The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and so were deadlines. Robin didn't usually get stressed about her coursework, not since art was her passion, but her tutors had put a lot of pressure on her. It turned out that being the new girl as well as a high achiever had resulted in great expectations for her grades, especially if she wanted to qualify for the advanced classes they had suggested to her for the Spring term. Most nights that she wasn't working at the restaurant she stayed late at college trying to finish her various pieces, and when she did have to go home she was up until the early hours working.

At first her friends found it amusing how much of a perfectionist she was and how many hours she was putting into college, but John realised it wasn't really a joke when she fell asleep in lettering class, only to wake up with ink smudges all over her cheeks. With a week left until they broke up for the Christmas break, he as well as Stuart knew that she'd probably overwork herself to exhaustion unless they did something about it.

"I've still got loads left on my watercolours, do we really need to-" Robin protested as the two of them dragged her into the pub.

"Yes, we do need to," John told her firmly. "Because I need a pint, Stuart needs to pull, and you need a break,"

It had been easier than either of them thought it would be to get her to stop working. They'd planned to ambush her after her shift at the restaurant, though John had been meeting her most days after work anyway so she didn't think anything of it. After mentioning to him that she hated the thought of Ant waiting outside the restaurant for her even after what had happened between the two of them, John took it upon himself to be her protector from her ex. She only realised something different was happening when Stuart was also there, and the two of them led her straight past the usual bus stop, though to stop her running back for the bus home they'd both linked their arms through hers and practically carried her off to the pub.

"It looks like you're being kidnapped," Kay remarked as she wandered behind them, deciding to tag along with them for the pub trip.

"Fucking feels like it and all," Robin muttered bitterly, especially as the two lads pulled her through the pub doors.

Not that she'd told John or Stuart, but it was the same pub Ant had taken her to, the same one they had visited most nights when he called on her after work. It was just as quiet as the first time, to the extent that the few regulars who were gathered around the bar all turned to glare at the youths.

"Well this is a friendly place," Stuart commented dryly, rolling his eyes as John flashed a sarcastic grin to the less than welcoming customers.

"It's been quiet ever since Al opened the restaurant down the road with a fully stocked bar," Kay shrugged in explanation. "They've got his face pinned to a dartboard somewhere in here, I'm telling you,"

"Brilliant," Robin grimaced before letting out a quiet laugh.

The lack of custom probably explained just how cold the place was too, so the group of them found a table next to the fire, and none of them bothered taking their coats off. Robin tried not to look across the room to where hers and Ant's usual table was, worried it would remind her of the many regretted dates the two of them had been on.

It was only now she was rid of him completely that she realised just how messed up he could be. He'd thankfully not tried to contact her at all, but the memory of him was still real. No one mentioned him anymore though, her friends quietly realising that the subject of the terrible relationship wasn't something Robin would benefit from. She'd told Stuart and Kay what had happened since they were her best friends, and she was pretty sure that everyone else in their circle knew something had happened. Occasionally at college if she got to the lunch hall later than usual she'd hear Jenny whispering to Helen about it, and once at a Quarrymen rehearsal she walked in on Paul and Pete deep in discussion only for them to both shut up as soon as they saw her. In truth she didn't really care, she was over him and what had happened, but she hated being the topic of interest and knowing she was the subject of gossip. If she could avoid any reminders of the situation, she would.

John and Stuart took it upon themselves to go up to the bar and get the first round, leaving Kay and Robin at the table. It was the first time all night either of them had sat down given how busy work had been. They'd been on the shift with Susie too, which always left them feeling exhausted considering her never-ending nagging. 

"I swear, instead of giving me a Christmas bonus, I wish Al would just fire her and call it my Christmas present," Kay muttered. "I tried asking him last Christmas but he said it wouldn't be fair to any other workplace that'd get stuck with her,"

"Sometimes I forget I have to share you as my friend with my bloody Uncle," Robin smirked, glancing over to the lads stood at the bar, waiting to be served. "This doesn't seem like the sort of place someone would get glassed, does it?"

"This place? Nah, and not those two anyway, I don't think any of these folk really want the bother of Teds," Kay shrugged before leaning over the table eagerly, flashing her a smirk. "D'you not think it's sweet that John wanted to drag you to the pub though? Instead of letting you suffer over your art stuff,"

"No, I think he's a pain," she remarked, though obviously didn't mean it.

"It reminds me of my Frank, and back when I was first going out with him and he knew I was overworking myself at the restaurant, it was just after Rosie and I got kicked out so we were new to living alone and stuff, he took me out every night to a bar near our bedsit, just cause he knew I needed a break but was too stubborn to admit it," Kay told her, flicking one of her eyebrows up as if to extenuate her point. "I think my Frank would get on with your John. They've got a lot in common,"

"He's not my John," Robin hissed with narrowed eyes, glancing over to the lads again to make sure they couldn't overhear. "He's just my friend, alright,"

"Yeah, alright," Kay nodded before snorting out a laugh and muttering under her breath, "Bullshit,"

Ever since the night in John's living room, the two of them had become much closer. They still had the usual banter, and he still irritated the life out of her sometimes, but she respected him a lot more, and felt like this time he respected her too. Their silly disagreement was over with, the two of them realising they both meant too much to each other to fall out over stupid things like boys. There were no more deep talks about their losses, not at that point, but it wasn't necessary. That night had been enough for both of them, they didn't want to talk about their pain just for the sake of it, but they both at least knew that they had each other whenever it mattered.

Robin was seeing John in a different light lately too. She'd always thought he was handsome, always thought he was charming, and though those qualities were annoying whenever he was irritating her, they were not the only things that drew her to him. He might be brutally witty and sarcastic to the end, he might constantly steal her cigarettes or borrow her supplies in class, but he was also warm and caring, whenever he wanted to be, of course. She had caught him more than a few times playing his guitar and singing soft love songs whenever he thought she couldn't hear, and whenever he did drop the façade of the hard rocker in front of her, she found herself almost attracted to him.

It was as if she had let go of the stupid desire to be near someone who carried their feelings out in the open. Ant had called her pretty and had flirted constantly, and she'd allowed that to sway her opinion of him and be unknowing of his true plans. She'd only fallen for Ant because he was so open about liking her, but after what had happened Robin decided she didn't care if someone liked her, or if that someone called her pretty. She could make herself feel pretty, and she didn't need someone else to affirm her worth. She no longer cared that John never admitted to flirting with her, and she was more than happy to just be friends with John and admire him rather than feel as though he had to provide some sort of acceptance for herself.

John and Stuart reappeared at the table with four pints, and as John sat down across from Robin she tossed her packet of cigarettes over to him, already knowing that he was about to ask for one. He flashed her a surprised yet grateful smile, and as she took a swig of her drink, she watched as he lit up two and held one out to her.

"So, Stu, how much have you got left on your landscape canvas, cause-" Robin began as she held her cigarette up to her lips before John cut her off with a dramatic sigh. "What?"

"You're banned from talking about college tonight, apparently," Stuart shrugged, offering her an apologetic yet amused look. "But I'm not banned. I'm nowhere near as far along as you are, so I wouldn't stress, I've only done about six hours on it,"

"See this is why I'm not friends with students, you've all got an intimidating work ethic," Kay rolled her eyes.

"Do I have a canvas due as well?" John asked obliviously.

"No, we do have something due but I'm banned from telling you what it is," Robin narrowed her eyes as she cocked her eyebrows at him, holding back a laugh as he scowled at her, blowing a cloud of smoke towards her.

***
"I've still got so much work to do," Robin muttered defeatedly as she and John got off the bus on their road, leaning against him as she tried to sober up and find her balance.

Four pints was probably the most she'd drank in one sitting, and though she wasn't as drunk as she had been at John's party, she was far from sober. It had been nice at first, the alcohol numbing her mind from the worries of college that had plagued her for the last few weeks, but as soon as she and John had departed from Stuart and Kay and gotten on their bus home, it was as if her drunken casuality had departed from her and instead heightened all the panic. Not that she'd be able to do anything about it, knowing she wanted nothing more than to just go home, raid the fridge for restaurant leftovers and go lay on her bed while her record player played some slow sad songs.

John was silently victorious though, knowing he'd forced Robin to take a break. She might still be mad at him for it, but he knew it was for her own good. He'd not expected her to get drunk, but then again he didn't think she had such a terrible alcohol tolerance. Perhaps she'd have a hangover tomorrow, forcing her to take it easy the next day as well, which she'd probably also be mad at him for, but in that moment she didn't seem too angry, not as her arm was wrapped around his shoulder as the two of them walked to their houses.

"John," she muttered quietly, just as their houses came into view. "You're a good mate. Don't get me wrong, you can be an absolute tosser, but you're my tosser, y'know?"

"Right back at you, Roberta," he remarked, stifling a laugh.

"Does your Aunt still hate me?" she asked as she glanced over to his house, wondering if Mimi would be watching them through the living room window.

"Nah, she doesn't hate you," John laughed, hiding his frustration at his Aunt. "She just doesn't like you, which isn't really a surprise, she likes very few things in life, the exceptions mostly being me, money and her cats,"

"Maybe she just sensed I was more of a dog person," Robin joked dryly, rolling her eyes. "Don't blame her, I'm not very likeable to most people initially,"

"What makes you think that?" John frowned, especially as they reached their homes, but he wasn't going to let Robin get away without explaining her statement. "I think you're likeable, in your own little way of course,"

"I think I've just spent that much time on my own I struggle to know how to get people to like me," she shrugged, and John knew she wouldn't be saying such things if not for those four pints, knowing that it was too close to her true feelings for her to want to share, even with him.

"You don't have to get people to like you, they just do," John told her, shrugging her arm off his shoulder to instead take hold of her hands, looking at her properly.

Under the light of the streetlamp, she looked so simple, just a teenage girl with big blue eyes and dark hair that had gotten messy after a day of work, her eyeliner ever so slightly smudged. She was a different girl to the one he had first seen sat up in her garden tree, the one so fiercely protective of herself, so complex that her true self was hidden under so many protective layers of defence. This girl that stood before him seemed more open, more willing to be truthful with him, and if anything that was more beautiful to him than the mystery girl he first met. The only similarity between the two different versions of Robin was how badly John wanted to kiss them.

Except she wasn't exactly sober. Just like how he didn't want to tell her he liked her at his party because of how much he'd drank, he didn't want her to think alcohol was the influence, and he didn't want to make the situation awkward or uncomfortable. He settle for just squeezing her hands and looking into her eyes, hoping that she'd understand just part of how he felt for her.

"I'm sorry for dragging you away from your coursework, but if it makes you feel better I'm behind on all of mine," he told her, deciding to try and change the subject purely to distract himself from his overwhelming desire. "Don't suppose you fancy helping me out? We've got a Cavern gig this weekend but I'm free all week, d'you want to work together a couple of nights?"

"It's a date," she joked with a teasing smile. "Obviously not a proper date, but y'know what I mean. See you tomorrow, Johnny,"

With that she dropped his hands, turning and heading off down towards her uncle's house, completely unaware that she had left him watching her in awe, unaware of the buzzing she felt inside of her, putting it down to the alcohol. The excitement inside seemed to disappear instantly though the moment she opened the front door, for once remembering her keys, and saw her mother sat on the stairs as if she was waiting for her.

Robin remembered once her father telling her that she looked a lot like her mother, and she remembered how stubbornly she'd opposed to that idea. She used to oppose that idea so much that she'd go to great lengths to avoid being like her mother, because even though she knew her mother loved her in her own strange way, she didn't want to be like her. She didn't want her obsession with good looks, her desire to be loved, or her fierce temper when she wasn't granted her way. She didn't want her nosiness, her need to know everything, or her bitterness at how her life had panned out. Back in Sheffield her mother used to constantly pressure Robin into making friends, constantly saying that it was what normal people who wanted to get somewhere in life did, but any time she did show an interest in a social life, her mother was the first to condemn it. She would go from being hyper-interested in Robin's every move, to not caring and ignoring her completely as if she was a lost cause not worth bothering with, something too strange to even invest herself in.

It wasn't her fault, she knew her mother hadn't had the best life, and she knew the life she had fallen into - marriage, motherhood, and how widowhood - hadn't been the life she wanted, but the constant contradictions of her mother gave Robin whiplash, to the point she wanted to avoid her, especially that night, considering she was still a little drunk.

"Alreyt?" Robin greeted, kicking her shoes off and shrugging her jacket off, trying not to stumble as she hung it up on the coat stand.

"You sound like your father," Rita muttered bitterly, folding her arms as she couldn't even bare to look at Robin.

"Funny that, it's almost as if I actually quite liked him and liked all the Yorkshire dialect," Robin remarked, going towards the kitchen but quickly stopped as her mother jumped off the stairs grabbing her arm. "What? I'm hungry,"

"You stink of smoke, and like you've been to a cheap brewery," she commented with a disgusted grimace, her glare deepening as Robin merely shrugged. "Is this what Liverpool's done to you? Turned you into a drunkard like your father?"

"Dad wasn't a fucking drunk!" Robin snapped defensively, pulling her arm out of her mother's grip. "You can't spend my entire life wishing I was normal and had friends and then resent me when I actually start having fun, it doesn't work like that! You aren't meant to insult me constantly,"

"Maybe because what I thought was normal I've now realised is what led me to screwing up my own life," Rita argued bitterly. "Not that you need any advice on how to screw your life up. Other than those above average doodles you do you've got no life skills, no experience, you're rude and ungrateful too. I've given you this opportunity to restart your life by moving here, and you're just ruining it already,"

Robin really wished she hadn't drank so much, because maybe then her head might not be spinning, and she might not feel as though she wanted to throw up. She felt as if someone had set her on fire, but she was quite happy to burn up if it meant she'd not have to listen to her mother anymore. She just wanted to escape, to hide in her room. She wished Albert were in, so he could stand in the way of her mother's brutal words, or she wished her Dad was still around because at least if he was still alive her mother could take her frustration out on him instead like she used to, as horrible as that wish was.

"You're never going to amount to anything, Roberta," her mother told her harshly, though Robin barely felt those words, not since she'd heard them before. "I had potential, you know. I could have actually done something with my life, but I threw it all away for you, and this is how you repay me? Maybe you'd be better off if you did make the mistakes I did, cause at least then if some stupid lad got you in trouble you'd actually have some sort of purpose,"

"Are you done?" Robin asked quietly, not trusting her voice to not shake.

She didn't wait for an answer, deciding to just dismiss herself and run off to her room. Not that running did anything, she couldn't escape from her mother's words. She tried to tell herself that she didn't mean any of it, she was just a sad, bitter woman who wished her life had turned out different and had no one else to take her frustrations out on but Robin, but that thought didn't help. It was what her father used to tell her, but the idea just didn't seem the same when he wasn't saying it.

She shut her bedroom door behind her quietly, not wanting to antagonise her mother anymore, but as soon as she was in her room she didn't know what to do with herself, so she decided to sit on her windowsill and light up a cigarette, her window providing her with a perfect view of John's house. She could just about make out the sight of him, his silhouette from behind the curtains of his bedroom window. He looked as though he was holding his guitar, and she wondered if he was playing one of those slow, soft songs that made her feel a special sort of way.

It was only as she felt her lowest that she recalled just how great she felt around John, just how much fun he seemed to bring into her life. Even with his faults, he seemed to bring a little joy to her, and none of his flaws mattered to her because he made her smile, made her laugh and made her actually enjoy life. He made her feel as though she was worth something, which wasn't something she encountered in her home life too often.

"God," she whispered bitterly, stabbing her cigarette out in frustration as she hopped off the windowsill. "This is the last thing I need, a crush on John fucking Lennon,"

***

Word count: 3707

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