The First and Last Time

He sleeps. Moonlight filters into the room from a single window, lighting his pale face and chest. His normally gelled, impeccably styled hair is slightly messy, and his mouth is ajar, hanging open as he snores. In sleep the stoic expression is gone – the mask is gone - and his vulnerability is almost scary. He lays on his side, curled up on the purple sheets with one arm stretched to the edge of the bed, hand dangling off the side. It is as if he is reaching for something that was torn away from him.

She watches him, perched on the windowsill with her big green eyes wide and glassy. The night is clear; the moon is full and bright, the stars complimenting it well. Below her is a beautiful shoreline meeting angry waves. The window is cracked open, and her fiery red hair moves silently in the breeze. Her sadness is almost palpable – he cannot feel it in his sleep, but soon enough it will hit him too.

Sighing, she feels the temptation. Her eyes close against it. The temptation to crawl back into bed – to snuggle into his side and just sleep – is almost too much to bear. She wants him; she has wanted him for so long, and it seems unfair that after all that effort, she is literally being pulled away from him. It hurts so much, knowing that when he wakes he will probably hate her, will probably curse her for what she has to do.

She realizes in that moment that she probably loves him, more than she ever has and will love anyone.

"Ghaark sin mein," she murmurs, tears finally escaping down her face. She turns away from him, slowly and hesitantly, and pulls the window open the whole way. He immediately flinches and curls into himself, hands blindly seeking the blanket. She turns her head, noticing this, and then quickly pulls herself up. A sob escapes her throat, and it is duty that sends her soaring into the air, and the memory of his touch that keeps her there.

"S-Starfire," he whispers, flailing in the bed slightly. His eyes snap open. Maskless, pale, shivering, confused – his eyes find her form moving away, towards the moon.

Towards the moon, away, away from him?

Standing, he runs to the window, belting out her name. Pleading. Confused and hurt. But she is gone, leaving him with a bleeding heart.

XxX

Just because. I know I have an obsession with dreams and sleep and I should probably find a better angle, but whatevs.

-LW