Disclaimer: Teen Titans are not mine. The song isn't mine either. If I continue about things that aren't mine, I will be depressed.
A/N: Wrote this listening to Bad Day by Daniel Powter. The song always reminds me of fall.
Bad Day
by Author-Anon
The door opens and for a moment, the room seems beautiful, like a scene from a fairytale. The cheerful sunlight, the bright fall colors, the flowers in the vase, and the peaceful sleeping princess, waiting for the kiss from her true love that will wake her up and spur a happily ever after.
A few more steps into the room and he sees the heart monitor and the life support and the IV stand, and the fairytale vanishes like the elusive mirage that it is.
He closes the door.
"Hey Raven, I'm here again." He says and after some hesitation, he kisses the girl just in case.
A warmth filled with icy cold is the only thing he feels when he brushes his lips against hers and a mocking lack of movement is the only thing that greets him after.
He turns away briskly, jerkily, mentally berating himself for being stupid even as he smilingly replaces the flowers in the vase with the new bouquet that he bought. He pulls one of the chairs over to the side of the bed and pulls a nondescript book out of the sling bag that he puts on the floor.
"I wrote something new today." He starts then stops, like he's questioning himself and his intentions. The pause doesn't last too long though and his expression is conflicted between hope and despair as he continues, still a little hesitant. "I know I haven't been writing much, but I've started again. First free time I've had in a while so… You know, nothing to do but scribble."
A pause again; anticipation for a response, but none is forthcoming.
"I want to read it out to you, because I don't want to read Anna Karenina. It's too long."
"Maybe some other time I will, but today I want to read my journal entry."
"Here goes. Be warned though, a lot of it is about you."
And so the one-sided conversation goes, riddled with pauses, flecked with discomfort and sadness, and altogether pointless yet maybe it proves a point to him; to this hopeful young man, who against all logic fervently tries to persuade a brain-dead girl to engage in a conversation with him.
He stands up in the middle of reciting an incident in the journal to demonstrate something to the girl who can't see. Who won't know. Who's asleep.
But he doesn't care, or at least seems like he doesn't care about his oblivious audience. He laughs in the middle of his story-telling, acting out a scenario that no one sees.
Later on when he has finished, he rearranges the flowers, straightens the curtains, and then drags the chair obnoxiously across the room to the other side of the bed, ignoring the screeching the legs make as they are pulled over the floor. He sits down and takes her cold/warm hand into his and smiles at the unresponsive girl.
"Hey Raven, you gotta wake up soon alright? It's not fun talking to myself."
The girl sleeps on.
"It's really hard. Really, really hard. It's better when you're around to yell at me."
His voice cracks, but he perseveres bravely, smiling encouragingly through the curtain of tears that blur his vision.
"It's always better when you're around; was always better when you were arou-"
He doesn't finish, just collapses into the bed still holding on to her hand, sobbing his act into the sheets.
To Be Continued...