Hey…

You deserve an explanation. I've been going through a rough patch with my best friend, which made it hard to write any good friendship pieces. And then this is our first week back at school, so I've been really preoccupied. Hopefully, I'll get plenty of new stuff up soon! Set during the War against the Brotherhood. Enjoy!

I can't own the Titans. : (


Seven months, three weeks, four days, eighteen hours, forty-three minutes, and twelve seconds.

That's exactly how long it'd been since they split the T-ship into five pieces. Almost eight months since he's seen his best friend face to face. That's how long he's had to go without him always at his side. This is the first time he's ever really gotten an idea of how big the world really is.

It's been nineteen days, six hours, two minutes, and fifty-five seconds since they last time they spoke. He hates that his mind keeps track of all those seconds and days like it's nothing. If it was nothing then he'd be able to just forget the little ticking timer in his head. But it's not nothing. Because his little timer may really just be counting the moments since his best friend's luck finally ran out.

Maybe it's really just been nineteen days, six hours, three minutes, and eleven seconds since his best friend was overwhelmed. Fifteen seconds since he couldn't reach his communicator in time. Nineteen seconds since the world finally succeeded in destroying him. Twenty-one seconds since he finally managed to die like a hero for something he believed in.

Or maybe it's just been nineteen days, six hours, three minutes, and twenty-six seconds since he had enough time to call. Either way, it's been far too long since he heard that voice spill out through the speakers of his communicator. And he hates it.

A lot can change in seven months, three weeks, four days, eighteen hours, forty-three minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Has his voice finally stopped breaking? Has he grown? Does he have new scars yet? Is he still able to hold his head high and laugh at all the garbage the world throws at him? If they passed by on the street, would he be able to recognize him as the smiling bright eyed boy in his memories?

He hates that they have to be apart. He hates that he doesn't really have a good reason for them to be together. He hates that this really is in the best interest of the entire planet. He hates the Doom Patrol for dragging Beast Boy back into their mud. He hates the Brotherhood for even existing. He even hates time sometimes.

But mostly, he just hates knowing that his best friend is out there all alone and the fact that he can't do anything about it.

Seven months, three weeks, four days, eighteen hours, forty-four minutes, twelve seconds and counting.