𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐁𖣠𝐘 . [Rinney]

( . . . 𝟑 )

Nothing hurts more than a school morning in September. Mostly when we're talking about the first day of College.

College was shit. And he didn't even need to finish the day to understand it. People were rude, the stereotypes of rich assholes in romance books that glare at you with that lifted chin and sharp eyes, thinking they have the right to judge you anytime.

Did Robin care?
Of course, he did.

He was a prick, and mostly an asshole. Had it not been for his midget friend cautioning him of the severe consequences of getting expelled from such a prestigious school, Robin would have certainly laid hands on them and left some nasty bruises; and even today, he ponders on how he was accepted in the first place.

But he had to stay. For his mother, Billy, Finney — Yeah. Of course. He wouldn't be able to see his face ever again if his dumbass got kicked out. Something unbearable! Since he found out that Blake lodges in his same apartment and goes to his same College, Robin couldn't help but make it his whole reason to stay there. He stood rooted on the spot.

He was dying to see him. Hoping he'd get the chance to bump into him in the crowded halls, or even better, to share a class or two with him. It would make him forget about the rude guys in the hallways we mentioned earlier.

But at least, he could give these dicks the terrible taste of humiliation: Robin didn't stop himself from grimacing at them disgusted every time he'd get the usual reaction from them. Did it work? Of course it did! He'd earn respect in no time. He had his hand wrapped in white, a bandana wrapped around his head, and necklaces on him. And he was Mexican. Shiver their timbers.

Billy's locker blasted open. "How was first period?"

Robin's backpack fell from his shoulder to his forearm, opening it to get the English book he'd need for the next challenge; survive the old ass teacher he saw earlier  whom Vance had described as a living provocation to not fall asleep in the first fifteen minutes. "Boring." He answered, clearly tired already. "Mr. Sinclair's not so bad. You?"

The other's gaze never left his locker as he carefully placed a book and a notebook inside, then took out another: Spanish. "Cool." His hand was resting on the metal door, his gaze shifting to Robin's. "Chemistry went smoothly. Want to know who was in my class?" He grinned. "Griffin! The cute guy! Finney's roommate!"

And when he heard that name, Robin's thoughts instantly went to his closest friend. "Really?" His brow furrowed. "You're interested in that guy?" He snorted, obviously enjoying what he was saying. He'd be interested in anything that had something to do with the Blake boy he adored.

Billy's happy face turned to an offended one as if he was just called the slur. "What?" He asked firmly, throwing his shoulder against the still-open locker. "He's cute. He's shorter than me. Just my type."

At the such thing, Robin couldn't avoid snickering like the shit friend he was. "I'm-" Billy eyed him, taking that as a mock: he was making fun of him. "I'm sorry! He's not all that pretty. I like his hair, tho." He confessed.

"Have you seen his eyes, Robin? They're gorgeous!" His smile came back again, straightening his posture as he was about to close the locker, holding the Spanish book in his hand. "The same pair of eyes landed on me when I had to answer a question. It felt like my breath was being taken away!"