** Author's note: Hey guys, I previously uploaded this chapter last week but I took it down after deciding I wasn't happy with it and wanted to rework it. It's very much similar to what went up before though the middle part has been rewritten. I hope you enjoy reading, though do be aware there is the fight scene at the start that might be a bit uncomfortable for some readers. Peace and love to you all, hope you enjoy x **

Both men were a blur of punches, especially as they dropped to the floor in their fight, while Robin was frozen in place, unable to move, feeling as though her throat had closed, unable to even call John's name to try and get him to stop.

She'd seen fights outside a pub before. In fact she'd seen plenty of bar brawls, considering how many football games she'd been to, but all of them were buried memories that she hated to recall, buried so deep in her mind the memories were practically forgotten. That was probably a self-preservation technique to subconsciously forget, but seeing John and Ant brought up a whole swarm of dark thoughts and fears. Once they were active and at the front of her mind again they were impossible to banish, and while she'd previously been frozen in fear, the memories of the past made her decide to take action. Like a fight or flight, she was suddenly compelled to react, follow her instincts, and without fully comprehending her actions, she jumped closer to the action, leaning down and wrapping her arms around John's shoulders in an attempt to pull him away.

"Please, John, stop," she spoke quietly, practically begging, though she knew it was no use. If fear had robbed her of her senses, anger had done the same to him. "Just stop, come on-"

Robin might have been previously robbed of all feeling, but she definitely felt the sharp pain in her face as Ant's fist, instead of hitting John, caught her right in her eye. She huffed out a small yelp of pain, which was unfortunately the only sound John heard her make. He didn't hear her plea for him to stop, he only heard her in pain, and that just made him see red.

"You fucking bastard," John snarled, and Robin stepped back, holding her hand over her eye, feeling her entire being shrink away in absolute panic.

Robin hated it, she wanted it to end, but what she was most upset about was how scared she felt. She'd not felt so scared in such a long time, and considering the root of her fear was one of the people she felt the safest with made her feel so, so much worse. It wasn't like she was scared of John, she was scared of the situation, and the fact that he was involved in such violence, the fact that he'd finally let his temper get the better of him in front of her, she felt as if she was going to be sick.

She felt like she'd blacked out, completely overwhelmed by everything. Her initial response had been completely reversed, rather than her fight instinct compelling her to act, she shut down. She'd not even realised she'd practically curled into a ball leaning against the wall opposite the fight until she felt someone put their arms around her, picking her up off the ground. When she looked up she realised it was George who'd heaved her off the floor, while Paul and Stuart were attempting to pull John away from Ant. It was in that moment that she looked at the two lads and saw both of them had bloody noses, they both had black eyes, and yet they didn't seem to quit, though as if knowing she looked, Ant glanced away from John for a moment and winked at her. Robin felt sick, and even if she loved John, she couldn't bare to be near the fight any longer.

George, the younger lad that Robin was infinitely grateful for, had his arm around her shoulder. He could feel her shaking, knowing it wasn't from the slight chill but from absolute panic.

"Come on, I'll walk you home," he said, and she knew it wasn't a suggestion. He noticed her glance at the fight again and so tightened his grip on her shoulder. "They'll be alright, they'll catch up,"

Without arguing, Robin let George lead her away from the pub, though as they walked down the street it didn't feel like she'd left the scene at all. She was still shaking slightly, and feeling as if the shock and nerves had completely sobered her up. She'd practically forgotten all the fun of only hours before, and was instead living in the memory of seeing both lads trying to hurt each other as badly as possible.

"He'll be alright, y'know, he always gets into fights like this," George sad, clearly wanting to reassure her. "Well, he's not really been as bad since the two of you got together, but he used to do this all the time, especially last summer,"

Then, like a ton of bricks dropping down on her, Robin realised what Ant said that set him off. It hadn't just been the comments about the two of them, or just his protectiveness for her. Ant had made a remark about John's Mum. Too caught up in nerves she'd not heard it at the time, but now she realised what had been the trigger to John's fury she felt awful for leaving him. She wanted to be with him and comfort him, knowing he'd not just been fighting for her.

"Will you stay with me?" Robin asked quietly as they reached the gate to her house. By the looks of it her mother or Albert was still awake, the big light of the living room casting shadows against the closed curtains, but she couldn't think of anything worse than going in alone. "Just until we know what's happening?"

"Yeah, no worries," George replied, calm as always as they headed down the path. "I've never been in Albert Knight's house before,"

"Didn't realise my Uncle was a local celebrity," she attempted to joke, but didn't feel like laughing.

She creaked the front door open carefully, listening out to see if she could figure out who was in the front room. If it was her mother, she'd sneak George upstairs with her so she wouldn't have to face her mother's pesterings. Except as the two of them snuck quietly inside she heard the sound of the telly click off, and then Albert popped his head around the living room doorway. She wanted to feel relieved, but his expression of confusion at George's presence and alarm at the fact her eye was starting to bruise overshadowed her relief. As if realising he was an unexpected visitor, George flashed an awkward yet polite smile as he offered Albert a small wave.

"Hello, Mr Knight," he greeted politely, yet he noticed how Albert didn't seem overly concerned with him and was instead staring at Robin. "There was a fight at the pub, I brought Robin home,"

"Jesus, are you both alright?" he asked seeming full of concern and worry, as if he'd seen the fight himself, gesturing for them to follow him further into the house. "Come on, lets get some ice for that eye. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Robin wasn't sure where to start, and she didn't know if she was capable of speaking without breaking down into tears. Considering how her uncle was looking at her, and how he had his hand on her shoulder as he led both her and George into the kitchen, she didn't know if she was capable of speaking without breaking down into tears. She didn't want to cry, so she just shook her head. To cry would be admitting how badly the situation had hurt her, not physically but emotionally.

Robin sat down at the kitchen table, George sitting across from her. It was strange to think how much time she'd spent with the younger lad without ever really being alone with him, their friendship characterised by the company of others. Even so, of all the lads to have walked her home she was glad it was him.

"It was an accident, I was leaning over John, and Ant missed punching him in the face and got me instead," Robin explained quietly to her uncle as he set a mug of tea in front of both herself and George before he started rummaging in the freezer.

"What's life without getting the odd punch in the face?" George commented dryly as if to cheer her up, and it surprisingly worked, the surprise of the remark making her snort out a single laugh, and even Albert seemed amused as he handed her a bag of frozen peas.

"What wisdom," Albert smirked, handing Robin the peas and trying not to cringe as he saw how bruised her eye already looked. "That should help,"

Until she put the cold bag of peas against her face Robin hadn't even realised just how much it hurt. She hissed slightly, feeling the throbbing pain burn up in reaction to the freezing sensation, but it dulled down almost instantly.

"I've never been punched in the face before," she mumbled quietly, hoping that even though she said it rather flatly, the remark would at least make her seem a little more normal despite her whole body still aching from adrenaline and fear.

The fear was still rooted in her to the point that when there was a knock at the front door she flinched slightly. It wasn't even like she had good reason to, considering the person she feared was Ant and he didn't even know where she lived. Albert went to go and answer the door, leaving Robin and George alone, but that was okay. He was a safe presence, someone she felt surprisingly calm with.

"I think you're really cool, George," she said in a quiet voice out of nowhere, her comment making him frown and flash an embarrassed smirk. "You're a really great lad,"

"Oh, thanks, you're not so bad yourself," he nodded, and Robin wondered if this strange set of circumstances would bond them closer as friends; she hoped so.

Before either of them knew it Albert was back in the kitchen doorway, nodding his head behind him to signify they had visitors. Neither of them were surprised to see Stuart and Paul, both of them looking a little rough and shook up but with no visible marks of violence on them. The same could not be said for John, who Stuart was having to drag in by the collar of his jacket. Robin wondered if given the chance, even though he was so far from the pub, he would run all the way back just for another round, though it didn't look as though he had another fight in him considering the dried blood around his nose, the bruises around his eyes, and the split and swollen lip, all of the marks spoiling what was usually her favourite face to look at. If things were different, if he appeared in front of her like that without context, she was certain she'd rush to his side and start tending to his wounds, but she was stuck in her seat, just staring at him.

"Where's Kay?" Robin said, breaking the silence with the first question that came to mind.

"Pete said he'd get her home safe," Stuart reassured her, abandoning John to sit next to her at the table, flashing an apologetic look over to her uncle. "Sorry for intruding, Mr Knight. I can't imagine this is your ideal Friday night,"

"On the contrary, there was nothing good on telly anyway," Albert replied cheerily, glancing to Paul, who was still hesitating in the doorway, and John, who looked half-feral, as if he still had fury running through him like an electric charge. "Come 'ed, two of you, sit down. Unless you're planning on going home, John? Though I can't imagine your aunt would be thrilled to see you in that state,"

With that Paul sat down immediately next to George, taking a swig out of the younger lads' mug of tea. If it annoyed George he didn't say anything, possibly since everyone was far more interested in what John was going to do. He remained standing for a while, as if mulling over his options. Go back to the pub, fight Ant again. Go home, get lectured by his aunt for fighting. Sit down, get made to feel guilty by his girlfriend and mates for fighting. None of his options seemed particularly appealing, so he decided to go with the latter, hesitantly sitting down, taking the seat furthest away from Robin. She'd stopped staring at him, but he didn't know if he preferred that to her unbreaking blank stare. Either way he felt as though he'd massively disappointed her.

Albert made more tea, and got out more frozen peas, tossing the bag to John, and though he didn't say anything he was infinitely grateful. It wasn't long before they all realised it was gone eleven and the buses had stopped running for the day, leaving the lads stranded for the night.

"I've had a few wines, otherwise I'd drive you all home," Albert sighed. "I've got the spare room and the sofa, you can all kip here tonight and I'll drop you off in the morning,"

With that, Albert and Stuart went off to sort out the spare room while Paul and George nipped off into the living room to use the phone and call home. None of them looked overly eager at leaving John and Robin alone, especially since neither of them had looked at each other properly. They all knew that was wrong, usually Robin and John were always watching each other, always smirking at one and other or making some sort of remark for the other's amusement. Seeing them silent and distant was a shock to the system, though neither of them seemed to want to make the first move.

Once they were completely alone, that distance didn't disappear. Robin got up from the table and, deciding that her eye wasn't throbbing anymore, opened the freezer door and tossed her bag of peas back in before slamming the freezer once more, daring to glance over at John. Thankfully he was staring off out of the window into the garden, and she could appreciate just how much of a state he looked. She'd decided that upon her fear and adrenaline settling down, she had the chance to reflect on her emotions properly, and decided that her feelings lied with annoyance. With just a look to John, the boy she loved, covered in dried blood and bruises that were still developing, she felt so much anger boil up, a feeling she never wanted to associate with him.

As she was looking at him, he chose that moment to look over to her too, and instantly cringed when he saw the red mark surrounding her eye. Despite not seeing her reflection Robin knew that while it still ached it was no where near as terrible as the ones on him. She looked away quickly, taking in a deep breath to sort out her emotions. Her thoughts felt like one big jumble, her mind clouded with so many different feelings, but all of them screaming that she was angry.

She was angry, but a part of her still knew deep inside that she loved John. He was an idiot, but he was still her idiot, so with a small sigh, she went to one of the kitchen cupboards, the one that she knew Albert kept his first aid kit in. Considering he was a chef, Robin knew that Albert was keen on first aid kits in the kitchen, but she was surprised at how big the kit was, a big box full of bandages, anti-septic, surgical tape, basically anything that could be useful. Without saying anything, she carried the box back to the table, placing it down in front of John as she sat right next to him. She knew he was staring at her, but she refused to look at him, instead opening the kit up and sorting through it until she found the pack of anti-septic wipes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, recoiling as she took a wipe out and leaned over towards him, making her flash a glare at him.

"Just stay still," she snapped simply, taking hold of his jacket collar and pulling him closer. Carefully, she began to wipe away the dried blood from his nose and he hissed in pain, cursing under his breath. "Sting, does it?"

"Robin, please..." he began, his voice shaking, and she couldn't tell if he was in pain or if he was just upset. Either way she hated hearing him like that, her usually strong and funny lad. "I didn't think you'd get this upset,"

"Right, so you thought seeing you get in a fight and be beaten to a bloody pulp while simultaneously beating someone else to a pulp only to get smacked myself wouldn't upset me?" she spoke, her voice surprisingly calm yet cold.

"D'you think I was just gonna stand there, knowing he'd made you feel shit, and let him say shit about-" John began to argue back but cut himself off with another curse as she continued wiping the blood away. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"I don't care what he was doing, I don't care if you lost your temper, I don't fucking care, John!" she snapped, finishing up on his nose before taking out a tube of cream, squeezing some on his finger and dabbing it onto his cheek on one of his darker bruises. "I can't do that. I can't watch you get into fights like that. I don't like thugs or violent people, I don't like fights! Give me your hands,"

Despite her shouting at him and him knowing she was only getting started, John didn't hesitate to lay his hands out in front of her, and she began to wipe down his knuckles. He tried to ignore the stinging, listening to Robin's previous comment and knowing he deserved it, but he couldn't help clenching his jaw any time it hurt too badly. Silently, she applied cream onto his cut and swollen knuckles before taking out the bandages and surgical tape. The last time he got in a fight had been long before he had admitted his feelings for Robin and he remembered suffering in silence, trying to patch himself up. Even if she was being so brutal in her words she was acting so gentle with him, and despite knowing she was angry at him he couldn't help but be in awe of her.

"If we're to make this work," she spoke again, letting out a small sigh as she tied the bandages around his hands. "You've got to promise me you'll not get in anymore fights. You'll not start them, you'll not finish them, you'll go nowhere near any fucking fights, alright?"

"I can't help it sometimes," he began to reason before realising that she wouldn't accept that as a good enough excuse. "I'm sorry. I just get so angry and I don't even think I just... see red. I couldn't just let him get away with saying all that stuff and before I knew it Stu and Paul were trying to pull me off but all I could think to do was keep punching him,"

Robin sighed again, not bothering to look up at him as she focused on his hands John watched her, considering the fact that she was practically an expert at it. If he didn't know her, if he didn't know she was an artist, he'd think she was a trainee nurse or something along the lines of healing and medicine.

"How'd you learn to do this?" he asked, breaking the silence as his curiosity overtook the awkwardness.

"My dad used to get in scraps all the time," she shrugged, speaking bluntly as she clenched her jaw ever so slightly. "Well, scraps puts it lightly, actually. Him and his mates, they'd go to the pub and get pissed and then come home with black eyes, and I'd patch them up. I hated it,"

"I'm sorry," he said, noting how her tone was still irritated it didn't sound as though her anger was solely directed at him.

"I don't want to go back to that time, John," she told him firmly, looking up and meeting his eye so he could see just how serious she was, how sad she looked. "I won't go back to having to fix up men who can't control their tempers. It's the one thing that I don't miss... about home, and dad,"

John looked at her and saw that her eyes were full of a thousand thoughts, most of them bad memories, thoughts that she pushed to the back of her mind. He realised then how little he knew about her and her life before she moved to Liverpool. He liked to think he knew her, but there was still so much to discover and find out, and her hatred of violence just so happened to be a new and unfortunate discovery.

He looked in her eyes and saw a mixture of upset and determination, and he realised he knew her well enough to know what that meant. Would she really call it off, break up with him? Nothing scared him more than the thought of that, not even going head to head with Ant and all of his mates singlehandedly. Nothing scared him more than the thought of losing Robin, not when there was still so much to discover with her. There was still so much to tell her, so much for them to do and see together. He couldn't lose her, not yet, not over something so ridiculous.

There were few things in life John could count on. His aunt, she'd given him a home and raised him, and even if she was brutal at times he knew she loved him. His friends, especially Paul, as they'd been there for him and were good company for his lonely days. His guitar, because music was sometimes the only way he could get his thoughts out of his head and make sense of the world. Over the last few months he'd begun to see Robin as a constant too, someone new that he could trust, and he didn't give his trust away so easily. How could he lose her when she was so important?

"Please don't leave me," he spoke, surprising Robin with how sincere he sounded, how sad and shaky his voice was. "Please, Robin, I love you. I promise I'll never make you feel like this again. I'll not get in anymore fights, I promise. I love you,"

He'd said those words before. Once while drunk on New Years, and once the next day while they were in bed together. He'd never said it since, and she'd always thought he'd not meant them. Sure they liked each other, they lusted after each other and adored the other's company, but love? For some reason, though she knew John could be serious, she never thought he would say the words genuinely, imagining him always hiding his feelings behind a sarcastic comment. One look to him and Robin could tell just how much he meant the words. He almost looked scared, and her concern for him overruled all of her anger.

Before she even knew what she was doing she had gotten up from her seat and had climbed onto John's lap, wrapping her arms around his chest, careful not to hurt him as she buried her face into his neck. She felt him sigh, hugging her back tightly, so tight it felt as though she couldn't breathe for a moment. She was unsure if that sensation was coming just from his embrace for from the overwhelming realisation of her emotions and feelings. Barely even seconds being held by him and all anger melted away, clearing her thoughts and leaving her certain of what she wanted.

The fight had scared her, reminded her of the past. It had reminded her of all the times her father had come home after a pub brawl, all the times she'd seen him come home in a state. He had been a good man, but he didn't exactly share his younger brother's calmness. He never lost his temper with her or her mother, or even his mates, but the same couldn't be said for other people. She didn't like violence, or confrontation, and seeing John fight had made her feel as though to avoid conflict she would have to separate from him, but how could she? How could she separate from John when she could see just how much he meant his words?

He had been so sincere, so Robin knew exactly what she had to say.

"I love you, too," she said, looking up at him and placing a gentle kiss on the unbruised skin of his cheek. "I think part of me has loved you for a long time. I don't want to be without you,"

"Me neither," he assured her, hugging her tighter. "I'm sorry,"

"I know, me too," she nodded, her voice much softer than before. "You didn't know, but it's not just me not liking fights. I don't like the thought of you getting hurt. I don't want you losing your temper and regretting it when you end up all bloody and bruised, and I know Ant's a prick but I couldn't bare you getting in bother for hurting him,"

"Alright, I get it," he said before sighing. "I don't want to get angry like that, I've just never been able to help it, but I'll try, I'll work on it,"

"That's okay, I get angry too, but what's the point of life if we're not constantly trying to become better people?" she shrugged, making John roll his eyes slightly. "What?"

"You can be really wise sometimes, it's quite annoying," he commented dryly, making her laugh quietly before he kissed her cheek. "I love you, Robin,"

"I love you, John,"

***

Robin wasn't sure how they ended up in bed together, but the next morning she felt herself waking up in John's arms to the sound of someone knocking at the front door. That was okay, Albert could get it, or her mother, she felt exhausted.

The memories of the night before came flooding back. Not just the fight, the thought of it making her cringe, but what happened after. She remembered John telling her he loved her, and she remembered saying it back. The memory of it made her smile, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her, as if she was able to be a more true version of herself around him now that he knew her feelings. Even the fight, as awful as it was, had brought them closer, because it had at least provided her with the opportunity to tell him about another part of her past, a part she would have happily left to fester in the back of her mind.

Talking about her hatred of violence wasn't something she ever really wanted to address. It was a fear of confrontation, and a wariness of getting herself hurt, but she'd faced so many of her fears since moving to Liverpool that she had no real reason to hold onto it. If she had told John the night before that life was just an opportunity for self-betterment, how could she dwell on her own problems while encouraging him to change? It was like they were both a work in progress, and their relationship was the perfect opportunity to work on themselves together.

John was a heavy sleeper. When Robin eventually sat up in bed, she glanced down at him only to cringe when she saw all the bruises and cuts marking his beautiful face. He was still beautiful, regardless, but the thought of him hurting brought back some of the pain from the night before. She lent down and pressed a gentle kiss to one of the bruises on his cheek, so gentle he didn't stir, and she decided to climb out of bed and leave him to sleep. Wrapping her dressing gown around her, she rooted through her satchel silently until she found a small box of painkillers that she carried round for emergencies, and left it on the bedside 'cabinet' - she forgot she was still using an upturned cardboard box - hoping that he would be smart enough to take some.

Robin decided to go down to the kitchen. It was Saturday, and it was usually a tradition that Albert would make a full English on weekends, and if there was one thing she admired about her uncle other than his kindness was his cooking. As she headed downstairs she could hear voices from the kitchen, and remembered that the rest of the lads had ended up stopping the night. Were they all up already? As she got to the hall and saw the closed kitchen door, she soon realised the lads weren't up, and Albert was in there with someone else, the sound of his soft, comforting voice met by the sounds of someone breathing heavily, as if trying not to cry.

"You'll be alright, I know you will," she heard Albert tell whoever was in the kitchen with him, and Robin considered going back to her room; whatever was going on wasn't any of her business. "Have you spoke to Rosie? Or Frank? What do they think?"

"Rosie's gone to visit our Mum, she's more forgiving than me, and Frank's away for the week working, he got a new job running coach trips," Robin heard a familiar voice reply bitterly. "I wouldn't even know where to start,"

She'd know that voice anywhere. Kay. Her best friend, who'd been by her side through plenty, was now sat in her kitchen having a crisis to her uncle. She instantly remembered how she had been the night before, all sullen and conflicted though she was desperately trying to hide any sign of turmoil. Even with everything else that had happened, Robin still remembered the way her friend had been, and upon hearing her voice, Robin decided whatever happening was as much her business as it was Albert's.

She opened the door to see them both sat at the table where, only a few hours before, Robin had patched John up. The two of them each had a mug of tea in front, a typical signifier of a crisis, especially as it looked as though neither of them had touched their mugs. They both looked up as soon as the door creaked open, and while Albert looked a little concerned, as if worried that Kay wouldn't want her there, her best friend practically grinned at her. Her grin was usual, but her eyes seemed sadder, and that combined with the fact that her hair was still spiking everywhere and she looked as though she'd not slept, told Robin that something was really wrong.

"Morning, Rob," Kay greeted, her voice a little shaky, gesturing for her to join them. "Pete walked me home last night, he might not be the best drummer but he's a nice enough guy. Al was telling me about what kicked off, you alright?"

"Forget me," Robin shrugged, remembering for a split second John wasn't the only one with a black eye, though her bruise was probably fading. "What's going on? I don't want to intrude,"

"Nah, you're not," it was Kay's turn to shrug, and as she let out a small laugh Robin realised it was actually more of a sob as she desperately pretended as though everything was alright. Albert put his hand on her shoulder supportively. "I might be in a bit of trouble... I, erm... I don't suppose you'd come to the doctors with me in a bit? Y'know, moral support and all that?"

"Of course!" Robin said, almost instantly. As soon as she'd spoken the panic set in, her eyes narrowing a little as she chewed on her lip. "What's wrong?"

Kay looked as though she didn't want to speak. She let out another hybrid laugh-sob again, her face falling into her hands, until she eventually looked up at Robin. She looked almost as if she wanted to be amused if she wasn't so scared.

"I forget you're still socially inexperienced," she said eventually with a small laugh, rolling her eyes slightly. "D'you not know what 'getting into trouble' means?"

Robin understood then.

***

Word count: 5486

***