rinney/brance oneshots

rinney- mr bioplar (1)

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Tw- bipolar, self harm & talk about suicide
please let me know if i forgot anything:)

Robin woke up to glistening sunbeams caressing his face. He loved his home, his bedroom, the comfort of his large king bed – everything was an invitation to stay. He wished Finney could see his own reasons to stay, but it was so difficult.

Robin opened his eyes sluggishly and rolled to the side. He found Finney still very much asleep, his naked chest moving slowly. Robin wished Finney could feel as serene as he looked, but he knew the reality in his head was much more daunting.

"Baby," Robin kissed his forehead. "It's a beautiful day to go outside."

Finney's eyebrows knitted together and he frowned. The torment had started.

"I know it's hard, but your doctor said you need to try and do things and–"

"Shut up, Robin."

Robin wasn't fazed. He knew it was the disorder talking.

"Baby. Baby, baby, baby." Robin kissed his cheek and petted his hair. "Don't be mean to me. Y'know I'm just trying to help."

Finney opened his eyes and his brown irises were fueled with fury. "I don't need your help."

Robin sighed. "It's okay to need help. Will you let me in? Please?"

Finney rubbed his tired eyes and sat up against the headboard. His face was puffy from having gone to bed crying, and he had pillow marks all over his torso. Robin thought he was the most fragile creature in the world.

"I'm sorry..." Finney dragged out. His hands were shaking as a side effect of all the medications. "It's just hard."

"I know cariño." Robin intertwined their hands. His heart was hurting. "But we do live in Denver and it's sunny outside."

Finney almost smiled. His lip twitched imperceptibly, but didn't give. "You have a point. But I feel awful."

"How awful?"

Finney licked his lips, and chewed on his bottom one. "Like there's a rock inside my chest. A very heavy one."

"Is there a reason you're feeling that way?"

Finney shrugged. "I wish I wasn't here."

The nonchalance with which Finney said it broke Robin into a million pieces. They had had this very same conversation so many times before, but it hurt every time.

"Well, I'll help you pick out something to wear, and we can go sit in the park. How's that?"

Finney averted his eyes. He looked so tired. "I keep having flashbacks about the ketamine sessions. I tried writing about them yesterday, but it didn't help."

Robin hummed. "Do they bother you?"

"No. I don't think so. It's just another sequel to my many treatments. I feel so ill Rob."

"I know mi amor. Can I do anything to help?"

Finney laid down again, his body too tired to hold itself up. He covered his chest and hugged a pillow. "Can you make me scrambled eggs?"

Robin's chest fluttered with a spark of hope. "Of course. I'll be right back. It'd be nice if you could have a shower before we leave," he reminded him gently, as Finney often forgot to shower or simply just didn't have the energy for it.

Finney seemed to consider it. "Okay, yeah. I'll try. I think I can do a quick shower."

Robin smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I'll be right back with your eggs."

On the way to the kitchen, Robin stopped by the bathroom to make sure there were no razors or scissors Finney could find. Last time, he had found some blades behind the tile. Finney had never looked so embarrassed in his life. But his cuts were healing. He was 62 days clean, with a lot of help and vigilance from both his doctors and Robin's willpower.

When Robin got to making the eggs, he heard Finney turn on the shower tap. He let out a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding.

Finney and Robin had been dating for seven years. Robin always knew Finney struggled, but he didn't know it was a diagnosis until four years ago. Bipolar is what Dr Lancaster called it. Robin read everything he could online, watched every YouTube video on it, and researched every medication Finney was on. "Bipolar," an enormous burden for someone so special as Finney. How unfair.