robin had a reputation for a reason. he wasn’t loud about it, didn’t puff his chest or go looking for fights—but somehow, they always found him. and every single time, the result was the same.

right now, that result was moose.

the biggest jerk at school stood across from him, red-faced and sneering, spitting out an insult that made your stomach twist. something ugly. something meant to cut deep. the crowd stiffened; a few people gasped. you did too, before you could stop yourself.

robin didn’t flinch.

if anything, he looked bored.

“then do it,” he said calmly, tilting his head just enough to taunt. “or are you scared?”

that was all it took.

moose lunged, wild and angry, throwing his weight forward like it alone would win the fight. robin ducked at the last second—clean, effortless—then moved. a sharp hit to the ribs, a sweep of the legs, moose crashing to the ground in a stunned heap before anyone could even process what happened.

silence.

then whispers. then cheers.

robin straightened, not even breathing hard, and that’s when his eyes found you in the crowd. for just a second, the tough-guy edge melted away. he smiled—soft, quick, like it was meant only for you.