𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𖣠 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊? [Rinney]

0-I : I've gotta get away and let you go.

"Vance," Robin spoke first, obtaining a hum in exchange. "This is history class."

"Yeah." The blondie sat on his chair, sliding down, and looked up at Robin, shrugging. "I know."

It's not like he had anything against Vance's presence (unlike in middle school). He was actually kind of grateful to have him by his side. Seeing the spot always empty next to him in history class made him sigh: a part of him always hoped he'd come so he wouldn't be bored. The other part of him wanted to skip with him.
And the other part again got used to it in the past few months.

It's been a while since he ditched.

"Stop looking at me like that," Vance suddenly spoke up, crossing his arms behind his head, getting sprawled as if he was lying on his house's couch. "I came here because I had nothing better to do."

Robin's frown just deepened more in a state of confusion. "Class is better than smoking weed?"

The blondie groaned. "Such a dick. I came here to check on you, stupid. Get the hint."

Robin didn't blink once or twice, but thrice. He rubbed his forehead slightly, accidentally sliding his forest green bandana more to the right. "Watch your mouth." He spoke up because that was the only thing that his brain could process at the moment: the insults and their fast replies of self-defense. "But - err... why? I don't certainly need your concern."

Vance side-eyed him, eyes sharpening to send him an electrifying glare. Just when he sneers, the teacher calls Robin's name from across the classroom.

And Robin just wanted to rip Vance's smug smile off, along with the words he silently mouthed: 'I told you. '

As the bell rang, Robin came to only one conclusion: Vance was better off out there, smoking God-knows-what than sitting next to him. Or even in his same classroom.

Robin used to love the way the duo got kicked out of the classroom, or just maddening every single teacher that happened to have them both at the same time: it was hilarious. That was what made School more suitable for his taste.

And there - it just felt like he jumped back in middle school, where Vance was too loud and noisy. And he just couldn't stand it.

But maybe he was the problem.

"Arellano," the history teacher called, her bangs hiding her eyebrows. "Thank you for waiting after class."

Robin didn't answer. Or better said, he did, by pressing his lips in a white thin line and a small nod, which Mrs. Harrington didn't even notice as she collected and shuffled a few sheets. She's always been quite a perfectionist.

"So," she spoke again, clearing her throat and leaning against the desk. "Your grades."

Robin was caught off guard by the sudden jump: grades. Of course, it would have been grades — he's not blind. And the worst is that he knew how Mrs. Harrington did not give a flying fuck.

Robin tugged at the strap of his backpack, biting the inside of his cheek.

"They went so down. Just all of a sudden. There must be a reason under it." Don't ask why — don't ask why, please. "Why?"