Her form was fragile and small compared to the beast. If his arm slipped up, he could crush her into limp limbs and pierced bone.
Beast Boy heaved, ears clearing of their ringing as his teammates launched into action. A baton swung, bolts of energy festered and a canon reloaded. Was he in any condition to fight? The beast could shred the criminal jaggedly in half with a single tear. But Beast Boy? His heart shook in the vessel that carried him, blood unused to pumping so wildly throughout the messy form. And Garfield? Nothing spat out of his mouth and only bars of battles cries squeezed in between the blood pumping, heavy breathing and groaning. His lips salivated all the moisture out of his mouth, leaving his tongue chalky.
His paws, or hooves, or fins, whatever they were this time, groped for her body. Beast Boy stood high and mighty off the ground which worried him if he dropped her accidentally out of shock. His wandering fingers stroked the back of her neck, the bone of her spine, the jut of her hip and the crook of her ankle. Everything seemed in place, no parts flimsy or severed. There was no breath that blew out of her mouth when he pressed his ear against her face.
The shock immobilized him into an immortal statue, leaving a human that stood just as still. She made no effort to fidget but he had no intent to let her go anytime soon.
A dent in the road sat where Beast Boy hurled himself on front of Gizmo. Chalk marks grooved into the group, creating a fine grate shape that could've minced a body clean like a carrot. The hide on his back strained as reddening scratches flustered pain that numbed into his shoulders.
Just as he decided to let her down, Starfire's scream whizzed by his left ear, ending in a final crash. Her cries of pain and terror echoed between the corridor of the road, terminating the short lived battle of Gizmo. The crunching of metal against rubber pushed him back down, pressing Rachel's face into his chest protectively.
Her lips pouted at the sight of her beaten backpack against the cherry hydrant. She strutted to the side of the road, indifferent of the taped up scene behind her. Beast Boy couldn't see most of her face when she opened the bag but he feared the horrifying revelation more than anyone could.
A compact mirror was what she pulled out. It had a milky opaque lid with tiny skeleton leaves traced all over it. Two soft matte balls curved around each other, locking the simple mechanism in place like two swans in grace. Rachel gave a gently blow on the top, shielding the mirror from daylight as she took a quick look at it. But as soon as Beast Boy approached her, she scrambled to snap it shut, slipping it into the comfort of her jacket pocket.
Her bottom lip jutted out as she stared at the destruction ahead. Some gears must've clicked into her brain because Rachel bent into a squat and surveyed the debris with her soul.
Beast Boy guessed that she was in awe of the horrid nature of their fights. When the villains rose, fists clenched in harvested determination, the heroes launched after them, kicking and punching until their hearts bursted out of their chest. They'd fight and fight and fight, because that was what heroes were forced to do when evil struck the surface of humanity.
With rain must come thunder, must come flooding and must come growth. His family survived on the misshaped masterminds that lurked underground; they fed his very being with fortune, fame and respect. To maintain power, he must use it for the greater good or he would be kicked to the curb like a sick mutt in a pound. Society was messed up that way. To gain benefits, one must benefit and differences were what made benefiting easier.
When they captured the criminals, barring them back up into the slammer, the city paid a hefty price to rebuild itself. Heroes might have the satisfaction at the end of the day but every single war fought left eerie scarring of guilt in their mind, reminding them each time they strolled around that they weren't perfect; blood still stained the streets, buildings collapsed and lives would never be the same.
Garfield wondered if someone as intelligent as Rachel could ever understand the cost of saving the world.
Her hair fell over her shoulders like a gentle waterfall, sloping under itself and spraying out of the side openings. The ends flicked around every time she shook her head, dancing like whisker yarn that begged to be swatted at. He could easily grab those strands and smother his face into it, inhaling the dense, moist and hot scent of human.
His elbow slipped from under his face, dropping his chin against the desk. It's screws rattled within the legs, causing a ruckus to the working class. The cattle on the screen snorted at the sight of Garfield rubbing his chin soothingly, almost shaming him for failing to pay attention.
The projector thrummed in the background while the blinds swayed to the rhythm of the wind. Stripes of sunlight landed on her hair like a prison gate. The beast's hunger lingered on the foot of his tongue, stinging the air slightly every time he opened his mouth.
They arrived to English class early, making it to school by ninth period. The treacherous fight had gone on for hours after he snapped out of his daze but the adrenaline that pumped in his body sped up time around him, sending the beast into a terrorizing rampage on Gizmo and his army of Red Ant bullet bots. The rain storm he witnessed taking over Jump City had merely been a swarm of the minuscule robots that acted similarly to ants; they swarmed around chunks of metal and ate away for what seemed like days, because the more they ate, the more energy they wasted.
He wondered what would've happened if Rachel had a bullet drilled down into her body. If she collapsed from shock of the searing pain from the bullet, how could he ever forgive himself?
This girl that he held such a subtle attraction for was now placed in a position of danger. She wasn't just a girl but now an obstacle he must worry about when he shedded his human look for more green features. God, she must've thought he was a freak. Turning into creepy crawlers had always terrified civilians when first witnessing the young boy hurling himself into action. She had been blessed to see him in his worst, the only creature he couldn't reign control on.
He, the rider, couldn't regain the control from the horse who stomped and shuffled as it wished, indifferent to the feelings of its master. It would sway to the left, galloping full speed towards the waterfall. Garfield felt his heart plummet when the sight of rushing water and a distant cliff flood his mind. His life started there, a cliff with a rapid that carried boats and animals to their doom. Just as he tipped over the edge, the numbness of his arms regained their strength and choked the horse back before it could fall. The mammal would shiver in fear and back away from the drop. It's eyes were the same coppery brown and it's ears twitched to the left awkwardly. It was like his horse never changed. On the other hand, Garfield felt strangely cold from the rush of the waves. The air piqued humid and the African forest bristled with bird calls. He would sigh in relief and place himself fully back onto the saddle. But that control was no longer there as he could feel the horse's heart beat against his leg in a thump, thump, thump.
It's button heart still clicked in his chest. Nothing but the tempo of the heartbeat clogged his ears; it felt like a small bottle cap that clicked in and out, in and out.
"You hear about the fight down by the Warren Street?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Well my sister was on her morning shift and out of nowhere, a flying body broke through the window and onto the bar table."
"No way, that's insane. The body is dead, right?"
"Nah, it was just Starfire. I'm so jealous because I've always wanted to see one of Teen Titans fight. And Carly got to even touch one of them!"
"I wanna see a battle one day."
"So you can skip class?"
"Duh. It must be nice to be a superhero. I would so cool with superpowers."
"What if a baddie slices one of your arms off?"
"That could never happen. I'll have super senses and reflexes."
"But what if he attacks you in your sleep?"
"Then I'll have a secret identity. No one would even notice they've been walking among a hero."
"You think there's heroes around us that we can't see?"
"No way, I'd notice."
"Yeah but if they looked just like a normal citizen, would you?"
"Why would they do that? They look so cool that they'll never need to be human."
"Maybe they want privacy?"
"Well if I was a superhero, I'd gobble up all that attention! It must be nice to be so attractive and powerful."
She thumbed the dip of the home button on her phone, swirling it around as the time brightened. The background had been completely black, seemingly easy on the eyes at night. The screen dotted with droplets of water runoff from the giant umbrella hanging over her head.
Garfield wished the umbrella hung over his head as well because the light drizzle soaked the small of his back. Outlandish and icy, the rain felt more like a spritz of perfume rather than a storm. The skin on his bare shins was glazed with a coat of moisture, a mix of gym class and that wet bush that slapped his legs as he wander off, head high because he didn't want to spend his afternoon hopping over poor worms.
His hand brushed the smooth silk of her shoulder, fingers heating up at the thought of hearing the thumping of her heart. She must've breathed, talked, danced and ran like a human. It almost irked him that he still stood head high beside her. Unlike him, she was fully mortal, with blood flowing through her chest and a mind planted from the essence of birth. Garfield didn't like to think he was god-like. Underneath that hide and fur laid a delicate body that was just as vulnerable as a lamb. Could her ears swallow the gulps of saliva that festered in his mouth like cleaner wrasses against a scaly comrade? Did her heart beat the rhythm of the hooves of wild bison that ravaged the dry grassy plains? Could Rachel gallop from a spotty cheetah, scrape the sky with a feathered wing or drink the scene around her of ancient shipwrecks and beings? He lifted his fingers off her shoulder, barely budging the folds of chiffon over lace trim. There laid no rough leather nor feathers. It was human skin, delicate like petals and sensitive like a newly sprouted sapling. He wondered how on earth did humans evolve to become so weak and prone.
Scratch that. Garfield didn't think humans were weak, the beast did. He shook his head furiously, ramming the imaginary monster in his cranium until it turned docile.
"Do you have a headache?" Her voice wavered shakily through the sharp air.
"No, no, I just-" His thoughts trailed on as nothing seemed more appropriate then ditching the bluff. "The big creature that hugged you - the beast. He affects my feelings sometimes."
"How so?"
"Well," the queasy primal instincts scoped the underside of his abdomen, "he makes me think about humans a lot. And animals. Sometimes even the gross shit."
"Can't you talk to him?"
"No, he's just another thing living inside of me."
"So you never know when he strikes?" Rachel's eyes widened, staring into the hillside of Lescon.
"Never. He only comes out on certain occasions."
"Like when?"
"I'm not sure." His shift fuzzed up his memory. Nothing but jigsaw pieces and static remained in the cavity where the beast resided in his mind. "This was the first time in forever that he came out to play."
"Then I'm forever thankful for him. I'd been skinned alive if it weren't for him."
He snorted, rolling his eyes at her graciousness. "He wasn't doing you a favour. The beast is selfish and horrible; I hate him."
"You don't know that. How would you know how he feels?"
"That's because he's practically me! He's just a piece that I can't control because it's so finicky and tough when I'm unconscious."
"You seemed conscious when you saved me."
"Maybe he wanted to fuck me up so I couldn't pay attention in class."
"Or maybe," she swerved around to face him, eyebrows curving into a dip and cheekbones flaring hot, "you are growing up."
"What do you mean?"
"You have more control over him because you are maturing."
"I can't control him at all. He's still just as stubborn as he was years ago."
"Well then maybe he's giving you back the control. Perhaps he thinks you aren't the same you were years ago." Garfield never noticed how pretty Rachel smiled. It was Mona Lisa like, small and pouty and barely noticeable. It sat under her Cupid's bow, resting comfortably along with the rest of her face. Heck, even her eyes smiled along, irises slanting upwards to look up to him. She beamed with pride, glowing from the sunlight bouncing off her brow bone and the jut of her jaw. "You shouldn't worry about him."
"You seem awful close to him. Did he say anything stupid to you while I was frozen back there?" He elbowed her cheekily, teasing the slant of her eyes into a crease when she glared back at him.
"No," she said slowly, "but I did hear heavy breathing, your heavy breathing. I thought you had some kind of cold and was wishing you'd pass it on to me so I can skip the rest of the day."
He threw his head back and laughed, clasping his hands on her shoulders for support as he began to shed tears. "Wow, I never pinned you to be such a rebel. Careful 'bout that though because I might be sending you to the slammer one day."
"Don't count on it."
Oh my lord, I reference something very strongly in this chapter and if no one gets it, I will wallow in my shame.
I attempted to write a short chapter, but it didn't work out as this has the word count of over 2500. At least I was able to published a chapter much sooner. This part of the book is more of a build up and I hope you don't get too bored of the slowburn. I promise that I won't drag out the main plot too long since it tends to get boring when you write over forty thousand words about two characters dancing around a single problem. I tried to tone their characters down a bit because I wanted them to seem more like students. Although, they are definitely more mature than the kids at my school.
-Catisa~Orsilla