Short little drabble from Jinx's perspective on why it didn't work with Kid Flash. Meant to be an accompanying piece to the Roses chapter in Tumbling Down.
Music: Panic cord by Gabrielle Aplin and Country Song by Seether.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans or the music that served as inspiration.
I was full of doubt and you believe
The more than you keep coming over
The more I know it's over, dear
We're just a box of souvenirs
)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(
She frowned, looking down at the photo of them—her pale cheeks pinker than usual as she smiled up at him. It looked to be from their trip to Italy, right after the takedown of the Brotherhood of Evil. The abnormally large group disbanded to celebrate how they wanted and he'd taken her to Venice for—what else?—food.
It must've fallen out of the box of souvenirs she'd had kept during their relationship. The one that she'd thrown away so long ago.
Looking into their smiling faces pulled something in her. Perhaps it was seeing a moment they were actually getting along well. Or maybe it was guilt that clawed at her—yeah, she knew the break-up was much harder for him. Even though it had been less than a year.
Ugh, she hated thinking about him. Couldn't stand to look at him.
It always left her analysing their relationship—herself—and why it ended. Even six months later, she wasn't sure she could understand all of the complications.
She used her powers to rip the photo apart, sending it into the trash bin across her—refurnished—pink room.
(But it was too late. The usual questions—and fears—began to pummel her once more.)
Had she overreacted?
Probably. Back then (and if she was being honest with herself, still) she wasn't used to someone caring so much about her. It was the first time anyone had tried to reach out to her, asking her what she wanted and willing to go to extremes to make it happen. But, perhaps the most important thing to her at the time, was having someone listen to her—having her words matter to someone.
He hadn't laughed or ridiculed her, like her team would've, but listened.
And mattering so much to someone did scare her—despite working in a team, she was used to only worrying about herself. That was how the H.I.V.E. five functioned. They worked together as much as possible, however, when it came down to it, it was everyone for themselves.
So, okay, maybe part of it had been motivated by panic. A knee-jerk reaction to go back to a time when no one needed her, when no one relied on her.
But that was still insufficient.
Because it's not like he always listened. The relationship did change after the first few months.
He became increasingly annoying—restless, like the her teammates that he'd criticised—and didn't listen. She would try and tell him about her life as a criminal—how thrilling it was. She could do what she wanted, she had no cares or worries. And he would let her blabber on about all of this, only to respond with something Robin would say. Something about how she shouldn't think that or how being good was better for her. He didn't truly listen—such tales only horrified him. He could never understand.
The more she talked about her past—trying to sort through the conflicting feelings swarming inside her, the ones that she couldn't quite explain but hoped he'd understand—the more he tried to show her how it was fun being good. And she had wanted to tear her hair out because he wasn't getting it. All he was doing was pushing her—a feeling she despised.
After awhile, she stopped yelling at him for it. Maybe that was her fault—he was happy and assumed she finally was too. In reality, she was tired—of arguing, of trying to explain. The more they talked—really talked—the more she realised that they didn't connect anymore. Not like they had once.
And, she realised sickeningly, that she was so tired of it all and maybe she just didn't care.
(This was the reason that scared her the most.)
(Did this make her a bad person?)
She began to miss her old—dimwitted—team. She missed the mayhem they'd all caused—the ability to just mess with what she wanted on a whim.
And, even though his words—those pretty words that had made her change in the first place—were comforting, they couldn't chase away the desire to go back. Her bad-luck powers called out to her, begging her to do something mischievous. And she got tired of trying to explain it. Of fighting it.
And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was bored. Because causing trouble made her come alive. And she quickly found out that nothing could replace that—not all of his words.
So maybe she wasn't completely unlike him—maybe she got too bored too easily.
But that wasn't it.
She wasn't necessarily bored, but rather, she missed the freedom of it all. The lack of responsiblity and the need to be part of something greater. She didn't want to put up with that. It chaffed at her, restraining her. Limiting her to what they deemed acceptable.
And while she and the H.I.V.E. were villains that faced off regularly against the Titans, they weren't nearly the worst. Because, really, they were only trying to steal a few trinkets and cause a bit of trouble.
So, yeah, the lack of freedom was definitely part of the failure.
But it still went deeper than that.
Despite her lapses into crime, he, infuriatingly, always claimed to believe in her. As though he discounted everything she said about the need—the craving—to go back. To be alive—free.
And typical Kid Flash, he didn't listen. Didn't want to hear about how flawed she was. No, he always tried—to do something, to help—no matter what she told him. Even when the other superheroes saw her for what she was—unreliable—he still stuck around, murmuring sweet nothings to her. And each time he was nice, she felt like doing something worse. Something he wouldn't be able to stick around for.
Because his faith meant that she still faced responsibility for someone. And it weighed her down, made her want to resist more.
Maybe she was just self-destructive.
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(This was the part she hated. Where she realised that part of it was her insecurities.)
(She hated the thought that she harboured any.)
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(Because deep down, she felt she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his effort, his patience.)
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It didn't help that she eventually recognised his actions for what they were.
(He was trying to save her.)
He was a fixer. He was trying to rehabilitate her to the good side.
When she thought about this, she decided that she didn't want him to try—she didn't want to be saved.
She liked being bad.
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If she were being honest with herself, though, that wasn't entirely it.
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She was a coward.
What scared her the most was what would happen if she were fixed. Would he still stick around?
Or move on to another charity case that demanded his time?
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Would he still care about her?
(Probably not.)
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Quite frankly, why should she even try if it was doomed from the start?
She may have been broken, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to stop cutting—him, his hero friends, and the rest of the world. She would do what she'd always done—cause mayhem.
(Because she was too much of a coward to let herself be fixed. To let herself be good.)
And he didn't—want to—realise that this was who she was. Someone who took the easy way out. Who liked to hide behind her bad-luck powers as an excuse for her actions.
She knew he wasn't going to stay with a villain—someone he couldn't help—and her antics pushed him away. Eventually, she succeeded in proving to him that she wasn't ready to change into a hero.
But he still believed in her potential.
(She frowned, she hated that word. Potential. It just mocked her, laughing at all the things she could be but wasn't.)
He even told her on the day of their break-up that all the potential was still there—but that's the problem with potential, isn't it? It'll always be there, lurking just out of reach.
He told her that she could still turn it all around. That she could change. That it wasn't too late for her.
(But it was too late for them. He just didn't see it.)
Unfortunately, it was clear that he—still—cared. He still hadn't given up—that he was probably still waiting on her to turn it all around. For her to come running, ready and eager to try and live up to her potential.
He still kept everything from their relationship, she knew. Yes, even though she was a villain, she still heard the rumours. And, she remembered, on the day of the break-up, his resigned form hunched over as he collected his things, keeping everything. He had taken all the things she'd given him and packed them with care into his own box of souvenirs.
And she had thrown hers away as soon as he left.
(Because she realised that he wanted the idea of what she could be. Not who she was.)
So, maybe the break-up was her fault.
And he was an unfortunate casualty along the way.
Still, if there was one good thing to emerge from this whole debacle was her certainty—her resolve. She was back where she belonged, cursing people with the bad-luck she was born with. She just wouldn't fit anywhere else.
She wouldn't fit in his life. She couldn't emulate he heroes he worked with—didn't want to.
And she was sure that, even if she was sinking, she'd found her place.
And there was nowhere else she'd rather be.
(Except maybe, in the red and yellow arms of a certain speedster. But she'd given up on that long ago.)
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(Because it would never work. There was no saving her. Not anymore.)
Kind of drabble-ish, but I kind of wanted it to be like stream of consciousness—as though we're following her thoughts. Not sure how I like it. I've already tweaked it a few times. It kind of seems OOC for her a bit... (maybe?). Dunno, maybe that's because this is the first Jinx centred fic I've ever done. Meh.
Please let me know what you think in a review! They make my day!~