He doesn't sleep. Every part of him was sore, but he couldn't relax. For various reasons.

He came up with a theory that last night, (as in, like, a couple hours ago) he was transported to hell, and the devil was tempting him in the form of his teammate. His friend. Best friend.

His very attractive, very vulnerable, very much doing something intimate best friend.

He wasn't religious, but damn, was he ready to get down on his knees and pray for strength, mercy, anything to get these filthy thoughts out of his head. He needs to be fucking cleansed.

Who knows what possessed him to open that door. He's been telling himself it was only because he was worried, the way a leader, a best friend would, but.

Except.

Yet.

This is not the whole entire truth, and he'd rather enter the portal to actual hell than tell her that.

He was dead tired and in the hallway, on his way to what he thought would be a blissful sleep, but he had heard the softest moan coming from her door, maybe it had almost sounded like his name, and his mind left his body. He felt it go, and all his blood went straight down to his dick and it was ridiculous.

What was also ridiculous was how absolutely insane this girl made him, in every sense of the

word.

Not like he'd admit that to her.

He could barely admit it to himself. He fought it constantly, wildly, like it was a disease. But really, truly, he was so close to breaking down, so close to giving in. He could've. He knew that look in her eye, she had it again and she held it so gracefully. It killed him when he forced himself to turn away.

When he walked in, he'd seen her bare thighs, the flash of pink underneath them. He knew it was her underwear. She didn't even bother to hide it. He hated her for that. They both knew exactly what she was doing, and he didn't really know what to do about it.

He knew what he wanted to do. But that was never really an option, was it?

That's why he hated himself when he brought his hand to her mouth. Her skin was soft, glowing like sunshine in the dark.

She never looked sexier than she did then, just a couple hours ago, staring in a daze as he kissed her taste onto his tongue.

So now, he's doing what he does best: beating every single unwanted emotion out of him.

He's by himself in the training room too early in the morning, practically destroying the punching bag because his brain was torturing him with thoughts of the slight taste he had stolen of her. If he thought about it long enough, he could still smell her, but it didn't take much thought for the heat to pool down his stomach and to his groin.

His hand wraps were scraping his knuckles, but it only made him punch harder. He wanted to bleed. He wanted to bleed everything out. Find some relief. Before he threw all his morals away. Before he really said "fuck it" and did everything she begged silently for him to do.

He almost broke when she saw his eyes.

He could barely register the noises he was making. He knows that they're loud and uninhibited and his whole entire body aches because of her. It's her fault. She put some alien spell on him, a curse, and it's made him so addicted to her that he can't even find the words to convey even a fraction of the feelings she gives to him.

And just as he unleashes his fucking wrath on this poor punching bag with quite possibly the most inhumane noise he has ever managed to conjure:

"Dude…"

He gives himself whiplash. Snaps his own neck. He's always hurting himself, isn't he? "Wha-"

The punching bag knocks him down full force. It is then, he thinks, that karma must be real and thriving.

"You're so fucking loud. It's the asscrack of dawn. Shutup," Beast Boy says groggily. Robin, panting on the floor, uses the rest of his energy to flip him a nice, fat bird.

The other boy yawns, loudly, and it makes him yawn. His back feels so good on the floor. If only somebody was on top of hi-

"Why aren't you sleeping, man?"

He huffs. "Work to do."

"Murdering our training equipment?"

"Go to sleep, Beast Boy."

"You go to sleep, good sir. I can't sleep 'cause of you."

He lifts himself into a sitting position, still catching his breath. "Woops."

He could hear Beast Boy's eyes roll. He begins to unwrap his hands. The air stings each of his knuckles, and he enjoys the feel of it. They were all bloody and definitely going to bruise. He hadn't even felt his skin breaking.

"Aw, dude… chill." He's closer now, yawning again. "You stress too much, dude."

"It's nothing. This usually happens during training sessions."

"That's… gnarly for a training sesh. Or, should I say... anger management sesh."

Robin lifts himself up and starts heading towards the door, fully intending to distract himself through other means alone in his room. Maybe even a shower. A well earned shower. "Alright, won't bother you anymore," he says dismissively, grabbing his towel and water bottle by the corner of the room.

"Wait, Robin. We've been worried about you."

He stops by the doorway, but doesn't turn. He's too exhausted to have this conversation. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Look, I know you don't exactly have it easy," his voices croaks, thick with sleep, "But you're eighteen. The big one-eight, my dude. Live a little. It's almost the Fourth of July.

"And what about it?"

"Did you forget about the party that you planned?"

Robin turns around then, and smiles at him. A forced, but reassuring smile. "Of course not."

In reality, he completely forgot, but it's not like he'd admit that either.

He heads towards his room so he could just go the hell to sleep, but then he catches sight of her door. It's as if it has a gravitational pull and he just goes with it, stopping right in front. He holds his breath so he could listen for hers.

God, this is what he's come to? Listening to a girl sleep? The same girl he continues to push away when she deserves the whole galaxy?

He knows he's an idiot. A perverted one. If only she knew what she does to him. What he'd do to her if she let him. How he'd make her feel so, so good. He wonders if she dreams about him the way he dreamed about her, hot and sticky and nearly every night. She haunted him day and night, and he didn't know how to flee this time. He can't give himself to her, no matter how much he wants to. Even though he's sure he caught a glimpse of her underneath her skirt, curled up on her bed like she hadn't been doing anything.

He is weak.

But he cannot yet accept his fate.

He licks his lips, trying to search for her there. Hoping that there'd be something left, but there's nothing, his mind is full of nothing but her, sleeping behind that godforsaken door.

He's leaning against the doorframe, daydreaming and drooling. He has to shake himself out of his head when he hears shuffling coming from her room. "Oh shit," he whispers, making a beeline for his own room. He hears her door open just as his closes. His heart was pounding harder and faster than it should be, yet here he was, clutching his chest like it was his only chance at survival.

He doesn't know how to face her, or even if he wants to. How could he? He's embarrassed, guilty, ashamed because of his actions. He's been out of line, more than ever before, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself from her. It physically hurt him that he couldn't touch her, hold her.

But he had to lie.

And then he had lay his mouth on her.

He kissed her, after she'd told him not to. She didn't seem to remember her outburst. It deeply unsettled him, but he had forgotten about it when he took her hand.

Robin lay down on his bed, still calming down from the adrenaline rush. He drums his fingers against his ribs, feels his right eye begin to twitch. He could never convey the exhaustion. She always understood wordlessly. She's so… in sync with him, it scares him sometimes.

He could see it all drifting away. It's not a sacrifice he's proud of. But that's the life he leads. His body sinks into the mattress, and his eyes begin to flutter shut, finally giving in.

He never wanted to be in love while he was out here on his own. Except he was. It hurt. And he was steadily losing control, reaching towards the edge and off, somewhere he could never turn back from.


July had always felt the most like summer to her. In her time here on Earth, she found June to be the most playful, August to be the most hazy, and July to be the most romantic. It seemed to be the perfect inbetween, a balance of love and lust and moon and sun. She couldn't describe the feeling July gave her; all she could really say is that it is warm, and she belongs to it.

It has been around eight hours into the first of July. It has not been a good start.

She didn't sleep after he left. She knew he knew what she did, and the humiliation left her in some sort of shock. Her hand had continued to tingle wherever he kissed it. Even now, hours later, if she thought about it enough, it still did.

She must have done something awful to deserve such an awful punishment in return.

He's robbing her of everything she has, including her sleep and privacy. As if her pure, unadulterated love wasn't enough.

She spent the rest of the night meditating. Not seeking solutions, not ruminating through the problems. Simply breathing.

So the next time she has the misfortune of seeing him, which will be very soon, she will not lose the little hold of herself she has left. She spent way too long trying to uncoil her tense limbs, pushing away what was probably the most… how could she put this? Sexually charged moment of her life. Something had opened inside of her, and she was willing it to close up again. It was dark, it was looming over her, and it was exposing her in a way she'd never been before.

Dawn was steadily breaking the night sky when she swore she heard his breathing on the other side of her bedroom door. She was so accustomed to his every movement at this point. What a clorbag. Would he ever leave her alone?

Did she even want him to leave her alone?

She got up to check. Her stomach was curled into knots almost instantly, each step quick but full of dread. Maybe she wanted to see him. Maybe she had a chance, maybe they could talk and it could go back to normal, maybe, just maybe

He's gone. Perhaps he was never there at all, and she was truly going crazy this time. She sees Beast Boy walking down the hall, and he offers her a lazy little sign of peace before stumbling into his own room. She feels the bags underneath her eyes, but she simply can't bring herself to rest. This was, as she has heard many say, the story of her life.

Starfire heads for the roof, needing fresh air, suddenly. It's humid when she steps out and it sinks into her. Her wound didn't finish healing. Normally, it would not have taken this long, but considering her… inner turmoil as of late, her healing process had slowed down considerably. What should be clear skin is a browned scar, and it makes her cringe when she looks at it. He looked like him.

She wonders if his eyes are blue, too. How he found her.

"Don't turn this into something it's not."

She sits on the edge of the roof with her knees to her chest, cradling herself. She closes her eyes. Remembers how the rain fell on her face, how his breath was deep and even, a contrast to Robin's barely-there breaths, yet they seemed so much alike. It scares her. Anything could have happened to her just a couple nights ago. She was completely vulnerable, not only physically, but emotionally. X'hal only knows.

A drop of water lands on her cheek. Then another. And another. A light drizzle pours itself over her, and she lets it. She leans on her arms and dips her head back, trying to allow nature to soothe her the way it always has. His fingers were warm and rough; she could vaguely recall them skimming over her ribs, offering a healing hand. He called her princess. Did he know? Did he know her, had they met before?

The rain begins to fall harder. She doesn't know how long she's been on the roof. She opens her eyes to a gray sky, a rumble of thunder. Thunderstorms were a terrifying ordeal when she first came to Earth. Now, they merely intrigued her. She finds it oddly beautiful, the way the world seems to cry. She's cried for everything she's ever felt. When she was full of joy, when she held grief, when she combusted in anger, and all the rest.

But now, she is numb. The world must be crying for her, so she watches as it does.

She leans into it.

"Is Boy Blunder not fucking you right, princess?"

Further. The rain pounds down.

"I never saw you that way, Star."

A strike of lightning. She invites it. Wills it closer.

"Starfire," a voice calls. She whips her head around to find Raven at the doorway. "It's pouring. What're you doing?"

"Raven, I…"

"Come inside."

Starfire unsticks herself from the ground and walks to her friend, shivering.

"Go shower. I'll make you some tea."

Starfire nods dumbly, heading to the bathroom ina. trance.

She makes sure her shower is scorching hot, trying to get rid of the chill that had taken over her from the inside out. Despite the heat, she still couldn't get warm enough. It reminded her of when she had fallen ill as a child. She hadn't been able to keep her body temperature up. She was so sure she was dying, but eventually, she recovered. And she was stronger than she ever was before.

She dries herself off, puts on the clean uniform Raven had laid folded on the counter, and headed to her room.

They sat quietly on Raven's bed. The storm still persisted outside in what was now officially morning.

Her hands shook around the cup of tea Raven had made for her, as promised. She thinks this is the first time she's ever done it. It feels nice.

"Are you sick?"

"I am not sure."

"Why were you just sitting in the pouring rain?"

Starfire is silent for a beat. "I enjoy the rain."

"You just seemed so… off."

She shakes her head, not really knowing what to say. How could she tell her? It was too much to even process herself. She wanted desperately to confide to her friend, but she couldn't find the words. They were lost on her, all jumbled around in her head. Where could she begin?

"Did you sleep at all?" Raven asks quietly.

Starfire continues to shiver, but now, more violently. Raven uses her magic to wrap a blanket snug around her. It helps a bit.

"N-no," she finally says. "I couldn't sleep." She makes eye contact with her cooling tea instead of Raven.

A comforting hand squeezes her shoulder before releasing.

"Starfire…"

She looks up then, unshed tears just about ready to spill over. She doesn't let them.

"I cannot… even begin," she whispers. "I do not know what to do. I do not know how to say it."

"I know."

She takes in a shaky breath, and exhales all the same. Willing her mind to calm. She had someone who felt it, too. And as much guilt it brought her to know her burden was being carried by another, it was a relief.

"Thank you, Raven," she says quietly, offering her friend a broken smile. It was enough for now.

"You should go to sleep."

Anything to make it all go away. Even just a little while.


She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in the crook of it. His own fell around her waist, holding her close. She always smelled amazing. Like fresh strawberries and cream. Maybe she tasted like it, too.

She felt good, soft, warm against his chest. She was all he needed, wasn't she? He'd tear the world down for her. Hell, he'd tear himself down for her if it meant she'd stay like this, hanging onto him like it's the end of the end of the end.

That's what he thought before he hurt her. Before he broke her heart irrevocably. Regrettably.

It's times like that that make him hate this life.

He stares at the ceiling, searching for answers there. It's the same game he's been playing since he was young, when he had first become an orphan. He found none then, and he finds none now. He lost himself then, and he's lost himself now. It must be a sick fucking joke, but at least now, he actually deserves it.

She's better off without him, anyways. He did her a favor. Why would she ever want to be with him, anyways? They have a job that's bigger than them both. It would only ever get in the way. That's all it's ever done.

"Yo Rooooooob. Get your skinny ass up!"

He ignores the pang in his chest and pulls himself out of bed.