Think About How Much Fun We Had

By Blackbazookarose

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans or any DC comics characters.

Italics flashback and poem.

To Rodick,

I guess I have to return the favor.

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If I told him 'I love you', it wouldn't express how I felt about him. It would be too simple.

People say, that as soon as a human is conceived, they're dying.

But he kept me alive. The time I spent with him, I was living life, not wasting it.

We completed each other. I could deal with his stubbornness. He could deal with my bullshit and will to exaggerate. He taught me confidence and determination. I taught him optimism and compassion.

Seven and a half of the most amazing years of my life. Happiness. Excitement. Mutualism.

It astounded me that our friendship had lasted so long and we never got bored of each other. Even if we had nothing to do, he could still think of something. We would go snowboarding, wakeboarding, partying, and even shooting at empty beer cans. It was fun just watching TV with him. And watching TV is boring. We smoked together, we quit smoking together. He got so good at playing the guitar, that he influenced me into learning the drums. He wrote heartfelt lyrics, and I was the only person he would ever show them to. We did everything that's even possible to do with your best friend.

Even my other friends, whom I wasn't that close to, noticed that I spent more time with him than them. When I turned sixteen, I was in my prime. I had girls practically throwing themselves at me. And for some fucked up reason, I didn't take advantage of them. I wanted to have sex, but I didn't want to have sex with any of them. What was I waiting for?

He had only one girlfriend. Every time I saw them kiss, I felt a tinge of jealousy. I guess he noticed that, because they soon broke up. Because, unlike most guys, we would rather remain friends than flip out over a girl.

All of his other friends and family thought that he was some cold, merciless, bastard. He acted like he couldn't care about anything because 'love interferes with responsibility'. But I had seen the compassionate side of him; I was the only one who had seen him vulnerable. I had seen him cry.

I remember it was late November; we walked into a small forest behind Wayne Manor. He carried a BB gun, and I carried my classic bow and a quiver full of arrows. It was so cold; we both wore gloves and jackets, but no masks. We didn't talk; just listened to our feet crunching against the dead frosted grass.

About 20 yards away, a stone bench was visible under a leafless birch tree. We never quite figured out why someone had placed that bench there, I mean who would walk two miles to sit on a dirty cold bench? We would.

There was a beer can on the armrest of that bench. He raised his BB gun, cocked it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. I heard the distant PING, and the can went falling to the ground.

I pulled an explosion arrow out of my quiver and flipped the detonator. The arrow began counting down. 5...I lined it up...4...I released...3...the arrow went whizzing...2...the can exploded. We waited for the smoke to clear. It didn't damage the bench, but it made several leaves burst into flames.

"Damn, Harper." He said. It was so cold; you could see his breath turn into fog.

"Yeah, I bet you couldn't do much with that BB gun." I challenged. His nose cringed, like I had insulted him. I acted so full of my self, I even teased a smile. Knowing him, he would want to prove himself to me somehow. He cocked the BB gun, and lifted it again. He aimed at another fallen can, but instead, moved his sight towards the birch tree.

I felt confused, and shifted my eyes to the tree branches. There was almost a hundred sparrows, sitting in the tree branches. I knew what he was about to do. I wanted to stop him; I don't know why I didn't. I can't believe that I influenced him that much. He pulled the trigger.

A swarm of black birds flew up and over to another tree, only one fell to the ground. I stared at him, appalled, he didn't look at me and ran towards the wounded sparrow. I followed him. We stopped in front of the bird, watching it run in circles with a drooping wing. It dripped dark blood onto the fallen autumn leaves. We were out of breath from running, and the bird stopped and breathed heavily also.

I couldn't believe what we had done. I coaxed him into hurting a defenseless animal. That was like punching a toddler. The bird looked up at us and started chirping like a chick, crying for help.

I gazed at his face. Through the shadows of branches that guarded his face, I saw him...cry. Actual crying, tears drizzling from his blue eyes and down his pale cheeks. I think that was the first time he had cried since...since...his parent's death.

He turned his head, not wanting me to watch, but I grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. I rubbed his face with my glove, letting his tears absorb into the fabric. He snatched my hand and lowered it. Obviously, he was annoyed that I had seen that. But I wasn't. Everyone thought he was stoic, almost un-human, but only I knew that he wasn't. In someway, I found that comforting.

He cocked his gun one more time, and aimed it at the injured bird. I put my hand on the barrel, trying to push it away.

"What the fuck are you doing!" I shouted.

"We might as well put it out of its misery." He muttered.

"What! No! It has a whole flock that cares about it! We can still save it! You're a hero, remember." He lowered his gun. I turned and picked up the bird, I didn't mind that blood was smearing on my fingers. We both ran back to Wayne Manor.

When we were inside I asked him to get me some pliers and chloroform, I knew Batman must have some. We pinned the bird and let it breath in a drop of the anesthesia, so it would stop flapping. I removed the blood soaked BB from its broken wing using the pliers. Then I used an antiseptic on the wound. We wrapped the wing against its body using a long bandage. It was clear that the small bird was in bad shape so I decided to take care of it until it recovered.

He told me I could fix any problem. My Christmas present came early, a compliment from him. He didn't hand them out to just anybody for any reason. He acknowledged something about me that no one else ever had.

When early April came, he and I dragged that caged bird out to the same birch tree. I didn't want to set it free; I had cared for that bird for months. And now I felt like Birdarang, yes that's what I named it, was a living reminder of the memory we had shared.

He flipped open the cage and let Birdarang jump out onto the new green grass. I knew it could fly, but it wouldn't, it just sat there staring at us. I felt the same way; I didn't want to separate from it. My eyes began to water. Oh no. No, I couldn't start crying and let him think I'm a pussy.

I waved my arm at the sparrow and it flew into the air then out of sight.

I stared at the ground, trying not to blink. I feared that if my eyes closed it would force the tears down my face.

"Roy?" He asked, sounding concerned.

I couldn't help it, I began to sob and breathe shakily. I turned around, just like he had done four months ago. My nose was running and my eyes were bloodshot. He walked around me, but my body rotated. I was absolutely not going to let him see me cry, not only would I feel belittled, but I was also an ugly crier.

He quickly turned and seized both of my shoulders. My head faced down, still feebly trying to resist his gaze. He put his hands on my neck and forced my head up. We stared at each other. I felt so ashamed, how could I let him see me like that. He slid his thumbs across my cheeks, wiping away the tears.

What happened next shocked the hell out of me. He put one of his arms around my neck, then the other around my waist. Normally, I would have pushed him away and called him a fag. But instead, I wrapped my arms around him. We hugged like brothers. I could feel his breathing rate and his heart beat bounce off my chest. God, it was like a dream. Together, in a lush green meadow with yellow wildflowers, surrounded by blossoming trees, all under a crisp sunny sky. It felt heavenly to be held by the man that I love...wait...love?

He broke away, and casually picked up the empty cage. It took me a while to come back to my senses, and help him haul it back to his house. We didn't speak the whole walk back. All I kept thinking about was that hug. I wish that hug would have lasted forever, but I guess all good things must come to an end.

In that simple hug, it changed our friendship completely. Every conversation we had was more detailed and open. It made him let loose a little, he really trusted me. And it felt great. It made our relationship so much stronger. Pretty soon it got to the point where we would go on the Internet at my house. One day I was feeling so adventurous that I pressured him onto a porn site. At first it felt strange looking at people having sex with my best friend. But as it kept going on, we felt more comfortable with it and it became an addiction. We would tell each other which girls we thought were sexy. He confessed that he liked red heads. It was obvious he was talking about his ex-girlfriend. I remembered that I was a redhead too, so I wondered if that was his way of hinting at me. I wasn't really sure what I wanted, seeing how we were still virgins, but I knew that I would never be gay.

It broke my heart the day I found out he was joining Titans West. I wanted to join too, but apparently Batman denied it. Which wasn't that big of a shock. We both told each other that we would beg our dads for the car and drive to see each other everyday. So, that night we decided to have a little goodbye sleep over. It seemed he was sleeping over at my house for the thousandth time.

Of course he had his own guest room, but we stayed up in my room. We laid down on my queen-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling, only wearing boxers and long T-shirts. He was talking about the other team members of Titans West, all of whom I really didn't care about but I listened to him anyway. He told me that soon I would go to Titans East, which consisted of a flying bitch, a fish boy, and Spanish-speaking twins that can run fast. Great.

I asked if there was any way that I could change Batman's mind into letting me transfer. Ha, what a stupid question. There was no way in Hell that Batman would ever change his mind.

He propped himself on one of his elbows and looked down at me. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and we locked eyes. It was one of those awkward moments when you stare at someone. He had beautiful turquoise eyes; green on the edges and dark blue around the pupil. I have them in my mind like a mental picture. I felt ashamed that he had to look into my murky pond scum eyes. But I guess he didn't care.

I can't remember who made the first move, but we started kissing heavily. He was a skilled kisser, his lips tasted like he had been eating candy. He lifted my shirt and I lifted his. I wanted to turn back so bad, half of me kept thinking about my parents being right upstairs, but the other half loved the attention of feeling dangerously close to him.

It didn't feel uncomfortable in any way, for both of us to see the other naked. He was magnificent. It was like the Statue of David had come to life. He was a true masterpiece of Nature. I felt so lucky and priviledged to be with him. I won't go into details, but that night, I felt things I had never felt before. I never wanted to let him go. That night we fell asleep in each other's arms. We didn't say anything when it was over. Some feelings are best left untold.

The next day, we didn't mention anything about last night, but our feelings toward each other remained the same. I walked with him outside to his custom motorcycle; we hugged goodbye, expecting to see each other in a day or so.

After he left, my step mom, Dinah, asked me to come sit by her and my dad, Oliver, on the porch. I came and sat by her. She held my hand for some reason, and she looked concerned. My dad, looking strong and disdainful, stood over me with his arms crossed.

Dinah, in the most comforting motherly voice she could make, told me, "Roy, sweetheart, last night when your dad came out to smoke, he says he saw through the window you and having sex."

I couldn't believe it. The happy life I thought I had came crashing down in those words. I couldn't bear to face them, so I stared at my feet. The butterflies in my stomach were laying eggs. I wanted to run away; I wanted to die. My dream was ending in a nightmare.

I robotically stood up and made my way back inside the house. My dad following behind me, yelling at me, telling me that I've committed an unforgivable sin, telling me that I've shamed him as a father, that I've disappointed God, and that I should accept the fact that I'm going to Hell.

I ran into my bathroom, locked the door, turned off the lights, and sat in the corner. I cried for hours, not bothering to wipe away the overflowing river pouring out of my eyes. Phlegm was clogging my nose and throat; I felt like I was suffocating. Good, I deserved to die a horrible painful death. I had disappointed everyone. I had lost my best friend and lover. I had lost my parents hard-earned trust, and I thought that they would always be there for me. But not anymore.

I now know how it feels to be truly alone.

I ended up sleeping on my bathroom rug, curled around my toilet, which I had puked in at least seven times. I woke up feeling cold and sick, like I should be feeling. I opened the door and shakily walked upstairs.

Oliver was sitting on a stool writing something. He glanced at me then quickly went back to writing. I stood there staring at him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him.

He still ignored me though and said hatefully, "Call , and tell him you can't see him anymore." I felt like I had been stabbed in the chest with one of my own arrows. Was it really that wrong to love someone of the same sex? If I only love that person, does that mean I'm gay?

I grabbed the phone and stumbled back downstairs to my bathroom. I locked the door and sat in the corner again. Even though I felt dehydrated, my eyes started to water as I dialed his number with trembling fingers. Tears began to flow when the phone started ringing. He answered in a jovial tone, already knowing it was me. It broke my heart to know what I was about to tell him. I said his name in a shaky voice. He asked what was a matter.

"M-m-my dad caught us."

He was silent. I sobbed loudly. In the background I heard a door shut. He was just like me, we only cried alone.

"I can't see you anymore."

He started sobbing also. We listened to each other cry for almost 20 minutes.

He finally whimpered, "I'm putting my arms around you."

I sniffled and swallowed. He continued.

"I'm holding you close to me. Your heartbeat is an echo of mine. I'm letting you wipe your tears on my shoulder."

I wiped away my tears with my hand. To me, it sounded like he was writing a song.

"I'm holding you close to me. I'm letting you wipe your tears on my shoulder." I repeated him.

We continued to weep.

"Just take deep breaths." He said.

"Just take deep breaths." I said to him.

"Think about how much fun we had snowboarding."

"Think about how much fun we had shooting."

"Think about how much fun we had talking."

"Think about how much fun we had joking."

"Think about how much fun we had."

"I promise I'll see you again."

"I promise I'll see you again."

"I'm so sorry."

"Saying sorry doesn't undo things, it just makes the future seem uncertain. But we'll be okay."

"I will always love you, Dick."

"I will always love you, Roy. Now hang up phone."

"Now hang up phone."

Remember all the good and bad

Reminders of pain we went through

Think about how much fun we had

I need just one more day with you

An arrow and a broken wing

Made something we would never show

Breaking my heart and I wishing

That I had never let you go