A/N: This is a sequel to my oneshot Think About How Much Fun We Had. (Yeah, I know the title is really long.) So if you haven't read it, then you shouldn't read this story, because you will be lost.
If slash isn't your thing, then click the back button now. Because, I promise, there will be lemons in future chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans or DC comics.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1: Changes
"Now hang up phone."
Those were the last words he said to me. I shouldn't have hung up. "Hanging up" meant going through the pain of trying to chase him out of my dreams for the next 3 years.
And 3 years is a long time. A
lot can happen in 3 years. A newborn
changes into a toddler in
that amount of time. I wonder if he would change.
Or forget. What
if he had forgotten about me? About us?
I opened my eyes.
The water of the hot shower rolled down my naked body. I
hated my
bathroom: the small low-flow toilet, that sponge-like
rug that would absorb
ANY odor, and of course, this
shower/bathtub that was extremely cramped
for my 6'2'' frame.
I
lived here for so long, and I still haven't stopped complaining. He
used to tease me about that.
I smile.
God, I miss
him. Not having him around extremely damaged my confidence
and
self esteem. I hate admitting that, but its true. I try to fill the
void in my heart with pale black-haired hoodrat-hoes. They always
made
me feel a little better about myself, but it never lasted
long. Then I
ended up feeling guilty and regretful afterwards.
That was another bad habit of
mine. I always do stupid things,
that make me regret the consequences
and hurt the people around
me. I hate myself.
I lay down in the bathtub. It's so narrow
and uncomfortable, I have to concave my
shoulders to fit in, but
the warm rain was so relaxing. I don't deserve it.
Why the
hell am I having such depressing thoughts? Gotta think happy, I
mean
that's what I'm known for right? I was always happy during rough
times. Now, I had gotten so good at ignoring pain.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, hmm...
Oh yeah, that night I spent
with whatserface...um, Tawni, yeah. Oh,
that was a good night.
Her tan skin shimmered like gold under the
fluorescent lights in her
room. She had shaved the night before.
Mmmm.
She had two fingers spreading her labia open, exposing her
inner pink
lips.
I
enclose my cock with both hands and rub slowly.
That
Latina-inherited black hair spread out against her clean white
sheets. I move on top of her, gliding my hands up her inner
thighs. I bend
my head down to lick her clit and she half moans
and laughs. She wasn't
acting very innocent, when I could clearly
see that she was a virgin. I push my
tongue into her tight
opening. I move my lips back up around her clitoris.
I
rub my hands faster, up and down. The warm water is just adding more
to the feeling.
She moans while I rotate from
sucking her clit to rubbing with my
tongue. Her breathing gets
faster and her legs flex.
So do mine.
I quickly glance up to see her face. Dick is smiling back at me.
"Ah!"
I cum in my hand, utterly disgusted by the thought of Dick's head on
a
woman's body. I watch the semen slowly make its way down the
tub and
swirl around the drain.
What the hell is a matter with me? I seriously think I'm going insane.
I lean my head
against the porcelain tub and gently bang the back of my head
against it.
Why can't I just let go? 3 years should be enough, but it isn't.
The water suddenly feels cold and unwelcome, so I sat up and turned the faucet knob. I push past the shower curtain and wrap a towel around my waist. I feel like I can barely stand. I open the door to my room. The air seems frigid, and pulls the steam off of my back. Somehow, it made me feel numb. Feeling numb felt good.
I threw off my towel, but it accidentally knocked over a picture that was on my nightstand. I picked it up and stared at it.
The whole Titans East team was standing outside in front of the tower. God, we had all changed so much. Jorge and Javier definitely had a growth spurt since they were twelve. Garth's hair was a short and curly back then, now it was past his shoulders. Karen had braces and was flat-chested. Now, well let's just say that she could be a centerfold.
I couldn't help but smile.
Me, especially, had a drastic physical change. I wasn't the skinny boyish hero I used to be.
I looked at myself in the vanity mirror. My shoulders had grown more broad, that made my neck look wide. Which reminded me that I needed to shave, because there was stubble all down my chin and neck. My arms must have bulged triple the size they were in the picture. The biceps, triceps, and forceps were hugely defined.
I flexed both my arms and struck a pose.
I could just imagine me saying "I'll be back." in a Austrian accent. Wow, that was a lame movie.
I carefully set the picture back down and walked over to my dresser. I slipped on some boxers and a T-shirt. It pissed me off that I couldn't find any clean jeans. So I scrambled around the floor searching for an unwashed pair that looked decent.
Great the only good pair of jeans I could find, had a grease stain on the front thigh and was torn at the knees. Oh well. Like anybody will notice, or care for that fact.
After I stepped into them, I felt something hard in the pocket. As soon as I touched it, I knew what it was. My favorite brand of cigarettes. I had been smoking ever since I was old enough to buy them. Now that I was 19, I had to have my pack-a-day.
I flipped over the box and looked at the surgeon general's warning. It's like Dick was the one reading it to me, instead of my conscience. Dick hated drugs period. He would never get drunk with me, always fearing he would lose self control. He was the one who trashed my 'paraphernalia' and held my hand through the rehabilitation process. I remember being naked, lying in a puddle of my own puke and urine. Everytime I think about those nights, I think of the smell and it's like a punch in the gut. But, he would mop everything up, he would help me bathe, he would hug me when I shook uncontrollably, and when he thought I was finally asleep, he would kiss me on the forehead.
I squished the cigarette pack and threw it in the garbage can. He would be proud of me.
Oh God, I was having one of those desperate moments. I needed him. I loved him, and only him, forever Richard Grayson.
I crouched down, and pulled out a cardboard box from underneath my bed. I lifted open the flaps and looked at the contents inside: Birthday and Christmas cards from him and Dinah, my old costume, a scrapbook, and a stack of newspaper articles. There was a newspaper clipping from about a month ago, that I had put in my collection. It was a photo of him, and the other team members, Starfire, Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Raven standing over a beaten Cinderblock. I had never met any of them, but I'm sure that if they were his friends, they'd be mine too.
From what they were wearing, including their facial expressions, I could basically tell what their personalities were. Raven was the dull gothic girl, Cyborg was the Mr. Mom, Starfire was the hot girl-next-door alien, and Beast Boy, with his eyes crossed and tongue sticking out, was the funny under dog. And there he was, arms folded, cape angelically waving behind him, and with that trademark smirk lining his face. How could you not respect that?
They all seem pretty happy. And I was jealous of it.
I kicked the box under the bed, then jumped face down on my mattress.
Why didn't I ever call him? Why didn't I ever put in an effort to keep in touch? It was definitely to late now. We might as well be strangers and forget the past because all of the Titans are drifting apart. Some quit super-heroing, and focused more on college. Some of them went to the other side, and either killed themselves or were killed by someone else.
I don't think I'm cut out to be a super hero. All I have are a few trick arrows and a stupid uniform. There's nothing special about me. I'm not even that well-trained in martial arts. I couldn't hold a finger to Robin. I'm probably the weakest member of the entire team.
Sometimes I wonder what drags me out of bed in the morning. What makes me try so hard, when I feel like I've lost all hope?
I heaved a loud sigh and turned over to face the ceiling.
God, I need a cigarette.
