Like You Mean It - Rabbot x Reader
Michael Robinavitch x Reader x Jack Abbot
synopsis: Robby gets it right. Finally.
notes/warnings: Made myself cry. that's all.
wc: 3k
Series Masterlist
Chapter Nineteen - Touch
but why do I always have to tell you how I feel? can't you see that you're the one the only thing that ever meant something to me? and I need your touch to come alive
The next morning arrived along with a throbbing headache. The stitches itched. Your eyes were raw and sore from crying. And you were so, so tired. You’d slept fitfully, images of Robby running through your brain. You’d fully intended to talk to him yesterday, to discuss what you needed from him to go back to what you were. And then he acted like everything was magically fixed. He had a bad habit of thinking if he pretended it was all okay, it would be. That wouldn’t work this time. Not with this. You couldn’t let him back in only to have him destroy you again. God, why did love have to hurt so much?
You dragged yourself from the bed and into the shower. Once you’d managed to put yourself at least semi together, you beelined to the kitchen to make coffee. Caffeine was a necessity if you planned to accomplish anything. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. The absence of both of the men you loved was a weight that seemed to settle on your shoulders and never leave. You ran a hand over your face, wincing when your fingers brushed the edges of your wound.
The knock came just after noon. You froze, your third cup of coffee halfway to your lips and waited. Another knock. You sucked in a breath and headed to the door. A glance through the peephole showed a person holding a box and you opened the door.
“Delivery for you,” they said shoving the box in your direction.
“From who?” you couldn’t stop from asking.
The man shrugged. “Don’t know. He gave me a hundred and told me where to bring it.” He gave a half wave and disappeared down the hall.
You sat the box on the counter in the kitchen and began pulling things from it.
A bunch of wildflowers nearly identical to the ones Robby bought you on your first date.
A carefully wrapped sandwich from Cal’s, that upon closer inspection showed itself to be the same one you’d ordered on that same date.
An insulated bag with a pint of ice cream in the same flavor he’d bought you in the park that day.
Tucked in the bottom was a small velvet box and an envelope with your name scrawled across the front.
You set them on the counter and took in the items in front of you. Of all the gifts he’d sent you over the weeks trying to regain your affections, these were the most meaningful. The fact that he’d remembered, that he wanted you to remember that very first date with him said more than a hundred other presents. Your fingers traced the box, wondering what it held but resisting the temptation for the moment.
First, you found a vase for the wildflowers, a mix of purple, yellow and white. Messy and imperfect and absolutely beautiful. You left the sandwich where it was and placed the ice cream in the freezer. You settled yourself on a stool at the counter, box and envelope in front of you.
You opened the box first. Inside, nestled against the velvet were two tiny charms. An M and a J, both delicate and small. Just the right size for an anklet. You lifted one and turned it in the light. Gold with a small line of what you were sure were diamonds set into it. They were understated and absolutely perfect. You set the charm carefully back in the box and reached for the envelope.
You ran your hand across your name scrawled in Robby’s familiar handwriting. Not the mess it was when he was in a hurry, but the careful lettering he did when he wished to make an impression. You slid a finger under the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper covered in that same writing.
Your vision blurred after the first line.
If you’re reading this, thank you. It’s more than I deserve.
You set the letter on the counter and wiped at your eyes as you sucked in a shaky breath. You could do this, you needed to do this. You were hoping whatever he had to say was exactly what you needed to hear, but part of you was terrified that this would be it. A severing of everything he was to you. That you were asking too much and he was done trying.
Fuck, you needed to stop. You grabbed the letter and your now lukewarm coffee and headed to the couch. You closed your eyes, took a centering breath then tried again.
If you’re reading this, thank you. It’s more than I deserve.
I’ve written this letter six times. The first five went in the trash because they were full of excuses and justifications and all the bullshit I tell myself to sleep at night. Not that it works. This one isn’t going to be perfect either, but it’s the truth and that’s the only thing I can give you.
I have spent my entire life waiting for people to leave. My parents, mentors, people I’ve loved. They’ve all left me. They’ve all proven I’m not worth staying around for. It’s what I expect. It’s what I prepare for. When we met you, I knew instantly that you were too good for me, that I didn’t deserve you and I never let myself forget it. Even when you were right there, even when you were in my bed, in my arms telling me you loved me, some part of me was bracing for you to leave.
That’s not your failing, it’s mine. It’s the broken part of me that I’ve been too stubborn to really look at. I was so busy waiting for you to prove my worst fears that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. A woman who loved me exactly as I was, who never asked me to be anything different, who thought I was enough.
A tear landed on the paper, smudging the ink slightly. You wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand.
I accused you of the worst thing I could think of, because on some level I wanted it to be true. If you were using us for our money, then you were exactly what I expected. Predictable. Safe, in the worst possible way. The alternative, that you loved me, that you really loved me, meant I had something real to lose.
And then I did lose you and it broke me in a way I didn’t think was possible.
Losing you once was enough to last me a lifetime. I won’t do it again. I can’t. So, I’m making you a promise, whatever you need from me, I will do it. If you want to start from the beginning, I’ll take you on a first date, nerves and all. If you want us to go to therapy together, I’ll make the appointment today. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need me to prove myself every day for the rest of our lives, I will.
I will do anything. Because the alternative is living without you and I can’t do that. Please don’t make me live without you.
The words blurred. You wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of Jack’s hoodie, you’d been wearing since he left it behind weeks ago. Your chest felt tight, an ache spreading beneath your ribs.
If you’re done with me, if this was too much to forgive, I understand. Fuck, I understand. But please don’t push Jack away because of me. He loves you. He’s been caught in the middle of this and I know it’s tearing him apart. He doesn’t deserve to lose you just like I don’t deserve to have you.
I love you. I have always loved you. I will love you whatever happens next.
-Michael
You let the letter fall to your lap and pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. Your shoulders shook. The tears came quietly at first, then in earnest until you were curled forward over your lap. When the worst of it passed, you sat up and wiped your face. Unsurprisingly, your head was throbbing again.
You picked up the letter again and read the last lines one more time.
I love you. I have always loved you. I will love you whatever happens next.
You knew what happened next. You’d known from the moment you kissed Robby in your bathroom and felt his hands shaking against your skin. You’d known when you sent him away then sat on the floor and wished you hadn’t.
You had the uber drop you off at the hospital just after seven and stood a short distance away from where you knew Robby would be exiting after his shift. The evening air had a bite to it and you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You leaned against the wall and watched people flow from the building, exhaustion heavy on their shoulders after a long shift. A couple of people recognized you, gave you a smile or a wave but didn’t stop to talk.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and hoped this wasn’t one of those nights where Robby stayed for hours past his shift. If he took too long, you’d text Jack to give him a friendly nudge toward the door. You’d read the letter several more times throughout the afternoon. You’d almost called Jack to discuss it with him, then decided against it. This was between you and Robby first. Jack would understand.
It was 7:20 when a weary Robby stepped outside. He had his bag slung over one shoulder, a gray hoodie zipped up over his scrub top. He was looking at his phone, thumb scrolling so he didn’t see you at first. You pushed yourself off the wall.
The movement caught his attention and his head came up. His phone slowly lowered to his side. His expression collapsed then rebuilt itself all at once. His mouth opened. Closed. His eyes went wide and wet and so unbearably full of hope you had to look away for a second.
“Hi,” he said, the word broken.
“Hi.” You took a step forward. “I thought I’d walk you home if that’s okay.”
His throat worked. He nodded once, quick. “Yeah, that’s more than okay.”
You fell into step beside him. Not touching, but close. His stride adjusted to match yours automatically. His hands were in his pockets now, too. The silence between you was thick with things unsaid, but that terrible brokenness that it would have brought with it even a week before was absent.
You walked in silence through streets you knew by heart, having made this same trek with him or Jack so many times. Your hands stayed in your pockets. So did his. The house came into view, porch light shining in the gathering dark.
Robby’s steps slowed as you approached. He punched the code into the lock and pushed open the door, stepping aside to let you enter first. The house smelled the same as it always did, clean with the lingering aroma of coffee in the air. It was messier than it had been last you were here. Not dirty, just untidy. Blankets that hadn’t been folded. A coffee mug left on the table. You stood in the center of the room and Robby stayed by the door. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
“Why are you here?” he asked finally, his voice quiet. “I need to know. Because if you’re here to tell me it’s really over, I’d rather you did now before…” He swallowed. “Before I let myself hope.”
You ran your gaze over him, taking in his hunched shoulders, the hands still buried in his pockets. His gaze held yours with a desperation that made your chest ache.
“Your letter is why I’m here,” you said. “The flowers, the charms, the food was all fine but not why I’m here.”
He didn’t move, just watching you with that steady gaze.
“It’s the first time that an apology felt real. Not something you thought you should say, or a performance to get me back. It was you. I saw you in every word. It was messy and scared and honest. I saw the man I fell in love with, not the one who accused me of the worst thing he could think of because he was too afraid to trust me.” You took a step toward him.
His eyes closed and his chin dipped toward his chest.
You took a steadying breath. “You hurt me, Michael. You took something I thought was solid and made me question whether any of it was real.”
He nodded, eyes still closed, and a tear tracked down to his beard.
“Don’t do it again.”
His head shot up. Eyes wide, desperate as he looked at you. “I won’t, I swear I won’t.” The silence stretched, then he licked his lips. “Does that mean that you’ll give me another chance?”
Your smile was small but sincere. “Yes. That’s what it means.”
His breath left him in a rush. His bag hit the floor with a thud and he crossed the room in two strides, wrapping you in his arms. He buried his face in your neck as he trembled at your touch. Your arms went around his waist and you held on, taking in the familiar scent of him, the way his breath hitched against your skin. He was saying something against your neck, muffled and broken and you realized after a moment he was thank you over and over again, like a prayer.
You held him until the shaking stopped. Until his breathing steadied. He pulled back slowly and lifted his hands to frame your face. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized were falling. His own eyes were wet, lashes clumped together.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
You nodded.
He leaned in carefully, his mouth meeting yours with a gentle reverence. His lips were warm and slightly chapped and he tasted like coffee and mint gum. You sank into it, one hand finding the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. He made a needy sound against your mouth and kissed you deeper.
He backed toward the couch, taking you with him until his legs hit the edge. Then he sat, pulling you down with him so you settled in his lap. Your knees bracketed his hips, your weight comfortable against him. He kissed you like he was memorizing you, like he might never get the chance again. His hands moved up your back, under your jacket, warm through the fabric of your shirt. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the scratch of his beard and kissed him until you were both breathless.
When you broke apart, you were both breathing hard. Robby’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands. “I missed you,” he said, voice low and soft. “God, I missed you. Every fucking day.”
“I missed you too. Even when I was angry, I still missed you.”
He released a broken laugh and pulled you tight against his chest. You sat like that for a long time, his chin resting on your shoulder and his arms around you. Eventually, he stirred. “I should shower. I’ve got hospital all over me.”
You pulled back to look at him. “Can I help?”
The smile he gave you was radiant and he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Of course you can, baby.”
The two of you undressed one another in the bedroom, clothes discarded in the hamper, mixing together in a way they hadn’t in weeks. It was a small thing, a domestic thing, but it only solidified that you were home. Finally.
Robby turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. “Come here,” he said, steering you toward the counter. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit. He secured a bit of gauze over your stitches with a waterproof bandage. He kissed it after, then grinned at you again. “There.” He paused, then added, “You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
He laughed then grasped your elbow to steer you to the shower. He guided you in first and your shoulders immediately dropped as the hot water instantly started working its magic. Robby climbed in after you and you turned the two of you so he was under the water. “You’re the one that stinks of hospital,” you told him and reached for the shampoo. “Tip your head back so I can reach.”
You worked your fingers through his hair with methodical precision and he sighed at the feel of your nails scraping along his scalp. Once he’d rinsed, you took the soap and worked it over his chest, his shoulders, everywhere tension had settled into his muscles. He watched you the whole time. His eyes never leaving your face like he was afraid you might disappear if he looked away for too long. When you washed his back, your thumbs pressed into the knots along his spine. His head dropped forward with a groan that had had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with relief.
You dried each other off and Robby removed the bandage and tossed it away. In the bedroom, he pulled back the covers and you climbed in together. He gathered you against his chest. One arm around your shoulders, the other across your waist. Your leg hooked over his, and your head rested on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart and sunk into the feeling of being right where you belonged.
“I love you,” he said against your head. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt that again.”
You believed him. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone and felt him shudder. “I love you, too. So much.”
His arms tightened around you and for now, that was enough.
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