He asked me to watch him train, because he thought it would help me to think of a way to sneak past him when we sparred tomorrow.
I agreed, though not at all for the reason that he thought I did.
So I sat on the edge of the mats and watched him, in his karate robe, attacking the punching bags and fake monsters set up around him with the utmost ease. I watched him lift weights. I watched him stretch. I watched him do pull-ups and climb the rope dangling from the ceiling and I watched him lay sprawled out on the floor, panting and smiling up at me as he took a quick, five-minute break. I smiled back, because nothing was wrong.
I had given up on feeling guilty about my feelings for him and had just gone ahead and accepted them. It wasn't like I could successfully deny them, anyway, so just taking them in with open arms was about the nicest thing I could do for myself, at that point. Besides…getting a warm feeling from just watching him exercise…was sort of nice. He had a good-looking body; thin, though not too thin, layered with lean muscle and with sexy, powerful arms and legs…watching him would definitely not have been a chore, even if I hadn't felt that way about him. And I told myself that, if I hadn't been watching him for that reason, I would have been there, anyway, simply admiring his grace, dexterity, and power as he trained.
After a bit, he came over and sat beside me, his hairline damp with sweat. "So," he asked, "getting any ideas?"
"Oh, a million of them," I replied slyly, grinning at him. He smiled back. "Getting tired, yet?"
"No way," he assured me. "Not even close. Besides, I've got a long way to go if I want to be able to kick serious butt next time we're faced with such an intense challenge."
I eyed the thick scabs on his forearms warily for a moment before looking up at the long gash on his cheek. That one in particular was having a hard time healing, and I hated myself for not being there to prevent him from getting such a horrid scar on his handsome face. "But next time…next time, I'll be there," I said. "So you don't need to push yourself this hard, Robin. Really. You're as strong as you need to be to kick serious butt right now."
"…It's not just that," he sighed, giving me a thanks-for-your-support-anyway kind of look. "I…I want to be able to protect Starfire. I have a feeling she's in danger—"
"She can protect herself," I growled, surprising the both of us. He furrowed his eyebrows at me and then looked down at his scabbed arms, contemplating.
"…But also," he continued, acting as if I hadn't even interrupted, "…I want to be able to protect…you." I stayed quiet this time and actually managed to keep myself from blushing. "If what happens to you in my nightmare actually turns out to be some sort of vision of the future, then I want to be able to do my best to keep that from happening. Because no matter what you think about me…even though we've been through a lot of hard times together, especially recently…I really do care for you, Beast Boy. I care for you a lot. It's like what Cyborg said…you're a little brother, to me. And I would never want to lose you."
He said nothing about what had happened between us the night before, and I wondered if it was because thinking about it made him feel awkward. God knows it made me nervous. I nodded and watched him put his hand down on the floor beside him. "I would never want anything bad to happen to you, either, Robin," I said quietly, considering putting my hand over his. "And I care about you a lot, too, even if you scare me out of my mind sometimes."
"Thanks, I…think," he said, smirking. I looked up at his face and hated that mask desperately. It was quiet in the gym; not even the air conditioning was running at that moment. I wished it were darker, and as if by some divine guidance, one of the lights flickered and went out. I laughed, and so did he. "Weird," he muttered. "I was just thinking it was too bright in here."
"Really?" I sighed, almost going for it and then chickening out at the last second. "Me, too."
Neither of us said anything for a while after that. I thought of a bunch of dumb questions to ask him, none of which were ever asked, and every time I almost got up enough guts to try to touch his hand, he would smile at me and I would freak out again. I grew frustrated with myself and was about to get up and leave when he spoke again.
"…You know…I really do enjoy talking to you, Beast Boy," he said softly. "You're a lot smarter than you make yourself out to be."
My cheeks turned pink with flattery. "Nuh-uh," I muttered, scratching my neck. I wondered if he would ever compliment me again if I told him that I cared for him as deeply as I did. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Probably just as amazing as he is, I thought. He touched my arm, and my nose tingled; I could smell him best when we were close like this. I shivered and thought bad thoughts.
"…Have I ever told you…about my parents?" he asked, completely serious. I adjusted myself to feel the gentle friction of his fingers against my skin.
"No," I replied, wishing I had the nerve to get closer to him. I was too afraid that he would push me away, though. Too afraid that he would realize what I was doing. "I don't think you ever have. How come?"
"Well…it's just because…I know what happened to your parents…I just think it wouldn't be right unless you knew what happened to mine," he said simply enough. I turned to him and smiled, my heart pounding in my chest. He was so wonderful; I could hardly stand it.
I longed to kiss him. To taste his sweet-smelling lips.
"…Okay. I'm all ears," I told him. He had a difficult look on his face for a second, like he was struggling to get over some kind of obstacle within himself, but then he sighed and nodded. He looked nice, to me, when he was like that; serious, though slightly nervous. It made me feel like maybe he was more like me than I thought.
"Right, then. Well…when I was a kid…I used to be in a trapeze act called the 'Flying Graysons' with my mother and father. They were experts…in fact, the only time when they would use a safety net would be when I was performing with them. It wowed the crowd every time when they completed their routine flawlessly, until…" he hesitated. I sensed that this was the part that was hard for him to recall. I gazed into his face intently, showing him that I was just as serious about listening to this as he was about telling it. "One night…they were walking the tightrope, and…someone cut the wire." He stared down at his feet, and after a moment of cold numbness, I felt something stab me deep inside. It was strange, to realize that I could, in fact, imagine the pain he had felt when he had realized that he would never see his mother and father again. Strange to realize that I could understand his grief. I grabbed his hand. "I hated it; losing them. Realizing that they had been taken from me like that; stolen from me by someone who didn't care at all about what it could do to me, a helpless child. Batman showed me that there is a way to get back at people like that; people who steal what matters from the good-hearted, innocent people of the world. People who steal from children and laugh afterward. And that's why I wear this mask. That's why I'll never stop what I'm doing." He looked at me, furrowing his eyebrows. "But the one, terrible side-effect of this is that…realizing all that I'm capable of, now…I feel like I could have done something about it. Like I could have done something to prevent their tragic deaths. That's the part that bothers me the most about everything that I've been through. This feeling of guilt that just…won't subside, no matter what I do."
"I…I know exactly what you mean," I whispered, closing my eyes. "When my parents died in that boating accident…I thought, 'God…I could have kept it from happening, if I had only been there with them. I could have used my powers to save their lives.' I still think that, late at night. Whenever I smell the ocean, I think about it. And it hurts. But…I know that…to get over it…I just have to realize that there really was nothing that I could have done. Because back then, I didn't know what I know now. And besides…if my parents had lived…I probably would never have joined the Teen Titans. I wouldn't have had a reason to join." I smiled weakly at him and opened my eyes again. "And if I hadn't joined…I would never had made such great friends. I would still be some goofy kid named Gar Logan, trying to sneak and cheat his way through high school."
"Yeah," Robin murmured. "And everyone knows…the Titans just wouldn't be the same without Beast Boy."
We went quiet for a while, and I could feel our sadness mingling in the air around us. I wished there were something else that I could do to comfort him; something other than bombard him with my corny jokes. If I had known…I thought glumly, looking over at his pained profile, I would never have said that to him…I would never have accused him of caring only for his own pride.
…He really is more passionate about this than I am. Ten fold, in fact. God…
He squeezed my hand, shut his eyes, and I opened my mouth to apologize to him, but a glittering at the corner of his eye stopped me. I watched a single tear trail down his face, and I felt my heart break, slowly and painfully, inside of my chest. Rule one in Beast Boy's Big Book of Stuff: Robin was not supposed to cry. Robin was supposed to be the strongest of us all. My lips trembled, and I let go of his hand, choosing instead, at that moment, to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him.
It was so much easier to touch him when I felt so wounded inside.
"…Dude," I said, trying to sound cheerful, but it was too hard to keep my façade up, now. I felt tears gathering in my own eyes. "…Don't cry…everything's okay, now…I promise…I…I'm h-here for you…"
He sniffed and wiped his eyes, looking down at me for a few seconds before he returned my embrace; his body felt so pure against mine, like liquid poured into a glass. I melted into him and cried. I felt him try to speak, but I had said what he needed to say, so he remained silent, instead, and that was okay to me. I loved being held. I loved the warmth of his cheek against my scalp, and the sound of his heart beating—a little off-tempo because he was upset—beneath his karate robe. I loved his deft hands, trembling and soft, against my ribcage. I loved feeling like a baby bird, being pulled into the warm, red breast of his namesake, sitting there in the gym, in his arms. That was enough, for me.
And through it all, I could hear my own voice in my head, tenderly whispering the words that, for the first time in my life, I allowed to ring true:
Robin I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you please don't ever let me go…
…And I hated that moments like that were made to end.
Red alert lights flashed around us suddenly, breaking the moment, and he pulled away from me, stabbing at his beeping communicator. "Cyborg! What's the trouble?"
"We've got another bomb scare. The museum on twelfth," Cy's voice buzzed. Robin ground his teeth and thought for a second.
"…All right," he growled. "Let's go."
He ended the transmission and looked at me for a long second, bathed in flashing crimson. He smiled at me. "…Thanks, Gar," he said gently. I blinked and felt him touch my arm before he ran to get changed, calling over his shoulder that he would meet up with me and the other Titans in a few minutes. His scent lingered beside me, and there wasn't a thought in my head until I realized that I needed to go. I morphed and flew out of the gym, a million questions pounding in my brain. I didn't even realize that I had transformed into a robin.
When Cy, Star, Rae and I arrived at the scene, we found it as, I suppose, they had found the bank the night before; eerily dark and void of employees and customers. I heard the dull, metallic chukk of Cyborg clenching his hands into fists, and felt the air around me grow staler as Raven readied her dark magic. Star stayed in the middle of our group, nervous.
"…All right, team…we've got to find the bomb before it's too late. Split up and search," Cy murmured. We nodded and divided.
I morphed into a hawk and began to survey the premises with my sharp eyes, careful not to touch anything as I flew past it. Nothing seemed out of place, though. Baffled, I morphed instead into a dog and began to sniff around, searching for strange odors. Dust, ancient mold, rocks, oil paint, clay, cloth fibers. Normal museum smells. In the ancient Egyptian exhibit, I was ready to turn around and check another room when I felt my fur stand on end.
I smelled fire, ice, and iron.
Slade.
I whimpered and started to back up, but then I remembered Robin. Robin wouldn't run away. Robin would go on and find Slade and kick butt. Doing my best to swallow my fear, I began to edge farther into the room, sniffing as I went and following the vague trail straight to a statue of Anubis. That was where it ended. I sat in front of the figure, confused (though very relieved) before I began to circle it, sniffing at the base. It smelled like a very old statue. Where had my trail gone?
I transformed back into my human form and stood, leaning close to the sculpture and examining it carefully in the darkness. I reached up and felt along the body, searching for anything out of place, around to the back, down the legs, up over the arms. Nothing. It was a statue; nothing more, nothing less. I backed up and gazed quizzically into the dazzling red eyes of the Egyptian god, wondering what the heck I was even supposed to be looking for. There was little chance that our perpetrator would use the same make of bomb this time as he had used before…that is, if he was smart, there was little chance. But why did it smell like Slade, I wondered? And why had Robin's glove also smelled like him? It made my head hurt to think about it.
I heard a heavy footstep behind me, and the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms stood on end. I whirled around and became a lion, baring my teeth and my claws menacingly, showing I was ready to fight. I saw Robin's figure, silhouetted in the dim light, staring at me. I changed back and breathed a sigh of relief. "Jeez, man, give me a heart attack, why don't you?" I panted, raking my fingers through my hair. I felt him smile as he approached me.
"So have you found anything? No one else has," he asked quietly. I opened my mouth to tell him about the statue, but then I stopped. I felt my lip curl. He smelled strongly of Starfire.
Too strongly.
My chest hurt for a second, and then I felt angry fire spring up inside of me. I could only imagine what he'd been doing before he came to me. And he was stupid to think that I couldn't smell her on his body. Robin did not smell like sugar and chamomile. Robin smelled like…grass, and the sky, and warm laundry, and hot showers, and laying in bed late at night, staring at the moon. Robin smelled like Robin. I felt my fingertips stinging, and he gave me a weird look. I had been quiet for too long. I forced myself to speak.
"Yeah, I…this statue," I said, trying to sound like I hadn't sensed his adultery. I pointed to the sculpture of Anubis, and he stepped forward and past me, examining the figure just as I had. I shuddered when the feminine smell wafted across my nostrils. His body had told me, before, that he cared about me. I hated his lies. I hated Starfire. I ground my teeth. "It smells like Slade."
He whirled around and stared at me, doubt evident in his face. "…You're sure?" he asked urgently. I shuddered.
"Painfully sure," I replied sourly, glaring down at my feet. I could smell her arms around his shoulders. His hands on her waist. I hated it, hated it, hated it. Why did it have to happen here? Why now? I could smell sugar on his lips. Tears welled in my eyes. I had known that this would happen. I had known…but it still hurt, more than anything else in the world. There were knives buried in my stomach; in my heart. God, he was mine…for thirty-two seconds, this morning, he had been mine. For thirty-two seconds, I had fooled myself into believing that he loved me as much as I loved him.
But then this damned alert.
Did he even know that he was playing with my heart? Was he enjoying it, if he did?
I pressed my palm into my forehead, trying to stop the tears. I heard him stop moving around. "…Anything wrong?" he asked. I shook my head.
"No…just a little headache," I lied. He went back to searching the statue.
"…Wait," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "…What's this…?"
I had to look. He had pulled the statue's eyes out of their sockets. I yelped.
"What did you do?" I cried, "you broke it!"
"No…" he said, holding the eyes out to me. I looked down at them, ignoring the smell of Starfire and squinting at the red eyes. I could see tiny circuits on the flattened backs of the orbs. "I fixed it."
My ears twitched. "…They're ticking," I whispered.
He swore and squeezed the bombs in his fist. "Get everyone out of here," he whispered to me, his hand on my shoulder and his face close to mine. I was too hurt to be excited, now, though. "I'll be outside, working on these."
I nodded mechanically and watched him run for the exit with dull eyes. He was such a liar. A playboy. That was all that he was. Then why did I feel like that about him? Why was it so hard to convince myself that I hated him? That he had hurt me, and that he needed to be hated? Why did I want so badly to forgive and forget?
…Thanks, Gar.
His gentle voice. My name sounded so beautiful coming off of his tongue.
I shuddered and pushed those thoughts harshly away, stabbing at my communicator and listening for Cy's voice.
"Cyborg here. What's up, Beast Boy?"
"Robin and I found the bombs, dude. He said to get out of here and meet him out front. Tell Rae and Star."
There was a short silence. "…Are you all right? Your voice sounds weird…"
"I'm fine! God, why is everyone so nosy recently?"
"…Dude, I just—!"
I cut the transmission and forced myself to run after Robin, trying desperately to ignore the salty tears biting at my eyes.