Okay, so this is first story that I have felt brave enough to submit. This story is a revamped version of a comic I had been drawing about 4 years ago. It's grown on me, and now it seems to have become a metaphor for one of my past relationships. Anyways, I promise, the second chapter will deliver, so please bear with me.
I OWN NOTHING!! :D
Enjoy the story!
"Ahemait, light the sage, would you?"
In an unknown place, delicate hands were clasped together in meditation.
"Yes, mistress," a gentle movement was heard from within the shadowy background. Seconds later, billows of white, fragrant smoke began to fill the elaborate catacomb.
A woman stood up in the darkness, robes flowing out from behind like elegant tidal waves. She breathed deeply, parting her shapely lips only a little. Whispering something unintelligible, she brought herself calmly to the center of a grand mandala that was painted onto the stone floor; in the middle was a crescent-cut mirror, creating the little light that was in the room. She stood directly over it, her reflection peering up. Unlit candles were set in each direction of the circle, creating a star pattern that went outward.
Dropping noiselessly to her knees, the woman placed both hands to the ground and waited in silence. After a few soundless seconds, she heard what appeared to be breathing, emitting from the mirror and echoing from each corner of the room in steady rhythm. As it grew heavier and more labored, the room started to vibrate from the floor up, shaking the hanging fabrics and tapestries that lined the cold, hard walls.
Suddenly, the wick of each candle ignited, reaching up to the ceiling with a searing blue intensity that lit up the once damask tomb. The meditating woman jolted upward, gasping sharply. At that instant, the flames sank down and became little flickers of light, casting an effervescent glow onto the walls. The breathing had stopped, as well as the vibrations. The woman stood up and gazed at the mirror beneath her. Staring back at her was the face of a teenaged boy, lively and youthful, that appeared to be deep in a restless sleep. As he tossed, the light of the candles revealed an emerald complexion, complimented by a mossy green mat of hair that was tangled with sweat. The image lingered for a few seconds on the looking glass, and then vanished from sight. The woman removed her robe gently and left it at her feet, chuckling musically from the back of her throat. Contentment spread wide across her lips.
"Soul of Fauna, I've found you at last"
--
"Awake, friend! It is the time of morning!!"
Silence. Starfire hovered patiently at a large, metallic door that was tightly sealed. Engraved at the top were the words: BEAST BOY.
"Beast Boy?" She rapped gingerly against the cold, hard surface. Still nothing. Starfire floated back and forth, putting her ear to the door to confirm that there was, indeed, life behind it. She was starting to get frustrated.
"My friend, it is time to get up! Get up! Awake!" A grunt was heard from inside, but no one came to greet her, even respond to her. At this, her eyes began to glow bright vermilion.
"I shall give you to the count of blegnarth to come out of your room, or I will be forced to destroy this door and everything behind it!" No sound. She raised her voice as menacingly as possible.
"Frexspar…Grosvench….Grosvench-and-a-splorge…BLEG…!"
Before she could finish her assault on the door, it slid open, and she found herself hovering above a skinny, sleepy friend of hers. The look on his face was reminiscent of a cat that had been tossed into a swimming pool by a screaming 2-year-old. Regardless, Starfire gripped her companion in a bone-crushing hug.
"Good morn, my friend Beast Boy! I am glad to see your bright and shining…" Not realizing what had happened, Starfire opened her eyes to discover that Beast Boy had transformed into something small and crawled out of her arms, down the hall, and to the kitchen. She cocked her head in confusion, then proceeded in the same direction.
"Another restless night, eh?"
Robin stared at the tired-looking titan standing before him. What a mess, he thought.
"Yeah….yeah, I'm fine." Beast Boy grumbled, shuffling to the medicine cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. His boxers were hanging helter-skelter off of his thin, green hips, and the tank he was wearing had what appeared to be sweat stains running from under the neck and underarms. His normally vivid complexion was pallid and worn-looking. Standing on his tip-toes, he groped around the very top of the shelves blindly.
"Any idea where the Tylenol is?"
"I think Rae used the last of it. You want coffee?"
Beast Boy sighed, "Thanks." He ran a hand through his hair and down his face, leaning against the kitchen counter. Robin poured two cups and sat down at the granite island adjacent from Beast Boy.
"Have you been taking your meds?" He slid the hot mug over to his friend, who took it up slowly.
"Don't make it sound like I'm a crazy-person…" He took a sip, then stared into his cup, "…yeah. They haven't been doing anything…my head's splitting."
"Maybe it's not insomnia?" said Cyborg from the living room sofa. He was watching a news program, something about the weather. Raven sat across from him, her back turned, facing the window.
"What else could it be?" Beast Boy watched the steam float off of his coffee and float to the ceiling. Starfire floated into the room tentatively, then rested her chin on Robin's shoulder.
"Well, my friend, on my planet, such insomnia is caused by one of two things: the avoidance of something that is hurting mentally…" she left Robin's side and flew over to the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of mustard and let it hover below her lips,
"…Or brain-worms. Have you the brain-worms, Beast Boy??" She sucked on the nozzle of the bottle like it was soda-pop. Everyone in the room grimaced and turned to a different direction, holding their stomachs. Mustard had always been her favorite; still, some things you just don't get used to.
"No…no, Star…It's not brain-worms…" Beast Boy walked over to the sink and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. Good-bye, appetite, though he hadn't really planned on finishing it to begin with.
"It's been like this for weeks."
"Yes," returned Star, tossing the bottle over her shoulder thoughtlessly, "but you are so bad off today, more so than normal. Are you quite certain neither reason is responsible?"
For a few minutes, no one spoke, with the exception of the television broadcaster in the other room. He was talking about a coming event, some kind of lunar thing. No one was listening. Suddenly, Starfire perked up with abrupt realization.
"My friend, indeed it is the first reason! Is not today the day that Ter…" Without warning, Robin leapt up and clapped a hand over her mouth in a nervous gesture. The rest of her words were garbled as he fought to keep her quiet.
"Starfire! Hush!" When their eyes met, she realized what she was almost about to do, and the girl looked to the floor sheepishly, almost as if she had disrespected someone. Beast Boy still remained motionless at the sink.
"Oh…" she looked around anxiously for a diversion from the subject. She glanced over to the television in the other room.
"Cyborg!" She chimed, almost too corn-fed to be believed, "What is it you are watching on the channel of news? It must be very interesting, no?" Cyborg, who had been trying to keep out of the awkward conversation in the kitchen, looked up at the orange extra-terrestrial. Her eyes were pleading, so much so that he decided to play along with her pathetic attempt at covering things up. Cyborg sighed, exasperated. It wasn't that he didn't care about his friend's well-being; it was just that he didn't want to get involved in such a delicate subject. Now it was thrown into his lap.
Leave it to Starfire…
"Yeah…yeah, they're, uh, they're talking about this eclipse..." He turned up the television, "It's not gonna happen for a couple-a weeks, but I guess they're all freaking out about it. Only happens every couple hundred years or something like that. I'unno, I haven't been paying much attention."
"My, is that not interesting!!" Starfire said, a little too loudly. She stared at her half-metal comrade, realizing that she was still not helping.
"What else are these news-peoples saying about said eclipse??" the fraught in her voice was making it crack ever-so-slightly.
"Well, from what they're saying, the special thing about this eclipse is that it…well, I think it does something where it, like, casts a shadow on the earth. A red shadow. I think it's got something to do with our atmosphere or…something." Beast Boy grunted from the other room. Starfire motioned for him to go on. "…And it never hits the same place twice. That's why they're excited; cuz it's rare and it's happening here." The program had switched to a sports broadcast. Fresh out of things to say, he shrugged his shoulders. Desperately, Starfire flew over to Beast Boy, hands up in the air and jovial. Robin shook his head and put the cups in the dishwasher.
Well, the can of worms has been opened.
"My, was that interesting! Don't you agree, Beast Boy? Most interesting!"
Beast Boy gazed up at her briefly. The look on his face gripped her heart, it was so tired and sad. Frozen in place, she struggled for words, something comforting, but was completely caught off-guard by his unnatural demeanor. Beast Boy pushed off the counter with his palms and headed down towards the hall again.
"I'm gonna chill in my room for a while. Don't wait up."
Starfire turned and started for him, but felt Robin's hand pulling her back. He took her gently by the shoulders, speaking with a careful, soothing tone.
"He's got a lot to think about. It's best if we just let him be," He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up, "okay?"
Concern written on her face, Starfire nodded with somber obedience. She proceeded to help Robin clean up the kitchen in an attempt to push her worries from her mind, and Beast Boy's problems were dropped from discussion.
Beast Boy trudged into his room, a scarecrow without a post. His head and arms dangled at his side as if there wasn't any blood left in them. He made note of this, but didn't reflect too much on it; his heart felt so literally heavy that he didn't think any blood could actually get anywhere in his lanky body. This thought made him smirk, just a little grin.
You damn emo kid. You sound worse than Raven.
Without any effort, he found his way to the bottom bunk of his bed and flopped down into its musty covers. He tossed; lumps under the comforter. He tossed again. Finally, he threw the sheets off and laid spread eagle on top of a bare mattress. Still no comfort. It was like living in a jenga-house; moving only made it worse. His breathing became haggard, and a familiar hotness grew behind his skull, pushing hard on the inside to the point where he thought that his eyes would pop out.
I don't wanna cry…
Beast Boy buried his face into his pillow hard, forcing the tears back in. It had been so long since he had last cried over it.
Maybe that was the problem? Not crying.
He had wanted so bad to just let go of everything that, after a while, he blocked it all out. A whole year had gone by with no thoughts, no tears; only an occasional word about the incident dropped here and there, to spare his feelings. And now, it was all being thrown back in his face. Even his dreams, rare as they were, were completely dripping with remorse.
Forgetting about it had been the easy part; it was getting over it that was the problem.
After a second, he lifted his head and gazed thoughtfully across the room. Instinctively, he shoved a hand underneath his bed and pulled something out—a red shoebox, top and bottom held together by a black shoelace. He hesitated for a minute, then pulled the string off carefully. A cloud of dust came with it.
When was the last time I opened this thing?
Lifting up the lid, he stared down at the long-forgotten contents: A silver butterfly hair comb, sticky, red Popsicle sticks that were stuck to the cardboard, carnival tickets, photo booth pictures from a long-lost outing, and shards of glass. He took his index finger and stroked the pieces of glass, pushing them together just enough so that they formed something: a heart. His present to her, a jewelry box, shattered into an infinite number of jagged crystals. He'd almost forgotten about it.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp, little pain in his palm. Cursing softly under his breath, he pulled out a tiny piece of glass that had lodged itself into his skin. Blood started to rise and pool at the surface and dripped into the box. Beast Boy sucked on the wound and, with his able hand, rummaged through the objects, picking up the silver comb. He looked at it, sighing heavily. A little blood had dripped onto it, and as he held the hairpiece up to the light, he watched it trickle gradually down the teeth and fall onto his dirty, white tank. It was almost hypnotizing, like watching rain fall.
The sound of someone knocking on the door broke his trance. Beast Boy quickly shoved the box under his bed, the comb still in his hand. Almost frantically, he hid it under his pillow, out of sight. He leaned back on it, arms over his head.
"Come in."
The door slid open, and a gray shadow entered gracefully, standing stationary when it reached the disheveled mess of a dresser.
"Hey, Rae."
Beast Boy didn't look at her when he said this; rather, he kept his eyes to the bunk hovering over his head.
"Are you okay?"
Raven kept her eyes on him, despite the fact that he wasn't going to turn to her. Beast Boy, in response to her question, replied with a hint of skepticism.
"Yeah…I'm cool, I guess. Why do you wanna know?"
"Well, that whole thing in the kitchen. With Starfire."
"What about it?"
"I sensed what you were feeling. Whenever she spoke, I could feel you tense." She paused, choosing the right words to say, "You know that you're insomnia is being caused by avoiding your feelings about today for months at a time. You can't keep doing this to yourself."
Beast Boy sat up, ruffled by her frank, personal analysis.
"What makes you so sure you have this all figured out? That I'm really just messin' myself up by not talking about it? What, am I supposed to just face it? Let it get to me?"
"That would be the healthier solution, yes." Raven sat on the edge of Beast Boy's bunk. Something about this uncharacteristic move soothed him in an unsettling way; she was genuinely concerned about his well-being.
"The more you deny what's happened, what today is, the more it'll destroy you. I can feel it. It's eating at you right now, and the longer you let it stay like that, the more damaging it'll be. More than just insomnia…"
Beast Boy looked at the tops of his feet, mumbling.
"You don't know that."
"I know that you're hiding her comb under your pillow."
He jolted forward, shocked.
"How did you…?" Raven raised her eyebrow and shot him a "You know why, you idiot" look.
"Right…you're psychic…forgot for a minute…" he pulled out the comb and stared at it again, waving it back and forth to catch the light. Raven spoke with a steady, almost grave, tone.
"That's the problem." She brought his hand down, comb and all, and forced him to listen. He felt his chest tighten up; this was something he just didn't want to listen to today.
"You keep trying to forget things, when you need to accept what happened."
"A year ago today…I'd kept it out of my mind…" Beast Boy exhaled. This was starting to make his head hurt, among other things.
"Feel that pain and let it hurt. Forgive yourself for something…something that couldn't be stopped," Raven took his face in her hands just as he started to turn away.
"Nothing is going to bring her back. She's gone."
Beast Boy made a little sound from the back of his throat. His eyes were glazed over, and he remained frozen in place. This had hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and he felt like he could either burst out in tears or throw up. His head fell back down, almost ashamed.
"I…I know…"
Raven put a hand on his hand. She didn't coddle him, she didn't lecture him anymore. She just waited for the downpour; it was what she had hoped would happen. But he just sat there, letting the pressure build up. Finally, she got up and left Beast Boy's side. As she headed for the door, she turned back to him and said in low, almost too-quiet-to-here voice,
"Forgive yourself. And feel what you have to. Because she isn't coming back."
When she was gone, Beast Boy fell backwards again, breathing out like a gust of wind. He picked up the comb once more and dangled it over his head, then brought it to his chest, almost hugging it. He closed his eyes and held it there.
"I wish…"
His eyes opened up to the sound of the piecing alarm over his doorway. Red light filled the room and the screeching siren-like noise filled his ears. Trouble downtown, no doubt. He puffed out with a defeated, exasperated tone and threw his uniform on haphazardly, tripping over comic books and his electric guitar that he neglected to hang back on its stand. His gloves and shoes on, he picked up the hairpiece off the bed and scrambled for the red shoebox. With that put away, he closed up the box and stowed it back where he had kept it, and headed to the door. His head and chest felt heavy and full of nastiness, but the work had to be done; such is the life of a super-hero. The door slid open, and he glanced once more into the room. His nerves raw and his soul feeling wrenched open, he flew down the hall.
"Terra…"
End of Chapter One