A/N; I finally pulled out of my several month, anti-fanfic-writing slimp to bring you this, which doesn't make half a bit of sense. Good luck!
Night came and went in Titans Tower, the cycle of sunrise and sunset that society is so used to keeping in time. The tower is always quiet at night, except the sounds of slumber and the occasional shuffling of feet. One room is unusually quiet; no steady breathing echoes through it, nor any other proof that anyone would be in there. Not a sound at all.
The black-haired boy is absent from the tower, knowing he will not be missed until morning, although he plans to be back long before then. Instead of sleeping, he is off alone, in a deserted warehouse familiar to him, the ruins of any structure that had previously been there scattered around its large proximity.
He sits on a slab of stone, in front of five mirrors that once doubled as monitors, all of them cracked and dirty, and at least twice his height. Vaguely, he remembers the content of the screens, their light being almost the sole source of illumination in the building.
In his hands rests a mask, almost identical to the one to the one disguising his eyes, the one difference being the dark wisps on the ends, giving it a slightly angular look, familiar to the eyes of another, which have haunted him for months. It lays limp in his hands, and as he lets his eyes wander through the dimly-lit room, and the mask falls from his grasp.
To him, the mask hitting the ground symbolizes an end. An end of an obsession. An end of infatuation.
He stands up to leave, taking one last look around before turning towards the door. A slight clanging gains his attention, and a small piece of metal falls to his feet. It is circular in shape, silver gleam glinting in the minimal amount of light, and it's angular, "s" shaped cut brings back memories. Masked eyes follow up to where it had fallen from, and land on a black-and-armor-clad figure, one eye gazing at him.
The eye, although restricted from a clear view, showed the same obsession that he had felt moments before.
Maybe, the teen decides as he picked up the stylized piece of metal, and begins to climb up the pile of rubble, some things are better left alone.