The silence that followed was suffocating. The 80's music blaring in the background now took on a weird sinister tone, as every single hair on Robin's body rose to attention. Jemma stood there, skates in hand, somehow managing to loom over them despite her short stature. Her face was a concoction of shock, hurt, and unmistakable anger as her eyes flickered between Robin and Yohan, narrowing with every passing second.

      In frozen silence, Robin wondered if Yohan would break the quiet but seemingly, he was also waiting for the unmistakable bomb that was about to explode.

      "What. The actual. Fuck," she finally said, her voice cutting through the air. Her gaze drilled into Robin, then to Yohan, and back to Robin again—directing the question at him, as if Yohan wasn't even worth addressing.

      "Oh... Jemma, um, hi." Robin stammered, his throat tightening. His mind scrambled, racing for an excuse—something—anything that might put water on the fire. "We... uh, Yohan and I were just—"

       "Were you two holding hands?" She cut him short, as well as cutting off any ties to an attempt to lie about what she had just witnessed. 

      Robin felt the heat in his face rise as panic began to bloom in his chest. His body was twisted, turning to face Jemma as he sat precariously on the wooden bench. She was only a few steps away from him, as she glared down at them both.

     "Well, we—" He tried again, but nothing came. Not a single coherent thought to save him. The warmth he'd felt from Yohan moments ago, the sweetness of the date—all of it had evaporated, leaving behind a cold pit of dread.

      She took a step closer.

     "Is this a fucking date?! A fucking Valentine's Day date?!" She spat as Robin felt little flicks of saliva landing on his cheek. He was so frozen in shock, he didn't even flinch.

      "Jemma, we—" Yohan finally spoke, but she was clearly having none of it.

     "You," she hissed, pointing a finger at Yohan like a weapon. "You can shut the fuck up. Whatever excuse is about to come out of your mouth, I don't want to hear it." Her voice was shaking now, fury barely holding itself together, but there was something more—something brittle.

      Yohan obliged, shutting the fuck up. 

      Then her gaze shifted to Robin, and for a moment, the sharp anger dulled, replaced by something much worse. Disappointment. A flicker of hurt that made Robin's stomach twist in knots.

     "Robin... what the fuck?" She said, her voice quieter now, but somehow, it hurt even more than her shouting.

     Robin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He could see her heart breaking in front of him, and there was no way to stop it.

     Robin hadn't noticed the large man approaching until a heavy hand landed on Jemma's shoulder, pulling him back into the moment. The man was burly, his features resembling Jemma's own, with the same almond-shaped eyes and plump lips. 

     "Is everything okay over here?" His deep voice cut through the air, almost rumbling in the silence that had taken over, despite the awkwardly placed 80's music still blasting. His eyes shifted between the three of them, clearly trying to decipher what had just happened to hear his daughter shouting from across the room. 

     Jemma gave Robin one more look, her eyes now bright with unshed tears, and turned towards him. 

     "Nothing, Dad," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she shook her head. "I just... need some fresh air." Without waiting for a response, she dropped her skates, thudding down onto the dated carpet, and brushed past him, nearly running toward the exit.

      "Honey, wait!" he called after her, spinning toward her retreating figure, but Jemma was already halfway out the door. A woman standing by the kiosk, flanked by two eerily similar-looking young men, shot the man a confused glance. Her eyes followed Jemma's path, then flicked back to him, clearly concerned, before she followed Jemma out of the building.

      Jemma's dad turned back to Robin and Yohan, his face now tight with the understanding that something had gone very wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, a flash of recognition crossing his face.

       "Yohan," he said, his tone curt, the name almost spat from his lips. "I'm assuming you're the reason my daughter is upset."

      He's dead. 

      Before Yohan could even react, Robin stepped in, heart pounding. Normally, he'd shy away from any confrontation, but not this time. There was no way he was letting Yohan shoulder all the blame. If it had been anyone else on that date, Jemma probably would've just brushed it off—at most send a resentful comment in the group chat. But no, it was Robin that was on a date with her ex—and not some random stranger she wouldn't necessarily care about. 

     No. I'm the reason she's upset. It's my fault. 

     "It's me," Robin blurted, his voice shaky but firm, stepping slightly in front of Yohan. "I'm the reason."

      "I sincerely doubt that somehow," Jemma's dad replied coldly. Robin could feel Yohan's panic without even looking at him; it seemed to hang in the air between them, thick and stifling.

      "Please, just let me talk to her," Robin said, trying to position himself further between Yohan and Jemma's dad, desperate to shield him from the man's icy stare.

      Jemma's father's eyes narrowed. "You have free choice to do whatever you want, young man," he said slowly, his voice laced with a warning. "But I am not liable nor responsible for any broken limbs my daughter might give you if you speak to her right now."

     Robin gulped, his heart sinking deeper into his stomach. The thought of facing Jemma alone, especially after the look she'd given him, twisted his insides. His throat tightened, feeling acidic bile rising towards his mouth. But the idea of leaving things like this—unfinished, unresolved—was unbearable. The guilt would fester, gnawing at him with endless sleepless nights and worry. He had to do this. Now. 

      "I probably deserve them," Robin muttered, trying to release some form of tension that had formed in the air like soup. It didn't land. Jemma's dad simply raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused. He turned to Yohan, whose face had shifted from pale to an unsettling shade of green, like he might be sick any second. Yohan looked so small and fragile, like a child awaiting punishment, and Robin hated seeing him like that.

     "It'll be fine," Robin said, but the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. Yohan nodded, but he didn't look convinced. 

      Taking a deep breath, before he could dwell on it further, Robin walked past Jemma's dad, each step feeling heavier, like he was dragging his feet through wet concrete. He could feel eyes drilling into his back—the stares of Jemma's older brothers, watching him like wolves sizing up prey. He kept his head down, fighting the urge to turn around and bolt.

      As the automatic doors slid open, the last rays of the setting sun bathed everything in a soft, moody glow. The sky was a patchwork of fading light and gathering dark clouds in the cold car park. He scanned the area and spotted Jemma sitting on a bench, her shoulders hunched, and a woman—who had to be her mum—rubbing gentle circles on her back.

     Robin's stomach knotted tighter, every instinct telling him to walk the other way. But he pushed through the dread, his legs feeling like they wanted to abandon him and flee. He approached them slowly, his steps hesitant.

     Jemma's mum looked up first, and Robin braced himself for the same angry, judging glare he'd received from her husband. But instead, once she saw who was approaching them, her eyes were soft, filled with something that resembled understanding. She gave him a weak, sympathetic smile before standing up.

     "I'll let you two talk," she said softly. Jemma lifted her tear-streaked face, surprise flickering through the sadness as she locked eyes with Robin. The woman turned to Jemma, her hand resting briefly on her daughter's shoulder. "If you need me or your father, we'll be inside," she assured her, casting a glance at Robin before adding, "And I'll go make sure Yohan gets out of there before your dad—or my sons—murder him."

     "He fucking deserves it," Jemma mumbled, her voice cracking but still carrying a bite of anger.

     "He might," her mum replied, tilting her head thoughtfully, "but I don't feel like dealing with the police on what was supposed to be a nice family night." She patted Jemma once more on the shoulder, offered Robin a tight smile, then turned and walked back inside.

     "What the fuck do you want, Robin?" Jemma muttered, her voice raw with barely contained emotion. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, smudging the remnants of her eyeliner across her cheeks. The sight of her like that, trying to hold herself together, made Robin's stomach twist even harder. 

     He opened his mouth but froze. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, sorry Jemma, I've been secretly dating your ex-boyfriend behind your back, even while you two were still together. Oh, and by the way, I'm gay.' Yeah, right. As much as that was likely the simplest way to explain it, he didn't think that would go down particularly well. 

     "I—" he stammered, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on him. His mind raced, searching for something—anything—that could ease the tension. But there wasn't a magic solution, no way to untangle the mess he'd created. "I just wanted to... um... explain, I suppose."

      She let out a deep sigh and straightened herself upright. As her head leant back, the glow of the remaining sun brushed over her cheeks, the trails her tears had made glinting in the light.

     "Go on," she said wearily. "Explain how this is any better than what I think it is."

     Robin braved himself to join her on the bench, sitting as far to the edge as possible to give her space. He swallowed, unsure what his mouth was about to come out with next.

     "Well–" He started, "Well me and Yohan, uh, well, we're like, good friends, ish." 

     For fucks sake, Robin, was that all you could fucking say?

     Jemma closed her eyes for a moment and let out another deep exhale before opening them again and looking Robin square in the face.

      "Good friends, ish? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

      He fumbled for words. "Well, we're like—" 

     "Dating?" Jemma answered for him. However, the way she said it sounded like she had tasted something disgusting. He swallowed hard.

      "Yeah, something like that." 

      "So, what, you're gay?" 

      Robin was taken aback. Although her words were harsh, he was sure this was less for the 'gay' sentiment and more for the 'you've betrayed your friends trust' sentiment. 

     "Yeah... I'm–I'm sorry I didn't say sooner I–" He swallowed again. "I'm not really out yet." 

     Jemma rolled her eyes. "Robin, I don't give a shit about your sexuality, and let's be for real, it's not like it isn't obvious or anything."

      With the amount of people who seemed to make this assumption about him, Robin was starting to wonder if he was just walking around as some sort of camp, gay stereotype. He might as well have a tattoo plastered on his forehead reading 'I am gay' at this point.

      "What I care about," she continued, her voice tightening. "Is that you seem to be on a date, with my ex-boyfriend, who isn't even—" She cut herself off, her face shifting as something clicked in her mind. Suddenly, Jemma looked... relieved, as if a puzzle piece had fallen into place.

     "Wait... Is he gay?"

     "Um..." Robin wasn't really sure what to say in response to that. With the way Jemma had reacted to that idea, it was like she was holding on to a lifeline of hope that the reason Yohan didn't like her, and therefore, broke up with her, was because of his sexuality and not because of her. 

     "Well... um..." Robin didn't even really know the answer to this himself. "He's like, sexually fluid, I think? He explained it way better than I could."  

     Jemma's face fell, the brief glimmer of hope dissolving back into a mess of anger, sadness, and disappointment. She turned her gaze away from him, focussing instead on the line of parked cars stretching out before them. Her hand absently rubbed under her eyes, wiping away the last traces of her tears. 

      "I see." Was all she said in response, her voice now strangely monotone. "And how long have you two been, like, together?"

      "Um well–" Robin didn't want to answer that question. "We're not really like officially together, or like, anything." He was stalling and making excuses and he knew it. "It's been well... complicated." 

     "No shit." Jemma deadpanned. 

     "Look," Robin tried to gather up the courage to be honest for once in his life. "The only way I can put this is that I've been a really shitty friend, and I know sorry isn't going to be good enough, or even a full explanation."

      Jemma sniffed, the tears returning, and she wiped at her eyes, still not looking at him. 

     "But—" Robin pressed on, "I've had a crush on him since the first day of school. And yeah, I thought he was straight, and I thought he fancied you because, well, look at you."

     Jemma rolled her eyes, laughing in that way people do when they aren't impressed with what you are saying. "Flattery isn't going to work here, Robin," she said, her voice flat.

     "I know, I know, I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find the right words. "And... he was flirting with me for a while, but then he wasn't. Then he got with you, and I thought, okay, that's it. You two were together, and I was just—" He sighed, taking a deep breath. "I thought it was over. But then it wasn't. You two were still dating, and I wasn't out, so I told him he had to choose."

      Robin looked at her, his chest tightening as he continued, "I thought he'd choose you. Of course he would choose you. But—" He swallowed, "Well, he didn't."

     There was a long pause. Jemma watched as a new family pulled up in their car and ambled out to make their way to the skating rink.

     "You know," she said softly, finally breaking the agonising silence, "a good friend would tell their friend if their boyfriend is cheating on them. Even if it's with... them."

     Robin winced. "I know, Jemma. I'm really, really fucking sorry."

     Jemma closed her eyes, breathing deeply. After a moment, she opened them again, her gaze locking onto Robin's, a single tear escaping from her wet eyes, and running down her cheek.

     "The way he looked at you," she said, her voice bitter but steady. "He never fucking looked at me like that. No one has ever looked at me like that."

      Robin's stomach clenched. He already had a sinking feeling about the answer, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. "How long were you watching?"

     Jemma scoffed. "Long enough to realise one of my best friends was clearly on a fucking date with my ex-boyfriend."

      She let out a frustrated noise, something like a half-laugh, half-sob. "Why the fuck is it always so complicated for me!? I just want a nice boyfriend who actually likes me. Instead, I get... this. Fucked over. Again and again and again." She sighed deeply, her frustration giving way to exhaustion. "I don't think I want to see you for a while, Robin."

      Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart dropped. He felt his throat tighten as he realised what he had lost. Jemma. The one person who had been his anchor in this new school. She had made him feel like he belonged, introduced him to her friends, and made him feel safe. And he had wrecked it all. For Yohan.

     "That's..." he struggled, his voice breaking. "That's understandable."

      Jemma nodded, but it wasn't out of reassurance. It felt more like a finality.

      "I'm not saying we can't be friends again. Maybe. Someday." The strain in her voice made it clear how difficult those words were. "But right now? I can't forgive you, Robin. I can't even stand to look at you."

      Robin looked down at his hands, hating himself more with every second that passed.

      "And I know you haven't told me the full story," she continued, her voice sharp. "Which makes it worse, because I'm stuck filling in the blanks. But that doesn't mean I want to hear it now. I don't think I can take any more of this bullshit."

      Robin nodded, unable to speak. There was nothing left to say that wouldn't make it worse. He just sat there, feeling the weight of his mistakes, knowing he had ruined something that maybe he'd never get back.

      "But—" She apparently wasn't quite finished. "Even though right now I don't care if you lived or died, do you really want to be with someone who can cheat on their partner so easily? Like it's nothing? Is that really what you want?"

     Robin opened his mouth, unsure what to say. "I—"

      "Actually, I don't care what you think." Jemma cut him off, standing up with a finality that stung. "I'm going back inside. I'm going to enjoy this evening with my family and try to forget about my shitty ex and not make this whole situation any worse than it already is."

     "Jemma, I'm sorry."

     "Just stop," she said, her voice cold and distant as she turned to face him one last time. "Don't speak to me. I'd really rather not see your face."

     And with that, she walked away, heading back toward the building's entrance without another word. Robin watched her go, the weight of the entire conversation settling over him like a suffocating blanket. He wanted to call after her, to say something—anything—to make it right, but the words felt pointless. He'd already done too much damage.