Static

~I'm no good without you~

Robin's room always smelled like cinnamon gum and faint smoke from the incense he kept tucked on the shelf above his desk, the kind he claimed "wasn't for anything weird." The air was cooler than usual today. Spring kind of cool, where it still clung to winter's chill, but the sun was trying its best to peek through. Robin had cracked his window open just enough to let the breeze in. It made the curtains sway gently, like they were breathing.

A cassette tape played from the corner. Blues music. Old and scratchy. His dad's, probably. I didn't know the song, but it fit, soft, slow, and kind of aching in the background.

I was curled up on the edge of Robin's bed, legs crossed, trying to focus on a comic book I'd picked up from his desk. Something vintage with worn corners and a missing back cover. I flipped the pages, pretended to read, but nothing stuck. My eyes moved, but the words didn't land. Not when Robin was stretched out beside me like that, his legs just barely brushing mine, one hand tucked behind his head, the other drawing lazy, invisible shapes into the pillow between us.

We hadn't kissed since last week.

We hadn't talked about it either. There hadn't been a big conversation or a label or even an awkward "so what are we" moment.

But I still felt it.

That thing between us. Quiet, electric, waiting.

And somehow, that made everything feel more real. Not rushed or dramatic or like some whirlwind movie scene. Just... something building. Something mine.

Robin shifted onto his side, propping his chin up with one hand. "You're quiet."

I glanced at him, brow raised. "I'm always quiet."

"Yeah, but you're, like, thinking quiet today. Dangerous levels." His eyes flickered, teasing. But under the grin was something else, something more careful. Like he was watching the space between us with a little more attention than usual.

I shrugged, half-hearted. "Just tired."

That was half-true.

I was tired. But not the kind of tired that sleep could fix. It was more like the kind that wrapped around your ribs, slow and sticky. Like the aftermath of everything with Bruce and Moose and all the noise I hadn't let myself say out loud yet.

Robin didn't push. He just watched me for a moment too long before he spoke again.

"Can I ask you something?"

I felt myself tense a little, chest tightening, not from fear, exactly. More like anticipation. "Sure."

Robin sat up, mirroring my posture. He crossed his legs, leaned forward slightly. Not so close that it was intimidating, just enough to feel intentional. Like he needed to be a little closer to get the words out.

"If someone asked if we were... you know. A thing." His hand went to the back of his neck, scratching lightly. "Would you say yes?"

My heart stuttered. Just for a second.

I blinked, not sure I'd heard him right. Or maybe I had. Maybe I just wasn't sure how to answer yet.

Robin's voice softened, the way it always did when he was trying to be gentle with me. "I mean, I know we haven't talked about it. Not really. But I like being around you. More than just, like, hanging out."

He looked down, fingers messing with a frayed thread on his hoodie. "And I guess I've been thinking about it lately. What it'd be like if we didn't have to keep it quiet. If I could just..." His eyes flicked back up to mine. "Hold your hand in the hallway. Or tell Gwen to stop asking if I like anyone."