#cant i get a morsel of sympathy

[jay-arts-t]

Long Distance Modern AU (back at it again)

Geralt: oh my fucking gods it's so hot, Jask. It's literally 30°C (85-ish F)

Jaskier: oh yeah, 30s aren't fun.

Geralt: I'm dying. It's so hot. Why is it so hot I'm up NORTH

Jaskier: yeah yeah it's not that bad. Go lay down inside babe

Geralt: no but you have AC, I have a box fan

Jaskier: we don't use AC at that temp

Geralt: OKAY WELL YOU KNOW WHAT. I LIVE IN THE MOUNTAINS JULIAN. ITS USUALLY COLD AS BALLS UP HERE, NOT SATAN'S WET ANUS

Jaskier: WHY DID YOU CALL IT WET???

Geralt: SWAMP ASS.

[s-driesen]

time may change me (but i cant trace time)- chapter 1/6

Six Makes a Change- 2.5k words

Read on ao3

next chapter

Summary: Sander and Robbe have always had each other, through the best and through the worst of times. Figuring things out makes adolescence difficult for the majority of people, but for Robbe its proving to be one of the hardest thing's he's ever been faced with. And that's an issue when the person you've confided your deepest, darkest secrets in since before you can even remember, is the reason you can't wrap your head around yourself.

Or: the one where Robbe and Sander are best friends since the age of six and seven.

Summer wasn't like it was in the cartoons, Robbe was finally deciding. The TV lied about the adventures that came at the start of summer, the constant fast-paced murmur of fun and discovery. Summer was a lot more about being sweaty and waiting around for actual fun stuff to happen. Like he was in that moment. Six year old Robbe Ijzermans was sat on his house's front step, being bitter and waiting for the world to fall into place. Just like he had been all week. The Summer Holiday's were definitely not what they had been cracked up to be, Robbe had left the house twice to go grocery shopping with his mum and that had been the most interesting thing to happen to him since his last day of school. That short trip and twenty minutes spent in awe down the toy aisle had been the highlight of his summer so far, alongside the ice cream he got on the way back home, but it had melted. So (technically) that didn't count as fun. Coming to terms with the fact that life was just like normal, except that Robbe didn't have to sit listening to Miss Visser talk about phonetics for three hours a day and sunburn was now a thing apparently, was difficult.

Missing school surprised him the most. Because at least within the ranks of a stuffy classroom he had his friends. Right then he had no one. Except maybe the birds that were watching him from the strings of the power-lines, the ones the Robbe could only squint at because of the harsh sun. Even they weren't even very entertaining. All they did was poop and caw.

Robbe blamed his mum for his predicament of course. And he knew his dad wouldn't like him for saying that, but it was ultimately her fault. And no amount of telling off could stop Robbe from thinking that. His dad can't read his thoughts.

The thing was, he didn't understand why he had to play outside whilst his mother made dinner, he wasn't even getting in the way- well maybe he was a little bit, but it's not his fault his toy car only slid well on the kitchen tiles. In Robbe's opinion she was being over-dramatic when she'd huffed and puffed at him, with her hands on her hips and that little annoyed smile pressing at her lips. Before telling him to take his game outside, she'd warned him not to come back until she said so. Protesting wasn't going to change anything- Robbe grasped that as his mum had turned him towards the door, sweetly mumbling how he should 'go say hi to the neighbour's'.

Saying 'hi' to the neighbour's was a stupid idea. They were strangers, and approaching strangers was basically like saying to a kidnapper 'hey come kill me'. Robbe's school had taught him that. He'd argued that to his mum the day the new neighbour's started to move in. 'Go say hi!' was being thrown his way every other minute as he watched box after box being unloaded from a big white truck. She didn't understand his point though, she just thought Robbe was scared of the neighbour's dog. It was a huge dog, in his defence. All slobbery and loud, with it's barks and howls.

With his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees, still sticky from the sunscreen his mum has lathered on the back of his neck whilst messily ushering him out of the door, Robbe stewed in his boredom, utterly exhausted at the predicament he faced. He had half an hour to kill, and half an hour was too much time to sit and poke at the tarmac with the toe of his sneakers. For all he knew, Robbe could march to Paris in half an hour. It was too long, and to make matters worse he had yet another issue. The best of his toys were in the back garden, behind the shed, and he couldn't pry open the fence wide enough to slip them through. So he truly was stuck, on the front step, cooking in the sun like a turkey for a whole half an hour with not a morsel of entertainment. Life just wasn't easy, this was one of the first times Robbe would realise that fact.

But, a six year old is an incredibly selfish thing. Even Robbe, who got stickers frequently for his kindness and 'sharing skills'. Because, he didn't think for a second that he might not be the only one with time to kill and a mother to be bitter at. No, he was too busy kicking the grit and stressing about how many cartoons he was would miss (he thought about ten thousand, because he was the most dramatic child to ever exist). So not noticing the other boy across the street at first, the one who was also sat on his own doorstep, quietly watching Robbe and building up the courage to march over, was excusable. Robbe was so wrapped up in his own crisis that didn't even notice the sound of little legs crossing over the street, walking quickly, laced with anxiety and a slight shyness. In fact, Robbe was so engrossed in self pity that the neighbour's boy had to cough to get his attention, not even the feeling of his shadow casting over Robbe could pull the other boys eyes upwards.

'Other kids aren't dangerous'  was one of Robbe's two reasons for not screeching at the stranger hovering in front of him. The other was that the boy looked incredibly unsure as to why he was even standing on his neighbour's driveway, like he'd come to do something and forgotten what it was upon arrival. A beat of silence passed between the pair, filled with only the sound of Robbe kicking grit and looking up from his perch with a slightly questioning expression. Awkwardness hadn't been invented in his head yet, but weirdness had, and before the neighbour's son had even spoken Robbe had come to the conclusion that he was indeed a little bit strange. It was summer and this kid was wearing a black hoodie, with cargo shorts, paired with socks and sandals. His hair was similar in colour to Robbe's, maybe a little bit more on the caramel side, but was so windswept that it looked a tiny bit like a hay bale. It took Robbe a moment to figure out if he was older or younger than him, because something about his face just looked aged, even if he couldn't be more than a year older than Robbe himself. Dishevelled was too big of a word to know, but that's what the neighbour's boy was.

''You look sad.'' The boy muttered, shrugging slightly at Robbe, cocking his head to cast a strand of fallen hair from his eyes. Scrunching his nose, Robbe merely huffed in response, squinting through the sun to look up at the other kid.

''I'm not, though.''

''But you look it.'' The neighbour's kid definitely was weird, Robbed decided. It was an easy decision to make, but it wasn't one that stopped his curiosity. The two looked at one another for a long second until the neighbour spoke again, hands deep in his hoodies pocket ''I'm Sander, by the way. My mum told me to say hi to you because I was bored.'' ''I'm Robbe'' Robbe uttered in response, internally denying his sudden sympathy ''My mum told me to go say hi to you because she's making dinner.'' Sander nodded slowly, then pointed at the small space next to Robbe on the front step, shooting his new acquaintance a questioning look. It took Robbe's brain a painfully long second to realise what he was gesturing, and it almost felt rude to say no after that, so he shuffled along the brash concrete, making room for Sander with no word of complaint.

''Is that why you're sad then?'' Sander queried, glancing nonchalantly at Robbe, his chin resting on the palm oh his hand, elbow to knee. Robbe didn't understand what he meant, and Sander caught onto that after what felt like the millionth long pause of their stunted conversation. So, he elaborated, a hint of, what Robbe thought was, sadness lacing his words ''Because you had to say hi to me.''

Robbe turned his head to regard Sander, knitting his brow whilst making an attempt to figure out if he was actually upset at that idea. He wasn't, obviously. There was a mischievous glint behind Sander's grey-green eyes as he took in Robbe's sun burnt scowl - it was smile so bright that Robbe couldn't help but shake his head and beam back.

''No, of course not.''

''So why are you sad then?'' Sander played with the strings of his stupid black hoodie, and Robbe watched him for a moment, all whilst he considered telling the truth or not. He took a second, eyeing the other boy to gauge his reaction, fearing his reaction to such a childish reasoning.

''Rugrats is on and I can't watch it because my mum won't let me back in the house...'' He said it with a hint of embarrassment, fast and all coming out in one breath, feeling suddenly stupid in the presence of Sander, who was probably old enough to not care about cartoons. They stayed quiet for a moment as Sander though over the facts. After another silent beat, Robbe hesitantly glanced over to see the other boy pulling a face, his nose scrunched up with his lips pressed into a tight line- if Robbe hadn't been so unsure of the neighbour's boy he would've laughed. Sander looked dumb.

''That's actually a pretty good reason to be sad...'' He concluded, nodding enthusiastically in agreement with the same look of displeasure stuck to his face, Robbe felt relieved he didn't laugh at him for being such a kid...like his dad did sometimes ''Your mum sounds pretty suck-y for doing that, though.'' Sander started fiddling with his hoodie strings again, still propping his head up with one hand, all whilst craning his gaze in Robbe's direction. The confidence he'd began to exude ever since he'd sat down on the step and started just...talking, was something Robbe had yet to experience. Kids his age never spoke to Robbe like Sander did, they were normally shy and hated speaking to people they didn't know- much like Robbe himself. And that was so intriguing to six-year old Robbe Ijzermans, and wouldn't stop being intriguing for a very long time. So, when Sander said, like it was no big deal: ''My mum actually let's me go back inside our house when she's busy. Sooooo...We could watch Rugrats at my house, maybe?'' Robbe found it pretty hard to say no for a second. He had to stop himself.

Throwing caution to the wind was something he considered for a fleeting second, as Sander suddenly got up, pointing across the street all whilst babbling some form of reassurance. But, Robbe knew better. His school didn't do a 'stranger danger' campaign for nothing, after all.

''I'm not really supposed to go anywhere with strangers...'' Robbe still didn't count kids as a danger, but a wave of uncertainty had unexpectedly hit him at the prospect of following someone as brash and bubbly as Sander into something completely unknown. Sander's blindness to the befriending of newcomers made Robbe want to give him a lecture, even though the other was probably aware of the severe lack of six year old serial killers. Robbe's ridiculous fear was further discredited by the scoff Sander produced, shoving his hands into his short's pockets and teetering backwards on his sandal's heels.

''I'm not a stranger though'' He almost giggled the sentence, staring at Robbe incredulously, his face only faltered slightly when the other boys expression of apprehension went unchanged. Sighing, as if he was over Robbe's unwillingness to disappear with his weird new neighbour, Sander thrust his hand in Robbe's face. Wiggling his short finger's, Sander elaborated as Robbe raised his eyebrows, utterly taken off-guard. ''Shake my hand.''

''Why?'' Robbe saw his dad shake hands with the men from his work all the time, all strict and adult; everything Sander was not. Impatiently, Sander shrugged, still boyishly teetering on the balls of his feet, before he took a second to think about his reasoning. Robbe's eyes hurt from squinting up at him, the sun harsh behind Sander's silhouette.

''Because after you shake hands with someone they're not a stranger anymore'' Robbe knew he had a point.

''Really?'' Sander only nodded confidently, pushing his exchanged hand forward further, nodding at it with that toothy grin.

''Really. Then we're not stranger's, we're friends.'' The idea of being friends with Sander, was one that Robbe took a liking to immediately. He was funny, but weird. And in that moment, weird made Robbe exceedingly curious. So, after rising from his perch on the front step and brushing the grit from the back of his shorts, six-year old Robbe Ijzermans shook Sander's hand. Hard. Hard enough to make them both dissolve into giggles.

''Friends, then?'' Robbe questioned, just to make sure Sander wasn't leading him on. Sander responded by nodding, squeezing Robbe's hand tighter and giving one last arm-arching shake.

''Friends.''

''Lets go...''

-

Hey, thanks for reading <3 give me a follow on twitter (@ s_driesen) to keep updates. 3 out of 6 chapters are already up on ao3!