#also i think the pc robin whitney trio is underrated

[banned-for-horny]

Comeuppance

So maybe Kylar's attempts with Sydney and Whitney didn't work exactly as intended, but dealing with Robin should be easy, right?

cw: graphic description of violence

kinda wrote this in a heat of the moment. im definitely expanding upon this once i can get an ao3 account

It’s easy for Kylar to pick up Robin’s schedule. In fact, he already sort of knows it after observing him with you for so long: go to school at 8:00 AM, attend classes until 3:00 PM, loiter around the front until 5:00 PM (or earlier, if you are there with him), then stay in the orphanage until 8:00 AM the next morning. The only deviation he has to worry about is the weekends, when Robin sets up a stand to try and make some money. 

Granted, there was that one period of time where both you and Robin disappeared for two weeks, right after Kylar released Whitney.

(Well, released as in he had to blind and gag him and toss him in an alleyway for someone to find him, but that's besides the point.)

At first, he'd assumed Robin had taken you and fled, but then the delinquent vanished too and-oh, just thinking about it makes his stomach boil. How dare that-that jerk you away for so long. Him and Whitney must have worked together. Just what kind of terrible things were they doing to you when you three were alone?! When you'd finally come back to Kylar, you’d been so scared of everything and clung to Robin’s side for months. Robin must have hurt you, a-and the moment Kylar gets his hands on that orphan bastard he’ll-

Kylar shoos those thoughts away with a violent shake of his head. No, no. He needs to focus. Revenge will come in due time. Whitney has already been dealt with, leaving the orphan. Even if Robin is one of the nicer students around the school, that doesn’t mean he can get away with keeping you away from your one true love for so long.

So Kylar crouches behind the bushes, gnawing on his lip as the orphan continues to set up his hot chocolate stand. Winter air nips at his nose, skin raw and tender as he burrows into his scarf. It’s a Sunday, so you’re off preparing for mass at the temple with Sydney. Whitney and his friends are off at the lake ice skating. It’s cloudy, too, so the only people around are bums and joggers. It’s the perfect time to strike. 

That’s what Kylar tells himself as he starts digging through his duffel bag. Red bondage rope? Check. Chloroform and rag? Check. Fake cum in a pump bottle designed specifically for close-up shots in a porno? Check. Illicit drugs he asked Whitney to grab in exchange for never leaking those photos Kylar took of him during their, uh, ‘training session’ together? 

He picks up the plastic baggie filled with multicolored tablets. He wonders if that might cross a line, then quickly shakes his head again. From what he’s discovered, you wouldn’t care if your lover wasn’t a virgin or if they were a delinquent, so Kylar is kind of running out of options here. The only foolproof way to get Robin out of the picture is to send him to prison, so…

“Sorry, Robin,” Kylar mutters before continuing his prep. He has a blanket spread out already to keep him and his future victim dry, plus a burner phone with a camera ready to send the evidence to authorities. And finally, where his switchblade would normally be, he pats an unmarked silver canister. He doesn’t plan on killing the guy since that would make you upset, but…well, better safe than sorry, right?

Right. Kylar nods to himself and grabs the bottle of chloroform, soaking the washcloth and allowing the shock of cold chemicals to settle his nerves. He can do this, he says as he tucks the bottle away. He has to. It’s for you. He was willing to learn how to have sex properly with Sydney for you. He was willing to kidnap Whitney and collect a lifetime supply of blackmail in exchange for his silence for you. It’s all for you, it always will be, and-

“Hey!” Robin calls your name excitedly. “You’re here!”

And Kylar shoots to his feet in alarm, just in time to receive a cup of scalding hot chocolate to the face. 

“AAAHA-” His scream is cut short when his back slams into the ground. Weight crushes his stomach and hands seize his wrists, and his instincts overtake him. He thrashes side to side, then yanks his arm over his face, teeth latching onto the wrist of his assaulter. Whoever’s on top of him hisses in pain and rips their arm free, only to wheeze when Kylar’s fist connects. The weight thuds to his right. He rolls left and frantically scrubs the mocha from his eyes.

It’s Robin. Of course it’s Robin. The orphan’s crouched at the opposite end of the blanket, pupils dilated and wrist dribbling red. 

Kylar swallows. The hedges block them from prying eyes, but not from ears. If one of them screams, they’re bound to attract attention, and considering all of the illegal substances scattered around, there’s no way he can have that happen.

Robin seems to come to the same conclusion, because he says in a low voice, “W-What are you planning, Kylar?”

“I-Wha-”

“Don’t,” Robin hisses, “lie to me.” His fingers curl into a tight, scarred fist. “I-I heard you muttering to yourself back here, and I know you did something to Sydney and Whitney, and I know you’ve been stalking me and-”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Kylar cuts in, because it’s only the truth! He was stalking you. Robin just happened to be in the way like he always is.

“My point exactly,” Robin snaps. “You’re stalking us.”

Us. The bitterness in his voice jolts Kylar out of his thoughts. Everyone in school always said the orphan was one of the nicer ones, and he’s experienced Robin’s kindness first hand. But this sudden personality change only hardens the boy’s decision. Someone as bitter as him can’t possibly make you happy, right? If anything, Robin is a threat to your own safety.

Kylar's hand reaches for his pocket. Robin's eyes dart down, then up, and for a brief moment, the smaller boy thinks the orphan is about to throw all caution to the wind and start screaming for help. 

Instead, Robin lunges across the blanket and sends them both into the thicket. Kylar's thick winter coat spares him from the branches, but that doesn't stop the orphan from shoving his face into it. Thin lines slice at his dark cheeks, snag his hair, snap under his weight. Underneath his instinctual panic, the smaller boy's thoughts work in overtime. Robin is bigger. Robin is stronger. 

Kylar thrashes in Robin's grip and slams his heel straight into the orphan's ankle. He lists like a drunkard fresh off of Connudatus Street, teeth bared, but Kylar lifts his foot and tries again. This time, his foot throbs as it hits dirt. Missed. Robin shoves his leg between them, knee nearly colliding with Kylar's privates until he doubles over to dodge. With teeth clenched, he rams his head right into the larger boy's stomach and sends them both sprawling over the duffel bag. Its contents scatter across the blanket in a loud and obnoxious clatter that's definitely going to draw attention. He needs to end this and fast.

Kylar plants himself on Robin before he can recover, scratching at his face and biting at whatever limb gets too close. His nails are nothing more than pathetic stumps from years of habitual gnawing, but that doesn't stop them from leaving angry red lines all over Robin's soft cheeks. When the orphan tries to shove him off, he rams his elbow into his nose. A spurt of blood splatters his sleeve in the process. 

The blow seems to stun both Kylar and Robin, because the former slows down just enough to catch a glimpse of black under the orphan's shirt. Even in the winter, all Robin has to protect himself is an unzipped jacket and white shirt now speckled with blood. It almost looks like permanent mark-

Kylar's head snaps to the side, nearly knocking him out as Robin rears back. He jerks left before it can connect, eyes zeroing on the orphan's crooked nose. If he can't send Robin to the prison, disfigurement will have to do. 

Kylar rears back his right fist. He swings with all his might. 

Robin tucks his chin and arms in, twists to the left under his fist, and drags Kylar down into a crushing hug. His left arm catches under the orphan's shoulder, left leg quickly tangled under Robin's right. He tries to use his right arm for leverage, but Robin is bigger and Robin is stronger, and Robin shoves his hips up and twists and flips them over. 

The first swing clips Kylar's jaw, the second hits his cheekbone. The third, fourth, fifth snap his head left, right, left until he finally has enough common sense to throw his arms up. One hit bounces off his forearm, and he tries to scratch at Robin's face, throat-anything. All he catches is the collar of his shirt, its flimsy fabric ripping from the force of its wearer's swings.

It's like the noise flipped a switch. Robin lets out a desperate scream and wrenches Kylar's arm away. He braces himself for another rain of blows, but nothing comes. When he finally manages to peel his swelling eye open, it's to the sight of Robin frantically hugging his jacket close, shielding his exposed chest from the world. An opening. 

A burst of adrenaline hits Kylar at the sight, and he rips the canister from his pocket and sprays. Robin screams even harder at that, hands flying to his face as pepper spray coats his eyes. His jacket falls open as he flops back, writhing in pain. And maybe Kylar should try the chloroform now, or definitely start running because that scream was loud, but the burning rage from before returns tenfold. See? Robin is violent. Unstable! If Kylar didn't step in, who knows what kind of misery you would go through under the hands of someone so awful?! He stumbles to his feet and tries to aim at Robin's face again. He has the orphan down now. If he can take him out for good, there'd be no one to get in the way. 

Kylar shoves Robin's shoulder, forcing him onto his back as the orphan begins to sob. Blood and pepper spray leak down his chin in an angry red slurry, and Kylar's eye follows a fat droplet until it hits Robin's exposed collarbone. 

164. The numbers 164 are carved into Robin's skin. 

His moment of hesitation ends when Robin's leg sweeps Kylar's from beneath him. His world tilts and jolts, vision spotting as blood rushes to his head. 

"Stay away!" Robin snarls. Blood and pepper spray and boiling rage stain his skin a bright red as he towers over Kylar. He drives his heel into the smaller boy's wrist, punting the canister into the bushes. "Stay away from them!" 

Kylar's vision starts to blur. 

"Stay away from me!"

His mind feels fuzzy.

"Don't ever touch either of us AGAIN!" 

"Stop!"

Your melodic voice drags Kylar's consciousness back to his body. There you are, struggling your way through the thicket. Even the clouds seem to part above you, bathing you in the radiant light you deserve. You must be descending from the heavens, Kylar thinks, reaching out to take away all the pain he's endured-

"Robin!" 

…huh?

Kylar blinks. You're not reaching out for him. You're clutching Robin's shoulders tight, fingers ghosting over the orphan's injured face as he trembles. 

"Hey," you coo softly, "I'm right here, Robin, it's okay. Can you hear me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Robin hiccups, swaying on his feet as blood pools down his face. "T-The park. I-I'm in the park."

"That's right," you say. "You're in the park, the sun's out. Do you feel that? The sun?"

Robin's head jerks in a shaky nod. 

"God, what are you, a therapist?" a familiar voice sneers out of Kylar's view. 

You frown and turn towards the hedges. "Cut it out, Whitney, this is serious."

…Huh?

"Damn right, this is serious." Heavier footsteps trod through the bushes until a hulking shadow with piercings blot out the sun. Kylar's blood runs cold at the sight. "Be glad I dragged your sorry ass out of the mass. Otherwise your loser boyfriend would be a murderer."

…HUH. 

Kylar groans, drawing your gaze. Good. Yes. That's what this was for. All of this prep, this pain? Just to have your eyes on him again. 

"Oh, thank god," you sigh in…relief. That has to be relief, right? Why did it sound so sad and why why why are you looking away from him? "Robin, what the hell happened?"

Something broils in Kylar's gut, mouth falling open in a desperate attempt to call your name. What comes out is a choked gurgle that neither you nor Whitney acknowledge, all eyes on Robin as he gasps and sniffles. 

"I-I heard-" he hiccups, "I knew Kylar was-was planning something, a-and I know you s-said to wait until the service was over so that you could bring Sydney, b-but then he was here and I got s-scared, s-so I-"

"So you beat his face in?" Whitney finishes with a raucous laugh. "Fuckin' hell, this was great. Hey, slut, next time you're in the library, you better suck the life right outta his dick."

"Wha'?" Kylar slurs. "Whaddya mean?"

Whitney glances at you. You're still preoccupied with coddling Robin, peeling off his jacket and shirt to try and wipe the pepper spray from his face. Seizing his chance, he courteously crouches by Kylar's face. His lips curl, a feral smile fit for a starving dog eyeing his dying master's corpse. "Was just feeling a little generous and thought we could kill two bastards with one stone." He gently pats Kylar's cheek. "You seriously thought I would let you get away with all that bullshit you put me through when you threw me out, huh?" 

"Whitney," you call in irritation as you and Robin sit down. You've shed your own winter coat to wrap it tight around the bloodied orphan, baring your delicate shoulders to the cold. They're smooth, perfect, beautiful in the way anything is when seen for the first time. All Kylar notices are the thick, blocky numbers inked into your skin: 163. "Stop it and call an ambulance already."

"Yeah, yeah, slut," Whitney drones. He crawls right over Kylar, making sure to dig his knee into the smaller boy's side as he drags the duffel over. After a moment, Kylar hears the telltale rattle of pills being stuffed somewhere they shouldn't, followed by the delinquent popping one in his mouth.

Kylar's lips tremble. "W-Wait-"

"What?" Whitney pops another, crushing the powder between his teeth. "They're just fizzers."

Fizzers. Candy. 

Your lips downturn. "Whitney-"

"I'm calling already, bitch, shut the fuck up!" Lazily, Whitney retrieves the burner phone from the side pocket, dials 999, and props it up against one ear. From this angle, sprawled out on the floor, Kylar catches a glimpse of black ink, somewhat hidden under his shaggy blonde hair: 162. 

Kylar's vision starts to blur, blotted out by his swelling eyelids. He still manages to stare at your flawless skin. 163. 

Beside you, wrapped under your coat, is Robin. 164. 

Bloody sap trickles down the back of Kylar's throat as he stares at the sky. His face aches and his stomach aches and everything feels like it needs to be checked by a doctor, but all he can focus on is that sliver of jealousy coiling through his stomach.

He was right, he thinks. They did steal you from him.