None of us were calm enough to sleep when we got back to the tower. We all sat glumly in the living room; me on the sofa with Starfire; Cyborg at first attempting to play video games but then deciding that he wasn't in the mood, so then just gathering dust on the floor; Raven off in her corner, meditating again. Robin sat in his armchair, slumped down into the cushions, drumming his fingers on the armrests. He didn't have his head turned toward me, but I could feel his eyes piercing my skin whenever Starfire looked over at me and asked me how I was feeling, or made a gentle remark about the darkening bruise on my face.
I now had two battle scars, courtesy of Robin the Boy Wonder.
But I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask him why he seemed to dislike me so much. It was my business, after all, since it was about me. So after Cyborg wrapped up whatever thoughts he was having and growled that he was going to bed, and Raven drifted quietly down the hall after him, I tensed, mentally begging Star to leave us be. She felt the stiffness in my body and patted my hand before she left the two of us alone in the living room. I found at first that I didn't know what to say to him. He grew quickly disgusted with my green, frog-like presence and started to leave the room, and that was when the words came to me.
"It wasn't Slade," I said to his back. That stopped him well enough.
He turned around and cocked his eyebrows at me, looking genuinely interested. Then he scowled again. "…How do you know that?"
"I smelled the note. It didn't smell like him."
"Well, then…what did it smell like?"
I fidgeted, pulling my eyes away from him for my own sake. No matter how angry he was with me—no matter how much he hated me—I still liked him and respected him. He was still perfect and strong and brave, and nothing would ever change that. "…It smelled like…" I screwed up my face, trying to place the odor. "…Like…Raven, almost. Like shadow. Death."
"So our culprit was that hooded man," Robin murmured, more to himself than to me. His conclusion made me uneasy, though, for the simple fact that I hadn't gotten a whiff of my team's assailant. He turned to me, as if sensing my doubt. "…What's wrong now?"
"Well…I…don't know what the shadow guy smelled like," I said softly, tugging at my gloves. I pulled them off and set them aside to keep them from distracting me. "Dare to compare."
I heard him swear under his breath, but then a light bulb seemed to go off in his brain; he walked quickly toward me, almost smiling. He threw his gauntlet at me. "…Here…smell my glove. I was fighting with him, so there must be at least a trace of his scent on there." I pulled the green glove off of my face and considered giving him a look and reminding him that, if it was the same smell, I would have a hard time distinguishing his hooded man from Raven the human airplane. I decided against it and breathed in deeply at the wrist of the glove.
After a few good inhales, he sat eagerly beside me on the couch. "Well?" he asked. He seemed to have forgotten his deep-seated loathing for me. I furrowed my eyebrows at the glove and frowned before giving it back to him.
"…Yeah, it…smells like the note did…but…" I looked up into his face, and he managed to look back at me without making me flinch. "…Your glove. It smells like Slade, too."
He groaned and stood, throwing his glove across the room; I heard it smack against the tile floor of the kitchen. He began to pace back and forth in front of the couch. "This doesn't make any sense! I…I know Slade, I've fought Slade! That man we fought today was not Slade. I mean…!"
He kept talking, and I tried to listen, but I was preoccupied, remembering the smell of the glove. The smell of iron, fire, and ice—the scent of Slade—had been strong on the fabric, blended almost perfectly with the sleepy odor of graveyards. There was also a faint whiff of Starfire, from where (I was assuming) she had grabbed his wrist earlier to pull him away from us when they talked. There was a hint of my own body in there, from when he had stroked me tentatively in apology. A splash of copper, from his blood. But what was most prominent to me was the soft, undeniable smell hidden beneath all of those layers—the smell of Robin himself—the smell that still made me feel warm all over, like it had two nights prior.
I stared meekly up at him, my face burning. Why does that smell make me so crazy…?
He stopped pacing all of a sudden and gave me a look that, to my horror, told me that he had noticed that I was blushing. He lowered his hand—with which he had been making an elaborate gesture the second before—down to his side, and stared at me, huge question marks written all over his face. "Beast Boy…I'm going to ask, and you're going to answer me. What has been with you recently?"
I laughed forcibly, scratching my face in an attempt to hide my flush. "What a question. Seems like the one I should be asking you."
"No, I'm serious," he whispered, looking around as if making certain that we were alone. He sat beside me again; closer than before, and I shuddered out of fear and hated myself for it a second afterward. "Tell me what's been bothering you. I mean, you look at me like I'm…walking around with knives sticking out of the back of my head or something."
I looked at my knees and blinked a few times. "You mean like I'm terrified of you, but in awe of you at the same time?" I asked. He cocked his eyebrows.
"Well…yeah."
"Gee, I wonder why, Robin?" I grumbled, narrowing my eyes. "I mean, seriously, dude…Starfire was pitching a fit over my face not five minutes ago. Can you not see the gigantic bruise on my jaw?" I pointed to where it was throbbing, just in case he actually couldn't see it through his mask. "That's why I think I should be persecuting you, instead of the other way around. You're the one who's happy-go-lucky one second, and the next second you're all fists and fire breath."
The second time I ever saw him blush. I think he was truly ashamed of himself that time. "…It's not that bad, Beast Boy…"
"But it's there, anyway. And that's why I…" I stared at him, trying to find the right words to say. I didn't want to hurt him, no matter how much he had cut me up inside earlier. "…That's part of the reason why I can hardly stand to be close to you anymore. You've been nuts recently, dude, and it…it's scary."
He sort of smirked, sort of looked like he was about to cry. It was a look that scared me. "…We're close now, aren't we?" he asked, his voice smooth and gentle. He smiled at me, and I only realized that he was right when he touched my hand again; this time on purpose. It wasn't a hard gesture, neither was it too soft; just a friendly I'm-sorry-please-forgive-me-for-punching-the-crap-out-of-you sort of thing. A sort of handshake, though both our hands were limp inside of each other. I felt that same spark of power leap into me for the second time that day, and I blushed again, shivering.
"Man…it creeps me out when you do that," I whispered, only partially lying. He laughed under his breath.
"When I do what?"
"That thing, that…!" I screwed my face up and turned away from him, though I kept my hand where it was. "When you pretend like you care."
"…Now why would I bother to pretend?" he asked in a neutral tone. His voice was very quiet; completely the opposite of his unbridled screaming earlier on. "And why would you think that I don't care about you, anyway?"
"I…I thought that we already talked about this," I grumbled. He squeezed my fingers gently, and it suddenly dawned on me that he was trying to get me to admit something. But I didn't even know what it was he wanted me to admit. I mean…I could feel that there was something going on between us…it had been there ever since we had shared that moment together up on the roof of the tower…but I had no idea what it could have been. I turned around and stared at him. Did he really know me that well? Or was he just lying to me again?
He sighed, hard, and looked over at the couch cushions. "…Look, Beast Boy. I'm…I'm really just trying to say that…I'm sorry for yelling at you. And for punching you. And…for anything else I might have been doing to you recently. I'm sorry if I've been hurting your feelings or anything like that…believe me, it's all been unintentional, if I have been. But in order to properly apologize…you need to know…I've just been so stressed out recently." He began to rub his forehead with his free hand, and I continued to watch him, breathing slowly through my nose. "I…haven't really told anyone else, yet…but I've been having this nightmare. Every time I fall asleep, it's the same one, over and over again, like someone keeps forgetting to change the tape in my head. And in it…there are these…things…these monsters with huge golden eyes and dark robes on. They're attacking all of us…and we're fighting them off as best we can…but you…you…"
He trailed off and gave me this look. This horrible look. Like it hurt him just to see me, because it made him envision something terrible…and it made me want to cry.
"…What about me?" I asked, though I didn't really want an answer. He didn't give me one. We stared at each other for a long time, like that, and I suddenly felt something pushing at me, urging me closer to him. I began to notice that his face was nearer to mine than it had been before…and that he was still edging further in. I felt his hand tremble in mine, smelled his breath as his lips parted softly…and that was my cue to come back into reality. I cleared my throat, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, though not at all out of disgust.
"Robin," I murmured; I could feel the heat on my cheeks rising up and making my eyes itch. He realized what was happening and pulled back all of a sudden; then he sniffed sharply, trying to cover up that awkward moment with a bit of laughter under his breath. But it was forced; I could tell. I wondered what he had been trying to do…
"…Anyway…the monsters I've been seeing in my nightmare…one of them attacked us today. I don't…I don't know how it happened, but…it scared me. Badly. And that was a part of the reason why I was so angry today. It freaked me out, seeing something from my nightmares attacking all my friends. Monsters aren't supposed to follow you out of your dreams, you know? So I just…all that stress, you know…it just got the better of me. And I'm sorry for it. I really am."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," I breathed, only afterward telling myself that I had meant to say "you guys" instead of just "you". But he seemed to take it well enough. He smiled sadly.
"Actually…now that I consider what happens to you in my nightmare…I'm sort of glad…that you weren't feeling good," he said. "So…thanks for sleeping in." I looked down, away from his face, and saw our hands linked on the sofa. Our grips were still loose, though not like a handshake at all anymore. I felt awkward for a moment, though something deep inside of me told me not to say anything about it; it would pass, soon, and I would slowly begin to enjoy the feeling of his flesh against mine. It embarrassed me to think about that.
"…Were you afraid that I'd be 'in the way' again?" I asked roughly, suddenly noticing that the lights were very dim around us. His fingers moved, almost…stroking my hand. I shivered, enjoying his gentle caress (just as my deep inner self had told me I would), and let out a little breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. He smiled at me.
"…Something like that," he said jokingly, though it was intended to be grim. We were quiet again for a while, and his fingers didn't move anymore. I felt them stiffen, though, after a bit, and we looked into each others' faces once more. I studied his face; the curve of his jaw, the subtle curl of his hair. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Maybe that was another reason why he was in charge; he was the prettiest. I smiled to myself thinking about it, and he smiled back. I stared at his mouth and felt something pop in my head. I squeezed his hand without meaning to, and he squeezed back. In that moment, I felt that he cared for me.
And I liked that feeling.
When I looked back up toward his eyes, I realized that our faces were close again…and that he hadn't moved at all, this time. He pulled back slightly when he realized the same, looking a little nervous.
"…I…Beast Boy…are you trying to—?"
"ROOOOOOOOBBBBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNN!"
Starfire's shrill cry cut through the (I dare to say romantic) silence surrounding us, making us both let out yelps of surprise. We jerked away from each other, staring at the entrance to the hallway that led to our bedrooms, and we glanced at each other only once before scrambling to our feet and dashing down the hall to her rescue. We found her standing backed against the wall across from her room, staring at her door with wide, frightened eyes. She saw us and edged away from her door, mouthing words we couldn't understand. Robin ran to her.
"Starfire," he whispered, grasping her shoulders firmly. "What's wrong? I'm here, what happened to you?"
Are you trying to—?She locked her arms around his body and fell into him, sobbing, and he led her gently away from the wall and back toward me. I watched them clinging to each other, him whispering gentle consolation to her, and I felt something twinge inside of me, trying to tell me something. Raven and Cyborg appeared at the opposite end of the hallway and ran quickly down to join us.
Trying to—?The feeling went away, but it went away very slowly.
"What happened?" Cy asked, placing his thick hand on Star's back. "We heard you screaming for Robin, but figured you could use our help, too—"
"Oh God," Raven breathed; she had stopped at Starfire's door. I saw her step forward tentatively and touch her palm to the metal; her hand came away stained with black. I blinked and approached her, a sinking feeling worming its way into my stomach. I stood beside her and examined the door, uttering the same words she had when I realized what was going on.
"What, what is it?" Robin demanded, stepping closer to the door. Cyborg followed, swearing coarsely under his breath when he saw what Rae and I both had. I saw Robin's eyes narrow out of the corner of my eye. "…What is this…" he breathed. Raven showed him her hand.
"It's fresh," she said. "Whoever did this was just here recently."
"I think…" Cyborg growled, shaking his head, "I think this is…our clue."
On the door, there was painted a single thick, black letter:
X