Teen Titans © DC Comics

Plucking Petals

She loves me…She loves me not…

He plucked two petals off the rose, throwing them into the wind.

She loves me…She loves me not…She loves me…

He froze, the last petal in his hand trembling.

She…she loves me not…

With a sigh, he ripped the petal from the velvet flower and threw it into the breeze. What more could he do? Tell her how he felt? He could only imagine the mockery she would bestow on him, pointing a finger and bark with her majestic laughter that was music to the sound-based Titan. His teeth chewed at his lower lip, a habit he obtained as a child whenever his brother would push him into doing something he did not want. Every muscle in his body tensed, clutching against his organs and wrapping himself in a state of misery.

Why would she love him? He was not much to look at. He was…ugly. Yes, ugly. He always deemed himself as ugly, an unworthy being of her cool, loving affections. To others, he seemed like a clumsy, idiotic brute with his generally thoughtful mind as another dumb muscle. His eyes, scrunched up together in a peculiar fashion, brought upon dumbstruck, odd stares from the people he saved. His brother always reassured him that the people had no conscious of their actions because his younger twin believed pure humans were, well, flabby and foolish. However, he could not accept his brother's words.

She would never love him. Never. Fortune said so. Every flower he tried always resulted in the same ending. She loves me not. Every single time, and it brought such a discourse to his heart that he felt it would shatter, and he would collapse upon the heaviness those four, repetitive words that crushed down onto his back like a ton of bricks. While he was physically strong, his weakness remained in his emotional weakness.

He gritted his teeth gently, sighing once and turned his gaze back to the clouds. They moved by the wind, pinned down only by the breeze. He recalled when he brought her up there with his friends and brother, the look of awe and wonder plastered on her stunning, silver face. How her lips curled up in a gentle, somewhat mischievous grin that tugged at his heartstrings made him smile. He showed her how he made storms, bashing his rods against the cloud. She loved loud noises, especially the "beat" of the storm, which she referred to him as.

"I mean, hey, you're the one making the noise. You make the sound that alerts people to the storm approaching."

He always smiled at her kindness, knowing that she had no idea what she meant to him. However, every flower he tried predicted the same ending: She loves me not. No matter what rose, daisy, tulip, petunia, any flower he plucked, the result smacked him harshly in the face and lowered his all ready slipping confidence. His own doubts brought pain to his aching heart, knowing the truth was played out in front of him. They were simply never meant to be.

Glaring venomously as the rose stem in his hand, he crushed it, allowing his anger to take control. He tossed the fragments off into the wind, watching them plummet to the ground with a glazed rage. Every time he tried, no matter what, it would end up in failure. Why bother trying? If he saw another flower, he would stomp upon it until it was nothing. They cursed his self-worth into trash, a decrypt piece of garbage to be thrown away. He looked around the city, finding the happy couples walking the streets of New Zealand in absolute green envy. They were happy, pleased and content with their partner, and from his view, they were so much in love that it almost sickened him.

Perhaps his brother was right in the concepts of love. His brother believed that falling for a member of the opposite gender was weakness. Of course, he loved his brother dearly and countered him with that, expecting to win the battle. However, his brother merely laughed and replied that brotherly love was far superior to love with a mate because with a woman, the power they had would be depleted. He frowned, demanding to know why he thought that, but his brother shrugged and replied that women were "tedious and brother-stealing." He had to laugh at his brother's expense, reminding him that he loved him always and no matter what.

"Foolish brother, always degrading me with his words," he grumbled, glaring at the city below. "Foolish flowers, always degrading me with their truths."

"Well, why don't you try this one?"

He winced, making an irking noise and whirled around, finding the woman of his desires gaze at him with the largest ruby eyes he ever saw. He fell into them, losing him in the moment as she sat down next to him with two white daises. Handing one to him, she smirked and asked why he was all alone. He hesitated, unsure of how to reply when she chuckled lightly.

"Heard you muttering to yourself. Anything wrong?" she asked, placing her hand on his tensed shoulder.

"Uh, it is nothing you should trouble yourself over," he insisted, glancing away. Finding the flowers intriguing, he asked why she brought them.

"Just doing the same thing you do every morning. Plucking petals to see if the person you love will love you back." She chuckled softly, taking the first white petal and ripped it out. "He loves me…" Another rip. "He loves me not…"

He watched her in earnest, eyes slightly wider than usual. There seemed to be somberness to her, a trait he never saw before. Her fingers, nimble and long, swiftly plucked each of the petals. She murmured to herself, and he felt the desire on her tongue, wanting to know if that man loved her. A strange malice came to his chest, feeling hatred towards that "he" that captured her heart. Yet, he continued to watch her in interest, cocking his head in childish curiosity as her finger tore out the last one.

"He loves me," she whispered, ebony lips curving up into a smile.

"I-I am glad for you," he murmured, grinning quirkily.

"Well, here. Take this." Taking his hand, she placed the second daisy in his palm.

"Why? You saw my failure. It does not matter what flower I receive. All attempts are hopeless."

She frowned, elbowing him lightly in his elbow. "Oh, come on. Don't be so hard on yourself. Try again."

Sighing, he snatched the first petal and shredded it, grumbling, "She loves me…"

He continued, muttering the verses like he was a downtrodden player reciting a dreary verse in a play. Even with his dear sitting right next to him, wait, why was she assisting him? She knew that whoever her heart pined for loved her! Perhaps she pitied him, luring him into a sense of gentle security so he would not be so sad. At least she cared for him, and that was comforting to his cracked heart. Suddenly, he realized he was on the last petal, clenching his free hand in disgust as he ripped the petal off.

"She loves me not! There! It is the same! Why? Why have you made me perform the same task when the result will always be the same?" he blurted, glaring away so he could not see his fury.

"You missed one."

"Wh-what?"

She took the flower again, revealing a tiny, budding petal half its normal size. A light snicker emerged from her at his befuddled face. Noticing his eyes dilating, she laughed into her hand and sneered at him. "Come on, pluck and say it."

"She…she loves me…" he murmured softly, staring at the petite, almost baby-like petal in his thumb and forefinger. He gaped lightly, watching it flutter off in the wind before turning to her. "You…you knew all along, did you not?"

"I couldn't tolerate to see you looking so morbid. Every time I'd see you pluck those petals, muttering that she didn't love you." She took his hand, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't believe in stupid, doubting words like that. You need to have more confidence in your own feelings or you'll end up like your dopey brother."

"B-but why?"

"Because I always knew."

He gasped sharply, staring at her in abrupt terror as she leaned forward. "You-you knew? Was I so obvious?"

"Yeah, you were."

He glanced at his feet, finding them to be so interesting. All this time, she knew? Yet, why did she not say anything before? He sucked in a breath, exhaling heavily and smiled wearily to her. "I suppose I should have told you sooner. May I ask who you are hoping to love you?"

"You mean, it's not obvious?"

He cocked his head with an inquiring smile.

Without warning, she leaned up and kissed him. His eyes grew to their widest point, extending beyond what he thought possible. Tangible warmth was on her body as she embraced him, and, slowly, he wrapped his arm around her, bringing her closer to his chest. He could have cried he was so happy, but he kept her close to him, not wanting to wake up and found out if it was all a dream.

Slowly, Thunder and Argent pulled away, smiling dreamily to each other and watched the clouds drift along in the wind, their hands gently clasped.