Dec 17, 2021
These spot the difference games are getting harder and harder
seen from Israel
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seen from Iraq
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seen from United States
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seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Australia
seen from Israel
seen from Australia
seen from Tunisia
These spot the difference games are getting harder and harder
goodnam+I want to put the star on the tree but I’m too short and oh you’re lifting me up (ao3)
Christmas at the Putnam house has always felt like something from a Hallmark movie. Theo puts it down mostly to the setting; for all his complaints about being raised on a farm (and he has many), he can’t deny that there’s a kind of magic to his family home that’s hard to find anywhere else. It begins almost as soon as December starts, his dad being the sentimental bastard that he is. The air turns cold, and the lights go up. His dad breaks out the old cassette tape that Theo rolls his eyes at and pretends he hates; they both pull on their Christmas jumpers and break out the Christmas cookies (store-bought, because his dad burned the one batch he tried) and gingerbread lattes, and you have something that wouldn’t be out of place on a Christmas card.
And it’s pretty awesome; even Theo can admit that.
And it’s even better this year now that he has a hobgoblin boyfriend to share it with. Right now, he’s wearing one of his dad’s old sweaters and desperately attempting to detangle the lights after they spent 326 days chilling in the attic. He frowns slightly, pulling again and again at the wire, and Theo hides his smile behind his coffee cup.
“Here,” he sighs eventually, holding his hands out. “Let me try, goblin boy.”
“You know, one of these days, your dad is going to hear you call me that,” he remarks. “You got a plan for that?”
“Oh please, my dad just puts everything he doesn’t get about my life down to ‘youths these days’ or a trans thing he doesn’t get but tries to support,” Theo explains. He tugs at the lights and maneuvers the small bulbs slightly, a little extra twist and… “Voila, bitch.” He holds up the completely tangle-free set of lights in front of Robin’s eyes and laughs as his boyfriend’s eyes widen, his mouth falling into a perfect ‘o’.
“You sure you don’t have any magic?” he asks.
“No magic. Just skills.” He hands the other end of the lights to Robin and runs over to the tree, climbing up on top of the chair to get a better vantage point, and starts wrapping the lights around them. He’s got a specific way of doing it, perfected over so many years, that means they get maximum twinkle and a perfect light-to-tinsel ratio.
Maybe he should’ve realised he wasn’t straight and cis sooner than he did.
“Okay, I think that’s the last of it,” his dad announces, stepping into the living room with two boxes in his hands. Theo recognises the handwriting. The oversized T and backwards D can only be his, from when he was about five or six and his dad let him label all the boxes with Sharpie. It might be faded now, but it still being there is a testament to how well his dad looks after everything. “Theo, are you sure you should be on the chair like that?”
“I do this every year,” Theo reminds him, pushing himself up on his toes. He props his elbow against the window for safety, and his dad and Robin share a look.
“And every year, I’m in danger of a heart attack,” he remarks. “Especially now that we’ve got someone taller, who can actually reach up there.”
“I’m offended, father,” Theo gasps. “Besides, Robin is busy holding the lights and looking good doing it.”
“It’s true, I am holding the lights,” Robin adds. His dad rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the fond smile on his face. Something tugs in Theo’s chest, something warm and almost glowing, like the small flames his dad’s got going in their fireplace. “Okay, babe, now plug them in and… Here we go.”
Robin ducks below the tree and puts the plug in the socket, and almost immediately, the tree is lit up in a rainbow of colours, tiny dots of light dancing on the walls and ceiling. The light reflects off the tinsel on the tree, sparkling like miniature starlight. The feeling in his chest grows stronger, and he lets his family’s sentimentality take over for a second.
Especially when he crosses over to Robin’s side, and he wraps his arm around him, his cheek pressed to the top of his head.
“Not bad,” he murmurs in his ear. He smiles and presses his face into Robin’s chest, the fluff from his sweater tickling against his cheeks.
“Okay, what else have we got?” he asks, turning to his dad. His dad coughs, chasing away the soft proudness on his face, and turns to the boxes. Theo doesn’t say anything, but he gets it.
“Okay, we have this entire box of family ornaments,” he begins. “And then there’s the Nativity for the front hall… oh, and this box of stuff Theo made in elementary school.”
“Yeah, we don’t need to use any of that,” he says quickly, but Robin is quicker, and his dad is already handing the box to him. It’s not fair since he almost definitely used some of that hobgoblin speed to grab it, and so Theo sticks his tongue out when his dad’s back is turned. Robin just does it right back, already looking through the ghosts of Christmas art past.
“Aw babe,” he says. He lifts out a small clay Santa, or it was meant to be Santa anyway. All that gives it away is the red hat. It’s an abomination, and yet Robin looks at it like it’s hanging in the Lourve. “You made this?”
“I believe that was first grade,” he says dryly. “I think I spent most of that class throwing clay at Billy and Carl.”
“Theo Jesse Putnam,” his dad says. “Don’t make me ground you for something that happened a decade ago.
“They threw it at me first,” he says, both hands up in defense.
“Well, I, for one, think it’s adorable,” Robin says. Theo sighs and pretends the blush creeping up his cheeks is him being too warm in his stupid sweater. He also acts like his eyes don’t linger on Robin as he goes to hang it on the tree and that the sight of Robin bathed in multi-coloured lights isn’t the cause of the smile spreading across his face.
He fails at all of those. Especially when his heart flutters slightly and his breath hitches in his throat. So this is what being in love is like, huh?
“I’m going to go set this up in the hallway,” his dad says softly. He gently nudges Theo’s shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. “You two call if you need anything, okay?”
“Yeah.” His dad leaves then, just as Robin finishes hanging Theo’s little monstrosity. There’s a brightness in his eyes, a sparkle Theo doesn’t think he’s seen before. They’ve talked about this before, Robin’s family life with the Pagans, even before Theo knew what he really was. They’ve talked about the whole Christmas thing too, about bringing Robin into their traditions even if he doesn’t celebrate it. He doesn’t need to ask what this means to him. He knows.
“Here.” He grabs the box of Putnam family ornaments and carries it over too. It’s mostly all keepsakes that his family never wanted to get rid of. The music changes as they start decorating, Shakin’ Steven’s ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ bouncing from the cassette player. Robin bobs along as he works, his shoulders shaking almost in time with the beat, and it’s one of the cutest things Theo has ever seen. Aside from well, most things Robin does.
Holy shit, he’s in deep.
As he hangs another one of the ornaments-one that he thinks was his grandma’s back in the day-the finds a stray piece of red tinsel nestled among the branches. He swiftly picks it out with a grin and tucks it behind Robin’s ear. It looks oddly charming against his green hair, even with his confused expression.
“Just giving you some extra sparkle,” he says. Robin chuckles and briefly checks himself in the mirror, his grin widening as he does.
“I think it works,” he says.
“It most definitely does.” They go on hanging ornaments, briefly taking a cookie break, and then taking a slightly-less-brief dancing break at one point. His dad walks in just as Robin is twirling him under his arm and tries to slip out as quietly as possible with the box of kitchen decorations in hand. Almost as if he was worried about interrupting something.
They break apart, and Theo stumbles over to the box, running his hand through his hair as his heart slows back down. The tree is almost fully done, her branches weighed down by the old and new ornaments. The box is nearly empty now, and what remains in it is either broken or torn, or the paint has all faded off. So there’s only one thing left to put on, and a small, childish thrill of excitement runs through him when he pulls it out.
It’s his thing, putting the star on the tree. It always has been since he was in footie pyjamas and had jam in his hair. There’s proof of it too; a photo of him aged one, his dad standing on a chair on holding him up as he places it haphazardly on top. Despite him cutting off the caption at the bottom, he loves that photo. It still sits stuck to his pinboard, right next to old concert tickets and his first day of high school photo.
“You sure that’s safe enough?” Robin asks. He stands just a little bit behind him as he climbs up on the chair. His arms are folded across his chest, and he wears an expression that’s equal parts worried and bemused.
“I’ll be fine,” he sighs. “I’ve done this like a hundred times.”
“And yet you wonder why we worry about you so much,” Robin replies. Theo ignores him and instead tries to reach over to the top of the tree. Pine needles scratch his arms as he goes, his legs stretching as far as he can, but the top remains just out of reach. He hops down from the chair, not hiding the disappointed pout on his face, and shakes out his sore limbs.
He’s not giving up. He never would.
“Okay, maybe if I move the chair around,” he thinks aloud. “I’d have an easier time climbing up. Maybe in front…”
“Maybe,” Robin agrees. “Although… I do have better, and possibly safer, idea.”
“You do?” Theo turns to him. “What is it?”
There’s a moment of silence and a grin that links Robin to his literary counterpart. And then Robin’s arms are around his waist, and Theo lets out a gasp of surprise. In what must be less than a second, he’s perched carefully on Robin’s shoulders, his clutching his boyfriend’s shirt and his heart about to burst out of his chest.
“You couldn’t have warned me you were going to do that?” he asks breathlessly.
“It was more fun this way,” he reasons. “And can you reach now?”
“Well…” He sighs, but when he looks up and stretches out his hand, he gets his answer. “Yeah. I can.”
He doesn’t need to look down to see Robin’s smile as he places the star on top. Knowing now that he’s safe with Robin, he lets go of his shirt and instead runs his hand through Robin’s hair, absent-mindedly toying with his bangs. It’s the same decorations, more or less the same size tree (though maybe slightly bigger) that they have every year. The same background music, the same cookies, even the same damn sweater. But it feels different this time. More magical. And that, Theo decides, he’ll put to the boy whose shoulders he’s sitting on, whose thumbs trace tiny circles on his jeans.
“Happy Solstice, Robin,” he says quietly. Robin hums, dimples forming in his cheeks as he smiles.
“Merry Christmas, Theo.”
I have all the thoughts in the world about throbin content and no energy to actually write or post about it. My job is very emotionally and physically draining I only want to sleep all day and even when I wake up to go to work after my sleep I’m exhausted. I’m told exhaustion is only a side effect that lasts a few weeks when it starts, on t but it’s the worst effect for sure
I was having a snowball fight outside and you were casually walking by and oh my god I’m so sorry i accidentally nailed you in the face (ao3)
Theo Putnam is proud of the fact that he’s never run away from a fight. Now, he’s not really won that many fights either, but he doesn’t like to split hairs here. The point is, he’s never backed down in his life, and he’s proud of that.
So when they’re on their way into town, and he feels a snowball hit his back, followed by Harvey’s innocent whistling, he just has to accept the challenge. He can’t let an insult to his family name go unanswered like that.
Which is how he got here, half-hiding behind a snow-covered shrub, his heart pounding wildly against his chest. Roz is beside him, crouched even lower and frantically tucking her hair beneath her hat. They never officially split into teams, but Harvey and Sabrina are too much in love to fight against each other, even now, two years into their relationship. And since two on one is hardly fair, and since their squishy faced romance shit can get too much even for them, Theo and Roz decided to team up too.
They’re all well aware that they’re missing their movie, but this is way more fun.
“Okay, here’s what we do,” Theo says breathlessly, whisps of smoke escaping his mouth. “Load up as much as we can, and then split. I go left, you go right. Wait until we’re in a prime position before attacking.”
“Do you guys surrender?” Harvey calls from behind them. His voice is strained slightly, breathless, and Theo shakes his head.
“Over your dead body,” he calls back. Small puffs of smoke dance in front of his lips and he pulls his jacket tighter around him. This is make-or-break time, he can’t be caught shivering. He looks over at Roz, her dark eyes sparkling, and the resolute nod shows that they’re on the same page. Well, why wouldn’t they be; combine one scrappy asshole who will always throw hands and one overachiever with a lot to prove and you get one hell of a duo. It’s either a match made in Heaven or one made in Hell.
“Hey guys!” Sabrina calls. Laughter shakes the edge of her voice, and Theo frowns. He’d like to think he knows a trick when he hears one. “Truce for just one second.” He’s about to fire back something about how he’s not that dumb, but her next words stop him in his tracks. “Let’s make this interesting; losers buy the winners coffee and donuts at Cerberus’.”
And that grabs Theo’s attention. Because if there’s one thing he likes more than winning, it’s someone else buying him food.
He goes to look at Roz, to ask her, but she’s already yelling “Deal!” across the field. Followed by a wink and “Hope you brought your wallet, Spellman!”. They share one last look before slowly rising to their feet, shaking both with cold and anticipation. If all goes to plan-and they’re more than a little lucky-they’ll have be warm and fed in no time at all.
“Go go go!” Theo screams and then he’s off, hunched down as close to the ground as possible and diving behind the nearby shrub. Sabrina’s snowballs fly past his ears and land pitifully just behind him, melting into the fallen snow. His knees hit the ground, one arm clutching the ammo he’d built up and his free hand digging into the ground. Cold air stings his cheeks and slides down his throat, his heart is erratic in his chest. When he lifts his head, he sees Harvey wide open, his back to him, and Sabrina preoccupied with picking up more snowballs.
A grin spreads across Theo’s face. Slowly, he moves into position, his arm drawing backward. One hit to get his attention, then another to catch him in the chest. He crosses the fingers on his free hand for luck, takes in a sharp breath, and watches as the snowball leaves his hand. Victory is so close he can taste it.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment some new kid walks directly into his trajectory, and the snowball meant for Harvey smacks him right in the face instead.
Theo’s hand flies to his mouth, pushing back the yelp he almost gives out. For a second, he considers hiding and letting Harvey take the blame, but then he remembers his father raised him better than that. Besides, he feels bad. Who wouldn’t.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Theo jumps from his hiding place, the snowball war almost forgotten, and rushes over to the new kid. New kid shakes his head, snow falling off his face and out of his bangs. Up close, Theo can see the red tinge on his cheeks he bets wasn’t there a few seconds ago, and his heart sinks even more. “I am so sorry.”
“What?” New kid looks at him then, one hand pushing his now-damp hair away from his face. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
He gives Theo a smile then, one with dimples and laugh lines and a gap in his teeth, and he almost forgets to be embarrassed. Almost.
“Although you did get me pretty good,” he says. “Like, really good. You’ve got a strong arm.”
“Well, I play basketball at my school,” Theo explains. He pretends he doesn’t know why he’s telling the cute boy this, but then he realises he knows. Oh, he knows. “And I was aiming for my friend there.”
“Huh-oh.” New kid turns just in time to see Harvey awkwardly standing there, tossing a snowball between his hands. Sweet summer child that he is, Harvey raises a hand in an awkward wave, and the new kid waves back. They all fall silent, worry creasing the new kid’s face. Theo can almost predict what he’ll say next, and tries to resign himself to the fact that he might just miss his chance with him.
Fortunately, Roz comes to his rescue and nails Harvey in the back. Whether he gets the hint or is just mad, Harvey spins round and chases after her, Sabrina chasing the two of them.
“So I take it I just interrupted something?” new kid asks.
“No, no, not at all,” Theo says. “I mean, you did walk into the path of a rather deadly and intense snowball war, but we should’ve put up signs.”
“Or a fence.”
“Fence works,” he chuckles. New Kid smiles at that, and Theo notices the green streaks in the hair poking out from his beanie. He shoves his hands into his back pockets, willing himself to be still. “Are… are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just moved here. I’m Robin.”
Well, it’s nice not to have to call him ‘new kid’.
“Theo,” he says, and he takes Robin’s outstretched hand. He tries and fails to ignore the prickle of warmth he feels at his touch, or the way his stomach does a mini-backflip.
Behind him, he sees his friends beginning to tire out, and Roz catches his eye and gives him a little thumbs-up, followed by her spinning her finger. Ah, the Roz code. This one is ‘you’re doing great but hurry it up here’.
“So, we were about to go down to Doctor C’s diner,” he says. “Ever been?”
“Not yet,” Robin says. “Though I have gotten flyers for it. I’ve been meaning to try it out.”
“Well,” Theo begins. “If you want, those booths fit five people pretty comfortably. And the coffee there is amazing.”
He bites his tongue for a second and reminds himself that it’s not the end of the world if Robin says no. But by some miracle, he smiles, and that smile is more than enough to chase away the cold.
“That sounds great,” he says. “Uh… should we wait for your friends to finish up here or…”
“Give me one second,” he says, and he scoops up two large snowballs. He goes to get a third, but then Robin picks one up, winks, and Theo somehow falls even harder.
He meant what he said, by the way, about the booths being able to fit five comfortably. And they start with a decent amount of room between them. But somehow, Theo ends up right next to Robin, his hand grazing his leg. Robin doesn’t complain, and neither does Theo when Robin slides his fingers between his.
I may be a lil tipsy rn but I would KILL to see future throbin that’s literally all I want from caos is to see my boys happy so If anyone wants to write that pls do
Also I’m just saying throbin child
based on champagne from in the heights (ao3)
Somehow, Robin’s street doesn’t look right. It’s the same as it’s always been, stray trash blowing in the night wind, the soft club music from the next block vibrating through the air. Even his apartment block looks the same outside. Nothing has changed, at least on the outside, yet Theo doesn’t feel nearly as calm as he usually does.
Because it is changing, even if almost no one on this street knows it.
He finds Moth as he approaches the door, leaning up against the back wall, half bathed in the streetlight’s glow, a lit cigarette between her fingers. Her eyes are tinged with red, mascara trailing down her cheeks, and it’s one of those incredibly rare moments where Theo actually sympathises with her. Because for once, they’re on the same page. Both are devastated, both feel bad for being devastated.
“Thought he got you to quit,” he says. Moth jumps out of her skin, a small curse escaping her mouth, and she casts him a weak glare. Theo simply shrugs because he’s not sure what else he can say. She takes another drag and blows out smoke rings as if to make a point.
“What Robin doesn’t know won’t kill him,” she says. She nods up in the direction of their apartment. “He’s upstairs. He’s still got some stuff to pack.” She bends her head, and Theo pretends he doesn’t heat her sniffling. “I told him I was taking the trash out.”
“Thanks,” he says. He doesn’t need to buzz, not since Robin gave him his own set of keys a few months ago. It was no big deal, or so Robin says. They’ve known each other for six years, been best friends for almost all that time. It saves Robin from having to run downstairs to open the door. That’s all it means.
Theo realises he doesn’t know what he’ll do with these after Robin leaves. Maybe give them back to him, or maybe Moth can give them to someone else. After all, it’s likely he won’t be coming round here for a while after tonight.
“Am I an asshole for not talking him out of it?” Moth asks. Now it’s Theo’s turn to jump; he’d almost forgotten she was there entirely. She takes another puff of her cigarette and shakes her head. “Or would I be the asshole if I did talk him out of it?”
“Definitely the latter,” he mumbles. “Because we’re happy for him, right?”
It sounds more like a question, it is more like a question, and he winces at it. Moth smiles, or it would be more accurate to say that her mouth moves vague upwards.
“We’re absolutely ecstatic,” she says, in a voice that implies anything but. Closing his eyes, Theo lets out a long exhale and rests his forehead against the wall. When he opens them, Moth is holding her pack out to him, a lighter balanced expertly between her fingers. He’s only smoked twice and hated it both times, but he can’t deny the temptation. It seems to work for her.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Glad we’ve cleared that up,” and heads inside.
The apartment is almost completely dark when Theo walks in. The curtains aren’t drawn, but it’s pitch black outside and all lights bar one switched off. He follows it and the sound of Robin’s playlist into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the cardboard boxes that block his path. Robin stands at the counter, wrapping plates in bubble wrap, a box marked “kitchen” sitting beside him. For a second, all Theo can do is stand and watch him and will himself not to freak out. This is the last night they’ll be together for god knows how long. He says he’s coming back at Christmas, but that’s months away, and then who knows what’ll happen after that. The one certain part of his life is now falling apart before his eyes, and the worst part is he didn’t realise it until it was too late.
He swallows past the lump in his throat and wills his heart to slow down.
“You’re taking the robin mug I got you, right?” he asks by way of greeting. He sees the small, quick jump, the way Robin’s body jerks at his voice, and for once, the smile is real. “Because I’ll be offended if you don’t.”
“It was one of the first things I packed,” he tells him by way of greeting. Theo chuckles and heads over to meet him. He places the plastic bag awkwardly behind his back, but Robin already caught it when he came in, his eyebrow raised. Theo stops just in front of him and bounces on the balls of his feet, hoping it’ll do something to loosen the knot in his stomach.
“So… I got you a present. Went over to Riverdale to get it.”
“No,” Robin sighs. “Theo, you didn’t need to get me anything.”
“I’d be a sorry excuse for a friend if I didn’t,” he replies.
“You already threw me that party in your dad’s barn,” he reminds him. Theo chuckles. He’s right, but that wasn’t just him. Roz, Harvey, Sabrina, hell, even Nick pitched into it. It was one hell of a night, booze and music and cake and hugging. And a little bit of crying from all involved. And Theo sitting pressed against Robin’s side at the end of the night, half-asleep, too much alcohol in his veins. Too drunk to even realise he should have savoured it, should have said something. Maybe that was his one chance, and of course, he blew it.
“I know,” he says, a little too quickly. If Robin notices, he doesn’t say anything. “But…” He places the bottle on the counter and peels away the plastic bag. “I owe you a bottle of champagne.”
“No!” Robin laughs, his eyes doubling in size. The smile that spreads across his face, so warm, so wide, so Robin, makes Theo’s heart do backflips. His eyes meet Theo’s, stars dancing in them. “I was kidding when I said that.”
“Well, I’m not,” he tells him. “You deserve it, after all. Getting into UCL like that.” There’s a bitter sting on his tongue as he says it. London. Of all the colleges Robin could’ve gotten accepted to, of course it was the one in another freaking country. It’s one of the best colleges for art out there, they say. “Pop the champagne, boy.”
“I don’t know where the cups are,” he says. He checks the cupboards, half-empty now. “I’m pretty sure I packed mine already. I don’t know how Moth will feel about us using hers.”
“Tonight, we’re drinking straight from the bottle.” He meant it as a joke, a quip, but the softness in his voice scares him. Robin turns around, and for a moment, Theo freezes, wonders if Robin felt it too.
If he does, he doesn’t let him see. Instead, he just looks up and smiles like it’s any other day, and it’s that smile that makes Theo have to turn around. He leans on the counter and looks out the window. These are his streets, in a way. His family’s been in Greenedale longer than almost anyone else’s. Longer than Harvey’s, even longer than Roz’s. He and Sabrina once tried to work out who came here first. But his family’s roots here run deep, and often this town’s borders suffocate him. But his childhood, his life, is mapped out on these roads.
Robin’s different, in a way. He came here six years ago; Theo first ran into him (literally) wandering the halls in late February with a locker combination and class schedule in his hand. He’d lived all over, so he said. He and Moth bounced around foster homes for years before ending up in Greendale. He’d lived all over, saying he never had roots in one place until here. He might not have been here as long as they have, but he’s here long enough. He’s one of them. Theo can see ghost versions of Robin aged twelve, thirteen, fourteen, running through the streets, leaving marks only he can see. It’s his town too.
“So I was thinking,” he begins. “Before you leave… and everything changes… I thought maybe we could take a walk around town and… say goodbye.” He chuckles, though he doesn’t see why. “We could even pop by Doctor Cee’s one last time…” After school, they’d always hang out there, the four (sometimes five if he could drag Moth down) of them squashed into one booth. More often than not, the two of them shared a milkshake between them. It was their place, everyone’s place.
He realises slowly that Robin’s not said anything at all.
“Robin, are you okay?” he asks as he turns around. He finds Robin struggling with the bottle, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed like he always does when he’s focussing.
“How the hell do you open this thing?”
Theo rolls his eyes as he pushes himself away from the window.
“Here, let me try it.”
“No, I’ve got it. Here, I think this little twisty thing is broken.” Something runs through Theo then, a flash of indignance, like a tiny lightning bolt.
“Robin, drop the champagne!”
“I mean, you went through all this trouble to get us something nice,” he says.
“And it’s okay.”
“You went all the way over to Riverdale, and I don’t want to waste-”
Theo places his hand over Robin’s, his fingers curling into his palm, and Robin’s eyes meet his.
“It’s okay,” he says again, equal parts firm and gentle. Robin nods, and his hands slowly slip from the bottle. He turns his body more towards Theo, and their hands sit loosely held between them.
“Sorry,” he says, almost whispers. He pushes his hair away from his face, and Theo wonders if he’s imagining him shaking. “It’s been a bit of an emotional day.”
“I know.”
Not just for him. It’s his last night here. Everything is changing too quickly for Theo’s liking, and it starts the moment Robin gets on that plane tomorrow morning. He knows he’s spent months counting down the days from the day he got that acceptance letter. He still remembers it, picking up the phone at 7 in the freaking morning. How the two of them ran around department stores and clothing stores, making sure he had everything. How they poured over articles of ‘best things to do in London’ and made outrageous plans for Robin's new life. How every time, Theo found it just that much harder to smile. How it was only in the past few days it sank in; Robin’s leaving. And for every time he said he was happy for him, his heart hurt just that little bit more.
And now they’re here, standing just a breath apart, almost holding hands, and Theo's heart beats so loudly he can barely hear anything else.
“You should stay.”
“What?”
“You could stay in Greendale. Maybe save the tattoo place from going to shit,” he says. “They need you; you’re the best one there.”
“Okay, sure.” He eyes him warily like he’s not sure if he’s joking or not. Theo’s not sure of that himself. He hears himself talk, but he doesn’t know where the hell it’s coming from.
(Yes, he does)
“And you can’t leave Moth on her own like this. She won’t survive a week without you.”
“Moth can take care of herself,” he says. The little humour in his face drops. “Theo, what are you even doing-”
“I’m just saying… I think your little getaway can wait.”
“Little getaway, what the hell?” he asks. “Theo, you’re going to college too.”
“And I’m moving six hours away, Robin,” he reminds him. “At least I’m staying in the same timezone. You.. you’re leaving the country, and I’m never going to see you again!”
“Oh, you’ll see me again,” he sighs. He sounds so flippant, so dismissive, that for a second, Theo forgets about his grieving and plunges into anger. “You’re the one who told me that I should apply, remember?”
“Yeah. But I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known that-”
If I’d known you were leaving me behind.
He stops himself just in time. He presses his mouth shut, grinds his teeth until it hurts just to stop him from saying it. Robin stumbles backwards, a soft, empty gasp escaping him. He looks crushed, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and it’s Theo’s fault.
“Theo… I don’t get why you’re mad at me,” he says in a small voice.
“I’m not mad!”
All at once, the apartment shrinks in size, the roof pressing down on Theo’s head and the walls squeezing his chest. His little alarm starts blaring, the warning ‘run! run! run!’ screaming in his ears.
So that’s what he does.
Trouble is, Robin follows, and Robin’s faster than him.
He appears in front of him just as his hand hits the door, and by then, it’s too late to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. He pants heavily, his whole body heaving like he ran ten miles rather than from one room to the next. He lets out a sob, his last defences gone, and Robin’s hand is on his back, pulling him dangerously close.
“Theo, talk to me,” he begs. “Just tell me what’s going on.” How many times have they asked that of each other? And how easy it all was because they’re so comfortable with each other. Secrets, worries, problems, they passed them from one to the other, gaining solutions or help or just companionship in return. Because that’s who they are.
“Talk to me.”
Not this time.
“I’m not mad,” he says again. “I just-”
I just love you. And I’ve only now realised I love you.
He doesn’t say it. Instead, he does something worse. Something driven by adrenaline and the years of pent-up feelings running through his body.
It barely counts as a kiss. His lips just ghost against Robin’s, his hand barely caressing his cheek. Robin might kiss back, his lips soft and pliant against his, but it’s more than likely just instinct. It’s the whisper, a second-long glimpse into what would have happened if he’d worked it out before. If he’d been brave enough.
“I’m just too late,” he says, his voice impossibly quiet, and then he runs.
Robin lets him go this time.
His dad knows something’s wrong with him. Theo doesn’t say anything, but he knows.
He doesn’t press either. Just asks him if anything’s on his mind, then reminds him that he can always talk to him if he needs to.
“You saw Robin last night?” he asks. Theo nods and pretends his chest doesn’t feel like it’s collapsing. Pretends he wasn’t sitting awake for hours last night with his phone in front of him, wondering if he should call him.
He sent a simple ‘good luck’ text an hour ago. He hasn’t checked to see if he saw it.
He looks up at the clock slowly. His plane leaves at 9:30. It’s now 9:17 exactly. He’s good as gone. Theo had the chance for one last good night with him, and he messed it up.
He hates himself for this.
“Want to go see a movie tonight?” he asks. “Just the two of us. We can grab dinner before. Make a night out of it.”
Theo smiles sadly into his cereal. He knows a distraction when he sees one, and besides, his dad isn’t exactly subtle. Part of him wants to resay no, to hide under his covers and lay in his heartbreak until he eventually becomes numb to everything. But he has enough sense in him to know that that’s the worst thing he can do and the hopeful look on his dad’s face warms his heart too much to turn it down.
Besides, it’s been forever since they did something like that.
“Sounds fun,” he says.
His dad has to go out then, and Theo alternates between staring at the still-unanswered text and burying himself in a task until he can’t think anymore. He rearranges his entire bookshelf by colour, then alphabetical by author, then by alphabetical by title, then back to author again. He reorganises his closet, too; it needed a clear-out anyway. And he finally sorts through the pile of papers and notes sitting on his desk.
That takes him up to 10:27.
He doesn’t know how he’ll survive the entire day.
He jumps off the bottom stair, intent on seeing if there’s anything outside he can do when there’s a knock at the door. He jumps a little and then frowns, unsure who would be calling round at this time. His friends usually text first. His dad’s friends don’t normally come round before noon, knowing his dad is either working or running errands at this point. He sighs when he realises it could likely be another god damn Mormon, or another religious fanatic telling him that Jesus loves him, and he’s really not in the mood for that today.
He opens the door, the fuck off ready on his tongue. And then it dies.
Because Robin is standing in the doorway, his bag discarded on Theo’s front porch. His hair sticks to his forehead, his sneakers and the bottom of his jeans are caked in mud, and he holds the doorframe so tightly like he’ll collapse if he lets go.
Seconds tick by, then minutes, and all they can do is look at each other. Theo in shocked silence, Robin, trying to catch his breath. He looks at him, pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming that Robin’s really here, and then finally finds his words.
“You’re meant to be on a plane right now!”
“Screw it,” Robin says weakly, then louder “, Screw it. Screw all of it. I’m staying with you.”
“What?”
He pinches himself again, harder than before, then gets braver and pokes Robin’s cheek. Warmer than usual, from the run presumably, but it’s there. It’s real. He’s real, standing there, laughing a little.
He’s not sure how to describe what he’s feeling, other than holy shit.
He goes to ask, “you’re staying?” but the words are barely out of his mouth before he kisses him. His lips taste like sweat and coffee, and this time he kisses with a feverish desperation that leaves Theo breathless. He wraps his arms around Theo’s waist, and next thing he knows, his feet aren’t touching the floor, and his hands are in Robin’s hair, and his tongue is against his. Next thing he knows, he’s crying, tears wetting Robin’s cheeks, and his head is spinning, and he can breathe for the first time since last night.
“You’re staying,” he whispers breathlessly against his lips. “You’re staying.”
“Yeah,” comes Robin’s reply. “Yeah. I love you. Yeah.” Theo half-laughs, half-sobs, and traces Robin’s cheekbone.
“I love you too,” he says. But Robin knew that, and so he just kisses him again.
Tell me this isn’t Theo and Robin:
Like Robin goes to one of Theo’s basketball games and Theo has the ball, points at Robin and shouts “this is for you baby!” and then the ball hits the rim of the basket and just bounces awkwardly on the floor.
Robin cheers anyway.
i am once again asking for a sickfic with theo taking care of robin from CAOS!!!
imagine him possibly having to go to the fae realm ALONE(!!!) or drag a sick grumbly hobgoblin to the fae realm to get him the proper care.
imagine if the journey to the fae realm is a mythical train or something (hp vibes but no transphobia in this house!) and just robin leaning his head on theo’s shoulder and whimpering in misery, probably with a fever, the whole time there and theo just petting his head and letting his shivering boyfriend use him as a heatsource <3 <3 <3