THE BLACK PHONE IMAGINES/PREFERENCES

𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | robin arellano

You huffed, slumping down in your seat. The gloomy classroom was empty; it was only you and the monitor,  Mr. Davis.

The time was passing slowly. The clock was ticking slower than you wanted it to be. You thought of trying to escape, but there was no use. Mr. Davis was watching you like a hawk. It was your fault, anyway. You decided to curse out the teacher, not anyone else.

The detention monitor stared at his watch. It was like he was waiting for someone, but you were the only one in the room. It was two minutes before detention officially began; it was an hour long. 

Suddenly, the door swings open, the noise echoing in the room. Naturally, you turn your head. Standing in the doorway was a boy with shoulder-length brown hair. A grey bandana wrapped around his head, and he was holding a black backpack over his shoulder. You observed his knuckles, which were bruised and bloody. 

"Arellano. You're on time, surprisingly," Mr. Davis remarked, glancing at his watch again. The boy only rolled his eyes before noticing you.

He walked over and sat beside you, throwing his backpack on the floor. You stare at him, shocked. You look around the room. There was nobody else except you two, and he could've sat anywhere. But he decided to sit beside you. 

Mr. Davis got suspicious. "You two know each other or something? If so, I have to separate you. I don't want any crazy shit going on."

You shook your head quickly. "I don't know him, sir," you responded; Mr. Davis nodded doubtfully. He goes back to his seat, staring at the two. 

"You know why you're here," he began. "You guys need to learn something called respect. It's a quality that'll get you through life. As a result of your stupid decisions, you have to write a letter to the people you hurt."

Mr. Davis slams two pieces of notebook paper on your desk, along with two pencils. "Get to writing. You have to be finished. The letter has to be genuine," he continued, emphasizing the last word. 

You sighed in disbelief as you paused, thinking about what to write to the teacher. Should you say, "Sorry for cussing you out?" Or what about "Sorry that your class is fucking boring?"

You felt a soft tap on your shoulder. You look over, and you see the boy holding a pencil. "How'd you get in?" He questioned.

"Cussed out Mrs. Perry. Called her a bitch," you responded nonchalantly. 

He nods. "I mean, you weren't wrong," he joked. You chuckled. You looked up to Mr. Davis, who was already asleep. His snores echoed in the room. 

"What about you?"

"Beat up Moose; I sent him to the hospital. I have detention for a whole month."

Your eyes widen in shock. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," the boy pursed his lips. He wrote down a sentence on the piece of paper. It read: Sorry for beating you up. It wasn't an effective apology. 

"Moose is such an asshole." You remarked, writing down the letter. You've hated Moose ever since you met him. He wasn't even a good fighter. Moose was foolish and brainless; that's what the school knew him as.

"He is. It felt great to beat him up," he laughed. 

It was quiet for a moment. You were writing, but the student got distracted. 

As you returned to your task, you noticed the boy tapping his fingers on the table. He was thinking about something by the look on his expression. You couldn't figure out what, though. 

"Want to skip?"

"What?"

"Davis is asleep. I've been here before, and you've been here before. He won't wake up until after detention, so we can sign out and go," he said excitedly.

You hesitated. You were unsure of the spontaneous decision. Well, you did want to escape. The plan seemed almost flawless. You might as well. 

As you and the boy quietly got up, you two snuck through the door. You looked to your side to confirm there was no janitor or teacher to catch you two. Once you ensured the coast was clear, he and you sprinted out of the school.  

You two ran as far as possible. The two of you ended up stopping at a local convenience store. You lean over, placing your hands on your legs, panting. You let out a few laughs with him, who was also exhausted. 

After you two catch your breath and rest, you purchase snacks and drinks before sitting at a bench outside the convenience store. 

"You know, I forgot to ask your name," he mentioned, sipping his soda. 

That was when it hit you. You skipped detention with a boy you didn't even know. He could've been a sketchy guy who would've led you to an abandoned warehouse. He could've done worse things than send a boy to a hospital. Fortunately, he wasn't that bad.

"Oh. I'm Y/n. Y/n L/n," you replied. The boy repeated your name softly to himself before turning to you.

"Robin Arellano."