𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𖣠 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊? [Rinney]

II : take his name out of your mouth.

After a week full of dreadful thoughts and a wretched self, Robin isn't quite sure what he's going to do as Christmas is rushing towards him. It was almost December, and he didn't have the opportunity to talk about it with relish since two years ago. Sure, he's seventeen now (and a grade below since he was twelve), and didn't really feel like foreseeing what were his hidden presents inside of the boxes.

He was never a big Christmas fanatic, but he does remember how much he unused to enjoy it back then - and saying that it was because of his age alone didn't feel right. Even as a summer lover, snow felt awesome.

Now he regarded it as irking; just some sleek that slipped inside of his Converse and left his socks soaked. Just some cold air that floated out of his frozen nose ( which was always hidden beneath his scarf ) and danced around his head.

In short,

December wasn't as thrilling as he'd thought it would be, but November wasn't good either. Hell, it just seems to be getting worse every week.

It's been a while since Robin got detention, and he really didn't get it in the best of ways. Actually, in the past few years, he had tried to avoid getting into things that Finney begged him to not do. Even if he wasn't in his life anymore, he tried to keep himself seamless to his eyes.

But he broke all the efforts he had made over the years.

He had just closed the cabin before him and turned on the faucet, water splashing on his hands. The bathroom opened, and Robin listlessly looked up before his gaze landed on Moose.

"Oh shit, Robin." He tartly exclaimed with his usual croaky tone. "It's been a while, eh?"

Moose was never considered his friend, exactly. Robin actually had a hidden but deep loathe towards the boy since the first years of middle school. Who could blame him though? They haven't fought in literal years. Robin hadn't had one with anyone, to be precise.

Robin looked at his hands, closing the faucet, nodding, and mentally rolling his eyes, wearing an obvious facade. "Yeah, it did."

"Haven't seen much of you. Shit, you used to be in every corridor I happened to be in!" Moose said, walking next to him to wash his hands. When Robin didn't answer but just nodded, Moose glanced at him for a brief moment. "We also used to be in many classes together two years ago. Remember? I tried to get away from you."

Robin chuckled, going for the paper to dry his hands. "You were scared."

"I wasn't." Moose turned his head. "You were just annoying to look at. Truly a ghastly view."

Robin snorted again. "You were fun to toy with. Short temper, small balls... the perfect target, if you asked me."

"I'll break your teeth, dude," Moose said, also drying his hands, looking down at his skinny, yet wretched fingers. Robin might've stopped fighting, but Moose sure didn't.

To be truthful, the thought (and the view) of it left him staggered. He used to be known as the second-strongest in the school. Nothing to be proud of, really, since the title belonged behind Denver's middle school's doors. But he used to brag about it and wear it like a medal.

But it still mattered to Moose. And he wondered why, and how he was a pleasant companion to talk to.

"All just for some... friend. A geek, really. A scrawny piece of meat. You were so worked up over him.

Robin furrowed his brows, ready to crumple up the paper and toss it into the trash. However, his hand froze midway, and his stagger deepened with each passing second.