⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⟢ now, not then
⟡ a black phone one-shot (oh! you pretty things, au)
⟡ word count: 2.6k
⟡ pairing: robin arellano/finney blake
⟡ finney blake can still hear the phones ring— what happens when robin is the only one who believes him?
⟡ notes: robin and finney are 16 years old in this one-shot! not for any significant reason, just clarification lolz :)
The Arellano’s house was completely empty except for Robin and Finney. Robin stared at the boy sitting across from him with extreme interest, inspecting the little details of his face carefully. The golden sunlight that hit him through the window captured his features perfectly, but Robin couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. Finney, who tended to keep most of his struggles to himself, looked exhausted, but Robin knew more about Finney than he thought he did. Robin picked up on the small things— how he pushed away food and how he had began taking more smoke breaks than usual. Smoking was a new thing for Finney, and Robin wished that he had never started at all. But currently, Finney was focused on the bowl of cereal in front of him. It was the only thing that Robin had (or rather, that he was allowed to make), but it worked almost perfectly because it was one of the only things that Robin could get Finney to eat. But, comme ci, comme ça; whatever works, works.
“Whatcha starin’ at?” Finney said, clinking his spoon against the bowl and breaking the silence.
His stupid fucking accent. Robin thought. Not the time, not the time. Robin had noticed how his best friend’s accent got thicker when he was tired, but like most things about Finney, Robin had pretended not to notice. Not. The time. “Mm- nothing.” He paused, setting his own spoon down in his bowl. “Actually- how much- uh.. sleep have you gotten lately?”
“Less than I’d like to admit.”
“I can tell.”
“I was-“ Finney yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “hopin’ you wouldn’t be able to notice.”
Robin sighed and pushed the now empty bowl away from where he sat. “Well- sucks to suck— I can. You should.. probably go to bed earlier tonight.”
“Thinkin’ ‘bout it, but-“ He bounced the spoon in the air between his fingers. “we haven’t hung out in a while.” Finney shrugged. It was true, but a sleeping Finney was still, well, a Finney.
“Doesn’t matter if I’m asleep too.”
“Guess so.”
Robin stood up from his chair and picked his bowl up. Gesturing to Finney’s bowl, he willingly gave it over to Robin.
“Thanks, Rob.” Finney said kindly.
Robin smiled and started to wash the two bowls in the sink. The silence was nice for once. Usually, the house was full of noise from both Ernesto and his mother. Whether it was his little shithead (and Robin meant this with the utmost love) brother getting in trouble or other people chatting, there was always something. It was good to have silence. And Finney, of course.
“Hey- Robin-“ Finney said suddenly and slightly panicked. “shh.”
Robin promptly shut the sink off.
“Do you hear that?”
When Robin turned around, Finney was staring directly at the phone hanging on the wall. He had some kind of abject horror in his eyes as he stared at it, and Robin knew exactly what this was about again.
“No, Finn, I don’t he-“
“That.” He pointed at the phone, eyes locked on it. Now, the phone seemed vaguely threatening. “It’s ringing.” He said bluntly. “How can you no-?” Finney fumbled out of the chair he sat at and rushed to the phone. “Robin- I swear to God it’s ringing.”
Robin stood back and stared at him, sponge still in hand from washing the dishes. Something about it wasn’t right, but, hell— what if Finney was telling the truth? He seemed far too panicked to be lying, but it seemed too unreal to be true.
“Hello?” Finney’s voice echoed nervously through the kitchen. For a few moments, he sat there with the phone pressed to his ear. “How did y- no- I can’t- stop!! Stop it!!” He cried. Finney held the phone with trembling hands and began to hyperventilate. Robin watched the scene with mostly confusion and a touch of worry. “I can’t help you!” He yelled, quickly slamming the phone back down on the receiver. He stared at it for a moment, then rubbed his forehead with his hands.
Robin looked at the boy with some sort of odd curiosity before he realized that Finney’s shoulders were shaking— he was crying. Robin hadn’t ever really seen Finney cry before. When he had, they were small, soft tears; maybe one or two at a time. But this time, Finney was full on sobbing. Hastily throwing the kitchen sponge back into the sink, Robin rushed over to his best friend. It was a sad attempt to comfort him in Robin’s own opinion, but to be fair, Finney hadn’t ever cried like this before. Robin grabbed his shoulder, attempting to turn Finney around to him.
Finney turned around and crumbled straight down into Robin. He held onto the back of Robin’s shirt tightly, gripping at the fabric and trying to ground himself. Robin carefully put his arms around Finney, then began to hug him tighter and tighter.
“Finn-“ Robin stammered out.
Finney gasped for air while burying himself further into Robin’s shirt. The boy’s entire body shook as he stood there. Finney Blake had finally broke, and Robin was the one that was there to comfort him.
“Finney..”
“Wh-hat’s happening to m-me?” Finney sobbed, sniffling and hyperventilating. “I feel- I feel crazy!”
Robin’s hand shifted from Finney’s back to his head, and Robin stood and held the back of his head securely. “Finn- no- you’re not-“
“Oh, God- I feel crazy.” Finney wailed. He held onto Robin desperately, and Robin held onto him tightly back. Pained, guttural sobs came from the boy that was hunched over sobbing on Robin’s shoulder. “I c-can’t do this- Robin, I feel insane.”
“Hey- hey- you’re okay. You’re okay, Finn.”
“What- what’s fuckin’- happening to me?? I feel crazy, Robin.”
“No, no-“ Robin cooed, running his hands up and down Finney’s back lazily. “you’re not- crazy, or- or insane. I promise.”
For a moment, the crying stopped. Finney had stopped shaking, and he sniffled one more time.
“Do you believe me?”
The four words hit Robin like a van barreling down the street at full speed; or maybe even an axe to the back of the head. Either way, they were jarring and unforgiving, and the question hurt Robin’s soul. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice that made Robin want to cry. Did he believe Finney? The question he had to ask himself echoed and bounced off of the walls of his head. Did he? Did he really? Did Robin really believe him, or was it out of pity? No one else believed him, so why does he? Why should he?
“Finn- I don’t-“ His voice leaked out of his mouth, seemingly against his own will. He felt Finney tense up in his arms. “I don’t know.”
It sounded so final.
“Wh-“ Finney paused, and Robin could tell he was about to cry again. “What do you mean you don’t know?” The deep-seated heartache set heavy in his voice instead of anger like Robin had thought it would be. He sounded crushed, and rightfully so.
“Well- you’ve never really- um- explained it-“ Robin sputtered out. “All I know is that- you, uh- get freaked the hell out around phones sometimes.” He sighed, glaring at the phone on the wall. “An- and that’s it.”
Finney slowly began pulling himself off of Robin’s shoulder, putting one hand on the back of his own neck and the other by his side. He looked at Robin like a kicked puppy, and the look that he gave him made him want to cry. But instead, Robin gently cupped Finney’s face with his hands and looked at him kindly.
“Here- I’ll- um..” Realizing what he was doing, Robin quickly took his hands off of Finney’s face and crossed his arms instead. “Let’s go- sit down. I want you to tell me everything so that I can.. better understand you, ‘kay?”
Finney’s face donned a slight tinge of pink from where Robin’s hands gently cupped his face, and the evening sun that shone through the windows made the streaks of tears shimmer. Instead of walking to the chairs where the two had sat only moments prior, Robin began walking to the living room couch. He looked behind him, and Finney followed shortly behind him with his arms wrapped around his own side. Every part of Robin just wanted to pick him up in a blanket and carry him somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t the shitty place of North Denver. But maybe instead, he’d light a fire in the fireplace and put Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the TV for them both to watch to give him a break for a while, but Lord knows.
Robin sat down on the small brown couch first, watched Finney walk behind him, then patted the couch signaling him to sit down too. Finney scratched at his arm and sat down reluctantly. For a while, they both watched whatever western was on TV at the time, then Robin nudged Finney with his shoulder.
“So.. ‘re you gonna-“
“Te-“
“Tell me-?”
“Tell you. Yea- yeah I will.” Finney slumped down in his seat a little and glanced over at Robin. “Sorry, I got distra-“
Robin shook his head and stretched out. “Nope. You don’t need to say sorry, y’know.”
Finney nodded and held his breath. “Yeah- yup- I gotcha’.” He exhaled sharply as he sat back up slowly, eyes still locked on the TV. “Well I- no- no, I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Robin raised an eyebrow, but kept his voice kind.
Finney shook his head aggressively. “Nope. I just- I can’t. It’s weird. I don’t know how to-“ He attempted to make some sort of gesture in the air with his hands, then set them back down in his lap. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“So? Throw words out there— I’ll help you put them together, ‘kay?”
“Mm’kay.. So- ’s like- fuck.” He stammered, putting his head in his hands.
Robin sighed and moved to be slightly closer to him. He hesitantly stretched his hand out to Finney, but before they could get closer, Robin’s hand landed on top of Finney’s, so he sat back on his side of the couch. Finney didn’t seem to notice the small brush of Robin’s hand, so Robin took to not overthinking it too much. “It’s okay, we got all the time in the world.” He said kindly.
Finney nodded and glanced at Robin again. “Can I- lay down?” He paused for a moment. “I feel like if I.. stare at the ceiling it’ll help me talk. It sounds weird but-“
“Not weird! Plus I’m staring atcha.. probably doesn’t make it much better.”
Robin’s response garnered a small giggle from Finney, so he pulled his legs up into his chest then stretched out on the couch. He rested his head back on the arm rest and took a deep breath out. Robin shrugged and put his own legs on the couch next to Finney’s.
“Better?” Robin asked.
“I think so.” Finney fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then exhaled. “So, I- I think, or at least how Iunderstand it, my mom has these like- weird… psychic-y things she does.”
Robin simply looked at him, leaving the silent space for him to keep talking. When he stopped, Robin responded with a quiet, “Like?” as a signal for him to keep talking.
“I mean- I guess I can’t call ‘em too weird because I have ‘em too, but- but she sees things. Like… deadpeople.”
“Go on…” Robin nodded, rather intrigued.
“Hears things, too. Like the phones? I got that from her. An- and she has these dreams— they predict things. Gwen got the dreams, I didn’t get those. But- but I hear the phones and see the people- and- sometimes it gets.. really stressful. Like- just now-! Actually. They ask me to like.. find them.” He paused and closed his eyes. “I know I’m not just… schizophrenic either because the phone calls line up with my mom’s dreams and Gwen’s dreams an-“ Finney sighed again. “I feel like you’re lookin’ at me like I’m crazy.”
“No I’m not!!” Robin laughed, bumping Finney’s knee with his own. Finney giggled and bumped Robin’s knee back. After messing with each other for a few seconds, they both settled to where their legs were almost intertwined with one another. “It’s just.. interesting. How you work, I mean.”
Finney popped his head up and wore a slightly shocked expression on his face. “Really?”
“I think so, yeah!”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothin’.”
Robin glared at Finney, making the other boy laugh in turn. “Whaddya mean “nothin’”?”
“Just…” Finney shrugged his shoulders. “nothin’.”
Robin kept glaring.
“You’re funny, ‘s all.”
Despite how hard he tried, Robin couldn’t hide the tinge of pink that was spread across his face. “Whatever, Finn. Whaaaaatever, Fiiinnnn….” Robin started poking his best friend’s sides, making Finney laugh and kick at Robin on the other side of the couch.
“Stooopppp!!” He giggled. Instead of the panicked, upset “stop” that Finney had yelled earlier, this one was relaxed— more like the Finney that he used to know before the phones got bad. But right now, the two boys were too focused on messing with each other and filling the previously silent house with giggles (and various swears) to focus on what was. To Robin, the now was far more important than the then, and it only mattered now that Finney was laughing.
Before he could register it, Robin watched Finney crawl over to his side of the couch and attempt to push him off.
“Heeeey- bitch?!” Robin laughed, grabbing onto the back of the couch so that he could keep his place. Finney pushed, Robin pushed back. Finney pushed harder, Robin smooshed Finney between himself and the back of the couch.
Tapping Robin’s arm as an act of surrender, Finney laughed loudly. “Okay- okay!! I give up!”
The two of them lay there laughing, not realizing that their bodies were pressed that closely against one another’s. Settling down, Finney’s head began to drift to Robin’s shoulder, and Robin set his head on Finney’s. Not realizing how they were laying until they were both too comfortable, Robin noticed that Finney was laying on his arm, meaning his arm was wrapped around Finney’s shoulders. Usually, the small gesture wouldn’t make Robin’s heart beat like the speakers in his best friend’s beat-up pickup truck, but it was. It didn’t help that Finney was curled up against him— not at all.
“So- do you believe me?” Finney muttered.
Robin let the tension go from his body, and he sighed. “I do, Finn. I believe you, I promise.”
The promise was so final. He knew he believed him, and now it was sealed with a promise. An oath of “i’ll be on your side no matter what. i put my trust in you because i love you you’re my best friend, and i wouldn’t change that for anything.” and then, that oath meant everything to Robin, even though “promise” was only one word.
Glancing back down to the boy’s head that lay on his shoulder, he noticed that he was sleeping. The glittering streaks of tears that highlighted his face were gone now, and now it was just the pink tinge of his cheeks from laughing too hard. After a few more moments, Robin slowly started to drift off as he stared at the ceiling fan. The evening sun had finally set, and the same shitty western rolled on the TV. The world will move on, and so would the two boys. But now, the two of them rested— and the now is always more important than the then.
