Author's Note: You ordered pain and suffering, right?

His dream is already slinking away but the feeling remains on him like a second skin, coating him with an electric shock of straight fear and yeah, that's his heart beating out his chest, boom boom boom boom boom.

But his eyes keep open in the dark because something seems to glow in it. It fills his vision with a hazy hope, a wish on a shooting star and it's come true — it lingers on him, he's healing from his nightmare — she's a lantern burning bright in the darkest part of the night, that's what she's always been.

That's her head on his shoulder. Her hair curling around her waist and his hand tangled in it by her neck. His left side is comfortably hot. He's so in and out, it might still be a dream, this still might not be true… everything that's happened to him feels like a ghost… something that's infected his mind and twisted out its oxygen… If it's fake, I still want it forever.

She's sleeping so beautifully beside him, connected to him like songs on an album fading into each other. Like his bestest friend until the end of the world.

What's the opposite of this?

A flicker of his dream sparks in his mind. A memory he wants forgotten again.

A world where she doesn't love you.

He's talking to himself again. Looking at himself in metaphorical mirrors and pretending he can do better.

Even if you can't, you have to. For her.

Her. Her. Her. Her. Her. She's here. Her. Beside him. Beside me. Real, somehow. She's not a shadow he can't chase down. Not the sun, he can't hold the sun. Even though he'd try for her.

So brave for her, but not to her.

Is this moment mine? Forever?

His chest rises and falls, shallow, never full.

And ever?

The moon isn't full tonight. It's barely hitting them. He tenses involuntarily, some kind of weird muscle spasm, and it makes his heart race again. She shifts and sighs. He freezes.

Until she relaxes into him again and curls around him. His arm is kind of numb with her weight but he'll die before he moves it. He turns his neck and brushes his nose against her hair. She smells like lullabies.

His lips press against her forehead. He loves her, He kisses her softly, over and over. Doesn't stop when she moans slightly, sleepily. Not when she whispers his name. He only brings his kisses down to her brow, her nose, her cheek. Her leg shifts against his. He wraps his hand around the back of her thigh and hooks it over his hip, his other arm coming around to wrap around her back. Her palms are pure heat on his chest.

And he's selfish, so he wants more.

He drags her up on top of him without much effort, her surprise a soft huh! with the air of it hitting his neck. He shushes her with another kiss on her head, tightens his hold around her waist, around the back of her thigh. She's so good on top of him.

He has enough sense to pull the blanket up around them. She tucks her face beside his neck. Lashes like butterflies underneath his jaw. He loves her. It's heaven when he holds her.

If she's a dream, leave me with her feeling on my chest.

Her weight on him, like an anchor to his sanity, steadies him to sleep. Their hearts beat in sync, or at least he thinks they do — they're breaking the same, they break the same…

"Star, I don't see you that way."

He's said those words before.

"Don't turn this into something it's not."

And she's going away.

"We can't be anything more than this."

Away, away, away…

But before she can go, he cracks his burning eyes open and takes her in his arms, her back to his front and his lips on her shoulder, and that's how he chooses to pray as the light evaporates his delirium.

"Don't go," he rasps, desperate.

Her delicate fingers press into his arms, spine stiff against him as she gasps.

When you leave, it feels like I'm dying, it feels like I'm dying...

His lips on her shoulder, the side of her neck, trailing to the back of her ear. Each kiss a plea to turn this nightmare back into a sweet dream.

He melts with her as she does. Her palm closes around his cheek. He inhales the starlight scent of her hair, wants to hide in it like a child. It coats him all inside, and the feeling is the best places he used to go, sweet like bakeries and cafes, quiet like silly secrets and libraries. Her nails scratch lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck and he feels tingles go down his spine and back up again.

"I am here," she whispers into his cheek. She rubs her nose slowly across it. "Shh."

Though she's sinking into him, he feels smaller than her. So he cowers his body over hers. Fits them back together.

"I was going to come right back, dear Richard," she sighs, and it strikes him awake.

He goes tight then loose, his spine lengthening and then still. He blinks past her, blinks as he looks straight at the wall, covered in shadows.

Her warm lips right underneath his, painting a fragile kiss. "Do not worry, I shall stay."

An ache blooms like blood and oil on pavement, covers his chest like her head on it now after she pushes him back down. She strokes his face with feather-light touches, inching up to his hair, alleviating the pain while also, somehow, somehow, making it move around in his guts and grow. He hooks his arm around her middle and has no strength to let go.

Even though he should.

He should let her go.

He doesn't deserve her, nothing of hers, he deserves nothing when he's this selfish, this greedy…

But is he really? Is he selfish when he needs her like he needs to sleep? Needs her the way one day he needs to die?

Can't he have her? Can't he have her? Can't I have you? Stay with me? Always? Forever? Please?

"Okay," she coos. Can she read his thoughts? Or did the words tumble out of his clumsy mouth?

"Shh," but how much longer can he stay quiet?

"Promise me," he whines, cracks.

"Mmm?" she mumbles into her next kiss, into his cheek.

Her thumb strokes his brow. Her breath rises and falls evenly beside him. Soft and strong over him. Her thumb smoothing over his brow. Until he goes down, down, down, falling, falling, falling.

Even after he falls back asleep, she continues to caress his face, hoping that it would keep him so. But eventually, her arm grows tired, and the sun joins the moon in the sky, and she goes yet another night without the rest she needs.

She feels almost as if he is in danger — though the only danger is himself. She had gotten up after dozing off to use the restroom, but he did not allow her to even get off the bed. Her heart remains broken for him. The helplessness in his eyes… the desperation…

The only thing that relaxes her is his even breath.

She inhales his clean, warm scent beside his neck. Runs her palm across his chest until it lands atop his heart. Maybe she can continue to soothe it, but for how long? Can she heal it?

How long have I been trying?

The sunlight hurts her burning eyes. She feels the bags underneath, her lids drooping but unable to close. Her soul and her mind keep her awake in the still morning. Time passes by and the light grows stronger. She hears footsteps outside in the hall and wonders how much longer until he wakes up.

As carefully as she can, she unwraps his arm from her waist and gently lifts herself into the air. With a small kiss upon his forehead, she leaves to the bathroom to freshen up, staring at her own reflection for too long before heading to the kitchen, where she intends to make him tea the way he had for her.

But once she steps into the ops room, she freezes. Three pairs of eyes are wide on her.

She attempts a smile, but it feels watery and insincere. "Good morning, friends," she croaks, her throat dry.

"Morning, Star," Cyborg says steadily.

"Did'ja sleep good?" Beast Boy asks tentatively.

When she looks to Raven, she turns away, face buried in her book.

Slowly, her lips drop into a frown. She blinks away the sudden emotion in her eyes. Gulps as the lump forms in her throat.

With tired and shaking limbs, she walks to the couch, sitting in between her two friends. They eye her curiously, and then each other, unsure of what to do.

"Raven," she calls. "May you come, please?"

In less than a moment, Raven sits beside Beast Boy, who gently brushes his hand against her leg without even looking at her. She cannot help but smile at the tiny glimpse of affection.

"Can't call us the nosy ones now," Cyborg says.

"She called me over. Did she not?" Raven deadpans, arms crossed as she relaxes against the couch.

"And you were soooo quick to come, weren't ya?" he smirks.

"This early in the morning? Come on!" Beast Boy says.

"You've done worse," Raven says.

He blubbers, clasping his chest. "When?"

Meanwhile, she fiddles with her fingers and fights the tears coming to her eyes. And the smile to her lips as the argument progresses. "Friends," she says, though it gets drowned out in their voices.

"Let the girl speak," Cyborg says, cutting off their bickering. Then they all proceed to give her the same cat-like looks, waiting for her to talk.

"I apologize for what occurred last night," she says, voice low.

"Why are you apologizing?" Beast Boy snaps, leaning his face closer to hers. "What did you do?! You did nothing wrong! It was… him."

A dark look washes over him, and it sends a pang to her heart. Things could not be this way, not again. She takes his wrist in her growing panic. "Beast Boy, please. I understand you are angry at his actions, but please, understand him."

He growls, gently prying his arm away from her. Her own arm drops to her lap. A pain emanates throughout her chest. "Please," she whispers, pleading.

"Don't get worked up again," Raven warns behind him. She places a hand on his shoulder and he sits back, taking in deep breaths.

She presses her fingers to her eyes, willing the tears and the aching feeling to go away. Even raising her arms is exhausting. As exhausting as carrying this burden.

She allows them to drop. Her wrists lay limp by her sides as she tries to relax, the feelings from just hours before bubbling to the surface.

"Please understand," she pleads uselessly. "He recently discovered something about his past. I cannot say what it is, exactly, since I myself do not fully understand the situation… but I am responsible for it. For worsening it, in one way or another."

"Star…" Cyborg says, but she cannot bear to look at him.

She shakes her head. "It is no excuse for his actions, but he is in pain. And I saw through him. I felt him. I… I am afraid I may have contributed to causing it and—" she sucks in a breath, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "I beg for all of you to practice patience with his shortcomings. I see with my own eyes everyday how hard he tries to be better. Perhaps, to you, it is not enough… but please… please, forgive him."

She holds her breath, trying her absolute best not to cry in the heavy silence that follows, but she fails. She sniffs and when she inhales, it feels violent, it feels as if she is a child again and the worst thing that could have happened to her happened. Breathing does not come easily to her — a large hand rubs at her back and she focuses on it, allowing it to bring her back. Two fat tears roll down her cheeks and blur her vision, so she shuts her eyes, and lets the rivers run.

After a few moments, she collects herself. She wipes the tears away and blinks her eyes open, staring ahead. Trying to gather the courage to look at her friends.

"Starfire," Cyborg starts, slowly drawing his hand back.

"Yes?" she says meekly, almost afraid of his question. Almost knowing what he may ask.

"... Have you forgiven him?"

Now, why did that hurt her all over?

And why does she want to lie?

She must look crazy right now, but nothing in her moves.

"Look, Star, I'm really not happy with him, but… I'll try. For you. Okay?" Beast Boy says, gently nudging his shoulder against hers.

She feels Raven's stare on her, the sorrow in them. It sends another layer of hurt through her, and she falls forward, wanting to hide away. But before she can, Cyborg takes her hand and shakes it lightly, forcing her to look up with half-lidded eyes.

With a kind expression, he places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "We're here for you, alright? Whatever you think is right, we'll try."

Can a heart break from love?

A sob escapes her.

"We don't like seeing you cry…" Beast Boy says before something soft brushes against her arm.

She smiles a watery smile at the little cat crawling into her lap. She strokes his ears before lifting him and hugging him to her chest, the soft purrs soothing the ache there. "What did I do to deserve such kindness?"

"Why would we act otherwise?" Raven says softly. She looks her way and when Raven lightly touches her shoulder, she feels her heart calm down.

She shakes her head, hoping it would drive away the negative thoughts. "I do not know. How can I be so silly?"

"You've been through a lot, little lady. Cut yourself some slack." Cyborg pats her back. "You wanna eat?"

She pecks the top of Beast Boy's furry head and thanks him before shaking her head. "No thank you. I wanted to prepare some tea…"

"No problem. If you want later, I'll make it for you, alright? Just ask."

"Thank you," she grins, walking on shaking legs towards the kitchen.

As she prepares the tea, the living room is filled with a comfortable silence, the hum of the television keeping her occupied. Though before she brings the tea to the room, she washes her face with cold water in the restroom and avoids looking into the mirror.

When she goes back into the room, he is still not awake. She sets the mugs down on his desk before sitting beside him, gently running her fingers over his face and into his hair. She watches as his eyes slowly blink open.

When she threads her fingers through his hair, he moans lightly and shuts his eyes once more.

"Good morning," she says quietly. "Did you sleep well?"

At that, his eyes find hers, looking as if he were in disbelief.

He lifts himself into a sitting position, hand scratching at the back of his neck. She places her palm on his forehead before drawing it down along his face, satisfied that he did not seem ill.

"Are you feeling fine, Richard?" she asks gently, placing her hands in her lap and waiting patiently.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Th-thank you."

She stands to take the mugs of tea from his desk and hands one to him. "I made you some tea," she says, suddenly shy. She sits back down beside him and stares down at her cup, uncertain of what to do.

"I'm so sorry for last night."

She whips her head to catch his wild look, the regret evident in his expression.

"No, it is the oka—"

"No, it isn't. No, you shouldn't have to… do that for me," he grimaces.

She blinks. "Why not?"

"I can't control myself." He scoffs. "I'm losing it. I know I am. I know it."

When she tries to reach out and touch him again, turns his face so she does not get the chance. The dismissal confuses her, sends a sharp pain through her chest.

"Star, if you touch me again, I just… I'm not gonna be able to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop wanting it… stop needing it… stop touching you back." His face twists around as if he were in pain. "Fuck. I wish I was still asleep."

"Would you like to go back to sleep, Richard?" she whispers.

"No," he says abruptly. "I-I can't. I want to, but I can't. I need to… fix things?" He says it as if it were a question. As if he were so unsure. "Everything's so wrong."

"Did I… make things worse last night?" she says tentatively, afraid of the answer.

He looks at her as if she lost her mind.

"Of course not. Where did you even get that idea?"

She taps her fingers against the mug. "I-I-I am not s-sure…"

"No, Starfire. You always save me. It was that motherfuc— AH!"

In his… passion, he had practically thrown the hot tea all over his lap. He scrambles out of the bed, one leg of his sweats dark with the liquid. He huffs in frustration.

"Are you the okay?" she says, standing in front of him.

"Yeah. Just caught me off guard." He sighs deeply. "I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head. "Enough."

"No, it's not enough. I'm not sorry enough. Nothing I do is enough," he says, his words beginning to scramble together. "It just doesn't make sense… why did it take all of this to get here? Why are you here for me? Why didn't you leave? Why don't you stay?"

Huh? She blinks rapidly as he begins to pace back and forth, the anxiety surrounding him rising by the second.

"Richard… please, can we talk?"

"It can't be… can't be…"

A sort of panic grows within her. She sets her tea down before standing in front of him and placing her palms on his chest, stopping him from moving any more. "Richard. Enough of this. I understand that you have been going through a difficult time…"

"Oh? Have I?"

"Yes. Is it not clear?"

He goes from sarcastic to pained, lips twisting into a frown. "I don't know anymore," he says, shaking his head. "I don't know what to think, or what to believe… I just… I saw you last night, and it all blew up."

Her hands slides down to his own, which she holds gently. But his own grip grows tight. "What happened to you, Richard? Why did you react in that manner?"

His face goes dark. She searches his eyes desperately, but it is as if he is lost in a memory.

She tries to shake her hands out of his grasp, but he holds on even tighter than before. Painfully tight. "Richard?" she calls again, panic rising in her voice.

"He told me."

She feels a sort of fear drain the blood from her face and shoot it down her body. "What?"

He sneers. "What he… did with you," he spits out, finally drawing away from her and grabbing roughly at his hair. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "I shouldn't be mad at you… I shouldn't, but fuck, I can't help it. I look at you and all I can think about is… FUCK."

He turns around and scrubs his face with both hands, leaving her stunned and colorless.

Would Jason truly he so cruel?

Why is it so hard for her to believe?

He whips around, a fire in his eyes that always makes her flinch. How can this be?

"I wanted to kill him. But at the same time, no matter how much shit came out of his mouth, I couldn't… I didn't… want to believe. He was right in front of me… the same walk, the same voice, all the fucking same." He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And you."

She jumps back as he spits onto the ground with a force she has never witnessed.

"Tell me." He pleads, and she does not know what he's pleading for as he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes with such a desperate stare. "Tell me he's lying. Tell me you never… you never… never…"

But with the way his eyes glaze over, and a weak sob comes out of him, he already knows the truth. And he has known for a while, now.

She does not know when the tears began to pour down again.

She is pulled flush to him, one hand pressing into her middle of her back, and the other around the back of her head and neck. She winces, dreading the next words she must speak.

"Tell me you never kissed him."

She shuts her eyes.

His lips next to her ear.

"Tell me you never let him touch you."

Every word feels dirty.

Like torture.

"Tell me you never… fucked," but he gags on the word, and her heart drops to the Earth below. "Him."

She shakes her head. As if she were begging.

Begging for what?

For what?

She wants to fall. To fall and never lift up again.

She wants to drown.

Drown.

Drown.

His fingers squeeze her neck, and she is forced to meet his broken gaze.

She never thought she could regret something so much.

She cannot remember… why this all happened in the first place. Why the guilt did not linger in her heart before.

"Tell me you never loved him."

She allows her silence to speak.

His tears are bullet holes, puncturing her lungs. He recoils. Stumbles back until his back hits the wall. She tries to breathe.

"R-R-R-Richard," she cries, wrapping her arms around herself.

"So that's what you've been doing? All this time." He says it too calmly, too dissonant from the defeat that contorts his face.

She turns away. Wondering if it is right to feel ashamed.

How could I have known? How could I have known?

And what did you expect me to do? How could you destroy what we had?

But the words feel useless. They refuse to tumble out of her mouth.

"Why am I mad at you," he says. "Why am I mad at you? I deserve this."

She shakes her head. "No," but it is only air.

"I want to yell at you. And keep you here. And never let you leave."

She is getting weaker.

"But who am I?"

She whimpers.

"I just wanted to love you. And be with you. All this time. But I ruined it. Killed it." He releases a short breath. "Killed us."

She is trembling.

"I wanna go back. To last night. To last week. To the summer. So I can undo everything. So I can fix it before it could turn into this."

She finds the strength to look his way. She allows the image to burn into the back of her mind.

The total and utter heartbreak of it all.

"I want to change it. I want to stop loving you. But it's too much. It's no use. I love you too much to let it go."

He doesn't look at her. Only at the wall.

"I wanna hold you and never let you go."

"Richard," she sobs.

"But I can't."

"Please."

"I can't, I can't even look at you…"

He begins to walk away.

It launches her forward, tugging at his arm, begging.

Begging for what? For what? For what?

"Let me go," he says, quiet. "Let me go. Leave me alone."

But what he does is leave her alone.

Once more, he does. With reason.

With reason, he walks away.