𝟎.𝟔

"Finney?" You screamed, jogging to catch up with him. He turned, stopping in his tracks to wait for you.

"H-hey." You pant, resting your hands on your knees. "Do you know where Robin lives?" You were planning to stop by, check on him and hopefully get some answers.

Finney furrowed his eyes brows, staring at you intently. "Why?"

"I just— he's my partner for the project in Mrs. Loftis'." You lied. You weren't entirely lying, but that wasn't the reason you wanted his address.

Finney scratched his neck, giving you his address. You thanked him, giving him a grateful smile. He started walking away, when you yelled out the words, "Oh, and which window is his?"

And so here you were, dressed in all black walking down the street close to 8. You snuck out, thankful that your parents both had a long day at work and went to sleep early.

If Robin could sneak through your window, you could sneak through his. You stopped in front of a house, looking at the written address on the back of your hand.

This was it. No turning back.

You snuck around the house, ducking when the lights turned on. You crawled over to his window, peeking through it to make sure Robin was there.

He was sitting on the floor, back against his bed frame as he watched something on the television. His bandana was on his dresser— something you hardly ever saw him without, and he was wearing gray sweatpants with a black shirt.

Should you knock? Tap? Call his name?

What if he didn't let you in? What if he called the cops? Would you get arrested?

Before you could stop yourself, you softly tapped on the window in patterns of three. His head swung towards the window in horror, his eyes squinting as he watched you wave with a lopsided grin on your face.

He hurriedly closed his bedroom door, rushing to the window to open it. "What are you doing here?" He whisper-shouted, grabbing your hands to help you in.

"You weren't at school today." You say, dusting yourself off as you wiped the imaginary dust off your shirt.

"You just couldn't get enough of me, huh?" He cockily asks, tilting his head in a teasing manner.

You rolled your eyes, playfully hitting him. "Was just worried about you, that's all."

His face brightened up at that, his eyes sparkling as he tried not to smile.

You start looking around his room, ignoring the way his face flushed in embarrassment. His room was messy. Not a disgusting messy— a comfortable messy. A few clothes were on the ground, his bed wasn't made, random dishes were around his room, few pieces of trash there and there. "So, where were you, Arellano?"

He breathed in, pulling his shirt down. "Sick."

You walk back to him, placing the back of your hand against your forehead. You wait a few seconds before removing it. "You don't feel hot."

"Allergies." He lied.

You hummed, your eyes shifting to what he was watching on the television facing his bed. "Another one strikes."

"Wha— oh."

You watched as the news reporter announced that another boy was kidnapped, pleading that anyone with any information call the number that was in bright red numbers next to her head. It was Bruce Yamada.

"Oh that's the kid who one the baseball game, right?" You ask, slowly walking towards the TV to get a better look at the picture of him.

"Yeah."

"That's sad. I hope they find him." You mumble, your eyes locked on the poster of him. Who the hell would kidnap a kid? A fucking sicko, that's who. You really hoped they found him, Bruce and his family didn't deserve this. They were a sweet family, you couldn't imagine what they were going through.

"About last night?" You say, switching the topic.

"What about last night?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" You questioned, staring at the single pillow that was on his bed. One was on the ground. How could he only sleep with two pillows?

He shrugged. "Don't know, doesn't matter anyway."

"Doesn't matter? It matters to me."

"Why should it matter? It was a mistake, and it'll never happen again."

Your heart fell. Mostly Robin's rude comments never hurt you, but this one did. Not in a angry way— a sad and disappointed way. The way your parents tell you you're going to DisneyLand, but the next day they tell you a switch of plans. That type of hurt.

"Oh." You wrapped your arms around yourself self consciously, now feeling like an intruder. You should've never came, you should've never got your hopes up. You looked at the ground, deciding on what to do next. Do you go home? Do you stay?

"Uhm, do you wanna watch a movie with me? I can get some cassettes from the living room— there's plenty of options." He offered, moving around you to pick up the pillow and blanket that was on the floor where he was once sitting.

Stay it was.

"Yeah, s-sure." You stuttered, watching ad Robin left the room quickly coming back with a box full of cassettes.

You guys decided on 'A killer in every corner', Robin grabbed a few more blankets, telling you to get comfortable. You did, taking your shoes off and sitting criss-crossed-applesauce at the edge of his bed.

He grinned at you, handing you a blanket as he got comfortable next to you, playing the movie.

You soon got more comfortable, laying on your stomach as you grimaced when a death scene popped up. Robin teased you, telling you that he had seen this movie a million times and how he's gotten used to it.

You moved, sitting close to Robin as you guys made comments about how stupid the characters were. You were oblivious to how close your hands were, Robin aching to touch it— hold it. He decided to act on it, lightly touching your pinky with his, your eyes immediately going to his in confusion. He smiled at you, intertwining your guys' hands as his eyes went back to the movie, cheeks as red as a tomato.

Maybe you didn't hate Robin Arellano.