I hope you liked the last chapter, cuz I liked writing it. Thanks for the reviews. I don't have many, but it's still enough to keep me going. So on with the story.

Chapter 4:

My voice is still singing, singing that ghastly, bittersweet melody, singing each word with perfect accent. I am in a subconscious sort of state, so to me, the singing sounds hollow and faded. I feel myself slipping more and more into an unconscious state of mind, and all I see is the milk-white cream wrapping its opaque veils around me. The singing sounds so soft to me now—like the voice of a dying child. I slip more and more into my condition and the white turns gray, and from gray to a darker shade.

And soon the gray turns black.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

My eyes open to the ceiling of my room. My hands push up against my sheets and comforters, my hair splayed around my head on a cushiony pillow.

I push myself into a sitting position and then slide my legs off the edge of my bed. I look around the room. No sign of Robin's presence ever being in the room, but I knew otherwise.

I reach to pull my hood up but grab only air instead. Surprised, I look around to find my cloak laying folded and neat on one of my bookshelves. I walk over to it, and pull the material around my figure. I clasp the circular buckle and straighten the cloak so it fit perfectly. I flick my wrist, and the bed returns to it's neatness—pillows perfectly straightened, sheets wrinkle-free, and comforter tugged straight at all corners.

I feel extremely tired; I must've been healing Robin for at least an hour. That took a lot of power out of me, and so on slightly wobbly legs I walk to the door. I step out and head towards the common room of the building. I stop before the large main doors, and straighten my weak legs and feign a healthy appearance. I finish, and allow the metal barrier to slide open, revealing a bustling room. I step in and walk over to the kitchen to grab a bag of my herbal tea.

Instead I find the readymade cup of liquid staring up at me, steaming and all. I raise an eyebrow, but accept the cup anyway. I go and sit at the table to fine Robin sitting on the opposite side of my favorite seat. I sit down nonetheless and sip the warm fluid. I stare at the delicate handle of the cup and run my pointer around the rim of the colorless porcelain.

I feel Robin's eyes on the cup as well, watching my finger run around the perimeter of the teacup.

I look up to meet Robin's gaze. Not a word spoken, but a mutual understanding. Just for the purpose of speaking, Robin asks me how I slept.

"I slept wonderfully" I reply him nonchalantly, but I can tell he knows otherwise.

"No, I'm serious. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept pretty well for the most part. I'm just kind of tired."

"Raven?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." I know he doesn't mean it exactly like "I love you". He means it the way a child would say he loves his mother.

Beast Boy, hearing the comment the way most people would, spits out his soy milk and stares, wide-eyed, at us. He pokes Cyborg in the back and whispers the sentence in his ear.

In reply, Cyborg spits out his milk, dropping the metal fork from his hand. Starfire, who is feeding Silky, is oblivious to the reaction.

Cyborg, taking the brotherly role, asks, "Ummm…are y'all an item, or something?"

Neither Robin nor I answer; we just continue drinking our beverages—for me, herbal tea; for Robin, coffee.

Cyborg and Beast Boy exchange glances before further prodding for answers.

"Heeeelloooo? Raven, Robin just told you he loves you! Some kind of reaction would be normal!" Beast Boy was growing frantic in his vain attempts to draw an answer from Raven.

"I'm not normal, remember?" I do not sound harsh, but Beast Boy takes it personally and slinks to the side to allow Cyborg to continue the interrogation.

Deciding to give me a break from the bombardment of questions, Robin says, "Cyborg, I don't actually mean that I love her love her."

"Ya think ya can mess with ma little sister by messin' with her emotions!"

I sigh. Sometimes, Cyborg is just a bit too brotherly.

Robin settles on ignoring Beast Boy and Cyborg and asks me if I'm alright.

"Ya, Robin, I'm fine"

"No, you're not. Come on, what's wrong?"

"Drop it, Robin." I feel him growing irritated, but he pushes it back down. I don't know why, but that suddenly makes me proud, so I yield to his questioning.

"Come to my room after breakfast, and we can talk, okay?"

"Sure."

I finish my drink and walk over to the sink. I rinse the liquid from the ivory-colored teacup, dry it with a soft towel, and return it to its spot in the cupboard. I then walk out the large doors without a single backwards glance.

I force myself to make it to my room before collapsing on the floor. I cry into the plushy material of the carpet. I let my sobs water one area of the floor before pulling myself together. I allow my body to release a final shudder before calming down. I make no move to get up off the floor. I don't care if Robin sees me this way. I can't be the adult all the time. I lie on my side, curled up in a loose ball, staring blankly.

A single thought, and my black aura makes its way to the tine cutting knife I keep in one of my spell books. The silver blade makes its way to my skin and another thought causes it to make a thin cut in the pale, ashen flesh. A line of red makes its debut, its color contrasting against my pale skin. The color is a little lighter than last time—the sign that my father's grip on me is fading. I hear footsteps approaching my door, so I wipe the tiny knife, replace it back in one of my tomes, and roll the sleeve of my leotard down.

I still make no move to sit up straight, and I hear the footsteps stop in front of my door. I already know who it is, so I open the door with my magic and he walks in.

Robin walks over to me and lies down next to me on his side, facing me.

"What are you doing on the floor?"

I refuse to answer, because for once, I don't have a real reason.

"Raven, is everything alright?"

"Robin, I love you." Robin emits feelings of concern at my words, failing to understand why I repeat the sentence he, himself had earlier said.

"I already know that, Raven. I love you, too."

"No, Robin, I really love you." Robin gets it now, and his eyes widen behind his mask in shock.

"Raven, I…" He trails off hoping I have something to help him get the words out.

But unlike most people, I do not interrupt him. There are some things I have to stay out of. This is one of them.

"Raven, I…I…" He looks at me with pleading eyes, begging me to understand. And I do understand, I just need to hear it from him.

"Robin, I need you to say it. I just have to hear you say it."

Robin sighs, not knowing why he can't get these simple words out. And then his eyes widen in realization. I smile, knowing very well what he is thinking.

"I'm having so much trouble saying this, because they aren't simple words. I am an open book, but love is so complex and so are you. That's what makes it so hard."

"But you just said them," I inaudibly whisper to myself. I smile, now knowing with bliss what his lips are about to utter.

"Raven, I love you."

"I love you, too, Robin." I smile, and he smiles at me in return. He's so elated that he got those words out that it blows off of him like smoke on a windy morning.

I suddenly burst out crying. I'm just so sad, so tired. I start singing the lullaby between sobs. Robin slides over to my other side and wraps his strong arms around my form. He pulls my body close to his and I feel so small compared to him. I pull myself closer to him, and I curl up against his chest. He holds me so tight that I feel secure for the first time in my life. My sobs strengthen and so he tightens his grip on me. To him, I am the one item he can't relinquish, and it makes me feel so full and complete. I scrunch up as tight as I can, and he scrunches tightly around my shape.

We stay like that for hours, unmoving except for the shuddering of my body as I quiver with tears. No sound, except for the piercing sound of my lullaby. No feeling, except for his arms around my body; his hands resting on the skin just below my chest. No taste except for the taste of my recently ingested herbal tea. No sight except for the purple of the hair falling into my eyes. No scent, except for Robin's intoxicating aroma.

Robin slips his shoes off, and pulls mine off. Then he reaches for the clasp of my cloak, and undoes it so the blue cloth falls wilted at my sides. He pulls it off of my body, taking extra care when pulling out from underneath me.

He leans over my shoulder to plant a soft kiss on my neck, and then moves from his tight-knit position. My singing gets softer and softer, as I fall more and more asleep, swimming in his aroma, and letting it wash me like the waves of the ocean around our home.

I feel strong, gloved hands push themselves underneath my body—one under my neck, and one under my knees. Then, I feel myself rising and moving. I feel my arms wrap themselves around his muscular shoulders. The moving stops and the hand under my neck removes itself to pull back the cover of my bed. It returns a moment later and I hear Robin get onto the bed, the springs giving the faintest of squeals under the extra weight. I feel Robin fold his legs beneath him Indian style and I feel myself lowered into his lap. I feel himself rotate around me and then lie down, letting his head rest on the plushy pillow. He uses one hand to hold my head up as he settles down. He finishes, and then lowers my head onto his chest. I snuggle closer to him and pull my legs close to my chest. He pulls my body up more, and then pulls the covers around both our bodies. He plays with my hair, and I hold onto the pointer of his hand.

Half-asleep, I tug at the fabric of his gloves until the material falls loose of his hand. I hold the severed glove to my chest with one hand, and the other continues to grip the pointer of his now-exposed hand. He briefly grabs my hand, brings it to his lips and plants the most tender of kisses on the smooth skin below my wrist. Instead of going back to my previous position on his hand, my hand reaches for his neck, and with my last bit of sense before falling asleep once more, I snuggle tighter against his body and sigh.

I hope you liked it. I don't really have anything other than that to say, really.

Spunksterdawg