Sweet Little Birds (BxB Romance, Completed)

Chapter 8: Bitter Cocoa

The house looked the same. White walls, dark window panes, and high columns around the doors. The multi-story-fortress dwelled high up on a hill and was shaded by lush trees, which prevented anyone from peering into the secret lives of its inhabitants.

It smelled the same. Dust and dampness from windows and doors always being shut, and a thick inescapable cloud of bitterness permeating everything.

It felt the same. Dark, claustrophobic, and restricted. Every move and every word controlled and analyzed by the queen of the isolated kingdom.

But yet, Robin returned to his childhood home every weekend. Because he didn't want to know what would happen if he didn't. And despite everything, he did love his mother. He wanted her honest approval and undivided love. But all he got in return was crushing dismissal and suffocating expectations.

During the weeks he was free, save for half a dozen phone calls a day but the weekends belonged to his mother. So that's why he sat in a room filled with toys and loneliness, waiting for his mother to call him down for dinner, instead of being on a maybe-date with a pretty blonde boy.

Robin might not be quite ready to tell the world who he was yet. But he knew he wasn't that lonely child he used to be anymore. Perhaps he was never that child. Because that article in his Psychology textbook had made him question what had ever been real about his childhood. His mother had acted out one play and Robin had acted out another.

He was so tired of that act. He was so tired of this house. He was so tired of his life.

He needed something to change. He needed to get out of here.

Maybe he should just tell her. He should tell her who he was. He should tell her he wouldn't be coming home next weekend. What could she really do to him?

So, Robin moved some teddy bears out of the way to get up from his childhood bed, and with determined steps, he walked over piles of books to get to the door.

The trek down the stairs was imprinted in his mind. He took the steps two at a time, while his hand followed the smooth guard rail. That's how he had always run down those stairs. When he was healthy enough to run, that was. All too often, tiredness, fatigue, and nausea had a hold of his body. And finally, Robin thought he knew why he'd felt so poorly. It had all been part of the act.

An act that was now over. Of that, he was determined.

But his determination faltered as he took the last step down the stairs, and found his mother waiting for him in the living room. The white couch almost swallowed her small frame. Liza Erie wasn't imposing physically, but she made up for it in other ways.

On the table in front of her stood a rainbow-colored bag. A bag that should still be hidden under the bed in Robin's dorm room.

The coldness in his mom's blue eyes made him once again feel like a child. His determination faltered.

"Mom." Robin swallowed hard as he pictured all the ways this conversation could go. None of them was promising. "Where did you find that?"

"The cleaning lady found this in your room," she replied, her voice sharp and full of disdain.

Robin knew his mother sent people to clean his room and do his laundry. Which was why he had hidden the bag deep under his bed. Apparently, that hadn't been enough.

"You don't need to keep sending people to clean for me, mom. I've told you that before. I can take care of myself." The words sounded brave but Robin felt anything but. His gaze fell to the floor and he lingered in the doorway, like a rabbit afraid to get too close to a predatory bird. Soon the falcon would pounce.