Swing, swing from the tangles of [Robin]

It was over. It was actually, really over. Jam had finally had enough of him, had kicked him out of the band, and had ended their eight year friendship—over a girl of all things. Ezra was angry, but most of all he hurt. He couldn’t believe things had taken this turn. Yes, things had been icy with Circe over break… but he didn’t think Jam would ever tell Circe his secrets or abandon him over it. He thought they were closer than that… he thought…. 

He didn’t know where to go. He barely had other friends. He had Gene, but he couldn’t just walk in on him, right? He was certain they would get closer as the weeks passed—who else would Ezra even have to bother?—but for now, he thought it best not to unload on his friend. He was stressed enough over his GNATs as it was. So, he found himself at Robin’s place, near tears, wth two pints of ben and jerry’s. 

He had grown closer with Robin since their first meeting. He thought of the older guy as a big brother figure. Ezra, being the oldest of his siblings, had always wanted a big brother figure. He knocked on the door.  When it opened, he bit his lip, suddenly nervous. 

“Hey…. Can I come in? I brought ice cream.” 

@Robin Byrne-Davidson

Robin hadn’t started thinking about it with the intention to write a play. He hadn’t even started writing it with the intention to write a play, it was just the only thing he could do. Words were the only medium he had to mess with, at least with enough skill to get the result he wanted.

It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do right now. Fflur went to work every day and came back every evening, but Robin spent a few months working overtime and then the time between parts sleeping until three in the afternoon. He wasn’t sure this kind of a schedule was good for him. Why not fuck around and write? He was marginally famous now, he was allowed.

He’d contributed to some of the episodes of Auror Pike back in the day, but all his writing experience had been as one of a team. The banter was an essential part of the process. Putting down ideas out of his own head only felt like writing a Potions essay, and every day it made him want to go back to sleep. Today he had his chin in one hand and a finger on the X key.

There was a knock at the door and Robin looked up from the typewriter to lay eyes on the dogs he was responsible for. One, two—neither of them had gotten out to cause trouble. What else? Maybe Charlie was sad and day drunk again. (He hoped not.)

Robin shuffled over to open the door, and he blinked. “Ez?” Ezra Cohen knew where he lived, but he hadn’t ever shown up without owling before. Day-drunkenness was up in the air but one look made it clear he was sad. “C’mon in; of course.” Paws pattered on the hardwood as Ernie dodged their legs.

“You’ve brought ice cream?” Robin looked down at the garishly illustrated carton Ezra had handed him, then back up at his face. “Doesn’t look like a celebration.” What’s up?

“So I’m pathetic and stereotypical, yes. I’m sad and I have ice cream.” He sighed. “Can I come in? I don’t… want to be out here, and I don’t want to be alone and I literally have nowhere else to go.” He admitted, sniffing a little as his eyes welled up again, thinking about who he might usually go to when he was sad and frustrated. Jam. He had never thought that it would happen like this, that Jam would just leave the way he did. He felt like he didn’t know how anything in the world worked, having been so assured that Jam was his ride or die. 
 
He leaned over to pet the dog as he waited for an invitation inside. Ezra liked dogs. He liked cats too, though he was definitely a dog person. He wanted a puppy so badly, but was worried that he didn’t have enough responsibility to take care of it adequately. He was always away from home doing stupid things, typically. He worried the dog would get lonely—though, now he thought it might be an even better idea than before. He could snuggle the dog and sleep beside him and cry into his fur. 
 
“I got kicked out of the band.” He admitted, after a long moment of silence. “Jam just… decided he didn’t want to be friends anymore, moved out overnight, and kicked me out.” He admitted. “I don’t… It’s not about the band.” He admitted. “That was Jam’s thing, and I was happy to support his vision and all that crap—but… have you ever had a best friend? Like one you’d die for? And you thought they felt the same and then you realize that you don’t mean as much to them as you thought?” He sighed, and then sobbed a bit. “I just… I don’t feel like I know anything about anything right now. I was so certain he would never do anything like this. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.” 
 
He looked away from Robin, feeling vulnerable and insecure. “Sorry for unloading.” He said, feeling small. “You’re just kind of like… this older brother figure I never had in my life, and I don’t know what else to do now. Everything’s just… empty. The apartment is so quiet.”