Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

On Saturday morning, at about six AM I guess, I took off my shirt and went to the bathroom to stick my head in the sink and run the tap water over my hair. It was weird and I don’t know why I did it. I think I was scared of taking a shower- I was worried I would start to think something really stupid… that possibly had to do with razors and such-

Shit, fuck, whoa, Robin! I know, I know. I turned off the tap and ran a towel over my head. I avoided the shower because I didn’t want to even think about it, ok? I just, I want to put off the suicidal feelings for as long as I can. I have to wait until Glenn gets home, so if I actually do go right off the deep end, he can, you know, physically save me.

Holy shit. That’s fucking morbid and scary as hell. I shook my head. I needed to get out of this house, I needed air. I needed to hear my voice talking and have someone actually hear what I said. I needed-

I went into my room and picked up my cell phone. It kind of hurt my hand to hold it. I was praying both that I had and didn’t have a missed call and text message from Cora. My phone screen said nothing new. So I felt nothing. I scrolled slowly through the contacts and hit ‘dial’ on the name I wanted.

“Hello?” Harold answered the phone sleepily. Oh right, it was kind of really early.

“Hi,” I said. I felt very weird, suddenly. I’ve never been so depressed like this and then called Harold for help. Like, it feels… not like something I should do as a male. But that went away pretty quickly. If there is any guy in the world who will accept it and not judge me in the slightest, it’ll be Harold.

“… Robin? What’s… what’s up?” He said, sounding tired and like he was trying to suppress a yawn.

“… I’m, uh, sorry to wake you, man. But, I… I really… I need to talk to you,” I said, trying to keep my voice as emotionless as possible. I probably sounded like a zombie.

“What’s the matter?” Harold said, sounding much more awake now and concerned.

“Can we meet somewhere, though? Like, at… like the school or something?” I asked. I didn’t want to do this over the phone. And I didn’t know where we should meet, but I figured no body would be at a freaking high school at six AM on a Saturday morning.

“… sure, man. I’ll be there soon,” Harold said and we hung up the phone.

I took my time walking to the school. There was frost on the ground and the rising winter sun, as cruel as it is, was absolutely beautiful this morning. It made the white frost sparkle like diamonds and the sky a contrasting, breath-taking deep pink. My breath clouded heavily out of my mouth.

When I got to the school, I walked across the parking lot and didn’t look out at it at all. I tried my best to keep Cora’s charger out of my mind and I was sure that if I looked out at the parking lot, I’d hallucinate and see it sitting there at this unrealistically early time of day, shining sharply in the sun. And Cora would step out and take off her sunglasses-

I jogged the rest of the way over to the field. I climbed up on the metal bleachers, being careful about my footing because it was slippery as fuck. I sat down and looked out across the soccer/football/anything field. God, it was so beautiful this morning. I wished Cora could see it-

Ouch! Ow, k, don’t think of things like that, Robin.

A few minutes later, Harold called me. I answered my cell phone.

“Where are you?” He asked me, I could hear the bus engine in the background.

“I’m on the bleachers,” I said.

“K, I’ll be there in, like, two minutes,” He said.

About two minutes later, he was climbing up the bleachers and came over to me, slipping around on the bleachers.

“Yeesh. This is dangerous,” He said with a kind smile, sitting down next to me. My mouth twitched when I commanded it to smile, but it couldn’t do the full action. Harold stuck his hands in his pockets and took in my expression.

“What’s up, Robin? You look fucking terrible,” He said. Harold, being so well-spoken and peaceful, hardly ever swears. So, I probably looked like death warmed over for him to say that.

“I feel terrible, man,” I confessed monotonously.

“What happened??” He asked, clueless. Because how could he know?

“I slept with Cora,” I began and my breath came out shaky and I glanced at Harold. His grin slipped out automatically, but he quickly calmed his face and raised his eyebrows at me, concerned.

“… and you’re not… happy about that?” He asked, confused.

“Well I was...” I began and looked out at the field. I wanted to just say it all at once, but I was having a hard time saying anything. I could feel Harold looking at me.

“But um... the next morning, you know? She… she left,” I said.

“… like, you woke up and she was gone?” Harold asked softly.

“No, no,” I frowned in thought and looked down at the bleachers. “Like, I went downstairs, to make toast, and she came and she… um… cried about stuff and… and I cried and I tried to stop her, but then she said-” And my voice stopped working.

“She said what?” Harold asked me in a kind whisper.

“She said it was a mistake,” I kind of whispered too, staring at the bleachers. For a moment, Harold didn’t do or say anything. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Ahh… Robin… I’m sorry,” Harold said, patting me. I just nodded a little.

“But like… why? Why did she say that? Like what… what was she crying about?” He said. I could hear the burning curiosity in his voice, but he was trying to keep it in check and be sensitive. I huffed a tired breath and held my forehead in my hand. My head was getting heavy.

“She said all this… stuff about how she loves me but she’s scared of hurting me because she misses her old life in California with both her parents and now she misses her dad, but she doesn’t want to leave because of me and she feels terrible for wanting to leave and she doesn’t want to break my heart and doesn’t want to get involved because she’s all over the fucking map with her emotions,” I said in one, long, tired sentence.

“… that’s, um… really complicated,” He said. But I could tell I wouldn’t have to explain it again. He had heard it, he’d listened.

“You know, Robin,” Harold began thoughtfully. “I think that Cora really does love you,” He said. I kept very still, not letting myself react to those words. And start, like, bawling.

“You know? She really… she truly does. I can see it. But…” He went on. “I think that, maybe, she’s not ready to be in love with you. Like, I think she is in love, but wasn’t ready for it, you know?” He said. I blinked. Hmm.

“And I know… I know, that you love her. A lot, Robin. I know you and you don’t have to admit it to me, but you’d do just about anything for her,” Harold continued. I puckered my lips just slightly, a piece of my old self wiggling into me. I was perturbed just slightly that Harold can read me like a freakin’ picture book.

“And I also know that you want to fix it. You want to run and save her from all her problems and ride off into the sunset, making love on a beach somewhere, or something,” Harold said. I shot him a quick, annoyed glare before I could think. Stop reading my mind, holy fuck! But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking out at the field. Probably imagining me, trying to ride a horse with Cora in a torn white dress with her arms wrapped around my waist-

“But you can’t do it,” He said simply and looked at me. “You can’t try to save her, Robin. K, the only way, she’s really going to heal, you know, is if she saves herself,”

“So I’m just supposed to give up??” I demanded quickly, snapping a little. Man, I shouldn’t be such an ass, he’s trying to help me. I wouldn’t get this kind of sensitivity and insight from anyone else, fack.

“No,” Harold said just as quickly, without the snap. “No, you just… have to accept that you don’t have control over it,” He said. I blinked, narrowing my eyes slightly in thought.

“Admitting that kind of honest, real-life defeat isn’t the same as just giving up because you can’t be bothered to try,” He finally said, giving me a classic, Harold-like pearl of wisdom. I looked away from him, out at the field, lifting my head from my hands and clasping them in front of me.

“Hmm,” I finally hummed, mulling over his words. Harold took his hand off my shoulder and leaned forward on his knees, copying my position.

“How did you get so fucking wise anyway?” I demanded suddenly, half joking and half serious. I shot him a glare I didn’t mean. “Like, where can I get some of that for myself??” I wanted to know. Harold chuckled somberly at me.

“From me, dude,” He promised his services. I smiled tiredly and looked out at the field again.

“… thanks,” I said very quietly.

“No problem, Robin,” He said, just as quietly. We sat there in silence for a few long minutes.

“… let’s go. I’m fucking freezing to death,” I sighed, standing up. Harold stood. We went and got coffee from Starbucks (well, I got coffee, he got tea). He mostly talked, chatting away quietly about Minnie. He didn’t expect me to respond, which was good, because I said… virtually nothing