Stick around (RINNEY)

13

"I bought us some nachos." Robin announces after leaving Finney alone for a good five minutes. Finn looks up at him, seeing a small trey in his hands and two large cups, pinned to the side of his body by his arms. He shuffles past Finney to sit down, just so Finn could be at the end of the bench and didn't have to sit next to some rando.

Robin had somehow convinced Finney to come along to one of the schools basketball games after school.

He didn't want to go at all, but in the end, he caved in when Robin practically begged him. He didn't even understand why Robin wanted him to go so much. It's not like Finney was any bit interested in any other sport than baseball

But here he was. Stuck in his crappy school gym. It was extremely hot and stuffy, but he still refrained from taking off his jacket. He felt cramped in with how busy it was. His ears began to feel overwhelmed with too much noise. He couldn't be any more uncomfortable.

"Oh. Thank you." He smiled weakly. Robin nodded and set it down in between the two, then handed over a drink. Finney looked around at his surroundings, the anxiety growing in his chest. He began to pick at the skin on his already sore lips and rapidly bounced his legs up and down.

"You okay?" Robin frowned. He had started to pick up and take notes on all the small things that Finney tends to do when he's overstimulated, stressed, or anxious. The most common one being him picking at his lips.

"Yeah. Fine." He lied, staring at the seats below his feet. He was, in fact, not fine.

The loud chattering in the background all blended up into one massive ball and attacked all of his senses at once, making it hard to think straight or even think at all. Why did Robin have to take him to this stupid basketball game? Why couldn't they have hung out somewhere alone? Why did it have to be so busy? And the worst thing. It hadn't even started yet.

He could feel the pressure build and bubble up from inside him, slowly filling him up with disquietude.
He felt the need to just scream all of the air that occupied his lungs as a sort of release. But he obviously couldn't. So, instead, he tries to shut himself off.

"Alright..." Robin mumbled, not believing it for even a second.

For the past few days, he's been trying to act normal, like the conversation between him and Gwenny hadn't been repeating itself like a broken record in his mind, her words acting as the small needle scratching the sides of his skull. He just couldn't comprehend that Finney felt the same way. She had to be playing some kind of sadistic joke on him. How could someone so sweet as Finn actually like some deadbeat who gets into fights, drinks, smokes, and probably has no future. Finney had his whole life planned out carefully like a map, following all the right paths to get out of this shitty town and to his dream destination, whereas Robin couldn't see himself going anywhere. He was born here and would sure die here.

"Robin Arellano?" A voice cuts in like a knife, stopping the record and pulling his attention away from his thoughts. He looks up to see who in the hell said his name. He's met with a forgotten piece of his childhood, squinting back at him. He was different from what Robin could remember. His short black hair was now grown out, reaching just above his thick eyebrows, curling in on itself in a messy bed head state. He had put some meat on his bones, but still, his figure remained slim, something that had always resulted in playground taunts. He had swapped out his quite peculiar style of ugly Christmas sweaters and baggy trousers for something more acceptable. There were so many other things that made him look like a complete stranger, but one thing remained the same. His bold emerald green eyes. Robin could recognise those eyes from anywhere. "Holy cow! It is you!" His face lights up in excitement.

"Stick?" Robin returns the same expression. He rolls his eyes at the old nickname but still sits himself down next to the other.

"I can't believe it! How have you been?"