He's not sure how much longer he can do this.
Pretending he's ok. Pretending nothing is the matter, when the truth is that nothing feels right anymore. Pretending it doesn't rip his heart in two to see her with someone else.
He hates him. He would've hated him even if he'd never joined the team, he knows that is certain. He's cocky and arrogant, constantly trying to prove himself. He doesn't know why Nightwing even agreed to let him join – Kal'dur was a much better teammate; stronger, more experienced, humble. But Aqualad had been missing for almost a year now, and they needed someone to fill his place. He knew deep down why the team had voted the overgrown fish in – he was popular. He cracked jokes constantly, always there to keep everyone from getting too serious. But you needed to be serious on this job – at least Wally had known when to stop.
Conner needed to find a new place to be alone. He threw a pebble buried in the sand out into the waves before him, hearing the soft "plop" against the calm of the night. The beach wasn't what it used to be to him anymore – it had been theirs. Now, it was just another reminder of who had taken his place, and the pain it continued to bring him. But he couldn't seem to pull himself away yet – the beach had been someplace the two of them could go to be alone together, just talking, just being. It had been the place where he'd first admitted that he loved her five years ago, and promised that he was not going to leave her because of her appearance, which she had recently revealed.
As Conner threw another pebble, he wondered to himself if La'gaan knew. They hadn't been together very long, and although she was much more comfortable in her own skin nowadays, she was still wary about revealing her true form to new teammates until she was sure they were ready and would be accepting. Conner knew very little about La'gaan and had no interest in changing that, so he couldn't be sure what his reaction would be. His biased gut however, told him that La'gaan would never understand her the way he did.
Not like it matters anymore… Conner told himself. He had kept his promise – in the end, she was the one who had left him.
A green bird suddenly flew over his head, rustling the tips of Conner's black hair and landing gracefully in the wet sand a few feet in front of him. Conner gave it a small smile, wondering how he always knew where to find him.
"Hey, Beast Boy."
The bird began to change its form, wings disappearing into its growing body as the figure of young Garfield Logan materialized before him. His long monkey-like tail flickered as he took a seat next to Conner.
"What are you doing out here? Nightwing is looking for you." Beast Boy said. He cautiously tried to catch his eye and shivered slightly. "It's getting cold."
Conner shrugged his shoulders. "Cold doesn't bother me too much."
Beast Boy nodded quickly, "Right, right… I forgot. Me neither – not really. Not when I can just morph myself into a sheep or something." He chuckled nervously, and Conner smiled. For some reason, the boy had taken a liking to Conner – something Conner himself was still trying to figure out. Maybe it was because Conner was the only one of the guys who didn't tease him or crack jokes because he was the youngest. Whatever the reason, Conner didn't mind having him around. He was a welcome distraction when his mind wandered in directions that caused him more pain than good, and it was sort of nice to have someone to just be with. Beast Boy always seemed to know when Conner needed the company.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Beast Boy lazily drawing pictures in the sand with a nearby twig. Conner stared out to the open sea at the full moon, just barely in the middle of the sky. It made him think of a night years ago, when they had snuck out of the mountain in the early hours of the morning. They'd had no real reason… just to do it. He remembered how bright it had been despite the fact that the rest of the world was fast asleep. They'd always lived in their own world, just the two of them. They were all each other needed.
Conner closed his eyes and mentally chided himself. That was before. She didn't need him now – maybe she never really did. He would never know for sure – he didn't think he would ever find the courage to ask.
Beast Boy wiped away his picture with a sweep of his hand and turned to Conner. "M'gann was looking for you too."
Conner's head snapped up and he looked at Beast Boy with shock. "What?"
Beast Boy suddenly looked nervous and his eyes shifted quickly. "Well, she didn't actually SAY she was, but… well, you missed dinner and she made a really good one tonight, and she kept glancing at your chair and… you weren't there." He finished, looking apologetic for getting Conner's hopes up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"
"It's ok," Conner said, trying not to let the rock that had formed in his throat be heard in his voice. "It's… it's ok." He ran one hand through his hair, stopping halfway and immediately dropping it back to his side. She'd used to do that all the time, especially when they'd kissed. Why did everything remind him of her?
Beast Boy looked like he was trying to decide to speak again or not. "Conner?"
"Yeah?"
He hesitated before speaking again. "M'gann is sorta like my sister – well, blood sister I guess… and I want her to be happy. But… ever since my mom died, and Nightwing brought me here, you've been kinda like…" Beast Boy rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at Conner. "Well, you've been a good friend. I like hanging out with you, even if you don't talk too much. I probably talk more than I should." He chuckled softly. "But… I know you're unhappy, and I know why. But I just want you to know that I think deep down… she's not as happy as she seems either." He shifted his body so he was looking at Conner straight on.
"She cries in her sleep a lot. I don't know how I know it, because I sleep on the complete opposite side of the mountain than she does, but I know. I think when she saved my life, we got connected somehow. I can tell when she's really happy or when she's really sad. And she's never been as happy with La'gaan as she was with… with you."
Conner's eyes looked anywhere but at Beast Boy. He picked a spot on the ground and focused on it, trying to think of anything that would stop his eyes from prickling so painfully.
"Conner?"
He took a slow breath and looked at Beast Boy with no emotion. "Tell Nightwing I'll be there in a minute, ok?"
Beast Boy hesitated, and then nodded his head, defeated. "Ok." He said quietly. He stood to leave, dusting the back of his pants free of sand.
Conner hugged his knees to his chest, wishing he could forget everything he'd just heard. A few months ago, this kind of information would've been enough to spark a bit of hope in him – that maybe there was still a chance. But now… now he had been sitting broken for far too long for a simple ounce of hope to be enough to repair the damage that had been done. Nothing could do that now – not even her. But maybe throwing himself into each mission would help, burying himself in the training he still took advantage of each week with Superman. Maybe in time, the memories of days long gone would start to fade, until he no longer remembered the way she used to make him feel.
Or maybe he had to stop hoping they would go away, and start making them.
"Garfield?" Conner said, just as Beast Boy was about to start back to the mountain.
Beast Boy turned around. "Yeah?"
"I need you to do me a favor." Conner said, his face devoid of all emotion. His eyes turned to narrow slits as he glared into the black-blue waves of the ocean, hating it with all his might. He silently reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a long, thin red ribbon. She'd worn it on their first day of high school, the day she'd first given him his name. He clenched it in his fist, hiding it from Beast Boy's view.
"Don't call me 'Conner' anymore." He said. His tone was bitter and unfeeling. "It's just 'Superboy' now."
Beast Boy said nothing, but Conner could feel his gaze boring into the back of his head. As his footsteps faded away, Conner glanced around the immediate area until he found what he was looking for. He reached with his long, muscular arm and picked up a small rock a few feet away about the size of his palm. He took the worn ribbon and tied it in a tight knot around the widest part of the rock, making sure it would not come loose.
He stood, walking slowly to the ocean's edge where water met shore, and stared at the small token in his hand. He clenched his fist, drew back his arm, and let out an anguished yell as he threw it as hard as he could into the night. There was no splash. Conner stared at the horizon, feeling the wind creep through his black shirt and onto his skin. He shivered. It was getting cold.
He would leave everything here – every memory that caused him both joy and pain. He would not bring it back to the mountain. The sea could have her. The sea could have it all.