Chapter Ten: Robin

Warnings: Anxiety. Mention of emotional abuse. Mention of voyeurism.

My sleep is fitful, and I don't really get up until the early afternoon, even though I was technically awake long before that.

I just can't stop thinking about Max.

I'm hurt that he didn't kiss me, but I know there must be a deeper reason why. I knew it before I'd even retreated into my apartment; I just couldn't fully process it. All of my doubts are still swirling around in my mind, but I know that if I want him, I have to tell him the truth. I have to be honest about my past; all of my insecurities stem from it, so he has to know if we even have a chance of being together.

And I have to make sure that he knows he can share his own fears with me without worrying that I'll judge him. He has to understand that no matter what he's keeping from me, I'll still want him.

These thoughts finally get me out of bed. I shower and dress and have coffee; I'm too nervous to eat. I'm trying to decide if I should risk going to his door, which might mean talking to August. I want to speak with him so badly, and I never did make plans for dinner with August like I promised. I could always use that as an excuse.

I've almost made up my mind when there's a soft knock at my door.

Unless August has decided to pay me a visit, there's only one person it could be.

I walk slowly to the door, taking a deep breath as I put my hand on the knob.

When I open it, he's standing there.

I give him what feels like a pained smile. I know that my eyes are rimmed with red after all the crying I did yesterday, and I must look tired as well. But he still lights up when he sees me.

"Max," I say carefully, trying to give him the distance he needs. He's more nervous than he's ever been around me before, but I can tell that it's a different kind of tension. Oddly, he's calmer, in a way. His hands are still, and he doesn't seem as distracted.

Before I can say anything else, he reaches for me and pulls me into his arms. I gasp in surprise. I hadn't expected him to touch me, but I melt into his embrace, burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms tightly around him. I have to fight not to start crying again.

Max slips his hand into my hair, tipping my head back just enough so that he can look down at me. His face is a strange mixture of hope and sadness, and I cup his cheeks in my hands, trying to reassure him.

He closes his eyes for a moment, clearly savoring my touch. When he opens them again, he gives me a small smile. "I'm sorry about yesterday," he tells me. My eyes widen as he begins to tremble. "I wanted to kiss you, Robin. I did. More than I can ever tell you. I need you to understand that."

I nod, allowing myself to run my thumb over his lips. There are so many things I should say, but instead, I find myself begging. "So kiss me now," I breathe. His arms tighten around me, but he shakes his head gently.

"Not yet," he murmurs, stroking my cheekbone. "There are things I need to tell you first."

I bite my lower lip and my stomach turns anxiously, but I pull back and take his hands in mine, leading him into my apartment. He shuts the door behind us and I walk to the living room. I'm about to sit on the couch when he stops me.

"Not here," he stammers. "I have something to show you." I tilt my head at him curiously as he takes the lead, pulling me into my bedroom. He positions me in front of the wall that our two apartments share, the one that my bed is against.

"Max?" I ask uncertainly. "What are we doing?" I glance up at him over my shoulder, my breath catching in my throat as I see his face.

He looks terrified.

Before I can comfort him, he manages to ask, "Do you trust me?"

I can sense the significance of the question, so I answer seriously. "Of course I trust you, Max." He seems happy with my answer, but still apprehensive.

"I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you," he confesses. "And I'm scared that after I tell you, you won't want me anymore."

I turn to face him, putting my arms around his neck and slipping my fingers into his hair. "Max," I whisper, hoping he can hear the gravity in my voice. "I can't imagine anything you could say that would make me not want you."

He smiles sadly, leaning down to press his forehead against mine and framing my face with his large hands. "I can," he replies softly. He's so close that I can see the tears pool in the corners of his eyes. "But I want you so much, Robin. I have to be honest."

"I want to be honest too, Max," I reply, my own eyes filling with tears. "Please don't be afraid."

He hangs his head as he steps back, rotating me so I'm facing the wall again. My heart starts pounding faster as he reaches over my shoulder and presses his palm firmly against the wall. What is he doing?

I'm surprised when the wall swings open in front of me, revealing a dark space behind it. It's big enough to walk into, and Max steps in front of me now, holding my hand tightly. His gaze is dark, and it begs me to follow him.

So I do.

Once we're inside the wall, I look around. I can see exposed pipes and the backs of electrical outlets. Everything is dusty. Max seems surprised that I haven't let go of his hand, and I see his shoulders relax a bit when I ask, "Where are we? Some kind of maintenance passage?"

"Yes," he answers, his voice just a little more confident. "They're… odd because of when this place was built. I don't use them often." His brow furrows and he stops speaking.

I step closer to him. "Is this what you were worried about, Max? That I would be freaked out that these are here? It's all right. It doesn't bother me."

"It's not just that," he finally says, squeezing my hand in his. "Be careful back here, Robin," he tells me. "You could get lost or stuck. Just… stay close to me, no matter what happens." I put my arm around his waist in response, leaning my head against his chest. After a moment, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and starts to slowly walk, his hand still in mine.

"I used to hide in these walls when I was a kid," Max explains, guiding me down the passage. I'm already not sure where we are; I can see what he means about getting lost. "I got to know them pretty well." We come to a dead end. "This leads into my apartment." He opens it and we step into a small, sparse bedroom. I thought it would be more lived in since he's been here for so long.

"Yours?" I ask. He nods. I blush; I've imagined being in his bedroom before, though not quite like this.

Max pauses and glances at me; I squeeze his hand, letting him know that everything's all right. He leads me out into the living room of his apartment. "August is asleep," he says quietly. "Come on."

The room is clearly set up with August in mind. The furniture is mismatched, and a lot of it is antique, which makes the space feel almost like a shrine. As we reach a large dresser sitting by the front door, I pause, studying it.

There are dried flowers in a vase, and candles sitting on the surface that have clearly been used a lot. Black and white photos in old frames decorate the surface; I see one of a man, a woman, and a little boy. "Are these your parents?" I ask Max carefully.

"Yes," he breathes, nodding. "I'll… I'll tell you about them in a minute." We move out into the hallway and he takes me past my own door to another spot on the wall. He swings it inward and leads me inside.

"This one goes past your bathroom and ends in your kitchen," he informs me. "There's a crawl space that leads to a storage area at the front of the building too, but no one's used it in years, so don't go in there."

"Okay," I agree. Max stops again; we're at a slight curve in the passage. He pulls me in front of him, pressing his chest to my back and looping one of his long arms around my shoulders. He bends his head so his lips are at my ear.

"Please don't be upset," he pleads, putting his hand on my hip and guiding me around the curve.

I'm about to tell him that he doesn't have to be worried, but the words die in my throat as I realize that I'm standing in front of a two-way mirror.

A two-way mirror that looks into my bathroom.

I gasp and lean back into Max. He's shaking hard, though I can't imagine why; I'm momentarily too shocked to think it through. But I feel like I should say something, so I blurt out, "Why is it…?" I can't even finish the sentence, but I reach out and touch the mirror with my fingertips.

"It's been that way as long as I can remember," Max answers hoarsely. He's holding onto me tightly, like he's afraid I'm going to run away. "Robin, I… I have so much to say. I don't know where to start."

I turn in his arms, standing on my tiptoes so I can kiss his cheek as he hugs me desperately. "Start at the beginning, Max," I advise him. "And remember that I'm not going anywhere."

Silence surrounds us for a moment as he musters up the courage to speak. I slip my hands up to his face, trying to soothe him, but he only gets tenser. I bite down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying as tears start to spill down his cheeks.

"It's not okay," he sobs. "That's the whole problem, Robin. It's never been okay. Not until you. And I've ruined that too." I shake my head at him adamantly, but I can tell he's not convinced.

He looks so conflicted; I'm trying to think of something I can say to make him feel better. Before I can come up with anything, he abruptly says, "When I was seven, my parents died." I inhale sharply at the revelation, but I stay silent. I feel like if I interrupt him, he might lose his momentum.

"They didn't just die," he continues. "My father… killed my mother, and then he killed himself. I was there. I saw the whole thing. He thought… he thought she was unfaithful to him. I don't know if she was. After that, August raised me. He was my mother's father. He worshipped her. To him, she was perfect, and my father was the man who ruined her life." He takes a deep, shuddering breath, tears streaming down his face. I can feel my heart breaking into a million pieces.

"All my life, August has told me that I'm just like my father. He says I'm jealous, perverted, weak, and a coward, and that no one will ever love me because of it. And he's right," he wails, pushing away from me. He turns, gripping a board that's been nailed to the slats of the exposed wall, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "He's right," he repeats mournfully. "I'm not good enough."

I jump in shock as Max grits his teeth and screams, slamming his face into the board before turning his head and biting into his arm. I'm moving forward before I've even decided to do it, dragging him away from the wall and back into my arms. "Max, stop! You'll hurt yourself!" He's taller, heavier, and stronger than me, and he struggles, causing us both to fall to the floor. I sit down hard, not letting go of him, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and pressing my face into his neck. "Shh, Max. Shh. It's all right. You're all right."

He's rocking back and forth, and he leans forward, putting his arms around his knees and resting his forehead on them. I hold him, trying to think of something I can say that will be comforting.

I can't imagine what he's been through. Watching his father kill his mother? And then hearing August say those things to him? No wonder he's withdrawn and insecure. It sounds like no one's ever tried to get him any help. He's been all alone.

"Max," I whisper, pressing gentle kisses to his neck, "Max, August is not right. He's not right at all. You are good enough. You're more than good enough. You're not any of those things he said. You've shown me that. You helped me find an apartment, even though I know you were nervous talking to me. You stood up for me when I was in trouble with Jack. Those were strong, brave things to do, Max." I don't even know what to say about him being jealous and perverted. He didn't confront Jack because he was jealous; he did it because he saw that I needed help. And he's never been anything but respectful around me. He wouldn't even kiss me when I begged him to. He spent the night in my bed and didn't make a single move.

He raises his head and looks at me; he's still crying. "Max, what's wrong?" I ask desperately. "I'm still here, Max. I'm not going anywhere; I told you that."

He turns and puts his hand on my face. His fingers linger there, and for whatever reason, I feel like he thinks he's touching me for the last time. I put my hand over his, keeping it there. "I haven't told you the worst part," he murmurs sadly.

"So tell me now," I whisper. "Tell me everything, Max. Just… get it all out, and then let me tell you what I think." The only thing I want in this moment is to take all of his pain away.

He's shaking again, and he nods in the direction of the mirror. "When I was a kid, and I hid back here, I'd… watch people. There are, um, peepholes and windows all through these passages. I don't know if they were here before, or if my father made them; August's never told me. It… was like what you said to me about watching families through windows. When I watched people, I felt like I had a different life. A better life. Sometimes it was all that kept me going."

I stroke my fingers gently through his hair, turning my head and softly kissing his palm. "I understand that completely, Max," I assure him, and then something dawns on me. "Is that why August says you're… jealous and perverted?" I cringe at having to use the words, but he seems to understand.

He nods. "He says that watching is wrong. I know he's right. It's… not fair to watch without asking. But I don't know how you ask someone something like that. And even if you could, wouldn't it change everything? If someone knew you were watching, they would act different. It wouldn't be the same."

"I think that's true," I agree, hesitating before I add, "Is that what's wrong, Max? Is it easier for you to watch than to… be with someone? Because you don't feel like you're good enough? Because we could work on that, Max… if that's what you want. If that's what you need, it doesn't bother me."

He's staring at me. His eyes are wide, and once again, they're a curious combination of hurt and hope. "You'd… let me watch you?" he asks disbelievingly, swallowing hard.

I smile at him, kissing his palm again. "Well, of course I would," I reply, pressing my cheek against his hand. "I'd rather have you with me; I'm not going to lie about that. But if you need to slow down, Max, that's fine. I…" I blush a little, embarrassed. "I just thought you were shy. I didn't realize it was more than that."

I'm shocked when he bursts into tears again after hearing my response; I thought my answer would make him happy. I push my hand deeper into his hair and brush the other over his cheek, sitting up on my knees to put my face closer to his. "Max, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you, I… I thought that was what you wanted!"

He puts his arms around me, burying his face in my neck as he cries. Because of our position on the floor, the embrace is awkward, so I swing my leg over him and sit in his lap, holding him as close as I possibly can. He squeezes me tightly and I try to calm him down. "Max," I whisper urgently, resting my forehead against his and brushing our noses together. "Max, I'm sorry. Just… tell me what you need. Anything, Max. I'll do anything. Please!" I beg. I can't stand seeing him like this.

He shakes his head, clinging to me, and finally manages to choke out words. "You don't understand," he says, and he sounds so sad that I almost believe him. "I've already ruined it. It's too late."

"Max, look at me," I implore him, putting my hands on the sides of his face. He opens his eyes and I wipe tears from his cheeks. "I don't understand, Max. How did you ruin everything? You have to tell me so I can fix it."

He looks absolutely anguished. "You can't fix it, and neither can I. Robin, I… I already watched you. Without your permission. When you told me to leave the morning after I stayed with you, I had to see you, but I was too afraid to come back. So I watched. I stood behind this mirror and I watched you. I watched you take your clothes off, and while you were…" He stutters briefly, but then continues. "…while you were touching yourself in the bathtub. I listened to you say my name. And last night, I was underneath your bed. I heard the things you said about yourself, and that was the only reason I decided I could try and tell you everything. I'm not brave at all, and you can't forgive me for this. You shouldn't. I was a fool to think you ever could. You deserve more than I could ever give you. I'm so, so sorry."

For a moment, I'm so stunned I can't speak.

My brain is telling me that I should be angry with him for watching me without asking. That he's a stalker. That I should leave and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. I push the thoughts aside angrily, hating that they're even there. They're horrible.

Because my heart knows the truth about him. He's a sweet, kind man who just needs someone to believe in him, to trust him. He's a little broken, but who isn't? I'm broken too.

And maybe, just maybe… two slightly broken people can put their pieces together and make something whole.

I flush, my cheeks turning bright red as I gaze into his stunning hazel eyes. "You… watched me in the bathtub… when I said your name? And you… heard all of those things I said about myself?" He nods, about to speak, but I put my fingers on his lips to stop him. "You saw and heard all of that… and you still want me?" I move my fingers aside, cupping his face in my hands once more as I wait for his answer.

"Of course I do," he reassures me. "You're the only person I've ever wanted. And I'll always want you, no matter what. I…" He takes a deep breath and his arms tighten around my waist. His voice is small and afraid, but he swallows hard and says, "Robin, I love you." I can tell that it takes all of his strength not to look away from my face. This is what he was afraid of, I realize. He thought that after he told me what he'd done, I could never feel the same way.

But my answering smile is so big that it hurts, but it makes him finally smile, so I don't care. "And I love you, Max," I tell him happily, struggling to put my words together in a way that makes sense. I fail spectacularly. "We can figure everything else out later," I finally decide, slightly flustered. "This is all that matters right now." I pull my sleeves down over my hands and carefully rub the rest of his tears away. "I love you, Max," I repeat, putting my arms around his neck. "I love you."

He smiles wider, bringing his hands up to my face. "I love you, Robin," he says reverently, his fingers stroking my cheekbones, his thumbs running over my lips. "I love you."

We just stare at each other for almost a full minute. Then we both move forward at the same time, and our lips finally meet.

Max makes a sound deep in his throat as we begin to kiss, and we shift as we try to hold each other closer. I curl one arm around his shoulders, sinking my other hand into his dark, messy curls. His thumbs move from the corners of my lips to trace down my jawline delicately, and I sigh against his mouth. I pull his head back by tugging on his hair and he gasps; it's a lovely, provocative sound, and all I want is to hear it again.

I tug again; Max gasps again, gripping my face tighter, his long fingers splayed out over my skin. I run my tongue over his lips and he shivers, running his tongue over my lips too. When our tongues finally tangle together, we both moan, staying locked together, tasting each other.

I could kiss him forever. It's better than I ever imagined it could be from a lifetime of reading about kisses in books and seeing them in movies. I'd always been afraid that a real kiss could never live up to those passionate kisses shared between people so deeply in love that nothing could tear them apart.

But this kiss is better than all of them put together. I can tell that Max is putting all of himself into this kiss, and I hope I'm giving all of myself back.

Max's fingers stroke down my neck and his thumbs caress the hollow of my throat. He's being so gentle, but every touch is incredibly intense. I feel cherished.

No one's ever made me feel cherished before.

Max slides his big, warm hands back up to my face, cupping my cheeks again and kissing my mouth softly several times before finally pulling back. My eyes flicker open and I can't help smiling as I see the ecstatic grin on his face.

"You love me." He says it like a revelation.

"I do," I confirm, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to each one of his dimples. Somehow, his smile gets wider, and I can't help kissing his mouth again. When I pull back, he leans up and kisses my forehead.

"And I love you," he whispers. "So much."

I nod happily, letting myself sag against him, putting my arms around his shoulders and pressing my face into his neck. The past few days have weighed on me so heavily, and now that I have some relief, I finally realize how tired and hungry I am. Max smooths a lock of hair over my ear and kisses my temple gently.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks softly.

"I really can't remember," I tell him truthfully.

"Okay," he responds. "I'm going to take care of you, Robin. All right?"

"All right," I breathe, clinging to him. I don't ever want to let him go.

"I need to get cleaned up and check on August," he tells me. "You get cleaned up and comfortable, and then I'm going to come back and make you dinner. Okay?"

I raise my head to look at him worriedly. "Do you need me to come with you?" I ask. "I don't want him to say anything that will upset you, Max." He smiles at me radiantly and kisses both of my cheeks affectionately.

"Don't worry about me, Robin. I'll be fine. Worry about you." He stands up, putting his hands around my waist so he can lift me and set me on my feet. He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the walls and back to the hallway, walking me to my apartment door.

I stand there, staring up at him. Neither of us moves. Finally, I blush and look down at myself. "I'm all dusty," I point out.

Max smiles. "Me too." He pulls me into his arms again, curling his hand around the back of my head comfortingly. "Take a hot shower. I'm going to. And before you know it, I'll be back. I promise."

He steps back, rubbing my fingers in his before he lets go of my hand and turns to walk down the hallway. He slips his hands into his pockets and dips his head as he goes, and I know that he's smiling, even though I can't see his face.

"Max?" I call softly; he turns and looks at me sweetly, and I blush more deeply. "I'll always worry about you, you know. Because I love you."

He licks his lips and walks back over to me, cupping my chin in his fingers. Then he's kissing me again, holding me close as he softly moves his mouth against mine.

It works.

His kiss puts my broken pieces back together. When I'm in his arms, I feel whole.

"Come back fast," I beg him softly when he pulls away. He smiles at me and nods.

"I will."