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s-driesen · 4 years

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time may change me (but i cant trace time)- chapter 3/6

Fourteen Fucks you Up- 8k words

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Summary: At 14, Robbe pretends like he doesn't miss him. Like he's happy with the friends he has. It's not like he can help the pang in his chest whenever Sander locks eyes with him across the hall. Summer had come and gone, school is in full swing and Robbe's life is about to turn upside down. But, can even the most painful events have an upside?

Or: the one with emotional trauma, spray paint and Sander being dramatic

TW for possible domestic abuse, an uneducated perspective on mental illness and just a general bit of sadness.

Bro, you don't fucking watch her?'' Robbe was tired of hearing Moyo's voice by that point in the day ''YOU DON'T? Holy shit, I'm about to change your life....''

Truthfully, he'd stopped properly paying attention to his friends conversation as soon as they'd gotten out of the school gates. It was just easier for Robbe to withdraw back into his own head as Aaron started boasting that he'd figured out a way to load PornHub on his families (shared) iPad without his brother finding out. At first it had made him laugh, the pure glee on his friends face, but then Jens had started talking about the girl he'd watched the night before, and all at once Robbe's mood had turned sour. But, Moyo? He was always the one to take thing's a step too far by pulling out his phone, links at the ready, prepared to 'enlighten' the others on all things tits, ass and girls. Like he was some sort of unholy sex wizard. To Robbe it had gotten old really fast, he didn't understand the appeal, all the nudity only made him uncomfortable...That stuff was the opposite of exciting. But, so was his life. He pulled up his hood further, his earphones in his ears playing some shitty rap- the kind that he'd only listened to so he could fit in with the boys. Robbe told himself he liked it.

Just like the rap music, the appeal of coming back to school had faded super quickly. Within the first two months at least. And now it was nearly spring and Robbe just couldn't wait to get away from his shit-show of a social life. Moyo was still talking, Robbe heard him over the sound of his music, turning the screen of his phone to Aaron- who looked ultimately in awe of the pair of boobs open in his browser. Robbe picked up his pace. Becoming friends with a 'cool kid' (Jens' words NOT his) like Moyo at the start of the year would've made Robbe burst with excitement, but now? He was regretting not staying on his own. Or at least hanging with other people. People like Sander. Robbe wasn't going to lie- he'd been thinking about Sander a lot over the past couple of weeks. They'd stopped talking over the previous summer, never having a chance to see each other with Sander leaving without a word, a week into the holidays. He remained out of town, for an undisclosed reason, the entire six weeks they had off from school. No calls, no texts. Nothing. And then he'd shown up like nothing had happened within the first week of term. Robbe pretended like it didn't hurt him, of course, but he couldn't help his mind lighting up whenever they locked eyes in the schools hallways. There was always something slightly painful about how Sander would never say 'hi' like he used to. It ached seeing him laughing with his older, taller, scarily popular friends- the ones that Robbe would've never though Sander would've ended up hanging out with. The types who smoked and drank just for the hell of it.

"Robbe....ROBBE? Are you in there, mate?'' Moyo's grin was inappropriately big for a kid who'd had two science exams that day. Reluctantly, Robbe took his earphones out, lips pressed into a thin line, and began mentally preparing to see a picture of an ass he'd probably have to pretend to find hot ''Nappi? Valentina? Opinions?''

Jens was looking at Robbe now, slowing down to walk beside him, and suddenly it felt like he had to lie. Honestly, he had no clue who Nappi was, not even a slight inclination. And that felt kind of horrible momentarily, for a reason that Robbe didn't exactly understand.

''Yeah, she's like really fit...'' Robbe wasn't a good actor. So when Moyo's grin faltered momentarily, replaced with a flash of confusion, Robbe's gut twisted in embarrassment. He racked his brain, trying to think for a second, following up with ''She's the one with the blonde hair and tattoos right?''

Aaron and Moyo looked at each other for a drawn out second, before cracking up in Robbe's face. It was one of those kind of big wheezing, chest-aching, laughs. Moyo had tears in his eyes, and Aaron was patting him on the back as he hunched over. Jens even smirked slightly, clearly too nice to start laughing himself. Honestly, Robbe was so used to that sort of reaction that it didn't hurt anymore. His embarrassment was forcefully subdued, because stuff like that occured often enough for Robbe to know that they'd only laugh more if his ears started tinging red. Deep down he knew he should be angry, but he was too exhausted to act on it. Robbe was too scared of ending up alone to tell Moyo and his stupid grin and his stupid phone and his stupid music to just...fuck off.

He would've probably found it harder to repress his anger if it wasn't for the fact that they'd almost reached the bus stop, where Moyo and Aaron would break away from Robbe and Jens. They always waited, hovering under the shelter, until the pairs bus would pull up- the 'broers' just looking for an excuse to mess around before the school day officially ended. Usually, when he wasn't in the mood to endure the other guys,Robbe would make up some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't wait with them, unfairly using his mother to create an non-existent doctors appointment. But, the sight of light brown hair and a leather jacket that looked way too big for the lanky frame it hung to, made Robbe stop under the tin roof.

Sander had grown over the summer, considerably taller. He looked more like a bean pole than he had before school had broken out. The sun, which had made a fleeting appearance the week prior, had clearly stuck to him too- his hair was tinted lighter, more caramel toned, like it had been when he was younger. Robbed presumed he'd caught sun on the apple's of his cheeks, as they looked flushed. All rosy with a slight patchiness. Maybe they were. Robbe forced himself not to pause on that thought. Instead, forcefully latching onto another thought train. Because, all at once it had become staggeringly obvious why Sander was so popular, so worshipped by those in his year group. He was pretty. Undeniably, pretty.

By then, Moyo had finally stopped laughing, only teasing Robbe slightly before getting distracted by Aaron bringing up some girl who had added him ''BY USERNAME GUYS! BY USERNAME?'' on Snapchat. The sheer loudness of the other boys voice had brought a gaze of attention that made Robbe slightly nervous. Sander was looking at them, alone and smaller-looking without his gaggle of friends, and Robbe was trying so hard not to look back that it hurt. Jens, ever observant and wise, had noticed of course, eyes flitting between the pair with a quirked eyebrow- Robbe pretended not to notice that too. He could already hear the onslaught of questions coming his way. The types of questions he didn't really have any answers to.

Only the sound of tyres hitting grit could make Robbe stop burning holes into the concrete with his eyes and even then he looked up reluctantly. The bus pulled up slowly, Aaron and Moyo stopped talking to dap Jens before the driver stopped at the curb. Moyo made a snide comment about Robbe 'doing his research' before he had to climb on, not even a word of goodbye, whilst Aaron continued talking to him- like a lap dog that pissed itself when it got too excited- about shit that really didn't matter. Robbe was ready to turn on his heels, to quick-walk down the street and into his house so he could play video games and drown out the mess in his head, when someone brushed past him. Sander mumbled an quiet apology, scooting around Robbe to follow Aaron onto the bus, before turning his head to regard the other boy. With a smile on his lips. It was small and brief, a mere quirk of the lips, but Robbe's brain stopped functioning for half a second. He had to remember how to smile back, and probably looked stupid and awkward when he did, by then Sander had turned back around before Robbe's face even relaxed. The hiss of the bus doors closing dropped him back into reality. A reality where a very confused, very suspicious Jens Stoffels was eyeing his best friend with a look that just screamed 'what the fuck was THAT?'. Robbe didn't know, and didn't want to stick around to figure out the answer, so he started walking like nothing weird had even occurred.

It took Jens approximately two whole minutes to ask.

''Do you two still talk?'' Robbe only shrugged in response, and for a split second Jens actually looked sad for him, like might leave the topic alone. Of course not. Instead, he paused, before saying ''Did you fall out or something? I thought you guys were really close...''

''Yeah, we were, I guess, but he just kind of stopped talking to me. Like, I don't even know why...'' Robbe glanced at Jens as they walked, slowly ambling down the road like they were suddenly all too aware of the brief distance before they'd have to split to walk to their respective houses. Jens still looked confused, and opened his mouth to speak before Robbe cut him off ''He went away over summer, no warning or anything. Didn't even say goodbye. I just went over to his house one day and his mum told me. He just...stopped speaking to me. Like, I'd message him and get left on read. But he'd still like my Instagram posts and stuff...''

''That's just fucking weird.'' Jens said exactly what Robbe had been thinking for the past nine or so months. He shook his head in clear exasperation before continuing with ''But he still seems friendly with you, right? IHave you tried speaking to him recently? Maybe he'll explain now that he's back, could've been some sort of...I don't know....Long vacation?''

Begrudgingly, Robbe shook his head. In his mind, a phone worked two ways and Robbe was far too stubborn to message Sander first. Sander had left him on his own after all. For better people. Like some sort of toy he'd grown bored of when he realised there were other, shinier things to play with. All whilst Robbe had been sucked into a group of assholes who still thought fart jokes were funny. There was an explanation as to why Sander never reached out to him, and for some reason Robbe thought that finding out what it was, would hurt him more. Even though he was achingly curious. Drifting apart from Sander was hard, it made Robbe hyper-aware of how quickly life could change. He'd only just accepted that him and Sander probably didn't counts as friends anymore but the fact that he might still not want to talk made Robbe feel ill- stressed beyond words. It wasn't like he didn't miss his company though.

Everything made him stressed recently. It was like he was standing on a sheet of thin glass, balancing his emotions- waiting for the moment when one of them would fall and shatter the surface. Recently, the glass was cracking. Especially with his mum. Marie wasn't well, she never had been and Robbe had only just realised that. Apparently, it wasn't normal for your mum to sleep for 16 hours some days and just not at all the next. Mums weren't meant to have mood swings so severe they'd give any normal person whiplash. Arguments between parents that ended up with glasses being thrown at the walls were the opposite of what was supposed to happen within a marriage. Robbe always knew his family was different, but the realisation fully hit after he spent a week with Jens' nuclear family. And ever since then the rock in the pit of his stomach started to whisper 'this isn't right' too loudly for Robbe to bear.

"You should text him" Jens brought Robbe back to reality, smiling gently, with a warmth that reached his eyes. The type of smile that Robbe loved a little too much. At that point on the road the paths separated, and Jens gave a short (wordless) salute before peeling away towards his house. Leaving Robbe, alone in the cold with Sander at the forefront of his mind and a lurking sense of self loathing coming back with vengeance. The rain started falling whilst Jens rounded the street corner, his back profile edging out of Robbe's view. Though he didn't feel the biting cold until his coat was sodden through. The quiet patter of the rain, it beat hammering against the concrete, seemed more soothing than home in that moment. ___

Robbe was making a sandwich when he found out his dad was leaving his mum.

It was such a normal day. He'd just gotten home from school and his stomach had been rumbling since third period, so when he bee lined for his fridge his hopes were high. School had offered him the same old shit; Aaron talking about tits he was never going to touch, Moyo being loud and rude, Jens being Jens. And Sander. Ignoring him for the most part, except for when he'd send Robbe one of those small smiles when they locked eyes across the atrium. His silences were deafening, Robbe hated lingering on them. When the bread tore after Robbe's heavy handed attempts to spread out the congealed jam, he gave up on neatness and just started eating from the cutting board, not even noticing the slow footsteps coming up behind him. His mother didn't even speak as she slid into the dining room chair. She only silently watched her son eat his poor excuse for a sandwich and dribble crumbs all over the counter-top. The wave of endearment she felt when he wiped his mouth on the back of his jumper's sleeve only stung. She dreaded this conversation. She dreaded what he'd think of her, what he would say. If he would leave. A flush of anxiety seeped into Marie's voice, soft-spoken and calm enough in her numbness,

"Robbe?"

He jumped of course, craning his neck whilst rapidly chewing. She could already see him creating excuses as to why he was snacking before dinner- time flashing behind his bright eyes. Mouth full of bread, Robbe mumbled a 'what?' before turning himself to face the dining table. He knew something was wrong straight away. Robbe wasn't stupid, he could read his mum like a book. She looked...tired. Tireder than usual, more downbeat and empty than mentally drained. She looked like how he'd been feeling for weeks. Fragile. Her glass was cracking. Marie drew small, timid, circles on the dining table with her finger, face blank but brain whirring, Robbe swore he could hear her think. All at once, the pit in his stomach grew heavier, the anxiety in his chest blossoming as it tore under the weight. Who knew that a few beats of silence could make someone clam up as quickly as Robbe had. Sandwich forgotten, he abandoned the mess on the counter, wiping his hands on his trousers before hesitantly approaching his shell of a mother.

"What's wrong?" He rephrased "What happened?" All of a sudden the house felt off. Like everything was slightly shifted to the left, like the walls were barer and people were watching through the windows. There was one stark emptiness that struck Robbe, after a moment of consideration. The TV wasn't on, there wasn't a coat on the back of the dining room chair he sat in. Robbe's dad wasn't home. He sat across from her then, the room feeling smaller and smaller by the second, like all the doors were bolted shut and it was summer again. Marie inhaled, a wet sounding, gasp-like, sob that bubbled on her lips and made Robbe wince. It's not like he hadn't seen her cry before, but this felt different and new. Because she wasn't upset. Marie was in pain. Strands of long, brown, hair clung to her wet cheeks, and the circles she drew on the table got faster and faster as she tried to say the words. The words that, deep down at the back of his mind, Robbe knew were coming. He'd been expecting them for the past year.

"He's gone. He's left. He took his things with him this morning."

"What...?" He'd heard what she'd said.

"Your dad. He's gone. We're getting a divorce, Robbe"

The glass, he'd been trying not to break, shattered. An almighty crash in his brain, like a fucking explosion that signalled the end of Robbe's own little world. An explosion he'd predicted months ago, but had been putting off preparing for. There weren't words that he could say to reassure his mum as she started wheezing, pushing out short sobs. Ones that sounded like they physically hurt to let out. He could only sit as the world went still, all numb and quiet- the room they sat in, was the only thing in existence for a minuscule moment. But, Marie started speaking again, through the sniffles and tears. Slowly, she reached across the table to take her sons limp hand- painfully grasping his fingers. Robbe couldn't look at her, his eyes burned a hole into the table, unable to move from the coffee ring stained into the wood; where his dad's mug had sat every night before he went to work.

''It's just us now, but that's okay, isn't it? I'll, I'll get a job, I'll start working and, and we'll be okay, right?'' Marie looked frantic, like Robbe was the parent and her the child, feverishly seeking reassurance from the weak. That question, was one he never answered. Because, frankly it was never going to be okay. The instability that his mother radiated was handled by Robbe's father. He was the one that would coax her to lay in bed when she wouldn't sit down. He was the one who'd clean up the pieces of broken glass and ceramic after an outburst. He was the one who would pick up her prescriptions and force her to take them. He'd do everything. In that moment, Robbe thought he was witnessing the death of his childhood. Selfishly, he wished then that he could leave too. His mothers grip tightened, like she knew he what Robbe was thinking, trembling with a tension that would leave marks. Marie hadn't stopped mumbling for the long few minutes that disappeared in what seemed like seconds. She was praying. Robbe wanted to cry, but no tears came. There was only a burning sensation in his chest, that paralysed his entire body. He felt that, if he moved, he would break into a thousands of tiny pieces onto the floor. As she ducked her head, a bible verse on her lips, Robbe came to a conclusion. That he was going to end up like his Dad. Catering to her every want and need, life revolving around beliefs he didn't care about, just so his mother could keep her shit together. The psychiatrist called Christianity her coping mechanism. It was one of the only things that kept her rooted in reality. But, Robbe knew he hated it from the moment she called him a sinner for growing his hair out a few years prior. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again, and Robbe's chest clenched with anxiety just when she pleaded "Say a prayer with me. We don't need him. We never have. The only person we need is God..."

He couldn't do it. It felt so wrong, all of a sudden. And he knew exactly why. It made him sick looking his mother in the eyes as she prayed, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that he resented her for a thing she couldn't change. So, Robbe turned into his dad. Confirming his hypothesis. He left. Bolting up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor making a noise so loud that he felt it in his bones, Robbe twisted his hand from his mother's grip. All of a sudden, his cheeks felt hot, mottled red. Looking back, Robbe thinks that was the moment he started actually crying. That lingering mask of shame was tightening, and he couldn't stop his eyes from growing wet. Marie peered up at him from the table, startled- with eyes as big as saucers, shiny and questioning. Everything was too much, so Robbe did the only thing he could think of and ran. Like father, like son.

Quick-stepping out of the kitchen, he darted up to his room, fumbling on the incline so much that he had to brace himself from slipping by letting his hands brush the carpeted stairs. He shouldered open his bedroom door, without a plan, and grabbed the first jacket he saw- the brown one that he'd been refusing to wear ever since his Dad bought it form him. Fumbling, mind racing with the mantra of 'getoutgetoutgetout', Robbe panicked. Grabbing the cash in his bedside drawer, he shoved no more than twenty euros into his back pocket, feeling the hard outline of his phone alongside it. Only then did he become aware of his mum's yelling, she called his name, the desperation laced into her words made Robbe screw up his face in pain. But, right then, he couldn't be in that house. Sharing walls with the memories of when his family was happy, memories of times when his dad would look at his mum with such love that it made Robbe want to gag. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again. The love had faded and his dad had abandoned ship. Just like he was doing now. Deep down, Robbe knew he should probably hate his dad, for leaving him with his mum, piling onto him a responsibility that no child should have to bare. But he understood why. Robbe knew it wasn't his fault he left. If Marie didn't raise him, if Robbe had the option not to love her, then he'd run for the hills too.

"Where are you going?" Robbe was by the front door now, remorseful tears hot on his cheeks, as Marie lingered in the kitchen's entryway. She looked so scared, so confused, as Robbe slid on his shoes, frantically tying his laces.

"Jens'" He lied. In reality he had no idea. Jens' house seemed so far away.

"W-why?" Marie stammered "Robbe, why are you leaving? Wait, stop, slow down...Please, don't leave me here" 'Me'. That fucking word. It was always 'me, me, me' with Marie. Robbe slammed the door behind him as she said it, cutting her pleads off as he stepped onto the driveway. The door flew open behind him, hinges screaming, as he moved to unlock his bike from his garden's fence-post. Rusting, the lock jammed, he struggled to unlock it whilst Marie yelled for him, heavily sobbing, but not daring to inch closer. She had no shoes on, the gravel was cutting at her feet. So she just stood and wailed, toddler-like, trying to reason, but all Robbe could hear was the shell of a woman begging for something she'd break. After a second of hopelessly pulling on the chain, the bike lock clicked open. Robbe lifted himself onto his bike seat, freeing the wheel of the post. Marie gave one more sharp yell, something about him being 'just like his father', before Robbe pedalled away. Peeling out of his street and onto a tangle of roads, Robbe told himself that he wasn't a bad person for not looking back. Somehow, he didn't believe that lie, no matter how comforting it was.

It was on the cusp of evening when he stopped cycling. The sun set had taken all of the days minimal warmth with it. A breeze passed through the air, it stung Robbe's heated cheeks as he rode onwards- functioning on autopilot, legs pumping with a newfound adrenaline. Rounding a corner, he forced himself to stop, feeling safe and far enough from his mother's wails to finally breathe out. After a second of dog-like panting, he fumbled in his jean pocket for his phone, his shaking hands unlocking and tapping into the contacts menu, with a hint of hesitation. The need to not be alone was undeniably strong, but Robbe didn't know what company he wanted. Eyes hovering on Jens' name, he stared at the number like it was going to call itself. But, something inside of Robbe told him that Jens would never understand the situation he'd found himself in. Jens would probably let him stay the night and then ask his mother to prompt Robbe to leave in the morning. After all his nuclear family, with his mum who cooked dinner every night for a dad that called Jens' 'buddy' and did shit like teach him how to shave, blanketed Jens in the safety of naivety. It would be like talking to a billionaire about poverty- utterly futile, with area for misunderstanding that, in the mindset he was in, would send Robbe over the edge. So, panicking more, he scrolled further down his recent calls. Moyo and Aaron would be fucking useless, stereotypical boys who would steal beer from their dad's fridge and make Robbe play Fifa with them. They'd be too awkward to talk, too macho and everything that Robbe wasn't. No one else was even an option worth considering. All of the other numbers were classmates he only spoke to in order to bum answers to overdue homework. But then, Robbe reached the very bottom of his call. Eye's landing on a singular name, that was achingly familiar. One he hadn't bothered texting in more than a few months. Something in his brain seemed to click.

Sander picked up after a few anxious seconds. The sound of his voice, whispering a cautious 'Hey?', made Robbe start crying - flooded with a wave of relief. He'd actually picked up. It was like the reminder of Sander's existence made Robbe feel better, because even if his world was going to shit, he would still be there. Everything before that moment was null.

"Robbe? What's going on? Calm down-" Sander sounded more worried and confused than scared, as Robbe sniffled down the line, leaning against some randomer's garden wall more than a few streets from his home. It took him a minute to gain the composure to talk, as Sander waited- achingly patient and soothing. There was no hint of awkwardness. For a minute it was almost like they hadn't been giving each other radio silence for months on end.

"Sorry, sorry-" Robe breathed out a string of unnecessary apologies, only to be met with muttered reassurance, suddenly not knowing what words to actually say. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, stiff and uncooperative, a suffocating burden. So, Robbe just told Sander how it was, ever so blunt "My dad left my fucking mum."

"Where are you?" Sander asked after a beat, Robbe could hear him moving over the phone, like he was getting up from wherever he was sitting.

"Did you not hear what I said?" His voice cracked again, foot tapping a haphazard rhythm on the pavement. Robbe wiped his nose on the back of his jacket's sleeve.

"Yeah....Where are you? I'll come and meet you. We can go somewhere." Sander sounded serious, his voice low and quiet. Robbe had never heard him sound like that before, and for some reason it pushed away the anxiety that clouded the edges of Robbe's vision. It made him feel real, less fuzzy, more focused. It made him think clearer, as he tried to figure out where he was.

He realised after a minute of looking for a street sign, stammering the name down the phone. Sander gave an affirming hum as Robbe described the house he was stood outside of, not interrupting as he paused or struggled to form his words. The conversation almost didn't seem real. This morning, Robbe had been sat in maths class overthinking the smile Sander had given him as they'd passed one another on the way to school- to the point where he convinced himself that Sander found his existence annoying. Now they were planning a shitty rendezvous like nothing had ever happened between them. The day had turned into a nightmare gone hallucination.

And then when Sander actually showed up, in his stupidly big leather jacket with his mop of hair on that rusty bike that he'd had since he was twelve. Robbe tried not to think that, now, the day had morphed into a dream.

It had been twenty minutes and Sander hadn't said a word about Robbe's parents yet. They'd only exchanged a few words when he'd first pulled up, mostly a barrage of 'are you okay?''s and 'don't cry's' until Robbe had calmed down enough to breathe normally again. That was before the older boy cocked his head and mumbled 'come on', whilst he mounted his bike and took off down the road. Robbe followed blindly of course, too numb and tired and curious to protest or question. The only sound between them since was the metallic clank of whatever was in Sander's green shoulder bag. Even then, Robbe had only picked up on that noise as they'd rode away from the high-street, into a tangle of cul-de-sacs and housing estates.

"Where are we going?" He finally asked, speeding up so he could ride alongside Sander, sick to death of staring at the back of his head. To Robbe's surprise, Sander smiled at him despite the lingering silence, quirking his eyebrows as he pedalled.

"It's a surprise" Of course it was. Sander hadn't changed, still scarily spontaneous and desperately trying to maintain the 'mysterious edgelord' facade he'd began to put on just before he disappeared. The same facade that made him do stupid shit like shop lift and smoke with older kids that he didn't even know. Robbe still rolled his tired eyes though, cracking a smile for the first time in (what felt like) hours. As they had rode in silence, Robbe had had time to process what the fuck had just happened, to accept the events that led him to partake in a mystery bike ride with Sander Driesen. It didn't take him long, admittedly. Because Robbe had been waiting for his mum to sit him down like that ever since he'd seen a fleet of texts on his dads phone from a woman who definitely wasn't just a 'work friend'. It didn't make it hurt less though, even with the ample time to emotionally prepare, the idea of Robbe being left with his mother through all the ups and all the down scared him shitless. Though, he decided to not to dwell. Not that night. It was best for him to try and forget about the past hour. Because, Sander was with him for the first time in month. Speaking to him. Smiling at him. It didn't solve Robbe's issues, but he was a welcomed distraction.

Robbe shook his head in mock annoyance, as Sander pedalled faster down the street, hair flashing from brown to yellow under the streetlights. The sun had set fast, leaving the horizon to morph into a sweeping gradient of blue and orange, and in those moments (filled with hesitant grins and shy, but ultimately reassuring, glances) Robbe lost himself.

Eventually, Sander slowed to a stop, pulling into an unlit ginnel between two houses. He hopped off his bike, prompting Robbe to do the same, and walked it down the thin opening like nothing was afoot. Robbe had no idea where they were. Nervous excitement lined his stomach, drowning out a fear of the unknown. The estate they'd rode into was new to him, a neighbourhood of pristine houses with neat lawns and neater families. However, this passage was entirely different, Robbe realised, as it widened to reveal a spacious gap between the gardens of three or four houses. Morphing into, what could only be described as, a makeshift playground. It was a state, to say the least. The archaic play equipment- an array of slides and climbing frames- was vandalised beyond recognition and (to Robbe's uneasy eye) seemed fairly unsafe. But, nonetheless, there was something scarily timeless about it. The splashes of graffiti were organised, a combination of elaborate tags and stupid, obviously context-bound, doodles, covering everything from the knee high walls enclosing the small park to the entirety of a see-saw. Robbe couldn't help but admire the artwork, as Sander dropped his bike to rest on the cracked tarmac, heading for the stagnant swing-set.

The chain of the swing groaned as Sander plopped himself onto the seat, the metal tinkling whilst he idly rocked back and forth. He dropped his bag too, peeling it from his shoulder, and resting against the swing's framing. It took Robbe a long second to place his bike down, deciding to awkwardly rest it against the stiff round-a-bout.

"How did you even find this place?" Robbe mused, scoffing as he gingerly sat in the swing seat left swaying next to Sander, trying not to act like he was scared it would give out under his weight. The other boy shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, a small, proud, smile upon his lips.

"I was bored one night and just decided to be nosy. I've had a lot of time to explore since I got back'' Got back. Even then, it stung to be reminded that Sander had left in the first place. Although, to Robbe, it was even more painful to remember that he'd gone without a word to the person he'd called a best friend. Robbe must've showed his discomfort, through the way his lips pressed into a thin line whilst his head ducked to stare at his shoes, because Sander lowered his voice- saying the words that Robbe hadn't expected him to say with such ease "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was a completely last minute thing. That I was leaving for the summer. It was such a shitty thing to do..."

"It's okay, I get it" Robbe lied, trying to feign indifference, pushing the toe of his sneaker into the tarmac. In reality, Robbe wasn't just hurt at the fact that Sander had ditched town without a word. He'd been ignored the entire time too. No responses to his text messages, not a word of response to him comments on Instagram. Jens was right when he'd called Sander's behaviour fucking weird.

"It not okay though, is it?" Sander murmured, like it was something Robbe wasn't supposed to hear, tinged with exasperation. He looked ashamed, self-loathing creeping into his features with the slight shake of his head. Suddenly, Sander began digging through his jackets pockets, finally pulling out a battered packet of cigarettes. Probably stolen. He lit one without a word, ducking his head into the amber glow, and Robbe's stomach twisted at how much he enjoyed the sight. The sight of the boy he'd known since before he could remember doing something as adult as smoking made Robbe realise just how much times had changed. Sander's idea of being rebellious before he'd severed all contact with anything that reeked of 'home', was staying up past midnight. Now, he'd probably snuck out of his house to smoke cigarettes miles from home in a park that could be used as a crack den. Taking a drag and breathing out the smoke, Sander scrunched up his nose, before flicking ash onto the tarmac. Robbe only watched in guilty admiration, finding the quiet squeak of the swing set oddly calming. Sander spoke again after breathing out a second cloud of smoke, eyebrows furrowed "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Robbe knew the answer, he just didn't want to embarrass himself. So, he played dumb.

"Why I went." Robbe faked his surprise at Sander's bluntness, raising an eyebrow before he dove into denial- murmuring some soppy shit about how it was 'up to him' and how he 'didn't owe him anything'. But, even after the long break in contact, Sander could read Robbe like a book meant for elementary school kids. Like it was nothing. So, the soft start of a grin on his face, Sander reassured "I don't mind telling you, Robbe."

Robbe paused, he looked at him then, just to make sure Sander wasn't setting up a trap for his ridicule. Only to be met by soft and genuine eyes. His voice was gravelly, as he began the conversation he'd been rehearsing in his head for months "Why did you leave then?"

"Because Ross was" Sander quipped, like the conversation was scripted, pausing to take another drag.

Robbe had almost forgotten about Ross Driesen's existence, and upon his reminder, a lot of things started to make sense. Sander's older brother was a handful, to say the least. He was the type of guy media executives would make TV shows about. The lead singer of a crooning indie band who played late night gigs in damp basements and did suspicious things among a circle of even more suspicious people. A guy who abused hair dye and walked around like the dictionary definition of a cliche. To Robbe, a fourteen year old who watched Skins a little bit too early, Ross Driesen was one of the coolest people alive.On top of that, he was one of the kindest people Robbe had ever met, so open and caring- even to his little brother's best friend. And clearly, Sander thought the same. However in the eye's of their dad, Sander had explained to Robbe one day about a year ago, his oldest son was a burden that wasn't willing to work for shit. Though, Sander's dad was the unemployed one.

Sander's dad would say a lot of petty, hypocritical, shit like that. When Robbe used to eat at their house, Mr. Driesen would order him to sit up straight whilst hunched over his own meal. An asshole, completely. Like an authoritarian on the back burner, he insulted those slipping out of his control in hope's of making them stay, whilst not applying the rules he'd set for others to himself. Ross hated him, and because Ross hated him, Sander did too. Mrs. Driesen prenteded like she didn't notice the feud between the two sides of her family, playing PTA mum and posting her Facebook minion memes. It was a dire situation.

"Was it your dad?" Robbe asked, watching as Sander flicked his cigarette onto the ground, obviously growing tired of it after a couple of minutes, the cherry died as it met damp grit. He chewed slightly at his lip before nodding, leg pushing his body back and forth on the swing at a quicker pace.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like they ever really got along..." He trailed off, like he was considering what to tell Robbe next. Sander's expression soured as he continued "Ross just got sick of him, and the drinking and his nagging. He'd been saving up for a while and then his friend offered him a room for like, half of the price it was supposed to be rented out for. So, you know, it just made sense for him to leave" Robbe watched his as Sander sighed, mentally a mile away, like he was remembering stuff he'd rather not. It hurt to see him like that, the tough facade cracking under the weight of recollection, so Robbe reached out- putting a careful hand on his shoulder and giving an awkward pat. Voice croaky, Sander added "And, I wasn't gonna go with him at first. Mostly, and I'm not just saying this because you're here, because of you. But then my dad found some, uh, stuff on my phone and the argument got out of hand, you know?"

"What kind of stuff?" Robbe pushed slightly, scrunching up his nose, not understanding what could be so bad. Sander just gave a dismissive shake of his head. Something about that implication made Robbe nervous. There was another drawn out silence, slightly solemn and worrisome, before the story continued.

"We left the night it happened and...Robbe, I felt so bad for just getting out of there without a goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, in case you wouldn't forgive me for leaving. It's so fucking stupid, I know, but I was so scared. And then I came back for school, because Ross couldn't afford to keep both of us afloat, and...and I still ignored you. I shouldn't have done that, but you looked so happy with your friends-"

"It's okay, Sander." Robbe interjected as the other spiralled.

"But it fucking isn't though, you keep saying that" Sander huffed, voice raised loud enough that Robbe feared he would wake those sleeping in the surrounding houses. He swallowed roughly, wiping a hand down his face in frustration. Robbe could see how his eye's were glistening, wet, under the amber glow of the streetlights "Shit hasn't been easy for you either, right? It's not like I'm the only one with problems. I'm sat here, spinning you this sob story, when you just found out your fucking parents are getting a divorce like an hour ago? It's not okay."

Robbe couldn't help let out a small laugh at Sander's melodrama. Summoning gentle laughter to withhold from crying at the sheer loveliness of the boy sat on the adjacent swing. Because even if Sander was going through the hardest, most decrepit time of his life, he'd still try his best to act the hero, by blaming himself for not being able to take care of those he loved. He'd scrutinise the shit out of himself, a mess of self-loathing, in hopes of making others feel heard. Some things never really did change. Robbe realised then, looking into his wide and remorseful eyes, that him and Sander had never stopped being friends. If they had, Sander would've hung up the phone when Robbe called crying. He wouldn't have whisked him away to a secret hideaway across town (on a school night), before profusely apologising, refusing to accept an ounce of Robbe's forgiveness.

However, Sander was stubborn. What he wanted was for Robbe to push him away, display the anger he harboured towards himself. But Robbe could never do that. He dropped his arm from Sander's back and slowly stood up from the swing, feeling the other boys gaze on his profile as he made a show of looking around the small shit-hole of a playground. The only way to move on from woe with Sander was distraction. Always distraction. Over time, Robbe had perfected guiding his attention away from the stuff he shouldn't linger on, albeit he might've grown a little rusty. Before, it was 'let's go play Fifa' or 'I found this weird website' but Robbe felt shitty cat videos wouldn't do the job this time.

So, he settled on "What's in the bag then?" Nodding at the green canvas leaning against the rusted frame of the swing set.

"Seriously, you're just gonna brush past this?" Sander scoffed in disbelief, looking at Robbe with a face that screamed 'you're either stupid or brain-dead' "We aren't even gonna talk about your parents?"

"That would beat the purpose of calling up a distraction, right?" Robbe smiled, turning around from admiring one of the more elaborate tags on the flat back of a climbing frame. It was blue, fading into pink, something in French making a joke about love.

"So, I'm a distraction then?" Sander teased, smirking slyly- making Robbe's stomach dissolve into an army of butterflies. Of course, he ignored them. He only nodded dumbly, before Sander huffed and got up too, leaning down to open his bag "Unbelievable, Ijzerman's"

Robbe peered over Sanders shoulder, watching whilst he began pulling out battered cans of spray paint. The kind with peeling labels and top's that looked like they were about to fall off. Every single one was clearly very well used. And then it clicked.

"You did all of this? The art?" Sander had always been artistically inclined, but never to the extent of this. The pure intricacy of ever single piece covering the playground looked like something a licensed professional would come up with. Not a fifteen year old with too much spare time. But there was something so Sander about every tag, that just screamed it was all his. It suddenly made a lot of sense why he'd taken Robbe there.

"Yeah, of course. It's good practice" He mumbled, trying to hide his shyness at Robbe's stunned tone "No one ever checks here and the people in the houses like it so...I just come here when I need to get out" Sander hummed, standing up properly from his hunched position, nonchalantly passing Robbe a can. It was blue and felt nearly empty, and in all honestly Robbe had no clue what to do with it as Sander looked at him expectantly "What?"

"Well...I don't know what I'm doing, first of all"

"Seriously? You've never done this before?" Sander looked at him incredulously, incredibly sceptical all of a sudden. He bent down to pick up his own can of paint, a disturbingly bright yellow, weighing it in hands before reconsidering and swapping it for a mottled pink "Well...I thought with your 'skater boy' friends-" Robbe laughed and smacked him on the arm as Sander threw up a sloppy air quote "-That you wouldn't be new to tagging"

"You judged wrong, Driesen" Robbe grinned, cocking his head at the other boy, just as Sander wandered idly over to one of the higher walls enclosing the park. It was barer than the others, less crowded, coming up to about Robbe's middle, only dotted with a few runny outlines of smiley faces- one neon green and the other coal black. Sander ran a finger down the concrete, testing to see if it was wet from the day's previous rain fall, absentmindedly shaking the can in his hand. Pausing for thought, he crouched down to get a better angle, before spraying the brickwork. The nozzle hissed, too loud for Robbe's slight anxiety, whilst Sander buried his face into the crook of his elbow- mouth hiding from the paint's fumes under leather. His brow furrowed in concentration, like he was working on the magnum opus of his artistic career, free forearm resting idly on his knees to make the paint flow smoother. Robbe would've believed Sander was being serious, creating something beautiful, until a silly, childlike caricature of Robbe's face emerged on the wall after a minute or so of unrelenting spray. Verging on the edge of insulting, it showed his face with a shit-eating grin under a mop of pink curls. It was bad, crude and janky, but Robbe thought everything Sander did was amazing "That's so fucking cool"

"I bet it's like looking into a mirror, huh?" Sander laughed, stepping back and making a show of admiring his work, stroking an imaginary beard. The wet paint glimmered under the glow of the nearby streetlight, dripping into the pores of the brick. Robbe snorted.

"I don't look like that, you dick"

"Yeah, you do. I swear to god that looks EXACTLY like one of your school pictures" Sander folded his arms across his chest, sticking his chin up defiantly. Suddenly, the walking embodiment of smugness. And just like that, they fell back into a routine. Welcoming the barrage of banter and insults, the ones blanketed under laughter and boyish play. Spraying a messy flower onto the brickwork, next to his own head, Robbe realised how much he had missed Sander. It was overwhelming. He'd missed his teasing and those stupid jokes (the ones that made Robbe's ribs hurt). He'd missed the way he'd make a fool of himself just to see Robbe smile. In all honesty, Robbe didn't know how he'd coped without Sander being there, without his glowing personality and care. Even then, watching his cartoon face melt on the wall, Robbe wondered how he'd gone for months without hearing Sander's laugh. Just the sight of him throwing his head back and cackling like he'd just said the funniest thing in existence, made Robbe cheeks warm up. And for once he didn't feel shameful about it. Sander made him feel okay. Like the loud static of a broken TV set, he muffled all the issues of those surrounding him. He shouted over the elephants in the room, leg's crossed and waiting to be addressed, with stupid jokes and a alarmingly bright smile. Even if his effect was temporary, Robbe doubted he could ever go without it again. For he was as bright as the paint he sprayed on the wall, an attack of neon against Robbe's muted tone, the perfect combination of opposites. A blinding distraction.

Sander shook the can again, the pea rattling inside, before leaning down to add something else to their masterpiece. His low chuckle was masked by two short aerosol bursts. Robbe's view was blocked by Sander's broad shoulders, still drowning in leather, until he straightened up.

"I missed out your dimple" Sander said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Robbe only grinned bashfully. Staring the the side of Sander's face. Wishing he'd stare back with the same amount of admiration, with the same knot of pleasant nerves in his stomach. That night, although born out of pain, was one of the best Robbe ever had.

Thanks for reading! feel free to follow me on Twitter @ s_driesen

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