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Knock knock.
She whistled to herself. Why’d she have that song stuck in her head? She hadn’t seen that commercial in years. Heck, she hadn’t seen any commercial in years – her phone couldn’t connect to the internet despite it’s magic induced eternal battery – so why it had stayed in her head long enough to randomly come back now was anyone’s guess.
It wasn’t even a good jingle.
Knock knock knock.
The wood was flaking on the doorframe, and she picked at it with her free hand, the one not currently holding her bow. Flecks fell to the porch and Robin brushed them away casually with her boot.
She stopped whistling.
Knock knock knock knock.
Where was she? There was no sign of her outside.
She looked through the window. The lights were off, and overall there wasn’t a single shred of evidence to suggest someone, or even something, was right this very moment within the confines of its walls.
Then she saw it.
A bundle on the sofa, covered by several hastily thrown blankets, a mop of blonde hair at one end.
“Alice!”
Her head swiftly searched around, stopping at the plant pot before, with a heave, shuffling it a few inches to the left. Taking the now visible key, she hurried over to the door, and was rushing over to Alice in seconds.
“Alice!”
Alice groaned, rolling over and wincing in pain. “Argh. Robin? What are you doing?”
Almost immediately, Robin’s heart began to beat faster in her chest, her pulse echoing in her ears. If someone had hurt her…
“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Has something hurt you? Someone?”
“Robin, I’m fine. Well, I’m not but no one’s hurt me.”
Robin sighed, and relief washed over her. But her eyebrows furrowed. “You are hurt though?”
“It’s a bad month,” she mumbled, her head lolling back onto the cushion.
“Ah.”
She grimaced. “It hurts.”
“Hang on.” Robin reached into her pocket, fumbling around before producing a small container. “Here take a drop of this, and I do mean just the one. It should help with some of the pain.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a potion my mom makes for pain relief. I always have some on me.”
“Thanks,” she said, dipping the end of her finger into the liquid and letting a single drop drip onto her tongue. “Urgh.”
“I know. It’ll take a bit to kick in.”
“You were really worried for me?”
Robin turned away, though she could see Alice looking at her cheek in the corner of her eye. “Yeah.”
“Aww, I’m honoured.”
“How long have you been on the sofa for?” she said, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. I tried going about the day as normal, and after a while I just… couldn’t. I didn’t get very far.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Urgh, make it stop,” she groaned.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the right parts for that.”
She regretted saying it the instant it left her mouth. Her cheeks were undoubtedly going red.
Surely she’d pushed a boundary. Was that too far for simply friends? No – not simply. There was nothing ‘simply’ about her relationship with Alice. Of course she wanted it to be romantic. And sexual. She really wanted it to be sexual. But any time spent with Alice was a gift regardless as to the context behind it. And if that stayed platonic, well so be it.
But also please say she feels the same way.
Alice, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind her boldness.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not much.”
“Well then.” Robin stood up. “Can’t have that, can we?”
Chopping vegetables; boiling water; pouring soup; buttering bread. It wasn’t long before she was handing a bowl over to Alice, another in her own grip. They sat there on the sofa, not saying much, just content in each other’s company.
Once they’d done, Alice leaned into Robin, a pained groan emanating from her. She sneezed. “Urgh.”
“You’re not gonna bleed all over me are you? I’ve only just washed these breeches.”
“I’ll be careful. And Robin?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
Robin smiled. “No problem Alice.”