THE BLACK PHONE ONESHOTS

high-achievers don't cry; robin a.

based off real events 😭🙏

•••

"Oh, shit!"

You watched as all of your boy-friends messed with each other, while you sat beside their skateboards. You hated their stupid skateboards; they only used them for show. Most of them didn't even know how to skate. They just wanted to impress their stupid girlfriends who wore too much makeup.

Speak of the devils. You heard obnoxious, fake laughter and fake high-pitched voices from the other half of the party. They sat, dangling their legs in the water, one of them glaring daggers at you. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering if she was looking at you. Spoiler: she was. She looked you up and down before chuckling, saying something to the rest of the girls.

In a matter of moments, all eyes were on you. You heard one girl say something snarky about your appearance, a soft sigh leaving your lips before you stood, leaving the backyard of the party.

You usually loved parties, but this one was different. You were new to Denver, leaving your town where you were well-liked and invited to every party possible. Hell, people even made parties just so you would come. And you did. You loved the feeling of intoxication and smoke slowly killing your lungs. It was the only place you could relax in, the rush of adrenaline pumping through veins helping you forget who you were. The smart kid. Everything was perfect: your grades, your social life, everything. Until your parents found out. Then you were shipped off to some dirty town in Colorado where your nasty aunt lived. She couldn't give a rat's ass about where you were or were going, so it wasn't difficult to find a party. The only thing that was difficult was being invited. You knew you couldn't arrive unannounced, that would be a terrible first impression. So after a bit of talking with a desperate guy, he invited you to his party. All you had to do now was avoid him, while also making a good first impression.

But your plan had failed. Your only friends, some popular guys who were friends with everyone, had spread apart into the house to make out with their girlfriends. Either that, or they were messing with each other in the pool. You couldn't go back out there, not with those girls there, so you decided to get a drink.

You mixed some liquids together, chugging a few drinks down and taking a bottle with you, traveling around the house. Everything that happened next was a blur.

The music blared, probably damaging your eardrums as you laughed with a group of burnouts. You took a drink from some guy, following him as he led you upstairs, unaware of the figure who noticed everything that happened.

The man was about to take you up the stairs when a hand was pressed to his chest. You looked up, having trouble seeing due to the flashing lights and blurriness from the alcohol. You giggled as you watched the two men argue, a fight eventually breaking out.

"I saw you put shit in her drink, you hijo de puta," said one man.

The other man denied it, trying to pull you up the stairs. The other man pushed him, and in that moment, a fight broke out. The music continued, all eyes on the men as you watched, uncontrollably laughing.

Once one man had the opportunity, he gently grabbed your arm, "Come on, I don't want you to get hurt," he said, giving you a lop-sided, sympathetic smile. You mindlessly nodded, your giggling stopping as he brought you outside to his car.

He made sure you were okay, despite an alarming amount of blood trickling down his forehead. Blood also covered his clothes and hands, something that he hadn't even seemed to notice. As he checked your wounds, viewing a small mark on your arm, you studied his facial features. He was undeniably handsome, something you blushed at. You shamelessly put your hands on his face, viewing the bleeding wound on the upper left part of his forehead.

He glanced up at you, you only being taller than him because you were sitting on the hood of his car. He smirked, "God, how much did you drink?"

You ignored him, "You're bleeding," you whispered.

He let go of your arm, straightening his back. "It's fine- oh, mierda!" he cussed, noticing the blood covering his white shirt. He looked up at you with a sigh, "Wait one second. Stay here," he ordered, unlocking his car and reaching for a black hoodie.

You stood, hopping off his car silently. You watched, blush coating your cheeks as you watched him change out of his shirt.

He glanced at you once he was finished, smirking, as if to tell you he had noticed you the whole time. You blinked, watching as he walked over to you. "What's your name, anyway?" he asked. "I'm Robin, by the way," he smiled.

You looked up at him, your face turning paler. You felt something rise in your stomach, but ignored it. "I'm Y/n--" your words were cut off by the sound of you wretching, leaving the two of you speechless as yet another piece of Robin's clothing was ruined.

"Sorry . . ." you muttered, Robin barely being able to understand you as you backed up.

He sighed softly, "It's, uh- it's fine. Here," he took out a hair tie, managing to tie some of your hair back before you regurgitated once again.

The two of you ended up walking to the nearest shop open, a thrift store that just happened to be open 24/7. He changed into a varsity jacket for some football team in Cali, while you changed into a band shirt.

"Nice shirt," he snickered at the band that look odd and a bit scary. The band consisted of a few males wearing black makeup with dark, long hair. If you were being honest, they looked straight out of a horror movie.

You managed a "Likewise," your alcoholic symptoms already starting to dissipate. Your once throbbing headache had cleared, along with your foggy vision that allowed you to have a better view of the male. He was even more beautiful than you thought, having unusual dark brown curls that ended at his shoulders. Most guys you knew had short, fluffy hair, so it was a nice change to see a guy who didn't have greasy hair.

Unsurprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. Turns out you both were academic overachievers, both burning out at a young age and not knowing what to do with your current living situation.

Maybe your new town wouldn't be so bad after all.