Will the Wise

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The thing about Robin is, she's the most patient person in the whole wide world. That means when she's mad, she's really fucking mad.

She never shouts, she never insults anybody, she never makes her temper obvious. Instead, she talks real low, barely above a whisper, as if she's trying with all her might to physically hold back the fury.

"So come on," She quips, blinking back the glassiness in her eyes. "Spill."

Your breath has grown unstable in a desperate attempt to remain calm. Lips parted, chest heaving, a bead of sweat glistening down the side of your neck.

"Rob, please."

She laughs. You can't believe it, she actually laughs. That's how you know she's livid. Her scoff is the clear indication that she's got your number.

Robin shakes her head violently. "No, no. I need you to tell me what Nancy meant the other night," She bears into your very soul deeply, accusingly, seeking out your truth in a blazing glare. "I'm not an idiot, I know you're hiding something."

Stepping hesitantly towards your best friend, you reach out for her sensitivity, for her compassion and understanding that you've been blurring the truth for her.

"You've been hiding something for a long time," This. This makes your stomach churn. She really isn't stupid, she's always been aware. "We're best friends, Y/N; we tell each other everything."

Which is true, Robin knows every ugly detail about you and deems it beautiful. You cherish your friendship with one another, warts and all. Every secret. Every. Single. One. Your past, her sexuality, both your hopes and dreams and desires. Everything.

Until Barb.

Until you discovered monsters lurked beneath you.

Until you met a strange girl with superpowers.

Until you faced death and the boy you claimed to despise saved your life.

"I can't tell you." You utter, defeated.

Meanwhile, she's hurt.

"And it's not just what Nancy said; it's other stuff too," She says, her eyes softening a little at the sight of you welling up. "Like the time you showed up at my house looking like you'd been attacked. Like the scar that miraculously appeared across your arm. Like the fact that you're spending so much time with Steve. Discussing things in secret. Sleeping at his house. Wearing his clothes."

A tear escapes down your cheek, and Robin has to steel her nerves to ignore it.

You beg, "Robin, you have no idea what you're asking me to explain," You sniff back the thickness in your throat. "Please, if I could tell you I would. But I can't."

"No matter what it is, I would never judge you. Hell, I wouldn't care if you were screwing Harrington."

"I'm not-"

"-Whatever! Just don't lie to me is all I'm asking of you."

You take another step and a hint of sympathy washes over her features. Only very briefly though.

So you continue, "Please, I'm not lying when I say this: I literally cannot tell you what you want to know. I'm so sorry."

Robin pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers and scrunches her face.

"God, just tell me what happened to Barb-"

"-She didn't run away," You blurt and you notice her face fall. You don't mean for it to come out, it just slips. And before you know it, it's too late; it's out. Like when you squeeze all the toothpaste out the tube, but cannot for the life of you stuff it back in and pretend like it didn't just come sputtering out, making a mess. "She's not missing."

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