#swiftboone

“I know,” Robbie said, shaking his head for good measure as he leaned down, gently prying the box from the young man’s loose grip.

“I call her and I text her-“

“Best you just move on.”

“But how can I? She’s my whole life!” 

 “Here, let me help you. “

“Wait- “ the young man lifted his head, suddenly becoming aware he was essentially being robbed. “What’re you- “

“Helping!” Robbie announced, stuffing the box into his already full bag. “Better luck next year, Romeo!”

And he moved on, already looking for his next target. Valentine’s Day was a gold mine.

“Robbie!”

He froze, clutching his bags against his body, his feet recognizing the voice before his brain did. And sure enough, there he came – Sportajerk, strolling down the path in all of his glory. No, not strolling – striding purposefully, his brow furrowed and his chin tilted, coming towards Robbie with the kind of single-minded determination he’d never seen before.

Robbie immediately had a bit of a panic.

“I haven’t done anything! They’re lying!” he squeaked, trying in vain to shove his bags behind his back. Nearly five pounds of chocolate was a bit difficult to hide.

“Robbie,” Sportacus repeated, stopping before him. He was wearing gloves, Robbie realized, and – carrying a very official-looking briefcase. What was happening? Was this a prank?

“Yes?” he asked warily. Sportacus looked at him, opened his mouth, cleared his throat, and then opened his mouth again. 

Then he lifted a finger, indicating for Robbie to wait, and put the briefcase down on the ground.

As Robbie watched, both fascinated and ready to flinch, Sportacus crouched down, clicked the latches on the briefcase and opened it. He pulled his goggles down. He reached into the briefcase, with his gloved hands…

Robbie was just about ready to bolt or duck for cover, when Sportacus pulled out, very carefully, something that looked vaguely like a bar of chocolate.

“Ehm,” Sportacus said, still kneeling on the ground, peering at Robbie through his goggles. He held out the chocolate. “This is- “ he stopped, swallowing. “This is for you. I – I bought it myself.”

Robbie’s mind was drawing a careful blank, as he reached out, taking the wrapped bar.

He turned it in his hands, carefully.

“Why,” he said slowly, “does it have pictures of fruit on the label?”

“It has bits of fruits in it,” Sportacus said, sounding strangely eager. He stood back up, pulling up his goggles. “I got it from a health store.”

“And – what – flaxseed?”

Sportacus beamed as if Robbie had any idea what that was. He looked at the bar again. It just raised more questions.

“It doesn’t even say chocolate anywhere,” Robbie said, incredulously. “It just says ‘cocoa’ and ‘health bar’.”

“Cocoa is chocolate, Robbie,” Sportacus said, just a tad admonishing and Robbie felt briefly indignant that the man was trying to lecture him on the topic.

“This,” he said, making a face for full effect, holding the bar with the tip of his fingers like he might actually ingest something through the wrapping, “is probably the healthiest candy I’ve ever received.”

Sportacus looked away bashfully, shifting from foot to foot, grinning.

“That’s bad, you Sportanut,” Robbie added, a little irritated.

The change in Sportacus’ demeanour was shocking – it was as if Robbie had told him the town had banned backflips and installed a new tax on air ships.

His face fell, his sky-blue eyes round and lost and sad, his shoulders slumping like a balloon with the air let out of it. He swallowed, glanced away and then swallowed again, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to come up with something to say but was, for once, at loss for words – like Robbie had with one simple sentence rendered him speechless – and Robbie felt the most peculiar sensation, like someone had grabbed a hold of his heart and was squeezing it very slowly.

He suddenly desperately wanted Sportacus to go back to his stupid grinning.

“I- “ was all Sportacus managed to say, his voice hoarse and small, before Robbie interrupted hastily.  

“That is to say – I mean, it’s good – because – uh, I’m bad! So, uh, the best chocolate to give me would be – the worst chocolate. The number one. At being bad.”

Sportacus was staring at him, eyes wide. Robbie continued on, bravely.

“So what I mean is – it’s good! You – picked the perfect chocolate, actually. That’s right. Just the worst. Mmm, yes. I am – going to enjoy this. So much. Especially the flaxseed. Flaxseed is my favourite.”

Sportacus looked uncertain for a moment – before his stupid moustache twitched, and he gave Robbie a tentative smile, the spark returning in his eyes.

“Really? You really like it, Robbie?”

“Yes!” Robbie snapped defensively, clutching the chocolate against his chest like his firstborn baby. It was best to just lean into it. “I said so, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Sportacus said, his voice odd – tender, almost. “And if that’s the case, I’m glad. Ah – “ he cleared his throat as if remembering something, and then said, very formal. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Robbie.”

“Happy – Valentine’s Day,” Robbie echoed back warily, feeling a little dizzy from the chain of events that had led him here. At this, Sportacus leaned in, and very, very carefully kissed Robbie on the cheek, before pulling back.

Robbie froze.

Sportacus just stood there, for a moment longer, smiling, and it was bizarre – and it was even more bizarre that Robbie just stood there too, an odd, nervous warmth washing over him, barely able to breathe - the corners of his mouth tugging tentatively. 

“Well,” Sportacus said finally, clearing his throat. “I’d better go. I’ll see you later, Robbie.” And it felt like a promise, somehow.

Robbie watched as the other man picked up his briefcase, dusted it off, and then, with one last powerful smile, flipped away.

He kept standing there, for good ten minutes, still holding the disgusting chocolate. His cheek felt warm, and just the tiniest bit wet. Sportacus’ moustache had tickled his ear. His breath had felt hot against his skin. 

Finally Robbie took a deep breath, shaking off the strange spell so that he could put the chocolate in the bag with the others. It wasn’t like he was going to eat it, but it was still chocolate. It deserved to come home with him. 

Maybe he’d just keep it around, for guests. It was good to have something peculiar as a conversation piece. Somewhere where he could see it. Maybe under some kind of a glass case. 

Yes.