Ever since that first Lettering class, Robin figured out that John knew exactly how to wind her up yet thrill her at the same time. She'd never met anyone quite like him as he was so infuriating yet she loved his company. He was the exact sort of person she'd usually want to avoid, but a week after she started college she found herself addicted to him. Not necessarily in an annoying way, remaining subtle about her fascination with him, but she found herself silently waiting for him to talk purely out of the interest of what he was going to say.
It wasn't ever anything overly insightful, usually just some witty, cutting comment about something someone else had said, but she liked hearing his opinions. She found him far more interesting than the rest of their company at college, except for Stuart of course. John and Stuart had become Robin's mates in the week that had passed since she started college, and she even found herself baring the company of the others in the group. Robin was actually quite proud of herself, feeling as if she was doing well in her classes and taking herself way out of her comfort zone by at least trying to make friends. Maybe Liverpool would be a fresh start, not that she acknowledged it as such, still refusing to think of herself as starting a new life.
To Robin, Liverpool might be a fresh start, but it was just a stop along the way before she could get on with the rest of her life. Her sentiments were not shared by her mother though, who'd also thrown herself into Liverpudlian life. Rita had always wanted to move to Liverpool since it was her husband's home town, but not out of respect for him, more because she wanted to escape the heavy industrial smog of Sheffield and get somewhere that wasn't dominated by steel works. She was happy in Liverpool, as if she'd forgotten the reasoning behind their move, and Robin knew that the emotions she felt for leaving behind her home town were not shared by her mother, though that was no surprise given that they shared very little in common anyway. Every night over dinner when it was impossible for Robin to escape her, she would rave about her new job working in a shop in town which was apparently far superior to her last job in Sheffield in an office, and she would talk all about how lucky they were to be living somewhere so much nicer.
Nicer wasn't the word Robin would use. She'd seen very little of the new city except for the house, college, and the route her uncle would drive everyday to drop her off, but what she had seen didn't overwhelm her. It was nothing special, just a working class city that seemed to have just as much industry as home, even if most of it was centred around the docks, somewhere she still hadn't ventured to. The only thing different about Liverpool was that Robin had found people she had taken a liking to, though even that became an inconvieniece when it came to her mother.
The only downside to her newfound friends was that her mother was fascinated in Robin's comings and goings. Rita Knight knew her daughter was a true introvert and though she rarely talked at home, still quiet out of grief, she could tell that there was something different, something new in her life that made her seem a little less hollow, and she wanted to know exactly what was going on at college. Of course, that was something Robin was unused to. Before his death her father was the parent she turned to, and he always knew when to leave her alone. The same could definitely not be said for Rita. She'd always been far too interested in what Robin was doing with her life, odd given the fact she didn't get up to much at all in Sheffield, but now she was at a new college and it was obvious she was making friends for once, that was all different.
Whenever Rita finished retelling all the thrills of her day over dinner, she would turn to Robin and begin her interrogations. She was still far too stubborn and private to admit anything though, so that would be her cue to leave, going off into the garden to have a smoke, hoping secretly that John would also be out there. He rarely was, often leaving her feeling uncharacteristically disappointed, but she was also glad he wasn't out there, because if she found her mother insufferable when she didn't have proof of her newfound friendships, Robin wasn't sure she'd be able to cope if her mother saw her talking with the boy next door.
So, she tried to avoid her mother's questions wherever possible, until one morning it became unavoidable when she came running down the stairs, portfolio in hand, ready to head off to college. For late September the weather was still unusually warm, and so she was making the most of it as she dressed in a black shoulderless blouse and a red flared skirt, though she had put on a pair of tan tights just in case the autumnal English weather turned as it inevitably would. With her dark hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head and her usual dark eye liner, there was something that was apparently quite shocking about her appearance to her mother as she looked up from the breakfast table, her eyes widened.
"Alreyt?" Robin called, propping her portfolio up against the wall as she went further into the kitchen, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction knowing her appearance made her mother uncomfortable, putting on her accent even stronger than usual just because she knew it annoyed her.
"Do you talk like an old Yorkshire man to your new friends?" Rita asked, looking up from her plate of toast to see Robin roll her eyes at the question. "Uncle Al's had to head to the restaurant early today so he can't give you a lift,"
"'S alright, I'll get the bus and walk home," Robin shrugged, making herself a coffee and picking up a piece of toast for herself.
"Is that really a good idea? You don't really know Liverpool very well?" her mother pressed, but before Robin could protest that she didn't really have much choice, she continued, "Unless you have friends that could show you around?"
It was true that Robin knew nothing of the city, only venturing out for college. Other than that she'd not left the house, and though the possibility of getting lost in the big new city made her wary, she didn't have an alternative but to go out alone, and she hated her mother for enhancing her discomfort and using the situation to pry into her private life. Robin put down her coffee mug on the kitchen side, letting out a long sigh, knowing she could either ignore Rita's questions, or she could talk back for once. For some reason, her mind seemed to automatically prefer the latter.
"Why are you so obsessed with the idea that I've got mates?" Robin asked, folding her arms across her chest questioningly, narrowing her eyes.
"I'm not, don't be ridiculous," she answered quickly with a short sigh. "I just want to know you're happy and you're settling in,"
"I was happy at home and didn't have friends," Robin replied, the same frustrated expression on her face. "Why do you think other people dictate my happiness?"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Roberta," Rita muttered, and Robin held in a sigh, knowing from experience that her mother liked things her way, and if she didn't get it she'd get irritated easily; this conversation seemed to be no exception. "Sometimes when you act like this you're far too much like your..."
"Like Dad?" Robin snapped, biting her lip to try and stay calm. "Next you'll say it's his fault I'm at art college to begin with, and it's his fault I never had friends back home because he encouraged me and didn't push me to be something I'm not,"
Robin watched as her mother's eyes widened and as she opened her mouth to retaliate she knew she'd gone too far. It hadn't taken long to reach that point, but it never did. Rita had a short fuse, and she hated anyone with a differing opinion. It was one of the reasons why Robin kept quiet most of the time, knowing if she spoke up it would only result in aggravating her mother. Robin had seen plenty of times how the slightest of remarks from her father would tip her mother over the edge, and though he'd learnt to just stay quiet in certain situations, she'd also seen her father act as a buffer between the two of them if Robin did ever feel like speaking up for herself. The three of them all seemed to have a volatile relationship, but with her father gone things seemed a lot more rocky.
Without him to act as a peacekeeper, Robin and her mother's relationship was still unknown, still figuring itself out, but it was clear just through how quickly their emotions had escalated that it was still just as rocky and unpredictable. Usually Robin wasn't one to back down, far too sure of her own opinions to ever concede to someone else, but she didn't want to make life more difficult for herself, so she let out a short sigh.
"Sorry," she said quickly, trying to get apologising over and done with as swiftly as possible. "I better go for the bus,"
"Right," Rita nodded, biting her lip as if she was trying to hold herself back, not as patient as her daughter. "The shop wants me to work later tonight so I don't know when I'll be home, not that you'll be bothered,"
"So I'll see you when I see you," Robin shrugged, downing the rest of her coffee and leaving her toast untouched as she refused to acknowledge her mother's attempt of another argument. "Have a good day at work,"
With that, she headed back into the hallway, grabbing her portfolio, and after taking her jacket off the hook and pulling it on in case it was colder than it appeared to be, she slipped on her boots by the door and was out of the house. She didn't realise she'd been holding in her breath but as soon as she shut the door behind herself she let out a long sigh of relief, feeling almost free as she got away. Of course she knew her mother loved her, but she had a funny way of showing it, and though they were both going through a hard time, grief had embodied itself in different ways in each of them.
Robin hated thinking too much about her relationship with her mother, and so that was why she was relieved to hear the front door of next door's house slam shut too, and though she tried not to, she couldn't help but look over and see John heading out of his house. He didn't have a portfolio with him but there was a sketchbook under his arm. Like always his guitar case was strapped to his back, and a cigarette rested lazily between his teeth. Part of her wanted to ask if he had a spare, deciding it was time to take one of his since he'd taken one of hers, but she hated that, instead deciding to get her own out of her pocket, lighting it up as she walked down the front garden path. By the time she'd reached the gate, John had noticed her, and he was staring as he always did, as if she was still so new he had to study her to try and figure her out.
At least that's what she thought he was doing. In fact, John was merely admiring her appearance and making a mental note to himself to not tell her how pretty she looked. He didn't want her getting any ideas no matter how much he thought about her. He'd rather she didn't find out about the weird fantasies he'd started having of her in the week since she'd moved in, the ones that included her doing things with him that would surely make her cringe and never want to talk to him again. The thoughts he had about her were the sorts of things that dominated his whole mind, obsessing over her as if she was some film star and not the girl who sat next to him in lettering and hated his very presence.
Not knowing her mind, John thought she hated him because of how he teased her and took her equipment in class, only tolerating him because of her friendship with Stuart, not to mention she was too civil to say anything to spite him. He enjoyed teasing her though, it was in his nature, but he felt something completely different when he joked with her than when he did it with his other mates. He thought she hated it which only seemed to encourage him more because of how much he enjoyed seeing the way she narrowed her eyes in frustration. He enjoyed every little thing about her, though he wasn't quite sure why.
"Mornin', Love," he called, holding back a smirk as he saw her roll her eyes as she met him on the path.
"I'm not your love, but good morning to you too, John," she greeted, the two of them walking down the path and to the bus stop side by side, neither of them looking at each other.
"Is the luxury of a free lift from your Uncle not available today?" he asked, glancing over to see her expel a cloud of smoke, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Oh, piss off," she muttered, still frustrated from her conversation with her mother, something John didn't know as he instead silently celebrated winding her up quicker than usual. "I'm getting the bus,"
"Have you ever gotten a bus before?" he asked, and as Robin looked over to flash him a glare, she found herself wishing he was wearing his glasses just because of how much they suited him. "Or did you have a driver back home in steel city as well?"
"You don't know anything about my life, John Lennon, you don't know anything about me now and you certainly don't know about what sort of life I lived back home," she snapped, surprising even herself for expressing her irritation, though John merely raised his eyebrows at her. "So I suggest, you shut up,"
"Only asking," he shrugged, and a moment of silence settled between the two of them before he inevitably asked, "But did you have a driver?"
Robin looked at him, her face serious in a frown, and for a second John thought she was going to hit his arm or something in anger, but instead she let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as the two of them reached the bus stop. She threw herself down onto the bench, still laughing, glaring at him, and he found it impossible not to laugh with her just because of how infectious her smile was. Usually she was so quiet, and John wasn't sure if he'd even heard her laugh properly before. He'd seen her flicker the briefest of smiles, usually only if something was really funny, but he loved watching her smile all the same, so seeing her laugh was a little overwhelming for him. Just when he thought he'd figured her out a little, deciding she was stoic, there she was hysterically laughing at the smallest of comments.
"What's funny?" he practically demanded, worrying she was laughing at him rather than with him.
"Everything," she grinned, before becoming serious once more, taking another drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground. "Every-fucking-thing. D'you know I never thought I'd find myself living in Liverpool. Dad would be fuming,"
"What's wrong with Liverpool?" John asked defensively, knowing that Robin preferred her hometown but that didn't stop him being protective over his.
"Nothing, but he grew up in a poorer side of Liverpool, and hated it," she told him with a shrug, not really sure why she was talking about her dad with John of all people, but deciding to just because it felt right. "He knew there was more to life outside of this city, but he knew he was far too poor to ever see it all. So instead he went to another poor northern city. He went to work in the mines, and then the steelworks, and he loved it because even though he'd not gone far, he'd left the place he was born and he didn't have to die there,"
Robin remembered how, one night before her father died, he had been talking about his hometown. He rarely mentioned Liverpool because of how much he didn't like it, his sole loyalty to the city being Liverpool FC and his younger brother, but those loyalties weren't enough to keep him there. He'd left at the first chance he got, that chance being when his parents kicked him out, and so he hitchhiked to Sheffield with hardly anything. If there was one thing about Robert Knight, he was a hard worker, and he worked hard from the moment he got to Sheffield up until he died. He loved Sheffield, and he told Robin all about how hitchhiking there taught him all he'd ever need to know about his new home and how beautiful it was.
He loved Sheffield because it had been where he'd escaped to when he was so desperate to get away from where he had begun. He integrated himself to life in Yorkshire as best he could, mellowing his scouse accent wherever possible and going to football matches to support Sheffield Wednesday - unless it was a match against Liverpool FC, the only exception to his new Yorkshire life. He wrote letters to his brother, and Albert came to visit whenever he could, but for the most part, Liverpool was forgotten to Robert Knight. He'd told Robin all about how much he hated the thought of dying in the same place he was born, to have such a little impact to not go anywhere or do anything of great importance in his life. It bothered him enough he hadn't been able to enlist for the army in the war, instead being needed in the steel works, but the thought of spending his whole life in Liverpool was something that bothered him more than any of them would ever know.
Not that it mattered. He died in Sheffield, far from the place he was born. He'd gotten away from Liverpool, and had died in a city he loved. He'd succeeded, he'd won, but her mother's desire to get away from the city that reminded her so badly of her husband seemed to just spite it all. For her mother to want them to move to Liverpool after Albert had suggested them living with him, Robin couldn't believe it. It felt as though the one thing he'd wanted in his life, to go somewhere, had been undermined. He'd spent his teen years wishing to get away from his roots but there Robin was, his only child sat on a bench in Liverpool, feeling the same sort of trapped feeling he'd suffered his whole adolescent life. Moving their lives to Liverpool felt like the biggest disrespect to his memory possible.
Of course she wasn't going to tell John any of that. She'd only just managed to organise those thoughts in her own, grief-cluttered mind. It felt strange enough mentioning her father to John, who was still stood by the curb, watching her intently as if trying to read her mind. He flicked his cigarette down to the floor, rubbing the toe of his shoe over it before he rammed his hands in his pockets, looking off down the road as if trying to think of something to say, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and he was trying to come up with some sort of response.
"I like Liverpool, but I don't think I'd want to end up here forever," he said with a small shrug, just as he saw the bus approaching. "It'd be a boring life,"
"That's what me Dad thought," she said, a small smile flicking onto her face for the briefest of moments, getting up from the bench as the bus pulled up at their stop.
Robin let John get on first, paying attention to what he said and how much he paid, and after she'd done the exact same she felt her stomach tighten ever so slightly ass she looked around to see no spare seats. She used to like getting the bus at home, but only if she could get a seat, and the thought of having to stand the whole twenty minute journey made her want to shudder. The only redeeming factor was that John hadn't managed to get a seat either and so he was stood at the front just behind the driver, holding onto the pole that ran along the top wall of the bus. With a sigh, Robin moved to stand next to him, raising her arm to hold onto the pole but before she could get a good grip on it the bus jerked to a start and began driving, making her stumble into John.
John laughed, especially as Robin let out a curse, trying to get her balance. She stumbled again, just as the bus turned a corner, and John had a choice. Either he could let her fall over, which would surely amuse him, or he could do the decent thing, and as he decided to go with the latter he shoved his sketchbook between his knees and grabbed hold of her shoulder, helping her balance as she got hold of the pole properly. He felt her jerk away slightly, probably not trusting him in what was meant to be a nice gesture, but he felt her lean back into him as she got her balance, not meeting his eye.
"Shit, sorry," she muttered, quickly trying to stand back up properly, but even when she did he didn't take his hand off her shoulder. "Thanks, but you can let go now, you know,"
"Yeah, alright," he muttered, shrugging casually, not at all as if he didn't feel really confused as to why he felt like he enjoyed touching her shoulder. "Just didn't want you falling over and making a scene,"
"That's good of you," she rolled her eyes, looking straight ahead through the front window of the bus, trying to ignore him and the fact that he was still staring at her. "I'm not gonna fall over, you can quit looking,"
John shrugged, bending to get his sketchbook and hold it properly under his arm again, moving his gaze to the bus window. Nothing outside interested him though, so even though he knew it would irritate her, he turned to look at her again. He liked how she'd done her hair today, but the bun paired with her shoulder-less blouse left her neck and collarbones exposed. The sight of her pale, exposed skin drove him mad, and for some reason the thought of kissing her right in the crook of her neck came into his mind. He quickly turned away from her, not sure where the thought had come from, but knew it made sense given how badly he had felt desire for her in the last few days.
It was ridiculous though. John had only known Robin just over a week, thoughts like kissing her neck were surely off-limits. Still though, he lusted after celebrities and movie stars he'd never met, and would probably never get a chance with, at least his thoughts of desire for Robin were more sensible given the fact that she was right there, in college everyday and next door to him. Just because they were sensible didn't mean they made sense though, not as he thought she didn't like him, and not in the way that he still didn't understand why he found her so attractive. It infuriated him, because the girl drove him mad and yet he couldn't figure out why. Regardless of the reason, he was attracted to her, and he enjoyed being with her even if he thought she hated him.
What he didn't know was that she couldn't possibly hate him, not that morning anyway. That morning in particular he'd provided her with the perfect distraction from her disagreement with her mother. The whole argument, however small it had been, had reminded her of everything she had hated about life in Sheffield, and it had made her think that maybe life in Liverpool wouldn't be any better, not if her mother's temper persisted even though she was now living in a city she loved. Robin had begun to think the whole me had been a waste, because even though her mother was happy in her new job she was still unhappy enough to easily snap at her, not to mention the move being a disgrace to her father's memory.
The events of the morning had left her longing to go home, back to normal. Except then she'd been with John, and even though he'd been mocking her and winding her up to the point she'd snapped at him, his company was one of the only things she had found other than college that she actually liked about Liverpool.
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