black treacle - matt sturniolo

Chapter Eighteen, Idiot

If Robyn could count on one constant in her life, it would be Matt being an idiot.

When she woke up, her head was no longer resting on his shoulder and was carefully positioned on the back of the chair. Idiot.

Robyn took the opportunity to get closer to him and have their cute lil rom-com movie trope where they fall asleep on each other in the cinema (granted this was a play but he was the one who said to treat this like a movie), and he left her alone with Ashley and Frankie replaced on stage with some other actors they used to emphasise the theme of identity but she would bet her entire college fund that it was because they were getting ready to fight.

That wasn't why he was an idiot. Matt was an idiot because Robyn's gut told her that he was probably trying to fight them in the worst place possible. Really, Matt? Behind the school the one day everyone with slight importance was present?

Didn't spiders have a sense that warned them of danger lurking? How did he swing around the city without intuition? She was more surprised that he hadn't died from crashing into a billboard at this rate.

Thank God Shakespeare's plays lasted a millennium so Robyn had enough time to sneak out and figure out a fucking plan for Matt because she knew sure as hell he didn't. The King and Queen based their attacks on the element of surprise like one would with cards. Magic wasn't real, it was purely illusion and misdirection. It was awfully audacious of her to call him an idiot when she was now looking past the back doors and staring at the two circling Spidey like vultures eyeing dead meat.

The back of the school was connected to the stage so it was where bits and pieces of the set had ended up. To set the scene -- no pun intended -- they were fighting near the Grease Lightning cutout they used for their production of Grease and the giant can of Hairspray from, you guessed it, Hairspray.

After finally suppressing her laughter from the hilarity of the fight before her, (seriously, imagine three goofs in costume circling and striking each other) Robyn scanned for the nearest weapon.

Plastic swords from their production of Romeo and Juliet? Nope. Microphone stand from when they did Camp Rock the musical? Maybe.

A chair?

Perfect.

Now, she needed a way to get to them.

She peeked back at their fight, well, their circling. How long does it take for fights to start? Robyn rolled her eyes when the King started his monologue. The things she would do for Matt.

"Spider-Man. I don't understand why you try to fight us so much." The King stopped, but Spidey still had his fists ready to attack.

"Me?! You're the one ambushing me every chance you get?"

Robyn snuck behind different stage backgrounds and prayed this speech would last long enough for her to get close enough to attack him. How you may ask? She wasn't sure. Right now her plan involved a chair and her not dying.

"We are not so different. How do you think we turned out this way?"

"A gambling addiction does that to ya but hey, I don't judge!"

"It was the lab."

Spider-Man lets his guard down for a split second. Robyn saw it in the flicker in his eyes and how they widened every so slightly.

"End of Sophomore year. Field trip to the lab. Sound familiar?" The king repeated.

Robyn thought back to that trip. There was a rumour that an incident happened at the lab but she brushed it off as someone breaking a test tube and spilling over chemicals, or getting locked in the bathroom again.

It was before Matt became a person to her and not just a name, but she remembered a mop of curly brown hair joining the crowd, pushing his glasses up and hiding his hand.

"Not at all." Spider-Man gritted. His hands were trembling; she was unsure if it was out of the memory or from anger. Robyn's thoughts were occupied with

"Don't lie. Do you think we turned out this way because we wanted to? It was the same radiation that turned you into a spider boy--"

"Spider-Man."

"--And us into cards. Face it, you're not that different from us. As Shakespeare said, 'Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent--"

Whack!

Matt and the Queen stared at Robyn, the broken chair, and the King on the floor.

"I am fucking sick of Shakespeare."

Thankfully, the Queen dove towards the body of her partner, allowing Matt to pull Robyn towards him with a web while she pulled her partner away from the battle scene.

"What the fuck was that?" He whispered, holding her with an arm under her knees and another supporting her back. From the looks of it, nothing else mattered until the Queen knew if he was alive.

"I don't know how any of you didn't notice me because it's not like his anecdote was that interesting."

"I meant with you! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your life." He was holding her like she was a corpse, dead on his watch.

"I can do that myself! What if he noticed you? What if you got hurt? I don't, I don't know what I'd do if you died." His voice trailed off as Robyn tightened her grip around his neck. Resting her head on his chest, she listened to his pounding heartbeat. "Stay back and hide." He let her go and shot her a glare as a warning which Robyn obviously wasn't going to listen to.

To save him from another heart attack from seeing her in danger -- despite him being in a worse position before she threw the chair -- Robyn stayed close to the wall, close enough to watch their battle.