what your friend Steve would say. He was always really supportive of you, and Robin’s sexualities. When Robin came out to the both of you in the Starcourt bathroom, your confession followed suit. Both of you had told Steve, and almost no one else.

Some had their suspicions. Dustin and Will noticed the signs, the indicators of your relationship with Robin. A brush of the knee, a bump of the elbow, a lingering glance. They were perceptive in that way.

You and Robin sat Max down one night and told her. You both had a close relationship with the younger redhead, so you knew you could trust her. She and Steve have practically become your biggest supporters through all this.

Robin’s life was different from yours. She lived all the way across town, over by Mirkwood. You live on Maple Street. Her mom was often at work, but when she was around, she was there for Robin. They talked. She supported her daughter.

You don’t have that luxury.

There are so many thoughts racing through your brain. Thoughts of Robin, how seeing her will feel like a breath of fresh air. Thoughts of your friends, of what they know and what they believe. Thoughts of what your parents will do upon discovering that you don’t have a boyfriend. That you have a girlfriend.

Your room feels tighter now, as if you’re being suffocated by your own thinking. With a shaky hand, you swipe mascara onto your curled lashes. It’s harder to take a breath now, but you manage. 

It’s fine. You’ll be fine. You’re overthinking it all.

That’s what you tell yourself. But God, is that hard to believe. Hard to believe that your parents who harbor nothing but traditional beliefs will be okay with this.

You try to get your mind off it. Try to think of anything else to bring yourself back. Robin’s laugh. Robin’s smile. Robin’s unwavering, bubbly self. 

All those thoughts just bring you back to how your parents could crush it all out of her tonight.

Your abundant thoughts are cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout your house. 

꧁☆꧂

It came as a slight shock that she came.

You told her everything. You told her your parents likely wouldn’t support this, that they may be mad at the both of you. You told her that she might get sent home immediately, that you don’t want her to come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.

You told her not to come if she wasn’t comfortable with it. The last thing you ever wanted was for her to feel out of place. 

But nonetheless, she was here. She was at your front door.

You rushed down the stairs, curls bouncing against the fabric of the sweater covering your body. God, you were shaking really hard. You make your way to the door, taking deep breaths with each step. 

“Is he here, sweetie?” your mom called from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Your dad, who was watching the football game on the couch, stood up too, coming towards the door.

Your heart is beating faster by the second, hands still shaky by your sides. You stride to the door, stopping before it, steadying yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll get the door.” you reply to your mothers question.

Deep breaths. It’s fine. It’ll all turn out okay.

You keep telling yourself that. But the tightness in your chest tells a different story. A story far more tragic that seems way more likely.

A shaky hand reaches for the door, both your parents behind you. You twist the handle and pull it open, revealing Robin standing there.

You turn to your parents. They haven’t put it together yet. They’re refusing to believe it, that this could be the Robin you’ve been talking about all along.

She was standing there in the doorway, that same wide smile on her face, unwavering since the day you met. Her blonde hair is down, reaching almost to her shoulders. Her bangs frame her face beautifully, the blue hues of her eyes matching those of her sweater vest. The navy sleeveless tank top was layered over a white undershirt, paired with her light wash jeans.

Just by looking at her, you can tell she tried her best to look presentable for your parents. She doesn’t like dressing up very much. But she did today.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler! I’m Robin, it’s so nice to meet you both! I’ve heard really good things about both of you!” she spews nervously, brushing a strand of her golden hair behind her ear.

You’re looking at your parents, the tiniest smile on your face appearing from pure nerves. They still look confused, but you can see the pieces being put together in their minds. 

Their daughter is dating a girl. This is Robin. This is why the pronoun “he” never once came out of her mouth when describing who she was in love with.

“Oh, uhm… it’s nice to meet you too, Robin! Can you just hold on one second?” your mom asks her through a heavily forced smile. Shit. You know things aren’t going in a positive direction.

Robin nods quickly, swallowing the lump in her throat as they slam the door on your entire world, the one thing you wanted. Your parents turn to you, eyes fixed on your face. The forced smiles are gone. They are definitely upset.

Your mother is the first to break the silence.

“Explain.” she says in a tone far from light. It’s just a word, one word, but it lands. 

You open your mouth, trying to say something, to say anything, but no words come out. You close it again, looking back and forth from your parents' faces. Your dads tight jaw and crossed arms, your mom’s downward facing lips and narrowed eyes.

Definitely not happy.

“So,” he begins, voice low and controlled. He’s good at keeping his temper. “That's Robin.” 

It’s not a question. He knows that’s her.

You nod slowly, head dipping barely before coming back up. You keep your eyes on his face, watching his reactions.

“And Robin is… a girl.” Again, not a question. Just a fact stated grimly. 

“Yes.” your throat burns. That feeling of tightness from in your bedroom comes back, but this time, it’s worse. It feels like it’s been multiplied. There’s a silence between the three of you. Long, stretching, dreadful. It’s like everyone is holding their breath. 

It feels like hours rather than seconds before your mother lets out a sigh, rubbing her temple as if to push away the reality of the situation. She’s processing this all, how she could’ve raised her daughter so perfectly and done everything right and yet this is still how you turned out.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” are the first words spoken from your mother since the revelation. It’s a simple question, really. One she could probably answer herself. You didn’t tell them because you knew they wouldn’t support you. That you’d have to throw it all away to please them.

But you’d rather burn your whole life down than listen to one second of their griping and moaning.

“I- I tried to,” you whisper, voice cracking. You thought you were stronger than this, that you could speak now without sounding weak. “I just didn’t know how to.” you finished, getting through your sentence as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“That’s not an answer,” your dad snapped, voice suddenly sharper than its previous tone. “We asked about him. About a boyfriend. You let us believe a lie.” 

“I didn’t lie,” you utter, cheeks heating, but it sounds frail even to your own ears. Your argument isn’t sounding the strongest.

“Well you didn’t tell us the truth. You knew what we thought.” your mother added, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

“I was scared.” you say, nails biting crescent moons into the skin of your palms. You focus on the pinch of pain you feel as your fists clench. Anything to ground yourself. Anything to get you to quit thinking about the nervous girl who was trying her absolute best for you and your parents, the same girl waiting out on that porch.

“Scared of what? Of telling us the truth?” your dad scoffs out, running a hand over his face before it returns to its original position, crossed tightly over his chest.

“Of disappointing you.” it’s quieter than any other words you’ve emitted this evening. While you really didn’t want to make them upset at you, you couldn’t keep ignoring your heart. You couldn’t ignore that you were in love with Robin.

The confession stops them for a moment. And for a second, you think it worked. That it’s over.

It’s not enough.

“This isn’t normal.” she speaks, the exact words you were afraid of hearing. You knew she thought this. But you’d foolishly let yourself believe you could change her mind. “And we aren’t going to pretend it’s normal.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. You can hear the unwavering beating of it as loud as a drum. Definitely not changing her mind.

“She’s not just some experiment, mom. She’s my girlfriend.” you say, voice still soft and rather pathetic. But you’re holding your ground. You try your best to keep upright, to stand up to their beliefs. After all, it is for the girl you love.

“Not under this roof.” your dad grunted, expression hardening as his jaw tightens, teeth gritting against one another. This is possibly the most upset you’ve ever seen your father.

Those four words hit harder than anything else has.

Your mother takes a step closer, her tone icy cold. “I thought we raised you better than this. We told you not to put us through this.” 

You can feel your eyes stinging now, feel the tears pooling in your eyes. You try not to let them fall. You bite your lip to distract yourself, keeping it in.

“It’s not like I chose it.” you whisper. You really didn’t choose it. You tried to be normal, tried to please your parents. But the urges became too strong. “I just… I love her.”

Your dad lets out a humorless laugh, the sound sharp like a knife to the chest. “Love?” he repeats, like the word tastes wrong when uttered about two people of the same gender. “You’re a kid. You don’t even understand what you’re saying.”

Tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them. They’re full of so many pent up emotions and thoughts. Full of love for your beautiful girlfriend. Full of longing for your parents approval, for them to see things from your perspective. Full of the weight of everything that’s been crushing down on you. The tears have been a long time coming.

“Please,” you begin. “Just meet her. Talk to her. I promise, she’s been really good for me.” the words are uttered through tears and the lump in your throat. She really has been good for you. She’s shown you who you really are, shown you that you’re worthy of love.

Your mother doesn’t even answer. Not verbally, at least. She just shakes her head at you, gaze on the floor instead of on your face.

“She’s not coming into our home.” she says firmly, her tone of voice suggesting that there’s no room for negotiation. The words freeze you in your tracks.

“She’s still out on that porch and she needs to go home. Now.” your father interjects, each syllable tightening the pain you already felt somewhere deep and twisting inside your chest.

This can’t be happening. You’d known this wasn’t a good idea, you knew that you should’ve protected her. But she had wanted to come. She wanted to help change their minds. And now, it’s hurting you both.

You're about to speak, mouth open, but you’re cut off.

“You’re not allowed to see her anymore,” your mother continues, her voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re grounded. Phone, outings, everything. This stops now.”

Your voice breaks completely, holding back shaky sobs.

“You can’t do that.” you interject weakly. You know she can. Her house, her rules.

“Yes, we can. We’re your parents.” your dad adds, confirming your suspicions. They don’t support this. They won’t ever support this. Robin, the love of your life, has to leave. After she did all she could to make a good impression. God, did she try.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” you cry, hands shaking by your sides. “If anyone’s at fault, it’s me. I should’ve told you. Don’t punish her for what I did, please.”

You're begging them now. The last thing you want is for her to take the fall for this. 

Your mothers eyes soften for a second. Your dads jaw unclenches. For a moment, you think that you’re getting through to them, that they are starting to see from your perspective. But no. Both of their lighter features harden again.

“This isn’t about her.” your mom says, voice low.

You know it’s a lie.

“I’ll tell her she needs to go home.” your dad begins, turning to the door. It hurts somewhere deep inside your chest. Somewhere deep inside your fragile chest. Your heart lurches at the thought of him talking to her, his anger looming down on the girl who does nothing but love with her whole heart.

“No,” you gasp, stopping him in his tracks as you grab his arm. “Please, I’ll tell her. Let me tell her.” you beg, the tears still soft on your warm cheeks.

He hesitates, a contemplative look on his face. Then, a nod. One, stiff nod.

“Five minutes and I want her out of here and you in your room.” he tells you, stepping away and back down the hall. 

For some reason, this answer feels like a breath of fresh air. Even though you’re grounded and Robin has to leave, you get to break it to her. She doesn’t have to face the hatred burning in your fathers chest. 

“We’ll discuss this later.” your mother says quietly, the final thought added before she returns to the kitchen. 

And somehow it hurts worse than anything yelled ever could.

꧁☆꧂

You didn’t have to think about it at all. Not for one second. The door creaks open as you step out into the doorway, not shutting the door just yet.

Cold air rushes past your skin, but it doesn’t compare to the way your chest feels. The raw, exposed, and shattered feeling of tightness in your chest.

Robin’s still standing there.

For a second, she looks exactly the same as she did minutes ago. Same posture. Same sweater vest. Same hands shoved nervously into her pockets.

But her smile has changed. It doesn’t reach her eyes anymore.

It’s still there, stretched across her face like she’s forcing it to stay. Like if she lets it fall, the weight of the situation will come crashing down with it.

“Hey.” she says softly, the word sounding awfully large through the silence despite its small structure.

It stutters your breath for a moment. 

When you gain it back, you take a step down from the doorway, landing on the porch. The door clicks to a close behind you. The tiny sound feels too final for the situation. 

Robin’s eyes run over your face, the same features she grew familiar with over the years. But the second her retinas land, she catches the tear tracks on the glow of your pink cheeks. It’s more concerning that you didn’t bother to wipe them away than the fact they are there. Her smile falters, just for a second.

“You okay?” she asks, but her voice suggests that she knows the answer to her own question.

You just shake your head.

And that’s all it takes to get her moving forward. Not rushing, not dramatic, just moving. Like it’s instinct to her, like another option never crossed her mind.

Her hands find your forearms first, her long fingers warm against your cool skin. Then she pulls you in, gently but firmly, like she’s afraid the both of you will fall apart right there if not held together by something. 

Your forehead pressed to hers, heads tipped in towards each other. You can feel her breath, can feel her hands moving to your sides, how her grip tightens slightly when she does so. You can feel the emotion radiating off one body to the other.

“I’m so sorry.” you whisper softly, chest cracked open. You’re sorry for so much. For being a mess right now, for dragging her into this situation, for not telling your parents the truth. You just don’t know how to fix it all.

“No,” she interjected, shaking her head, soft enough that your foreheads never have to part. “Don’t do that.” 

“They hate it. They hate us. They said that you’re not welcome here anymore, and that I'm grounded, and that-“ you’re cut off by your own sobs. You have to admit, it makes you feel sort of weak. But you never did have to hide from her.

Her hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs trekking across in slow gentle movements. They push the lingering tears from your warm cheeks, wishing she could brush the sorrow away with them.

“Hey,” she murmurs softly, that hint of raspiness in her voice still present. “Hey. Look at me.”

You try. You really do try for her.

“Please?” she whispers, voice breaking. There’s a hint of melancholy in her words now, like it hurts her just as badly, if not worse.

The sound gets your chin to lift. Her eyes are glossy now too, but you can tell she’s holding it in. She knows you need her. There’s a small, forced smile in her lips, one that wavers every few seconds.

“You warned me.” she assures you, brushing your curls out of your face on both sides, fingers tucking the strands behind your ears before returning to their earlier position. “Remember?” 

You swallow.

“You told me it could end badly. You told me they might react like this.” She pulls back to look at you for a moment, both hands still cupping your jaw. Her forehead presses into yours once more, more firmly, as if to ground you further.

“And I still came.” she whispers, sounding almost like an accusation. Like she blames herself for your dread, even though this is far from her fault. 

She lets out this soft sound, somewhere between a sight and a light, humorless laugh. “That’s on me, okay?” she finishes, voice trembling through the syllables.

You shake your head against hers once more, harder this time, willing her to listen to you. You want her to know this isn’t her fault. She didn’t cause any of this, never. 

“No. It’s not. I shouldn’t have even suggested the idea. I should’ve-“ 

She leans back to disconnect the contact of your foreheads, lips leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. It’s a quick peck, but it stops your rambling.

She kisses you again. This time, it’s on your cheek, lingering a bit longer. It feels sacred, like the press of her lips is the only thing that could tether you to this earth. Then another, right above the corner of your mouth. It pulls a half smile out of you, eyes fixed on hers. Acting on instinct, your hands reach for hers, fingers locking into each other.

You know what your parents would think. How disapproving they’d be of this. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Robin is right there in front of you, looking and being the most perfect anyone ever could.

“I won’t blame myself if you don’t.” she says gently, a small smile on her lips. “Deal?” her thumbs run over your knuckles, brushing soft lines on your skin. 

“Kay.” you relent, lips trembling. It earns a tiny, sad smile from her. 

“We’re supposed to be on the same team.” she adds delicately, her voice cracking higher on the last syllable.

That’s when the tears really start to fall.

She doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer, wrapping her arms around you fully. Your face sinks into her shoulder, and you feel her chin rest atop your soft head of curls. The embrace is familiar, the warmth and feeling it brings.

One of her gentle hands moves up and down your back, steady and warm.

“I heard some of it.” she admits quietly, like she was too afraid to say it for your own sake. Your body stiffens instantly, thoughts coursing through your veins. 

What if she’s upset that you didn’t fight hard enough?

What if she agrees with them?

What if-

The tightening of her hold is enough to stop the impending cycle of pondering.

“But it’s okay,” she rushes to tell you, sensing your worry. “I mean, not okay, but… I knew, or you told me, it may happen. And I don't regret coming. Not even a little.” 

You lift your head softly from her shoulder, careful, as if you could break something that’s already so fragile. Your eyes are red rimmed, the mascara you had shakily applied earlier staining the skin under your lashes.

“You don’t?” you question softly, almost as if you can’t believe she would want to be here. That this girl would want to endure the worst for you.

She shakes her head softly.

“No,” she emphasized, a hint of amusement in her voice. It’s like the very thought makes her want to laugh. “I’d rather be here with you for five minutes like this than nothing at all.”

Her voice was more serious on that last bit, gentle but firm. It makes your heart ache, squeezing her hands tighter. It just hurts you worse.

Why would your parents ever want to ruin this girl? To take away the source of your happiness, split you up when it’s so clear you’re both in love?

“I hate that they said those things. About you.” you admit quietly, voice a little shaky from the previous tears. It’s truly awful that anyone could ever say something negative about her when all she does is love everything and everyone. 

Robin shrugs lightly, trying to act casual even though her wavering voice betrays the act. It’s more so for herself than you. She knows you can see through any mask she puts up.

“I’ve been called worse.” she jokes softly, though there isn’t any real humor behind it. Just a fact. 

A frown spreads on your face as you remember why you actually came out on this porch. As you remember that you have to send her away, that you aren’t allowed to see her.

“Robin.”

She exhales slowly, leaning forward to the point where your noses brush each other. It’s light contact, but any was always and still enough to stutter the beat of your heart.

“Hey,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry, the joke was stupid.” Her smile slowly fades, becoming just a light curve of her mouth. She’s missing your point.

You didn’t say her name because of the joke, not at all. You said it because you need to get something off your chest. The very words of your parents that have been weighing you down since they were emitted.

“They said I can’t see you anymore.” you utter, voice impossibly soft and quiet, almost as if saying it too loudly would break something that’s already teetering on the edge.

It doesn’t matter how low it came out, because Robin heard you. She had thought your parents told you that in the house, but chalked it up to paranoia. Now she knows it’s true. Exactly what she feared.

Her eyes soften. You can see the words coursing through her body, you can feel that she’s thinking. It hits her hard, the idea of never being able to hold you again. Never being able to kiss you or brush your hair out of your eyes. Never being able to comfort you in moments like these or celebrate the highs with you.

She pushes it down.

“Well,” she begins, a little shaky, but it’s still her. Still that sweet, raspy voice you’ve grown to love over the years. “they didn’t say anything about phone calls.” she attempts a crooked half smile.

A watery laugh escapes your lips despite the dire situation. 

Robin smiles more genuinely now, relieved that she could get a laugh out of you. It feels like a victory. A small one, but still an accomplishment. 

Her hands trail down where they had wrapped around your shoulders, finding your fingers once more. Her thumbs trace slow circles across the backs of your delicate hands, trying anything she can to ground you in this.

“It’s not your fault.” she breathed softly, her voice quieter than earlier. You nod, even though it hurts to do. It still feels like you’re the one to blame for this predicament.

She leans down to press one more soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment in silence.

“I love you.” she speaks, like her chest has been cracked open and the words came straight from her heart. It’s one of the most genuine statements you've ever heard. From anyone.

It shocks you that someone could love you that much. You used to believe you were impossible to love, that you didn’t even deserve it. That in order to be liked, you had to be the most perfect that was possible. Robin showed you that you were worthy of it, that you were meritorious of affection. For that, you owe everything to her.

“I love you too.” you mutter back, heart swelling painfully. The strong love that both of you feel for one another is overwhelming.

She squeezes your hands one last time, as if to memorize every single detail of how they feel in her own. Reluctantly, she steps back. But she doesn’t drop your hands.

Not until the very last second does she loosen her grip. Without hers to hold onto, your hands shake by your sides, watching as she retreats.

꧁☆꧂

Your house is quiet. Too quiet.

It’s not the soft, comforting quiet. No, it’s the kind of quiet that presses against your ears, heavy and suffocating. The hallway light is off now. Your parents’ bedroom door is shut. The television downstairs has long been turned off.

You’re lying in bed, the soft colors of your room swirling in the surrounding. It should be comforting, the familiar warmth. But it isn’t. Not when you haven’t stopped thinking about her. 

About her physically, sure. The soft blond lockes of hair that caught the light of the setting sun. The blue of her sweater vest and eyes that matched perfectly. The gentleness of her hands on your body. The curve of her cupid's bow. You could think about her beauty for hours.

But that’s not what’s sticking right now.

What’s really got you hung up is the way she handled everything tonight. The softness of her voice. How calm she kept. How focused she was on grounding you. How her thumbs brushed the tears off your cheeks. How she kissed your forehead. How she didn’t let go until she absolutely had to. She really was perfect.

You try to focus on what’s around you. The soft patter of rain on your window. The hum of the heater beside your bed. The glow of the bedside lamp with the tiny tulips painted on its shade.

And then there’s a ringing. The phone.

One ring comes, freezing you in your position. Your heart stutters, caught in your throat. You decide to wait a moment. Maybe it’s not her.

But it rings again.

You get up off your bed this time, walking over to the opposite wall where your pasted phone sits against the baby blue walls. You lift the phone slowly off the wall, almost as if you’re afraid to answer it.

“Hello?” you whisper into the transmitter, afraid that any sound too loud would wake your parents. They're just down the hall.

There’s a pause over the line, complete silence other than the hum of electricity.

Then comes the sound.

“Okay, good. For a second I wasn’t sure you were alive.” the raspy, familiar voice of the girl who was on your porch just hours ago.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep the sound of your laugh from echoing down the halls.

“Robin.” you breathe out quietly, voice full of shaky relief. You lean against the wall of your bedroom, sliding down until you’re sitting with your back against it. Your knees are pulled up against your chest, phone cord stretching to where you sit.

“Yeah, that’s me.” she says softly. You can hear her smile through the line.

Her voice sounds closer than it should, like she’s in the next room over rather than all the way across your town. God, do you wish she was here right now. 

“Did I wake you up?” she asks, suddenly worried. It is pretty late.

You shake your head even though she can’t see you, leaning back until your skull hits the wall with a soft thud.

“No. I couldn’t sleep anyways.” you say, a light smile on your lips. You're glad to be talking to her, even if it is over the phone.

“Same.” she admits immediately, a small silence following. It’s not an awkward moment. It’s comfortable. It says more than a lot of words could.

“So,” Robin starts, breaking the quiet. “on a scale of 1 to ‘my parents confiscated my entire existence,’ how bad is it?” she says it in that signature teasing tone, the one she uses to lighten a situation.

You have to bite your lip to keep them from parting into a smile.

“I’m grounded until further notice,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that mentioning something related to the topic could alert your parents. They’re asleep, so hopefully they stay that way.

“Ahh, typical.” she says thoughtfully. There’s a lightness in her voice though.

You laugh quietly under your breath, stifling the sound by pressing your face into the fabric of your pajama pants.

“You aren’t taking this one bit seriously.” you say, picking your head back up to speak into the phone once more. 

“Yes I am,” she says quickly, a light sound that’s halfway between a sigh and a laugh following. “I’m just… strategically coping with my humor. You know, since I'm really funny and all.” 

She’s really good at making you feel better.

You smile even wider, gaze dropping to the floorboards. One hand twirls the cord of your phone gently around your fingers, the other holding it to your ear. Sitting on the cold floor, back against the wall, you feel grounded. Like you couldn’t possibly be in the predicament that began earlier.

“Are you okay? Really okay?” you ask her, emphasizing the ‘really.’ She has a tendency of telling half the truth to avoid your worry. She doesn’t ever lie, at least not to you.

She hesitates a second.

Then, “Yeah,” she utters. “I mean… yeah. I’m fine.” Her tone of voice suggests the complete opposite of what she told you. Combine that with the hesitation and stutter of her breath, and you are certain that she’s not alright.

“Robin.” you say, gently but firmly. As if to let her know that you’re there for her, but that she needs to tell the truth. You know better than to let it slide.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little not fine,” she relents with a sigh, the sound carrying across Hawkins to your receiver. “But I'm not shocked.”

Your fingers tighten around the handset.

“I hate that they hurt you.” you whisper, referring to your parents. You absolutely loathe how they treated Robin today, how they wouldn’t even allow her in the house.

“They didn’t hurt me.” she says gently, and for a second you don’t believe it. “They hurt you. Which is worse.” she finishes, and now you do trust her. 

It’s enough to make your chest ache.

There’s another pause, shorter than the previous one, still comfortable. She clears her throat dramatically on the other end, apparent that she is about to say something out of the blue.

“Also,” she starts, her voice already conveying that she’s holding back a laugh. “Your dad is absolutely terrifying.”

You giggle softly, breathy and quiet.

“Robin.”

“I’m serious! I only saw the guy from outside, but I mean, I have to admit, he made me shake harder than I was already.” she tells you, tone light and airy. Something in the way she says it tells you that it’s the absolute, embarrassing truth.

You bury your face into your knees once more to stifle the soft sounds spewing from your lips. You can’t get caught now. 

“Stop,” you start, muffled by the plaid cotton of your pants that cover your knees. “You’ll get me caught, dingus.”

“Sorry.” she mutters through her own breathless laughs, a soft thud carrying across the line. “But I'm already banned from your house. So I might as well leave something behind.” She's joking, but God, do you love it.

You’re smiling so hard it hurts, cheeks lifting, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“You know, you looked really pretty tonight.” Robin says suddenly, the truth in her voice thick. It catches you off guard for a moment, the confessions unexpected arrival. It aches somewhere in your chest to hear her compliment you, even after everything she had to endure this afternoon.

“What?” you question, voice sort of high pitched in confusion.

“Yeah,” she continues softly in a convincing manner. “Like… stunningly beautiful. I just didn’t want to say anything on the porch because your mother looked like she would legally prosecute me.”

It flusters you for some reason, cheeks heating and flushing a light shade of pink. It’s not like it’s new, the syllables that spill from her tongue. But every time, it pulls some thread of your heart.

“You looked really nice too.” you admit quietly, like a sacred confession that can’t be spoken too loudly for the fear that it’ll ruin something.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you nod once more, despite her lack of view. “The sweater vest brought out your eyes. And your hair was cute. Like always.”

“I’ll have you know the second I got home, the sweater vest came off.” she says through a laugh. She never really did like to dress up. You imagine her now, sitting on her bed, phone held to her ear, probably wearing a big t-shirt and sweatpants. That’s the Robin you love most. The real, raw, Robin. Your Robin.

“Of course it did. I wouldn’t expect any different from you, Robs.” the nickname slips out, rolling off your tongue with ease.

There’s a soft silence, broken only by the soft sound of your voice. Less teasing now, more open.

“Robin?” you whisper, as if you're questioning if you should even be speaking in the moment.

“Yeah?” her voice comes through, soft and full of question.

“I really, really miss you.” you admit, voice impossibly low, words barely even spoken. But she knows you mean it more than anything else you said tonight. That even though it’s only been a few hours without her, you long to be in her presence again.

“I miss you too.” she says back, and the tone of voice that conveys her happiness isn’t hidden in the slightest.

You smile into the darkness of your bedroom, another quiet moment passing through.

“So hypothetically…” she starts, back to that regular voice of hers, the one that’s full of energy and heavily teasing. It makes you tense, to hear her suddenly switch up.

“How creaky would your bedroom window be if you were to… oh, I don’t know. Leave through it..?” she finishes, the last few syllables cracking in a higher pitch.

You blink, biting your lip softly.

“Robin Buckley.”

“What? I said hypothetically. I’m just asking.” She feigns innocence, though nothing about the previous words she had blurted out previously. You can almost see what she’s doing right now, how her shoulders are lifted in anticipation. You know her.

“Hypothetically, they’d be creaky. Very, very creaky.” You answer, giving into her games.

“Okay, then hypothetically,” she keeps going, smirk evident in her voice. It’s amusing how good she is at all of this. How she can play a situation so well without even thinking too hard about it. “how grounded are you?”

“Extremely.” you whisper under your breath, afraid that speaking any louder would cause you to crack and let out a laugh or some strangled sound. You can’t risk it.

There’s a soft pause on both parties before she breaks it.

“And hypothetically, what if we were to ignore that one little obstacle?” she asks, a hint of reluctance in her raspy voice.

Your heart pounds in your chest. You have to bite your lip to keep a look from spreading on your face. She does make a good point. You don’t always have to be the rule follower that your parents want. In fact, now that they know your secret, it’s best if you didn’t listen to their rules. You’re done letting them control you.

They can’t counteract the chemistry between you and Robin, nor can they undo the destiny.

Robin laughs over the line, shattering the thoughts. “I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless… you don’t want me to be?” she continues, though there’s a desperation in her words. She’s hoping you’ll tell her you want to sneak away from your life. That you want an escape. 

An escape to her.

“Maybe I will,” you say, no hint of a joke anywhere. You truly do mean it. You’ve been dying to see her, dying to get away from this house that feels like it’s suffocating you.

“Yeah?” she asks, almost like she can’t believe that you would actually agree to it. That you, who’s only ever done what would please your parents, is going to sneak out. Especially at night. And especially to go against their wishes and hang out with a girl.

“Yeah. See you in 30?” You ask, hopeful she actually wants this. Hopeful she wants you.

“Okay, yeah. See you then, rebel.” she teases. You can hear the faint rustle of sheets and she moves around on her bed, a smile spreading on your face at the nickname.

“I’ll see you then.” you reply before hanging up the phone, standing up off the cold floorboards of your room. 

This is sure to be fun.

꧁☆꧂

Your heart is still racing as you hang up the phone, gently resting it back on its hook, clicking it into place on the wall. For a moment, you just stand there, breathing in the silence.

You’re going to see her soon. The thought alone lightens the feeling in your chest.

It’s sort of hard to believe that you’re sneaking out. Your parents don’t ever bother to check your room, so you’re in the clear.

You move quietly across your bedroom, every step calculated. The floorboards creak beneath your feet, but you pause after each one, listening carefully for movement from down the hall.

Nothing.

You slip on a hoodie, tugging it over your head, then grab your sneakers from beside your door. You don’t bother with socks. There isn’t time. Your fingers fumble slightly as you tie the laces, nerves buzzing through your veins.

You glance at your window. It stares back at you like a challenge.

Carefully, slowly, you slide it open.

The night air rushes in immediately, cool and damp against your skin. The smell of rain hits you all at once. You hadn’t realized it was still storming.

You swing one leg over the windowsill, then the other, lowering yourself carefully onto the soft grass below. The ground is wet, your shoes instantly soaking through, but you don’t care.

You take off down the street before there’s time to think twice. You need to see her. The rain isn’t gentle at all.

It pours down.

It soaks your hair within seconds, curls plastered against your forehead and cheeks. Your hoodie clings to your skin, heavier as the water seeps deep into the fabric. The streetlights and the satellites blur with the stars as droplets stream across your eyelashes, dropping off and sliding down your cheeks. They mirror the path of your earlier tears that have since dried.

You keep walking though. Why wouldn’t you when the girl you’ve risked everything for is waiting at the end of the road?

That thought alone is enough to keep you going, to carry your feet all the way across town.

By the time you reach her house, you’re soaked down to the bone. Of course, it was all worth it. Now that you’re here, you can’t imagine being anywhere else.

Her porch light is on. You only hesitate a second before telling forward onto her doorstep, knocking softly on the grey-painted wood. It swings open almost immediately, the hinges creaking softly. 

Robin stands there. She’s wearing an oversized, white band t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up slightly. He plaid pajama pants, much like your own, hang low on her hips. Her hair is up in a messy bun, like she had tied it back to prevent her fingers from running through it a million times as she awaited your arrival.

The sight is refreshing.

“Oh my God,” she breathes through a tiny laugh, eyes widening as she takes in the sight of you. She can’t believe you followed through.

You try to laugh, but it comes out shaky.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come here. You snuck out?” she says in disbelief, stepping closer to you, voice somewhere between concern and awe. 

You shrug, rain dripping from your lashes. “Guess I'm taking a page out of your book. I’m a ‘rebel’ now.” It's followed by another shaky giggle, shaking your head softly as the water drips from your curls.

“It was worth it, though.” you add with a smirk, head tilting to the side.

Something in her expression softens upon hearing your confession, her hands reaching out to hold your wrists. Gently, she pulls you inside the house, door shutting behind the two of you with a click.

Her house is warm. Much warmer than the cool night air that mingles with the piercing rain. It’s there in the familiar warmth of her home that you’re suddenly aware of how soaked you are.

Water drips from the ends of your hair, down your hoodie, splashing down onto Robins carpet. 

She stares at you a second, then laughs. A real, raw laugh, the sound that brings a lightness to your chest. It’s not teasing or loud. It’s just soft and fond, full of love. 

“You’re soaked.” She gets out through her giggles, still holding both your wrists. There's a smile on her lips, light and refreshing. “You’re dripping all over my floor.” There's no anger in her tone, just a teasing lightness of her voice.

“I noticed that.” You say, letting out a laugh that mirrors her own, though a bit more breathless. You glance down at your clothes, watching the droplets fall over one another to the floor. When you look back up at her, there's something different in her expression. Something new and changed.

Her lips twitch. “You should probably…” she gestures vaguely at your hoodie, fingers leaving your wrists. “Take this off.” she fakes innocence in her voice, a small smirk visible on her face. She’s good, really good. Your breath stutters.

“Because,” she rushes to add too quickly, head tilting down. Her eyes don’t leave yours though, looking up at you through her lashes. “You’re going to catch a cold. And that would be bad. Very bad. And extremely medically irresponsible of me to let happen.” She rambles on, hoping that the more she speaks, the more convincing she becomes.

You raise an eyebrow at her in amusement.

“Medically irresponsible?”

“Yes,” she nods seriously, like this is the most obvious thing she’s said all night. “I care about public health, Wheeler. Don’t discredit me.” it’s teasingly low, soft, like it's meant only for your ears to hear.

You laugh at her, shaking your head softly, wet curls bouncing from side to side with the motion. Water droplets fling from the strands, spiralling across the room. “Sure you do.” That earns a grin from her.

“Well?” she asks, lifting her hands slightly, shoulders scrunching. “Unless you want to walk around soaked like some tragic romance novel character.” In true Robin fashion, she has the most specific jokes. Funny, though. She always manages to make you happier. 

You hesitate for a moment before slowly pulling your hoodie over your head. Underneath, your loose t-shirt clings to your skin, soaked as well. You drop your hoodie to the ground by her front door, fixing your hair once it's discarded.

Her eyes flick away for half a second before returning to you. 

“Okay,” she says, voice softer, almost shy. You’ve never heard her this way. “Yeah, that one should probably go too.” There she is.

“Robin.”

“I’m just saying,” she says quickly, hands up like she's been caught in crime, defending herself. Her eyes are up now, suddenly interested in the pattern of her ceiling. “Hypothetically. From a medical standpoint.”

You laugh again, your cheeks burning. But ultimately, you nod, giving in to her jokes and pulling the t-shirt off. You throw it to where your sweatshirt is placed on the ground, leaving you in only the soft fabric of your bra.

It’s colder without the covering of the cloth, but you don’t mind it. Normally, you’d be shy. You’d be trying to cover yourself in any way that's possible. But you don’t really mind if Robin sees you. She already knows you better than anyone, inside and out. So what can it hurt? 

She swallows, trying to pretend her eyes aren’t actively tracing your every feature.

“I’ll get you something to put on,” she says as she disappears down the hallway, not leaving any room for you to say anything. You stand there awkwardly for a moment, crossing your arms over yourself in the absence of her presence. You listen to the soft sounds of the rain, pattering on the glass of the windows and the shingles on the roof.

Her footsteps sound again as she comes back with one of her t-shirts.

It’s much too big for you, but that was expected. Robin only really wears loose shirts, so you had anticipated the larger size. She hands it to you, fingers brushing your own.

“Here” she says softly, one hand rubbing the back of her neck while you slip on the shirt. It smells like her. Like her perfume that she's worn the same for years. Like laundry detergent and something warm and familiar that you can’t name.

She watches you for a moment, how the fabric hangs loose from your frame. Then, she takes a step closer to you. Her hands lift hesitantly, hovering near your waist like she's asking silently for your permission, head tilted gently. 

You nod, a smile spreading on your lips.

Her arms wrap instantly around your waist, your body melting at the contact. Your own encircle her neck, having to reach slightly upwards. Your forehead rests in the space between her shoulder and neck, her hands warm and steady on your sides.

“Are you sure that you’re real?” she murmurs into your wet curls, her face pressed into your crown. She plants a kiss to the top of your head, gentle and grounding.

“I think so.” You whisper back, pulling your face out of the crook of her neck, shifting so that your foreheads press together. Her nose brushes yours lightly, and for a moment, you forget everything from earlier. Forget that your parents insist this isn’t normal. 

It feels too right to ever be considered wrong.

“So…” she begins quietly, her voice low like speaking too loudly or suddenly would break the fragile moment. “Worth it?” a tiny smile forms now.

“Yeah.” You reply without a moment's hesitation. It’s not something that required thought. Not at all. In fact, you cannot think of another place on this earth that you’d rather be right now.

Her smile widens at that, your hands leaving her neck and trailing down to her waist. They find her shirt, fingers curling into the soft, white fabric. For a moment, there aren’t any words exchanged between the two of you. It seems like it’s been that way a lot recently, even though you both tend to always have something to talk about. 

You breathe each other in through the silence until Robin tilts her head in slightly, lips hovering closer to your own. She hesitates a moment, unsure if this is what you want. If this is what she even deserves, after what your parents put you through today.

“Is this okay?” she mutters under her breath, not pressuring you in the slightest. If you were to say no right now, she’d back up immediately. 

But you wouldn’t say that.

“Yes.” You say instantaneously. 

Her lips meet yours softly, unrushed and slow, full of emotion. It’s pronounced enough to let you know she's there, but soft enough that she wouldn’t break something fragile by accident. Your hands slide up to her shoulders as hers grip your waist more firmly.

It makes the world melt away.

Everything from earlier fades. The rain, the fear, your parents. All that's left is her and the contact, the soft kiss, the grip of her hands that know you inside and out. When you pull away, your foreheads stay together.

Robin exhales a shaky breath, eyes half lidded with a smile.

“Okay…” she whispers, head tilting slightly to the side without breaking the press of your heads.

You smile back at her, teeth showing in amusement. “What?” you question her. She just shakes her head lightly, pulling back from your forehead to run her eyes over your face.

“Nothing.” she starts, looking down at you. “Just thinking about how great my idea of sneaking you out was.” It earns a laugh from your lips, her smile cracking open. For the first time since your parents yelling, you feel safe.

꧁☆꧂

It was sort of a blur how you ended up in Robin’s bedroom. 

One minute, you were standing in the hallway, rain still dripping from your hair, her hands warm on your waist. The next, she was guiding you backward, fingers laced with yours, bumping softly into the edge of her bed.

She laughs quietly when you stumble a little, hands tightening on yours instinctively. 

“Graceful.” she murmurs, voice low but not quiet. It cracks as she speaks, that raspy tone more present when combined with the shortness of breath from her lips crashing onto yours repeatedly.

“You love it.” You whisper back to her, head tilting to the side. You know she does.

The bed dips as you sit, and she follows immediately, knees brushing as they land on either side of yours, hands still holding onto you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp and the faint flashes of the streetlights that shine through the heavy rain.

Everything feels heavy, quiet, charged. Like one wrong move would set something off.

It’s not awkward. It’s right.

Full of everything you didn’t get to say. Full of everything that you almost lost tonight. Full of the fact that you’re here now, in her presence.

Her eyes flick over your face, slower than before. More intentional. Her thumb traces the line of your jaw gently, like she’s memorizing you.

“You okay?” she asks softly, a light smile on her lips that looks like it would disappear if you said no.

You nod. “I am now.” your hands slink around her neck with your words, clasping together behind her. It steadies you and ground her.

That’s all it takes.

Her lips meet yours again, slower than before, but deeper this time. Not rushed or frantic, no. Just full. Warm, soft, safe. Everything about it is familiar in just the way you love, perfect in the way she is.

Your hands slide into her hair, fingers brushing the loose strands that escaped her messy bun. She exhales softly into your mouth, one hand moving to your waist, the other resting at your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. It’s not like there was much before anyways.

The kiss deepens. Not rough, not aggressive, just emotional. Like everything you couldn’t say is pouring into the contact instead.

When you break apart for air, her forehead rests on yours. Your breath kindles with hers as you both breathe deeply, faces flushed from the kisses, noses brushing.

“God,” she whispers, like it’s meant for your ears and your ears only. “I missed you.” it comes out shaky and raw and real.

“Well I’m here now.” you reply with a cheesy smile, fingers twirling the strands of her hair gently.

Her hands slide down your sides, fingers grazing the hem of your (actually, her,) shirt. She hesitates a second, like she’s torn between speaking the words that popped into her head or just kissing you again. Her fingers hook into the fabric, and that’s when she chooses talking.

“I know you just got this on,” she murmurs, voice lifting at the end in that soft, nervous way, “but would it… would it hurt to take it off again?” her tone climbs, like she’s reluctantly getting the words off her tongue.

There’s this tiny, almost shy smile on her lips when she says it. Not confident or cocky. It’s just the face of a girl who’s completely lovestruck, hopeful and in need of you.

Your breath catches, pressing your forehead into hers once more.

“Only if you help me.” you relent, causing her soft breath to stutter into a laugh. She giggled in that unpolished way she always did, half breathy, half raspy, like it was being dragged from somewhere deep inside her chest. She never could contain it. And you loved it.

Her fingers gently pull the shirt up, slowly and carefully, giving you every chance to stop her. You don’t.

You lift your arms to let her pull it over your head. Normally, you’d be shy. You’d be reluctant and trying to hide behind the nearest structure. 

But it’s just Robin. You know you don’t have to hide.

Even though there’s an absence of clothing now, the room feels instantly warmer. Her eyes run over your frame, not hungrily, though. Like savoring every view. Full of awe more than anything else.

“Wow.” she breathes quietly under her breath, like the word slipped out without permission.

You laugh, soft and flustered. “Don’t be weird, Robs.” you joke, cheeks heating. She flusters you, even after all this time. 

And right now, this is when you know. Your parents can’t change this. They can’t take it away.

They can’t change the beat of your heart when she touches you. 

“I’m always weird.” she utters back in an unserious manner, smiling at the red hues spreading on your cheeks. She kisses you once more, before you even have time to say another word.

This one’s different. While the ones before were slow, deep, un-rushed and perfect, this one takes all of those components and multiplies them. Everything feels more charged, heavier and more intentional. It’s perfect.

Her hands find your waist again, holding you like you’re something precious, something fragile. Yours slide over her shoulders, down her arms, pulling her closer.

The bed creaks softly as she shifts, guiding you back until you’re lying against the mattress, her body hovering over yours, not trapping, not heavy. Just there.

You feel safer here than you have in most other places, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of her room and body.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your cheek, sliding down to your jaw, back up to your temple, each and every kiss slower and more deliberate than its predecessor. There's a deep meaning behind every press of your mouths.

“Tell me if anything feels too much.” she breathes against your lips, not daring to kiss you again until you agree.

“I will.” you nod softly. “I promise you, I will.” 

That’s all the confirmation she needs.

She kisses you again, long, slow, emotional. All while she’s trying to memorize the feeling of you under her hands and body.

The world outside fades away completely. 

The rain.

Your parents.

The fear.

The yelling.

The grounding.

All of it’s gone.

There’s only her.

Her warmth.

Her hands.

Her voice.

Her presence.

There’s not really anywhere else you’d rather be right now.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe that this is enough. That this is all you’ll ever need. that even without your parents approval, this is the answer.

Robin’s hand finds yours again, fingers intertwining like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her thumb brushes over your knuckles slowly and she pressed your hands into the bed beneath you, grounding you in the moment. Her forehead rests against yours, noses brushing softly, breaths tangled together.

“You’re shaking,” she whispers, voice low, gentle. You hadn’t noticed, but of course she had.

“I’m not,” you lie quietly, though you can feel the tremble running throughout your frame. 

Robin doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, she shifts to sit up on her knees, her arms wrapping around you again, pulling you up into a seated position as well. You melt into her immediately, your cheek resting against her collarbone. Her heartbeat is steady beneath your ear.

“Hey,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Then another. And another. “You’re safe here, okay?” it’s as if she sensed what your thoughts were wandering to. She probably did. After all, she does know you. Really know you.

The words settle deep in your chest.

You tilt your head up to look at her, eyes meeting hers in the dim, warm glow of her bedroom. There’s something different in her gaze now. Not just love, though there is a lot of it held in her eyes.

There’s something more fragile, almost like she’s afraid. Not for herself, just for this. Just for fear that this could end if the wrong person caught you.

“Hey,” you whisper back, lifting your hand to her cheek. Your thumb brushes under her eye gently. “Don’t look like that.”

She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh. It sounds the same as it usually would, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. Her blue irises that would normally light up with mirth now don’t have a singular spark.

“I’m just thinking.” she serenely admits, almost like she didn’t want to tell you.

“About what?” 

She hesitates at that. Her eyes part from yours for a moment, head tilting back to gaze at the ceiling. You can see the movement of her throat, how she swallows deeply, gathering every bit of courage she has.

“About how mad they looked.” Her eyes drop down again, meeting yours softly. They look a little glossy, not to the point of tears though. It twists something deep in your stomach that she’s still thinking about it. You don’t want her to worry.

For a second, the world rushes back in. Your house. The slammed door. Your mother’s voice. Your father’s words.

You swallow hard, just as she had seconds before.

“They don’t matter,” you say, though your voice isn’t as steady as you want it to be. You wish you could fake it better, that you could mask it all for her.

Robin studies your face carefully, like she’s trying to memorize every detail. Then she leans forward again, brushing her lips against yours—soft, slow, reassuring.

“I’ve decided I’m done listening to them,” she whispers against your mouth, voice low and teasing. “mainly because I really want to kiss you again.” a quiet laugh bubbles out of her lips, your hands tightening in her shirt.

“Okay… then I’m done too.” you say with a smile, closing the gap between your lips, pressing them together softly.

But even as you say it, something uneasy settles in your chest. Because deep down, you know your parents better than anyone. And they don’t let things go that easily. If they caught the two of you… you don’t even know what would spark.

Robin kisses you again, slower this time, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. The bed shifts slightly beneath you as she leans closer, her warmth surrounding you completely.

It makes you forget again.

Until there’s a sudden, sharp sound. Not just one sound, three. Like knuckles hitting the solid wood of Robin’s front door.

Knocking, is what it was. It stops your heart. 

Robin freezes, her body going completely still. Her eyes snap toward the hallway, then back to you. Someone would have had to knock hard to get the sound to carry all the way down her halls to this room. 

“Did you hear that?” She whispers, head tilted to the side as if she imagined it. She knows she didn’t when another, heavier knock sounds.

Your breath catches painfully in your throat. Robin shifts herself off your lap, keeping a hand around your waist.

“Uh… are you expecting someone?” she murmurs, trying to sound calm, but her voice cracks.

You shake your head slowly. “No.” Who could possibly be here, at Robin’s house, and especially at this hour. In the pouring rain. The silence that settles over the both of you is unbearable and looming.

Robin swallows, brushing her hair back nervously. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, maybe it’s just my neighbor or something. Or Steve. Or—”

“Robin,” you softly interrupt her, a hand placing gently on her arm. 

You’re already reaching for the shirt on the bed when she looks at you, your hands shaking as you pull it over your head. Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re convinced she can hear it.

“Just stay here, all right? I’m sure it’s no one.” you murmur, flashing her a smile that doesn’t quite do the job as you stand up from her bed.

“Are you sure? I mean, what if-“ she starts, about to ramble nervously again.

“I’ve got this, okay? I’ll be back in a second.” you say calmly, even though you can feel your pulse pounding through your entire body. You kiss her temple as she often does to you before walking down her hallway.

Your feet hit the floor delicately, landing yourself in front of her grey door. You reach for the handle to pull it open, reluctantly and carefully. Because deep inside, you’re terrified. You don’t know why, but you can feel the shaking of your limbs.

As soon as it opens, your breath disappears. 

You’d had thought you were safe earlier, that your parents wouldn’t bother to check your room that night. That they never did, so why would they start now?

But they must’ve turned the handle to your door, discovered your absence, and heard the sound of rain too loudly, coming from your open window.

They must’ve known you snuck out that night.

That’s the only explanation that could explain how they are on Robin's doorstep in this exact moment.

They are like literally the famous brazilian "mongrel complex" if it was embodied by a facistic political movement, that was dying to deepthroat trump and his cronies' boots. They like deadass openly scoff at the efforts made by the current government to maintain some semblance of national sovereignty.

Trump tried (alledgedly in part at the behest of Flavio's brother, Eduardo) to strong-arm our political institutions into letting Jair Bolsonaro off the hook for the bullshit he tried to pull on our country back 2022 (here's an mediocre article i found that kind of explains the gist of that whole debocle)

Anyway y'all I am tired lol