Robin really liked having the weekend off work. It was nice to not deal with customers, it gave her more time to spend with John, and it also helped her avoid her Uncle. She'd only briefly seen Albert in passing, only talking to him long enough to establish that she was safe and was staying with John and Mimi for the weekend, and while he seemed upset at the situation he seemed understanding. Robin just knew that she would like to put off the inevitable conversation about what had happened for as long as possible.
It was great that John had suggested her coming along to Paul's that Saturday morning, since it was just a nice distraction from everything, because not only did she have her own family stuff to deal with she now had John's, as she was meeting his sisters that afternoon. Robin had very little experience with families, and considering she was an only child she had no experience with children or other girls younger than her. John hadn't been the most reassuring either, since to him it was just a normal occasion, and she'd decided not to tell him the extent of her concerns. It was bad enough he was walking on tenterhooks around her because of her mother, and she was still embarrassed that she'd practically moved into his house. She refused to add fuel to the sympathy fire.
Instead she sat in the corner of Paul's back room, watching as the two of them rehearsed. Whenever she usually accompanied them it was the whole group, all the Quarrymen together, but for the first time it was just the two of them. It was like invading, like she was glimpsing in to something highly personal and private, though it wasn't like either of them paid her much mind. Too focused on themselves, it was like John and Paul were enveloped in their own personal bubble, and nothing could disrupt them. Robin was certain she could take her shirt off and John would barely notice. Not that she cared, she was busy sketching, getting on with her coursework while her camera sat untouched on her lap, trying to ignore the quiet rumblings of stress in her mind as she realised deadlines were growing ever closer.
"Don't play it like that, play it like this," Paul commented after John hit a few notes of his guitar, demonstrating to him the way he wanted it. Robin didn't know too much about the technicalities of music, but she personally thought both sounded the exact same.
"I don't wanna play it like that though," John muttered, shoving his glasses back up his nose.
"But it sounds better like that, more rock n' roll!" Paul enthused, making John roll his eyes dramatically.
Robin looked back down at her sketchpad, grimacing. The assignment prompt had just been 'standing', a vague title that had made her want to scream. It also made her want to curse considering Stuart knew exactly what he wanted to do, while she severely lacked inspiration. She was pretty sure he'd already finished his first draft of the piece, deciding to just do a still life and call it 'life standing still'. The thought of Stuart so far ahead was irritating, so she'd been forcing herself to just draw what ever came to mind and just try and make an association to the word 'standing'. So far that wasn't going to plan.
"Sing those words again, just repeat it back to me what the bloody hell we're meant to be singing about," John sighed, hitting his hand against the strings of his guitar.
"Well, she was just seventeen, never was a beauty queen," Paul sang, and Robin instantly thought that while it sounded amazingly catchy, it wasn't quite perfect. "Dunno if that's right?"
"I like the first part, that bit's good," John shrugged, still fiddling with his guitar strings. "Well, she was just seventeen... God, what's so great about being seventeen?"
"Wouldn't know," Paul joked, referencing the fact that he was still just sixteen for another two months. As soon as he'd spoken, he gasped, as if an idea hit him. "Well she was just seventeen, you know what I mean,"
"And the way she looked, was way beyond compare," John sang back, and Robin wasn't sure if he'd already written that bit or if he'd come up with it on the spot. "What's that next bit you had?"
"Now how could I dance with another, ooh! When I saw-" Paul continued.
"When I saw her standing there!" John interrupted to sing along, the pair of them grinning, as if they had written a masterpiece.
The song seemed to write itself from there on. The words and the music seemed to come to them as if by magic, and though Robin kept trying to focus on her work, every so often she'd glance up at the two of them. She'd never seen anything like it, the dynamic. It was like they were fused together mentally, as if one thought something and the other played or sang it. It took a great level of intelligence to do what they were doing, yet it came so naturally. It was strange, considering John was just her boyfriend, and Paul just his mate, but she felt as though she was at a concert, watching the greats.
When they did the song right from the start, playing it right through to the end, Robin found herself humming along. It was catchy, it felt new and fresh, but one thing struck her. The words, the chorus, and suddenly a wave of inspiration hit her. She didn't want to interrupt them to ask if she was hearing them right, or if she could even use their likeness, but she couldn't imagine John or Paul opposing, so without second thought she lifted her camera and snapped a few pictures. Neither of them noticed, not even when she stood up to get a better angle.
"What do you think?" John asked her as she sat back down, taking her by surprise.
"I didn't think you'd want my opinion, I didn't think there was room for me in your dynamic duo," she shrugged, letting out a laugh as the two lads exchanged a confused look. "Oh, come on! I could've done the full monty and neither of you would've looked up,"
"Well I'm looking if you wanna do it now," John winked at her, and she let out a groan of annoyance, tossing one of her discarded balled-up sketches at him. Paul chuckled as it bounced off John's shoulder. "Seriously though, bird, any thoughts?"
"Yeah, I was thinking how much I wanted to get up and have a boogie," she told them both, struggling to keep the grin off her face. "I think its a right tune, lads,"
"You think?" Paul asked, a small smirk of confidences growing on his face as if he realised what they had just written was actually rather good.
"I wouldn't lie about it," Robin shrugged, letting out a laugh of surprise as John put his guitar aside and tackled her into an embrace.
The two of them ran the song through a few more times before they moved on to practicing a few more numbers ready for their next performance. They tried polishing up a few more new songs, but Robin didn't think any of them matched up to their first song.
"What are you calling it?" she asked quietly the moment both of them fell silent, careful not to disrupt their focus. "That song you've just written, what're you naming it?"
"Why? You want to give it a name and get five percent profit from the writing credits?" John joked dryly, smirking smugly as Robin rolled her eyes. "I dunno, what're you thinking, Paulie?"
"What about 'I saw her standing there'?" Paul suggested, and John nodded along.
Robin nodded too, smirking with satisfaction as she finally figured out her coursework project.
***
The rest of the day flew by, especially the meeting with John's family. She expected them all to hate her. She had enough confidence to believe in herself, but that confidence didn't extend to her expecting the like or appreciation of others, and that definitely didn't help the fact that the only member of John's family she already knew didn't like her. She expected John's other aunts and his sister's to share Mimi's opinion, or at least feel a similar sense of distaste towards her.
The opposite happened. She felt welcomed, accepted, wanted. After the fanfare of John's arrival and the revelation of him finally having a girlfriend, she felt as thought she was a celebrity among the women, as if they were excited to know her. That wasn't something she usually experienced. His sisters wanted to chat to her, and his aunts wanted to get to know her. They all wanted to know exactly who the girl who caught their John's eye was, but not in the bitter way that Mimi treated her to. They all... liked her.
Robin couldn't quite wrap her head around it, even after they'd all left and she went up to John's room to look over the drawings she'd done that day. John's family was the complete opposite of hers. Sure it was just as dysfunctional, but it was vast, and it was full of love, even if it wasn't love in the conventional sense all of the time. John was so loved. His desire to be a rock and roll star once made her think that he was seeking out some sort of approval, but how could he want anything else when he had such love at home? It wasn't something she was used to at all. If John's aunts who'd met her once for only four hours showed such a strong interest in her, why had she never really experienced that sort of comfort in her own home?
Sometimes Robin managed to convince herself she wasn't worthy of any sort of love, especially when her mother had her outbursts about how much of a mistake she was. Sometimes she got in her head about her worth, no matter how much she knew it all wasn't true. Being with John usually helped to combat those sort of thoughts, but seeing him with his family, his family that embraced her as if they'd known her for a lot longer than a few hours, it threw her whole perspective off.
"Everything alright, bird?" John asked as he came into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. She glanced up from where she was sat cross-legged on the floor with her sketchbook in front of her to see he was holding two beer bottles.
"Yeah, fine," she answered, flashing a smile that barely lasted a second as she focused back on her book.
"You're doing that thing where you tell me you're fine but actually you're all quiet and thoughtful," he pointed out, placing the beers on the side table as he laid on his bed, using his elbow to prop himself up. "Tell me what's in your head."
"Well there's my brain for a start," she muttered, lacking the patience to even begin telling him everything she was thinking.
"Don't be clever," he rolled his eyes.
"Didn't think you'd want a stupid girlfriend," she shot back quickly, getting up from the floor and perching on the edge of the bed. She leant over to take one of the beers, taking a long swig. "I'm fine."
John wasn't an idiot, he could tell she wasn't fine, but he could also tell that pestering her wouldn't help. That was unfortunately his instinct, so for once in his life he bit his tongue, clenching his jaw gently as he sat up, wrapping his hand around her waist to pull her close. She moved into him gratefully, wrapping her own arms around him as he moved her so that she was practically straddling him.
"What's this project you've been working on today then?" he asked her, deciding to try a different topic she might entertain more. "Is it something I have to do as well?"
"No, you're not in that class," she shook her head with a faint laugh, though he could see she didn't really find it funny. "The prompt was 'standing', and you and Paul were standing a lot in rehearsal and then you were singing that song about standing so I thought it was fitting. That's okay, isn't it, if I do my work about you two? I'll use watercolours and block out your faces, I just couldn't think of anything else."
"You're an art genius, I'm sure you could think of something more interesting than me and Paul," he chuckled before smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course it's okay, Rob. Why would I ever mind being muse to my girl?"
"Well what if you decide after I've done it that you hate me and want to break up with me, but the damned picture is stuck up on a classroom wall for the next year?" she shrugged, no amusement in her tone, and he was shocked to hear her even suggest something like that.
"Oh yeah cause I really was planning on dumping you by the end of the summer," John rolled his eyes, hiding his hurt with humour as he usually excelled in. "Course I don't mind, Robin. I'd find it quite an honour actually. Don't tell Stu this since I've known him longer but you're the best artist I know."
She didn't say anything, merely looking down at her sketch pad still on the floor. She took another swig of the beer, and then another one, and as she placed the bottle back down on the side it clinked against his own. It was empty, he realised. Something wasn't right, and he couldn't figure out what, mostly because she wouldn't tell him.
He knew she wouldn't talk, wouldn't tell him all the things swarming around in her head, so instead he decided to take an alternate approach. If he couldn't talk to her to tell her how much he cared then he would try and show her. He moved his lips to hers, her mouth tasting of beer as their kiss deepened, and he felt her sigh longingly, more than happy to kiss him back. She rested her forehead against his, her eyes clenched shut as if she was trying to imagine them in their own little world. His hands held her hips, drawing her closer to him, knowing he'd never wanted to be this close to anyone, wondering if he could ever even think about feeling this way about anyone else. No, of course not. It was Robin. Just Robin. No one else.
"Do you like me?" she whispered eventually when they stopped to catch their breath.
"I love you," he told her, his voice laced with desire and certainty, knowing he couldn't even think about saying those words to anyone but her.
"No... no, that's not what I asked," she shook her head, her voice hushed and sad. "Do you like me?"
"How could I not?" he frowned, pulling his face away from hers to see in horror that she was crying.
"No one ever has," she told him calmly despite her tears, quickly moving her hands away from him to wipe them away, as if they surprised even her.
"Lots of people like you, Robin," he reminded her. "You've got loads of friends, you've got your uncle, you've got me."
She grimaced slightly, letting out a slow sigh. After what felt like forever, she leant back towards him, desperate to kiss him again, desperate to get that kick of adrenaline that she only ever felt when his lips were on hers. She needed to feel that rush, she needed to feel him. Except he pulled away, still too confused by her words to succumb back into his desire easily.
"I need-" she began, but he shook his head.
"No, Robin, I need you to actually tell me why you're saying all this stuff!" he snapped slightly, running a hand through his hair as his eyebrows creased together. "I can't just kiss you when you're not acting like you. Has someone said something to you today? Did Mimi do something?"
"No, no one's done anything to me," she said quickly, though the words felt wrong, feeling too much like lies. "You're so loved, John. You're so... your aunts and your sisters, the way they look at you... I've never had family like that, and the way they were with me-"
"How were they with you?" he interrupted, suddenly angry. She couldn't tell if he was angry at her for accusing his aunts for being mean to her, or angry at them for potentially upsetting her.
"They were nice! They were kind!" she exclaimed, feeling her throat tighten, feeling stupid and foolish as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "I've never known family like it, a big unit that all likes each other, and they were nice! Why were a bunch of women who've never met me before nice to me? Why did I feel like they actually wanted me around when I never even feel like that around my own family?"
Robin used the word family, but they both knew what it was a substitute for. Not family, her mother. There were a few seconds before she dissolved into tears again. They weren't silent, secret tears like the last, but proper sobs, her whole body shaking as she gasped for breath, her chest aching as hot angry tears stained her cheeks. It was an unexpected outburst, and at first John didn't know what to do. He felt like an eternity passed as she cried, a lifetime worth of emotions bursting out of her, before he finally moved to hold her again. He placed both of his hands either side of her face, not knowing what to do or what to say.
If he had said anything, she wouldn't have heard it. She wouldn't have heard anything over her mind screaming at her, shouting all of the things she usually tried to push away. She never allowed herself to think about her lack of maternal love, never gave herself the opportunity to fully realise what it meant and how her mother's actions had affected her, but then it all came at once, a lifetime of confusion and upset finally rising to the surface. She didn't particularly like crying, especially in front of John, which just made everything worse. She didn't like feeling vulnerable in general, but in front of John... it just felt like a nightmare.
He didn't speak, but he kept holding her, and though that was a comfort she couldn't help but imagine what he was thinking of her. Surely he thought she was irrational, who breaks down like that out of nowhere? Surely he'd want nothing more to do with her now, he'd not want to be with her anymore now he'd seen her true colours. He was the one person who she truly didn't want to lose, the one person she didn't want to have a bad opinion of her, and this stupid outburst was surely going to ruin all of that.
She didn't even know why she was crying anymore. It had been such a long time coming, why was she even crying about it all? Everything she was crying over had been in her head for a long time, why did it suddenly matter this much?
Robin felt as though she was screaming, but actually her tears had been silent despite the occasional gasp for breath. It was only when she took a long deep breath that she realised John had been singing to her, softly whispering out words to a song she had heard him sing for her before. He was singing 'Ain't She Sweet', and as soon as she heard the lyrics and his soft humming voice, she felt a little clarity wash over her, and for a moment she could think.
"Is this our crisis song?" she managed to whisper, a faint smile threatening to emerge despite her tears.
"You what?" he frowned, pulling away so he could see her face.
"Any time I'm showing an ounce of emotion, you start singing that song," she pointed out, laughing tiredly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me today."
"I wouldn't apologise, yesterday was shit for you," he shrugged, rubbing his hand up down her back, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. "If I didn't think you'd be annoyed at me I'd go have a word with Al."
"I'm gonna go see him in the morning," she decided, even if she hated the thought of going home, the thought of running into her mother making her insides squirm.
***
Robin, true to her word, decided that she would go see Uncle Albert first thing Sunday morning. She'd hardly slept all night, her mind whirring. If she'd not had John's arms wound around her in a tight embrace she'd have tossed and turned but instead she had to merely lie on her side, crammed into John's tiny single bed, staring at the wall. It was only when she could see the faint traces of sunlight through the thin curtains that she decided she couldn't just pretend she was sleeping anymore, so even though John's soft, quiet snores were still echoing in the otherwise silent room, she managed to untangle herself from his arms, carefully pulling herself out of bed.
On the floor was her sketchbook and pencils, still scattered about from her work the night before. She sat down, flicking to a blank page before writing John a note, thinking it would be much easier than waking him up to explain to him where she had gone. At least if she left while he was still asleep he wouldn't get in her head about the whole thing. Robin's mind was in overdrive as it was, she didn't need John's concern on top of what she was already dealing with.
'Gone home,' she wrote. 'Come through the window tonight? Love, your bird x'
She'd left her stuff in the spare bedroom, so Robin quietly crept out of John's bedroom and down the corridor, shutting the door behind herself. She felt moderately calm, despite her heart pounding at the thought of going home, though she managed to distract herself by searching through her bag to find something to wear, pulling on a pair of checked trousers and a high-necked jumper. Her hair was a mess, and as she didn't have a hairbrush she couldn't do anything but run her fingers through it, thinking how badly it needed a cut. She'd not had a haircut since... she couldn't remember. She tried measuring out how much she'd have cut off if she found a decent hairdresser, and then moved in front of her mirror, fiddling with her outgrown fringe to see if she'd suit it again, remembering how she'd thought it a mistake the first time round but now it had grown out she missed it.
"I'm making up excuses," she muttered to herself, knowing she didn't really care about her hair that much, not unless it was a distraction from facing her real problems.
With that, she pulled on her boots, gathered the rest of her stuff together into her bag and quietly left the room, creeping down the stairs. She could hear Mimi in the kitchen, but Robin wasn't really in the mood to talk to John's aunt. She'd definitely heard her crying last night, and Mimi wasn't someone Robin thought would be full of sympathy, not that she wanted any at all. Instead, she left through the front door, using the key to lock it before she posted it back through the letter box. At least if the door was locked she was stuck, she couldn't go running back to John to avoid her problems.
Robin made her way home, digging her key out of her bag and entering the porch. As soon as she was through the door she hesitated, listening out, and it didn't take her long to hear voices coming from the living room. Her Uncle, and her mother. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying just yet, but she could tell it was tense. Robin wondered if her uncle had ever spent a great amount of time with his sister-in-law before inviting her to move in with him. She doubted it considering he rarely visited them in Sheffield and her dad hated going home to Liverpool. Robin found it bitterly amusing that Albert had done a kind deed by inviting his supposedly grief-stricken newly-widowed sister-in-law, yet it had backfired into him ending up with the most problematic housemates.
She took her time propping her boots up on the shoe rack, and considered taking her bag up to her room, but she knew she was just putting off the inevitable. It was impossible to hide from them both forever, knowing that she would eventually have to face them. She wasn't sure if she was more scared of coming face-to-face with her mother, who's temper was already well-established, or her uncle, who would surely want to talk about everything.
"I don't think you're being fair!" Robin heard her mother speak, and she sounded oddly as if she was pleading. Did she sound like she was crying, too? "Phil's divorce isn't final, he hasn't even told her yet, he can't take me in. Where do you expect me to go?"
"You've got a decent-paying job, there's plenty of flats in Liverpool I'm sure you can afford," Albert spoke, and Robin could imagine him shrugging, looking nonchalant despite a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Rita, I really am, but I can't have both of you in the house anymore."
"Then why don't you throw her out?" Rita snapped, and Robin bit her lip pushing her ear to the wall so she could hear better. "She's eighteen, not to mention she's got that horrible boyfriend. It'd make more sense to get rid of her!"
"I'm not getting rid of anyone, I'm merely asking you to move out," Albert responded calmly, much calmer than Robin would have done.
"So you're fine with her sneaking around and tramping around town with that lad? Because I'm not fine with it, and I'm her mother," Rita argued hotly, and part of Robin, as much as she was cringing, was actually enjoying learning her mother's true opinion. "Where even is she now? She's off somewhere in town, she's not even told us where she's gone?"
"I know perfectly well where she's gone," Albert was still calm. "And if you really were her mother, you wouldn't talk about her like that, and you wouldn't be so utterly rude to her. Surely you remember what it was like to be eighteen."
"I do, and I hate that she's making all the same bloody mistakes I did!" Rita ranted, and Robin vowed mentally to herself once again to not let her mother get to her. "I look at her and hate that I just see myself, doing all the stupid things that ruined me."
"That sounds like a lot of stuff regarding yourself that you have to deal with, not channel onto Robin," Albert spoke, his voice almost cold. "You used to complain that she never left your flat, never showed interest in anything, and I entertained that at first, but then you don't stop complaining when she actually makes friends and has a life. I just think whatever she does will just make you miserable because you're jealous and wish you were her age again and that you don't have to face the responsibilities you constantly shirk off, and I'm not going to let that drag Rob down. So yes, I'm more than happy for Robin to keep living with me, she can stay as long as she wants, but you've got to go."
It felt as though she had been hit by a car, the air knocked straight out of her, Albert's speech completely unexpected. Robin was more than capable of standing up for herself, she had gotten enough practice, but for Albert to take her side, and in such an extreme way... she didn't know how to feel, though it felt a little like freedom. She'd not realised how suffocating it was merely thinking about living with her mother, but now Albert had taken care of that, Robin wondered if she'd ever felt so relieved.
Even so, Robin didn't particularly want to see her mother, not if she was enraged already, knowing her presence would do nothing positive for her temper. So as she heard her mother's footsteps thunder towards the living room door, Robin shot off up the stairs, hiding in her bedroom. She expected her mother to follow her upstairs to gather her stuff, but instead she stormed straight out of the front door, slamming it behind herself. Robin waited a moment, creeping out of her room to see from the top of the stairs Albert was stood by the front door, watching Rita as she strode down the garden path and out onto the street. Robin could hear him sigh with relief, and it was only then that she ran back down the stairs, throwing her arms around Albert tightly.
He'd not known she was there, so he jolted slightly, letting out a quiet curse, but he quickly relaxed, moving so he could hug her back.
"Thank you," she whispered, unsure of what else to say despite the multitude of emotions she felt.
"Anytime, kid," he replied with a small smile.
***
Word count: 4954
***