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1.
When they had been younger, Finney Blake had always thought Robin Arellano would grow up to be much bigger than him. Robin was tough and strong and so Finney just imagined he would mature into a tall, broad young man with muscles that reflected how hard he could throw a punch. However, as puberty hit and they started to stretch and age, Robin got bigger, but not by much. He was lean and sturdy, but Finney had an inch or two on him by the time middle school was over. If anything, the two boys were the exact same size, Finney just had longer legs.
It didn’t bother Robin, being shorter than his friend. He was way too confident for that. Plus no one thought him not being particularly tall meant they could fuck with him. He was still the toughest kid in school even if he had to stretch to reach the top of his locker. He still had a fist full of scarred knuckles even if his bell bottoms dragged across the ground when he walked. Even though Finney was taller, Robin still stood up for him. Still took care of him. Their heights really didn’t make a difference so Finn really wasn’t surprised when the whole clothes thing started. The future freshman barely noticed the first time it happened.
It was the last week of summer break and he, Robin, and Gwen were the only people still swimming at the public pool. The day had been oppressively hot and Finn’s cheeks were itchy with sunburn even as dusk started to wake up the streetlights. Gwennie supervised the boys as they gathered all the things they had dragged to the pool with them. The walk home would be damp and uncomfortable, but the excitement of the day had been worth it. Gwen was wrapped in the only towel and Robin had a short sleeved button up flapping open around him. Finney left as bare chested as he had come which meant the summer breeze had him shivering by the time they made it onto the empty streets.
“You cold, Finn?” Robin asked, brow quirked as he faced his friend. Gwen snickered something about her brother being a big baby and Finney huffed.
“It’s fine,” he assured, tripping in his flip flops before righting himself. “We’re almost home.”
“Here.” The shorter boy shrugged out of his shirt and handed it over. “I don’t need it.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Put the shirt on, Finn,” Robin interrupted with an exasperated look, his hair a fluffy, wavy mess from their swim. “You’re gonna catch your death.”
Finney would have protested again, but another gust of wind had him breaking out in goosebumps and he hurried himself into the shirt. It was thin and cool to the touch, but it helped a bit. Finn hugged himself, Robin’s unique smell thick in his nose as he nodded to his best friend. He whispered, “Thanks.”
The shorter boy smirked. “Don’t worry about it.”
2.
The next time it happened, it really wasn’t Finney’s fault. Despite Gwen’s unshaking devotion to Christ, their father had staunchly refused to have anything to do with church or religion after their mother killed herself. He had drunkenly ranted once that if God were real, he would have taken his wife’s delusions away; spared them all the pain of her madness. Finn hadn’t thought much about it except to be thankful Gwennie was smart enough to keep her bible and crucifixes hidden away where their father couldn’t see them and throw a fit.
All this to say, Finney hadn’t gone to church since his mother passed and so had long since outgrown anything of his that could be considered ‘church clothes’. The Arellano family went to church every Sunday though, so if Finney wanted to stay the night on Saturday, he had to have appropriate clothing for the following morning. The fact he didn’t had kept him out of his friend’s house for several weekends over the years, but Robin had apparently decided they were done with that. When his mother came into the room to ask if Finney would be staying the night, Robin had confidently answered that he would be.
“Do you have clothes for church?” Mrs. Arellano had wondered, taking her son’s declaration at face value even as Finn floundered for something to say. They were sitting crossed legged on Robin’s bedroom floor, playing cards scattered out between them.
“He can borrow some of mine,” the long haired boy assured, eyes already back on their game. His mother shrugged her agreement, wished them goodnight, and retreated from the room. Finney hadn’t said anything throughout the exchange.
When he finally found his voice again, he’d grouched, “I can’t fit into your clothes.”
Robin frowned like he’d heard something annoyingly stupid. “Not my pants. But you can wear your jeans and then take one of my dress shirts. I’ve got tons.”
He did.
For someone who walked around school in mostly jeans and beaters, Robin Arellano had a surprisingly large collection of nice clothes. When he pulled his closet open the next morning, Finney was a bit taken aback. He’d never seen Robin in church clothes and suddenly his mouth felt dry picturing his best friend in slacks and a button up. He wouldn’t wear a bandana to church so perhaps he’d leave his hair free, or tie it back. The mental image made Finn feel weirdly warm and he shuffled about awkwardly as Robin pushed hangers aside looking for something that would fit him.
“Here,” he said at last, holding out a shirt, “My mom got this for me at Christmas, but it’s kinda long. Perfect for you.”
“Are you sure?” Finney prompted. The shirt was navy blue and still looked new. There were no wrinkles and the collar was crisp. Ironed. When Finn reached out and took it, the fabric was soft and worn, but there were no snags or tears or stains anywhere on the shirt. “It looks really nice.”
“I barely wear it,” Robin said with a shrug, diving back in to find something for himself. “Plus you look good in blue.”
“I like blue,” Finney offered awkwardly, eyes fixed on the other boy’s back as he continued to flip through the clothes.
“I know, buddy.”
Robin ended up wearing a white button up tucked into his jeans, his large belt buckle gleaming in the light. He’d tied his hair back in a low ponytail and Finney found he couldn’t look directly at him. With no bandana or loose hair it was suddenly like there was simply too much of Robin on display. Finn had never seen so much of his friend’s face. His neck felt hot and itchy under his collar and he fidgeted as the shorter boy came forward to help him tie his tie.
Eyes diverted to the ceiling and Robin’s fingers at his neck, Finney asked, “How come you don’t have to wear one of these things?”
“Me and my uncle wear bolo ties,” Robin muttered, focused on his task, flipping fabric end over end. He tightened the tie. “Way more badass.”
“Fuck me then, I guess.”
Robin laughed and Finney flushed because it was a lovely sound. When he saw Robin in his bolo tie it happened again. In the kitchen, Mrs. Arellano and her brother saw Finney in the blue shirt and praised the young teen within an inch of his life. Mrs. Arellano brushed his hair away from his face and kissed his forehead messily. Robin’s uncle told him to be careful not to spill any wine on the shirt and laughed when Finney looked understandably terrified. The tiny family hurried into the car and were off in no time.
At the church, it was a parade of people meeting Finn for the first time. There was cheek pinching and rapid fire Spanish and then he was sliding into a pew, his side pressed all along Robin’s. The entire mass was in Spanish and Finney fidgeted through most of it as Robin translated everything directly into his ear. It was all hot breaths and barely brushing lips along the shell of his ear and Finn wasn’t sure church had ever taken so long back when his mother used to have them go. Even with the direct translation, Finney missed the entire message of the sermon and Robin had to dig fingers into his side to get him up for communion.
He didn’t spill any wine on the shirt and for that he thanked God.
3.
“Is that a new shirt?”
Gwen’s question was whispered across the table one morning. Their father was passed out in the recliner in the living room, so the Blake siblings were literally tiptoeing through breakfast. Finney looked down curiously, cocking his head back at a comical angle in an attempt to stare down his front. He had grabbed the shirt from his dirty laundry pile and thrown it on without thought. Now that he looked, Finn saw he was wearing a faded black t-shirt with the symbol for The Ramones emblazoned across the front. When he sniffed the collar, its place of origin was obvious.
“It’s Robin’s,” he said with a small smile, standing to take his empty cereal bowl to the sink. Gwennie followed him with her eyes.
“At this rate, he won’t have any clothes left,” she quipped, tapping her spoon against the side of her own bowl lightly. Tink, tink, tink . “He only has like three, ya know?”
“Not true,” Finney scoffed, washing his dishes on autopilot as he continued to smile with thoughts of his best friend. “You should see his closet.”
“Why? I can just look in yours.”
Finney’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t snap back at his sister. He kept his back to her as he let his mind wander to his bedroom and start perusing through his clothes. It was true, over the last few weeks more and more of Robin’s clothes had found their way into Finn’s possession. Only shirts and jackets, his pants would be too short, but still. Finney had always dressed rather plainly and now he had band t-shirts and beaters thrown in with his usual wardrobe. The clothes looked foreign on him, but they felt like home. They held him like a hug and smelled like absolute heaven whenever the teenager held them to his face which he did embarrassingly often.
He just liked the way Robin smelled.
And the way Robin made him feel.
And Robin.
Just Robin.
The water in the sink was running to the point of nearly overflowing when it finally sank in. Finney pinched the hem of the Ramones shirt and stared down at it dumbly as he finally understood why he’d subconsciously grabbed it out of all his other clothes. Why the light button up was now the only thing he wore to the pool besides his trunks. Why he kept staying at Robin’s on Saturday, but never brought a shirt for Sunday mass. Because that would mean he wouldn’t get to borrow one of Robin’s shirts and he liked wearing Robin’s shirts.
Because he liked Robin.
Finney dropped his bowl into the sink with a clatter that woke their father and after that there wasn’t much time left to think. There was only yelling and swearing and Gwen getting a horrible temper as she always did and Finn having to stand to the side as his father removed his belt menacingly. When his sister was limping to sit beside him in front of the television and his own cheek had a bruising handprint on it, Finney thought back on his revelation. He thought of long hair and smiling eyes and shirts that smelled like sweat.
He slept in the Ramones shirt that night and it made him feel so much better.
4.
Realizing he liked Robin didn’t mean the rest of the world suddenly disappeared, no matter how much Finney wanted it to. The summer dragged on and then the new school year was looming. They were going into highschool and while Robin had been the toughest kid in their middle school, there was no telling what the world beyond held. Vance Hopper was going to be at their school. Matty White and his miserable goones were going to be at their school. Meanwhile Gwen, who was only just going into seventh grade, wasn’t going to be there. Finney was honestly shitting himself and the way Robin refused to get ruffled about the whole thing grated on his nerves something awful.
“What if we don’t have any classes together?” the taller teen worried, eyeing the imposing facade of Abraham Lincoln High School. “What if I never see you?”
“You worry too much, Finn,” Robin snorted, eyeing their new classmates.
It was weird seeing so many kids milling around and even weirder was seeing the huge differences in their sizes from class to class. Finney and Robin were freshman, they and everyone that had come up with them, were some of the smallest kids on campus. Meanwhile the seniors looked like full grown adults, the boys especially, and Finn shrank into Robin’s side as a tall, broad boy with a shaved head shoved by them, car keys jangling in his pocket. They hadn’t spotted any of their former classmates yet, and there would likely be plenty that ended up going somewhere else. With so few friendly faces, Finney was beyond terrified he’d end up far away from his best friend with no one to have his back.
“Someone’s gonna fuck with me,” he muttered, hands white knuckled around his bookbag strap, “I just know it.”
“They fuck with you, I fuck with them,” Robin threatened to the universe, chin up in a confident pose as teachers started trying to usher everyone inside. “Anyone gives you a hard time, tell them they’ve got me to deal with.”
He looked so cool and sure of himself and Finney wanted to bury his face in his neck for comfort. Instead he just shifted and said, “You’re not the toughest kid in school anymore, Robin.”
“Says who?”
“There’s like so many kids here, dude!” Finn gestured wildly about them but Robin only shrugged. “You can’t be sure no one’s gonna mess with you or me!”
“All it takes is one good fight,” the shorter boy announced, raising his scarred fist between them for emphasis, “Splatter some blood around and then no one will dare to fuck with me.”
“Well, that’s great for you.”
Finney’s plaintive mutter made Robin frown at him and the taller boy felt heat spread over his face. He hated sounding weak or scared in front of Robin. He knew his best friend would never judge him, but ever since realizing the feelings he felt for the other boy weren’t purely friendly, he wanted to be seen differently. He wanted to be seen as someone who deserved to have a crush on the toughest boy in school, not the lame little pussy everyone had always accused him of being. Finney the Fag. Robin would never like that person.
“You worry too much,” he repeated, though he looked thoughtful. His lips were pursed and his eyes squinted against the early morning light. He had his usual bandana fastened around his head and it kept his hair out of his face. He was tanner from all the summer sun and he smelled like soap.
Finney liked him so much.
Almost everyone was inside at that point, just a few stragglers hanging out on the front lawn of the school. Finn was looking around, feeling awkward and out of place as he tried to think of a way to say goodbye to his friend that didn’t make it seem like he was about to burst into anxious tears. They may have the same homeroom, but they may not. They may have tons of classes together, but they may not. The not knowing was the worst part and Finney didn’t want to just stand around getting sicker over it plus letting Robin see him freak out.
“Nevermind,” he huffed, hiking his bag higher up on his shoulder, “We should get going-”
“Wait,” Robin ordered, voice rough and scratchy as he put a hand out to grab Finn’s elbow. The taller boy hesitated, eyebrow quirked in confusion as he watched his friend start to untie his bandana. “Take this.”
“What’re you-?”
“I’m not the toughest kid in this school,” the other teen announced, pulling Finney’s arm in front of him and beginning to tie the bit of fabric around his wrist, “But I will be soon and now everyone’ll know that you’re with me.”
He tugged the bandana’s ends so that it pulled tight on Finney’s arm, fitting like a thick cuff below his hand. The taller boy could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he watched Robin concentrate on his task. Without the bandana, his hair slipped down around his face and Finn had to fight the urge to reach out and brush it back behind his ear. His heart was beating so loud it was a wonder Robin didn’t comment on it, but the other boy just stepped back and nodded at him.
“There,” he said, gesturing towards the cloth, “Now no one will dare to fuck with you.”
It was a silly, arrogant little assumption. They were on the lowest rung of the food chain and the school had so many people that would probably leap at the chance to kick their asses. There was no reason to have such blind faith that Robin would be able to protect him here the same way he had in middle school, but Finney did. He trusted Robin implicitly to have his back and keep him safe as they walked into this strange new phase of their lives together.
He smiled. “Thanks, Robin.”
5.
Their second day of high school Robin got into a fight and absolutely annihilated the guy. He had been a rather stocky, buff junior, someone closer to Vance Hopper’s fighting class, and Robin had wiped the floor with him. After that, it was obvious who the toughest kid in school was and not even seniors dared to shoot the young boy funny looks. Finney was happy his friend had established dominance so quickly because he knew it was important to him but also because now the bandana he wore every day around his wrist really meant something. People would see it and give him three extra feet of space. They would spot the bit of black fabric poking out from his sleeves and back off whatever they were about to start with him.
At least the boys did.
Girls saw the bandana and had a very different reaction.
Finney had never been particularly popular with the girls in their grade. He’d had a crush on Donna Clarke for what had felt like an eternity, but she never gave him the time of day. Finn didn’t know much for handsome, but he knew he was rather plain looking. Tall and pale with fluffy hair and no smile, he didn’t know of any girls his age who had ever shown any sort of interest in him. However, once it became obvious he was close with the toughest kid in school, lots of the girls at school were suddenly smiling at him in the hall. They would sit next to him in class and actually start up conversations. It was weird.
Finney knew Robin was good looking and he didn’t think that was his weird crush talking. Robin was lean with muscle and had skin like shined copper in the sun. His hair was long and silky black and his mouth…Finn didn’t know how to describe lips and clearly he’d never touched Robin’s, but they looked soft and they smiled often. The freshmen could understand why girls would have a crush on his best friend, but he also understood why they may be a bit intimidated to approach him themselves. Which meant Finney was the next best thing. A safe middle ground the girls of their school could pursue without really having to worry about the humiliation of rejection.
Didn’t make it any less awkward.
It was early October and Robin had bloodied his knuckles on Moose’s crooked teeth again. He and Finney were sat together in the cafeteria, the shorter boy eating one handed as his friend cleaned his fist. Finn was used to doing light first-aid on the other teen and so didn’t get queasy at the sight or smell of blood anymore. At least not Robin’s. He was sitting sideways on the bench, his best friend’s hand held in his lap as they talked and laughed about the fight that had sent Moose home early.
“You really gotta start pulling your punches,” Finney snickered, tossing another soiled napkin onto his empty lunch tray. “You're gonna have ugly hands when we’re older.”
“Ladies love scars,” Robin huffed in reply, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth that Finn could see. He wanted to taste that curve. “Plus Moose had it coming.”
An explosion of giggles interrupted their conversation and both boys turned towards it. There was a small flock of sophomore girls huddling not far from where they sat. They were dressed in bright colors and patterns, with bold plaids and florals like all the other girls in their school were. They were whispering conspiratorially and shooting glances over at the two freshmen. One of them would say something and they’d all giggle and Finney felt his ears grow hot as their eyes kept coming back to them. He ducked his head back over Robin’s hand and refocused on bandaging his friend’s knuckles.
”I think they like you,” Robin mused, staring back at the girls unabashedly, the handsome curve no longer in sight. Finney choked on a laugh.
“Get serious,” he grouched, not lifting his eyes from the bloody torn flesh in front of him. “They all want a closer look at Robin Arellano, the toughest kid in school.”
“I don’t know, man,” Robin insisted slowly, turning to look at Finney himself. His eyes were dark and vast like the night sky and Finn frowned at him to draw attention away from the fact he was blushing.
The giggles continued.
And the whispering.
And the pointing.
“Gimme my hand back,” Robin said, already pulling away gently. Finney let him and sat back with a huff, his own hands tacky and smelling like pennies. He watched in confusion as Robin began to shrug out of the large denim jacket he was wearing. “Here.”
He placed the jacket over Finney’s shoulders and the taller boy slouched under its weight. He thought it had maybe belonged to Robin’s dad and felt like he didn’t want to touch it and risk ruining the memory of the man. He blinked, but Robin only turned back to his lunch though he did shoot a look at the girls. They had gone quiet and still and slowly started to walk away as Finney put his arms through the sleeves of the jacket.
“I have a coat in my locker,” he noted, watching his friend closely as he flexed his hurt hand. “I’m not cold.”
Robin just announced, “It’s not about that.”
He was using that tone he used when he justified kicking someone’s ass ‘on principle’ and Finney knew there was no arguing with him. He nodded, pushed all the bloodied napkins and tissues away from him, and readjusted on the bench so he and Robin were sitting side by side. Their shoulders brushed through the rest of lunch and Finney smiled the entire time.
+1
“You forgot this.”
Finney picked his head up curiously to look at Robin. He was packing his rucksack to head home after spending the weekend at the Arellano’s. He had managed to stop himself from taking the dress shirt Robin had let him borrow for church that morning. The other boy’s mother had mentioned in passing that he kept wearing the same clothes again and again and Finney had felt like his face may catch fire. He told himself he had enough of Robin’s clothes to last him through to sophomore year and pledged to stop stealing more.
If he could resist.
“Oh,” the teen mused when he saw what his friend was holding out to him. He ducked his head again. “That’s for you.”
Robin looked surprised, which really just meant his eyebrows picked up fractionally. He let the bunched up bit of fabric he was holding in his fist unfurl and looked at the shirt. It was an olive green with quarter sleeves and buttons near the neck. Finney had got it back at Christmas and worn it nearly every week to school since. It was soft and cool looking and probably his favorite shirt. Robin knew that and so knew Finney wasn’t just handing it off because he didn’t want it anymore. The taller boy felt his cheeks burning as his best friend stared at him curiously, not raising his eyes from his bag as he continued to shove in his other clothes.
“But you wear this like all the time,” Robin mused, voice deeper now than it had been at the end of summer. “It’s your favorite.”
“You're my favorite.”
He let the words slip out as casually as he could, but they landed like a bomb in the small room, exploding in both their ears before sucking all the air out behind them. Robin didn’t move from the doorway and Finney didn’t get up from the floor. He didn’t know if Robin felt the way he felt, but he knew what he was feeling wasn’t something he could just say out loud. Not directly anyway. He had to be careful and drop hints and Robin did too if he felt the same. Maybe he did? Maybe the shirts and the bandana and the jacket now well worn and deeply loved in Finney’s own closet were his hints? Either way, he wanted this shirt to be his and he just hoped Robin accepted.
Or at least didn’t kick his ass if he didn’t.
“You’re mine too.”
The words, muttered so low Finn thought he imagined them, stole the breath right out of his lungs. The teen looked up, saw his best friend watching him from the doorway, and couldn't contain himself anymore. He stood up and stalked stiffly over to Robin, noticing for the first time their height difference had widened since the start of the year. He had to dip his head to look the other boy in the eye which meant he had to lean his neck down to kiss him. Their lips met in a series of awkward bumps before they pushed flush together.
Kissing Robin felt simultaneously exactly how Finn had thought it would and yet totally different. His lips were as soft as he had imagined and a shot of exhilarating adrenaline went through him. However, he had expected Robin to kiss like he fought; harsh and fast. Instead the shorter boy was gentle and easy as he raised a scarred hand to brush along Finney’s cheek. The taller teen wrapped his awkwardly long arms up and around his best friend and felt like he was holding the sun. He didn’t think a kiss could get any better.
When they pulled apart, they didn’t go far. Their noses still brushed and Finn felt like Robin was breathing directly into his mouth and he liked it. He smiled and his best friend smiled back. Robin murmured, “Can’t believe you beat me to it, Finn.”
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to get the balls to kiss you for like two years,” the shorter teen clarified, his voice rough but soothing. “Should’ve known you’d be braver than me.”
Finney laughed and hugged Robin to him so tight he hoped they would never separate. His best friend held him back just as tight.
At school the next day Robin wore the shirt.