Robin has a shit dad in this.
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"No puedo creer que te gusten los chicos románticamente. ¡Te he criado mejor que esto!" The old, scruffy looking male yelled at the teenage boy in front of him, a scowl on his face. "¡No es asunto tuyo qué género me gusta!" The teenage boy yelled back, tears overfilling his eyes and slipping out quickly. "¡Mi hijo es un maldito marica! ¡Sí, es mi asunto!" The teenager couldn't stand to be in the house any longer, walking away from the older screaming man and past his mother who stood near the doorway, acting as if she wasn't listening to the two argue. "Robín, no te vayas." The lady had hold of her son's arm, trying her hardest to pull him back towards her. The teenager snatched his arm away, continuing on making his way out of the home. He threw the front door open, shivering at the harsh breeze that seemed to blow through him. He heard his mother pleading with his father behind his back, the older man repeatedly cursing at her with spanish words. He shook his head, slamming the door behind him as he grabbed a jacket and walked outside.
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Robin pulled his hood up over his head, kicking at the stray rocks that sat in front of his feet. He sat outside of the Grab N' Go, comforted by the soft glow of the store's exterior fluorescent lights. He cursed underneath his breath, wiping at his wet face and runny nose. "Fucking fag." He mocked his father's voice, chest heaving and shuddering when he sounded identical to him.
A familiar voice bounded out of the store, startling Robin and prompting him to pull his hood even closer to him in attempts to hide himself from the other boy who was now approaching him.
"Robin? Is that you over there?"
Robin grimaced, cursing how emotional he was at the moment. He sniffled softly, unresponsive to the question he had just been asked.
"Hello?"
"Leave them be. It probably isn't him."
"We won't know unless we go over there."
"Are you fucking crazy? That could be a homeless person waiting to take someone hostage."
"You watch way too many horror movies dude."
Robin tuned out the voices, shrinking into himself as he let the cold weather overtake his body. A hand being placed on his shoulder made him flinch, head snapping up to meet the eyes of the person who touched him.
"Robin! See I told you guys it's- are you crying?"
Robin, without hesitation, shook his head. The movement made him feel dizzy, slightly nauseous, but he wanted to make his point clear. He was definitely not crying.
"Robin. We can clearly tell you've been crying. You're not that great of a li-"
Vance was caught off guard by the boy getting up and shoving past him, hands pressed into his jacket pockets and head hung low. Bruce punched him in the shoulder, eyes glaring into his own.
"Look what you did stupid. Now he's run off."
The two boys began to bicker, unbeknownst of their friend leaving and running off towards the other boy.
———
"Robin! Robin, wait!"
Robin kept his steady pace, walking silently down the wet sidewalk of the Denver neighborhood he was in. His head hurt, the words his father had spit so viciously at him earlier circling his brain and squeezing at it incessantly.
"Robin! Please. Just, stop for a moment!"
The boy's feet stopped, the puddle beneath them soaking into the fabric of his shoes. The boy behind him panted loudly, nose sniffling in the windy air circling around them. The sound of approaching footsteps made the other boy want to cry, maybe run as well. He moved his feet away from the puddle, silently complaining at the cold, wet feeling that embraced the feet inside of his shoes.
"Robin, what's wrong? Why were you crying? Why did y-"
Robin turned towards the other boy, a sad smile on his face as his eyes looked anywhere but at the other's.
"My dad. He, uh, found out I was gay. You know how he is."
Robin turned his head away, not being able to look at the boy gazing at him with pitied eyes. He shook his head, both in attempts to rid his brain of the thoughts he was having and also to signal he wouldn't talk any more about the situation at hand.
"I'm sorry Robin."
Robin laughed. A short, sarcastic noise. Finn was sorry. Was his dad sorry? Was he supposed to be sorry?
"It's cool."
Robin pushed his shoes into the gravel below, squishing the puddle water out of them best he could. The boy behind him had come closer, attempting to touch him once more with a comforting hand. Robin moved away from it. He shook his head once more, a frown on his lips.
"Finn. Don't you get it? I can't- we can't-"
Robin cut himself off, not being able to find the words to describe what he felt. His head turned towards the sky, silently demanding answers from the universe above.
"Robin. You don't- please don't shut me out."
Robin paid no extra attention to the boy. If he did, he'd be proving his father right. Where would that lead him?
The stars above twinkled and danced in the night sky, mocking Robin's emotional state below them. He picked up a rock, holding it in his palm and inspecting it. It wasn't a pretty rock. It wasn't interesting. Robin grasped it tightly in his hand, launching it at a close by trash can and wincing when it hit the outside surface with a 'ping' noise.
Behind him, Finn bit his trembling bottom lip, rain soaking into his wavy brunette hair. "Robin, please."
Robin faced the boy once more, averting his gaze when he saw the clear tears coating his eyes. He shuddered, a gust of wind hitting his skin harshly, nipping and biting down on the surface.
"I don't think I can talk to you anymore. Not you. Not Bruce or Vance. Not you."
Finn picked at his nails, trying his best to ignore the dull feeling in his chest. "Robin. This doesn't have to happen." Finn wasn't going to question why the boy had said his name twice, for they shared deeper feelings than what they felt for their other two friends.
"Yeah, I think it does Finney."
Finn winced at the name, immediately wishing that the boy would fix it and repeat his name as "Finn". But that moment never came. Instead, the boy in front of him turned his back and walked forward. Finn wanted to chase after him, hold him tightly against his chest and let him cry. But Robin was hardheaded and if this is what he wanted, then he'd be sure to get it.
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Robin walked back home, clothes soaked from the rainy weather hurtling down on him. He was choking back sobs with every passing step, lungs hurting from having to hold his breath.
When he made it inside of his home, he was confused to find it dark and eerily quiet.
"Mama? Are you in here?"
Robin flicked on a nearby light, squinting at the harsh intensity of it. His mother was sat at the dining room table in front of him, a bottle of some sort tightly grasped in her hand. Robin narrowed his eyes at the woman, a frown on his face.
"Mama? What's going on?"
His mother took a long, drawn out swig from the bottle in her hand, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt afterwards. Robin shifted awkwardly in front of the woman, water from his clothes dripping softly onto the wooden floor beneath him.
"Tu papá dejó hijo. Salió. También se llevó todas sus cosas con él."
Robin took a step closer to his dining room table, stopping abruptly when his mother held up a hand. "Ve a tu cuarto. Duerme un poco. Hablaremos por la mañana." Robin hesitantly did as he was told, quickly making his way to his room. He relieved himself of his wet clothes, exchanging them for dry ones and settling into his bed.
Robin tossed and turned majority of that night, tears staining deep into his pillow case.
