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Cheshire and Robin
by Cally Irvin
Not For Sale
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He looked so much like a bird; the way his feathery raven hair rained over his brows and over the back of his neck. The way his large, dark eyes darted about added to his bird like features, along with the angular nose that sprouted above his lips.

The only feature that seemed out of place were his pouty, full lips, and when he parted them to speak or laugh, a wonky arrangement of teeth came into view. He had a wonderful smile, with the way his pouted lips curled over his teeth, with the way his small dimples appeared mysteriously at the corners of his mouth. Despite his older, more mature visage; when he smiled, he looked like the curly ginger-haired child all over again.

I insisted the moment I met him all those years ago that I would call him Robin and nothing else. He didn’t like that, and quirked one side of his upper lip, telling me his real name was Wilhelm. Since that day, I’ve only called him Wilhelm, or Will, a handful of times.

He insisted on calling me Cheshire. I’m well aware that when I smile, it looks overexaggerrated all the time. And yes, I suppose there are things about me that make me like the Cheshire cat, so I don’t stop him. Of course, my real name’s not Cheshire, not even close in any way, shape, or form. My name is Elizabeth, or Bee, as some of my other friends call me.

But, of course, Robin calls me Cheshire.

We met at age seven. We became friends over the simple fact that we couldn’t stand each other, and I suppose that can be considered a rivalry. But that sort of thing only lasted a year or so before we really started to like what we saw in the other person. For one, Robin was hilarious. And of course, his smile is contagious in every way possible.

I never really knew that he had feelings for me until we turned fifteen. I was sick with strep throat and had to stay home from school. Of course, I had feelings for him. Everything about him was just the sort of thing I needed in my life, from his boistrous, loud nature, to the colorful, brilliant side of him. While most other girls found him to be a bit on the ugly side, I found him gorgeous.

.. Anyway, that day when I was sick with strep, he came to my house to visit me. I wasn’t aware he cared that much for me, or that he even knew I was sick. But still Robin came, all smiles and a bounce in his step. The first thing he said to me was that he heard I was ill and that he missed me. We played an interesting board game, called Mastermind, for several hours. Today, Robin and I still play that game. He’s always been better than me at Mastermind. As a matter of fact, I’ve never even won a game against him.

So, after about twenty rounds of that game, I broke out into a coughing fit. Wilhelm.. Erm, Robin, rushed to grab me a glass of water and my medication from downstairs and brough it to me. The whole while, he had a hand on my back, whispering soothing encouragements into my ear until my coughing ceased. He didn’t remove his hand from my back until, and even then, it was a slow process.

Almost as if he didn’t want to let go.

I stared into his deep eyes, which turned out to be blue, against all odds. “You have blue eyes, Robin,” I had said, my voice scratchy. I had assumed this whole time that he had brown, or even black, eyes, but really, they were only an extremely deep shade of violet.

He smiled that wonky smiled and I smiled too. Then he laughed out loud. “Aww, Cheshire, d’ya know how much I love that smile o’ yers?”

My cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “No, I wasn’t aware of that, Robin,” I reply, trying not to appear embarrassed, but failing horribly. He chuckled low in his throat, leaned over, and kissed me.

I immediately pulled back in shock. “Robin, you’ll get yourself sick!” I exclaimed, ending my sentence with a harsh cough.

Concern crossed his dark eyes and his eyebrows furrowed. “M’sorry, Ceshire, I shouldn’tve done nothing like that of any sort. M’sorry, really!”

I shook my head and coughed a couple of times. God, it felt like I had a knife wedged somewhere in my throat. “It doesn’t matter, Robin, I just don’t want you getting sick, is all.”

Robin looked steadily into my eyes, not breaking any contact. “So.. Y’mean ya’ll don’t mind if I kiss ya?” His pouty lips seemed so inviting right then, just from the way he was looking at me.

“I don’t suppose so...”

“..Welp, then I betchya don’t know this, but I don’t mind getting sick er nuthin’, neither,” he tells me after a moment. Then he smiles slightly. His dimples are showing, and his dark raven hair is falling somewhat over his eyes, hiding ever so slightly the humor ever so present in his violet orbs.

I raise a hand, brushing the dark locks from his eyes.

“Wilhelm,” I mutter, before I take my turn to kiss him this time. Just before my lips meet his ever pouted ones, I shake my head in faux dissapproval. And as our lips connect, I feel them curl into that adorable smile I fell in love with.

That day was the first time I called him Wilhelm. But it would be several more years before he ever called me Elizabeth.

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