"Eric Guccio."
He throws another punch.
"Forty three years old."
Harder.
"Convicted killer, alleged rapist."
He grabs the punching bag before it hits him back. "What's the fuckin' difference?"
"Oooooh, language, Rob."
With a grunt, he starts to unwrap his hands. This wasn't enough to get everything out of him. He needs some real action.
"You gonna spar with me?"
"With that attitude? Don't think so."
"What attitude?" he growls, baring his teeth at Cyborg, who laughs in his face.
"Damn. What crawled up your ass now?"
"Whatever," he huffs, bending over to stretch. He touches the floor effortlessly.
"You still haven't learned how to talk."
"I think I just did."
"About your feelings, bird brain. Do you ever talk to anybody about how you're feeling? Your deepest desires? Innermost thoughts? What keeps you up at night? Your —"
"I get it." He lifts himself up and begins to stretch his arm.
He used to have somebody to talk to. But then he ruined it all.
"I'm guessing that's a no," Cyborg says. It irritates him even more.
"I didn't say yes or no." He stretches his other arm, staring off anywhere else but at him.
"Well, I'm still guessing that's a no." He sighs, and Robin tries to convince himself that the silence isn't deafening.
"What does it matter?" he says gruffly when the tension starts to make his stomach knot.
"It matters a lot. You've been… different lately."
"Different how?"
"Angry. Well, angrier. And moody as hell. Best as I can describe it."
He doesn't reply. At this point, he just wants the conversation to stop existing entirely. It's not like he has an answer to any of this. Or at least an answer he's willing to provide. He sits down on the floor and reaches for his toes.
"...And I think I know who it might be about."
At that, his whole body tenses, and he knows Cyborg knows it. He pretends like he didn't. He pretends he doesn't know.
"Nobody's involved in my problems."
"So you admit that you do have problems."
He rolls his eyes.
"I'm just saying, man… I'm here to talk. About anything."
"Yeah, thanks," Robin mutters. He's gotta leave, he needs to shower anyways.
"Don't think we don't notice. Or care," he hears as he leaves the training room.
Sometimes, he forgets he's not living here by himself. He knows he gets so lost in his own head that he loses sight of, well… everything. It's not his most favorite thing about himself, so the last thing he wants to do is drag his teammates into it. Or anybody, really.
There were very few people in his life who he felt safe enough to talk to. But it seems like right now, he's alone. And it's all his own fault.
A prickle of pain grows in his chest. He doesn't fight it.
He showers for a good while, scrubbing his skin raw and also trying to scrub his brain so for maybe a minute or two, he'd stop thinking. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.
He doesn't think he's ever felt this feeling before. It almost reminds him of grief, which was still fairly fresh on his mind, but not exactly. There was no name he could find for wanting something so bad that you can't even admit that you want it to yourself in the first place.
Or maybe there's just more than one.
It doesn't matter what it is. He copes with it the way that's most familiar: channels it into anger, and takes it out on villains in the name of justice, hoping it'll stifle the exact emotion that needs his acknowledgement.
He's too tired to even react at such a ridiculous fucking thought. God, he hasn't slept in nearly a day. What's he doing to himself? How's he supposed to help something he can't even begin to understand?
How's he supposed to tell her he's sorry?
About just a couple hours ago, about what he said to her, about how he's been treating her, ignoring her, hurting her… how?
He gets out of the shower and dresses into his uniform. When he gets out of the bathroom, he sees her down the hallway, and just like earlier this morning, his feet move on their own.
"Star," he says, exasperated, and he watches her freeze in place.
Slowly she turns to face him with a pleasant smile that didn't reach her eyes, or even the bags under them. "Good morning, Robin."
"Starfire, I'm sorry," he breathes, "a-about before… I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."
I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for everything.
"It is the 'okay.' I understand your previous concern," she says, and then she's walking away from him again, and he can't stand the sight.
He grabs her wrist rougher than he means to, so he loosens his grip on it, giving her the out. He knows it's better if he doesn't touch her at all, but he can't help himself at this point. He's already lost half his mind. And he's mostly lost her.
It takes her a little while to look at him again. He doesn't blame her.
I miss you. Please know I'm sorry. You know me better than anyone else.
"I'm sorry," he whispers before pulling her body to his.
He wraps his shaking arms around her waist and gently squeezes her, one hand resting on her lower back and the other on the middle of it. He's gotten a few inches taller than her now, but compared to her, he still feels so small.
Please forgive me.
He rests his cheek on the top of her head and closes his eyes, focusing on the way his chest is pressing against her, alleviating the pressure in it while causing it, too. She's stiff against him, and the sting in his heart only grows. Still, he holds her.
My lifeline.
He tries to tell her everything without words like he used to.
If only he learned how to open his mouth and speak.
He wraps his arms tighter around her, holding her in place. Constricting her. Maybe he always has, but right now, it's what he needs. Her.
He breathes in her sweet scent and doesn't know he's crying until a tear slips through his mask.
My best friend.
"Robin…"
"Yes?" he says so softly, just for her, and pulls back, placing a hand on her cheek.
A tear of her own runs down it.
"Enough," she whispers.
My love.
"Enough of this."
He lets her go.
Lets her walk away.
Her body tries to cry, but all that escapes her is a wretched sob.
The emotion has been building inside of her all day. It is a strange sensation — to be so full of what feels like her world slowly crashing down, and not being able to release it. The noise she makes is one of overwhelm. It does little to take the pressure off her soul.
It is one thing to feel her own pain, another to feel his, so strongly and palpable inside of her it mixes with her own self. But to have it sit on her chest? In her stomach? In her limbs, her veins, simply rotting?
Was she cruel for pushing him away, despite the fact that he pushed her away himself? Despite the fact that he was cruel for pulling her into his arms? For asking for forgiveness when she was trying to forget?
His body against hers… it had made her skin too warm. It had made her want to give in, and that is the last thing she needs.
But she cannot deny how much she's missed being so close. Just his hands on her sparked something familiar. And she just barely has the will to push it down.
For the first time in what must be forever, he held onto her without hesitation. So securely. As if he was terrified to let her go. And a small part of her enjoyed it…
"Yo, Star," a voice sounds outside her door.
"Yes?" she croaks, startled.
"It's mooooovie night, you comin' or what?"
"I am the 'coming' Beast Boy!"
She checks herself in the mirror quickly before leaving her room, a rigid smile on her face. She joins her friends in the ops room, which was only lit by the large screen in front of the couch.
"C'mere," Cyborg says, patting the seat next to him. "I haven't seen you in a minute."
"A minute? Is a minute not… sixty seconds? I do not believe you saw me a —"
His laughter kind of shakes her. "It's an expression, Star. C'mon, you're gonna like what I picked tonight."
"I picked it!"
"Nuh uh!"
"Did too!"
She sees Raven roll her eyes in the corner, and she cannot help but giggle. Her friend looks at her then, with an intensity she does not expect, and she staggers back into something hard.
Oh. Someone.
"Sorry, I —"
"Apologies —"
They speak and stop at the same time. Seconds have never gone by so slowly, staring into his mask wide-eyed with no idea what to do. Finally, he breaks the spell with an awkward little smile and walks off, leaving her stunned.
"Oh, look who finally showed up."
"Yeah, our Royal Highness is here. Start the fuckin' movie already!"
"The language," Cyborg huffs, crossing his arms. "I won't start until the actual royalty sits down."
"Star, c'mon, I can't wait any longer," Beast Boy whines, staring at her from the couch.
"Don't be shy," Cyborg says a little more softly.
"Of course not!" she finally manages and flies into her seat.
The seat on the right of him. He was all the way in the corner, but still, the left side of her body could feel the heat radiating off of him. If she were standing, she would stumble and fall. That's how hard his presence could hit her, whether he intends it or not.
What the movie is about, she does not know. It's all a blur of sound and color before her vision. All she can actually see is the memories burning holes in her head. All the times they've done this and they sat closer each time. Everything before now. What had happened in the morning. How the burning he gives to her had once been bearable, pleasurable.
Except now, with him so close yet so far away from her, the sensation sinks into her bones, and it leaves her cold.
She does not know how much time has passed, but when it gets to be too much, she excuses herself and heads to the bathroom to catch her breath.
How can he get her so dizzy? Always?
She is aware of the fact that she stays for a bit too long, long enough to rouse suspicion. It was not like her to miss so much time of the hanging out with her friends, but it takes much of her energy to calm herself down. It is almost as if she was working herself into a panic, sitting by his side.
Finally, she exits. She stops when a hand brushes against her arm. Involuntarily, she yanks away from his touch.
Not this again.
She has no desire to speak. No desire to look at him, even. She forces herself to steady her eyes onto his, attempting to keep up the appearance that she is unbotheredby him, despite the fact that she very much is. For once, the guilt filling his features does not hurt her heart. No, in a way, it lifts it.
"I, umm… I just want to apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have, uh…" he says lowly in the darkness of the hallway.
Hurt me? Withheld yourself from me? Confuse me? Broken my heart?
"...touched you like that."
A part of her wishes he had not said what he just said. That he would tell her the truth, instead.
That is not what you need to be sorry for.
"It is the okay," she says, stretching her lips into a cracked smile.
"No, it's not."
Oh.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's not okay."
He steps closer, and she steps back. He looks... pained at her reaction.
"What I did, it was not okay, Star. Tell me it wasn't okay."
She furrows her brows. "But I said it was the okay, did I not?" she says firmly, her patience for him already fading.
In an instant, he grabs both of her wrists in his fidgeting hands, and she gasps. "This is okay? Me touching you is okay, Star?" She breaks free and crosses her arms over her chest, another mix of emotions brewing inside of it.
"Tell me it isn't." The pain on his face is potent, his voice defeated. "Tell me it isn't okay. After everything. And I'll stop. I'll stop."
You always do this to me. You do not let me breathe.
There is too much to say. She does not speak.
The silence is filled with his wild eyes, taking up hours in her mind when only seconds pass.
The alarm sounds.
They move soundlessly. In sync.
"Aw, shit…"
"Another one?!"
Somebody had to be fucking with them at this point. The body in front of them is bruised and coated in blood, soaking deep red into the concrete.
Un-fucking-believable.
"Cyborg, get —"
There's not even a second to think. In an instant, he's running as heat flies out at them. The noise stabs him right in his ear, but he doesn't stop moving.
"Robin!"
Until he does.
He literally doesn't know what hit him, just that he's down on the ground and he thinks he felt his head collide with it. That's not what matters, though. What matters is the softness on top of him. I'm being healed, healed. Something skimming down his face, something wet coming down it.
His vision comes back in spots, and he didn't even know he lost it. For a second, he focuses on how hard his heart is beating. The next on the warm hands on his skin. The world spins around him slowly.
"Robin…" soft breath skims over his cheek. He forces his eyes to open, and when he sees red, his heavy, heavy hand goes up to touch it. It spills between his fingers.
There's noise around them. He knows her, but he can't find her name. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that this is how it's supposed to be.
He's being lifted up, he can tell that much. Warmth on the back of his head and the middle. He wants to hold onto her like nothing else, but he can't pick his arms up anymore.
"I cannot. I cannot do it." She sounds so sad, but so beautiful.
"I got him."
"No!"
He smiles as her arms wrap around him tighter.
"Calm down. He's okay."
Still, she does not calm down.
The all-too familiar feeling of fear has done nothing but weigh her heart and stomach down to the floor. Every breath is followed by a tremble. She can barely stand straight.
The sight of him. Breathless. Bleeding.
Her sob cuts through her and it's too loud to her own ears. Once she leans against the wall, Raven grabs her wrists and chants.
She slides down until she's sitting, the anxiety pulling itself out of her body in pieces. She breathes deeply. Slowly. The way her friend taught her so kindly, until she's able to open her eyes.
"Thank you," she says, reaching for Raven's hand and squeezing. The relief she was just given is astounding.
"Don't mention it." She squeezes back briefly before releasing herself from her weak grip.
Without the crippling tension of panic, Starfire is able to slump forward and rest her head on her knees.
"Raven, he almost —"
"No, he didn't. It would take a lot more than that to kill him."
She sighs, deflated. "But what if…"
"No. That's not what happened. There's no point in thinking that way. He's okay, Star."
"Okay. Okay. Okay, okay okay," she mumbles to herself, wanting for it so badly to sink in. She would continue to cry, but Raven had taken that away from her temporarily. All that is left is exhaustion.
"You are right. You are right. I must not think such a way. But I cannot help it. You saw him, did you not?"
"I know. I did."
"How…" Lifeless. She sucks in a sharp breath. "And in an instant, it caused me so much distress. Enough where I could not even lift him. Fly away. Take him to safety…"
"That's not your fault. Star, trust me, he's taken heavier blows and survived. And when he wakes up, I'll start healing him. He'll be perfectly fine in no time."
With glassy eyes, Starfire smiles. And sniffles.
What had happened a mere hour ago, she did not know. Whoever had murdered that man had most likely set them up. An explosion went off before any of them could turn around. And then another. And another. Deep, but healing scratches adorn her arms and stomach. Beast Boy had been hurt as well, superficially. Raven and Cyborg had managed to protect themselves. Robin sustained the worst injuries of all of them.
His head. His arm. She will never forget the sickening crack that seemed to echo once he was struck by debris.
Her weakness. He always seems to be there when she is at her weakest.
The door to the infirmary beside them opens. "Rae, I think he's starting to wake up," Cyborg says.
Raven is standing in an instant. "Hold on," she orders gently before disappearing into the room. To him.
A hand cradles her shoulder. "I'm sorry that happened, Star."
"But it is not your fault." She lays her own hand on top of his, smiling nervously.
"Yeah, but I should've known to proceed with caution. Robin and I are still looking into the last case. To tell you the truth, it didn't even cross my mind that it could be a set-up."
She gasps slightly. "You think so as well?" Perhaps her suspicions were correct.
"I know so. Call it a gut feeling."
She nods, slighting away from his friendly touch and crossing her arms over her chest. As though she were protecting herself from the recent past.
"But who would…?"
"Could be anybody. Every villain we've come across has had their fair share of life-threatening agendas. But murder? I guess you could say we're lucky it's taken this long to come by."
"How do you mean?"
"In all our time in Jump, as the Teen Titans, we've never seen anything like this. We don't have much to go by right now, but as far as I can tell, it's all deliberate."
She fidgets and bites her lip. Hard. "Do you think they're after…"
He sighs and looks at the door that leads to him. "I think they got a lucky shot."
"What will we do?" she says, wringing her fingers together. "My powers, they are not as strong, and today, I-I-I could not —"
The scream that rips through the air makes her blood run cold. She slams the door against the wall before she can think. They lock eyes before black energy pushes her out of the room and shuts her out. She can only stare dumbly at the door.
His whimpers twist her insides. Like she is falling a part from the inside out.
Even after everything that happened between him, she still crumbles at the sounds, the sights, of his pain. It's hers at this point. Whether she accepts the burden of this does not matter. She is useless.
Starfire sinks down to the floor and rests her forehead against the door, eyes shut.
She hears Cyborg crouch down behind her. "Hey, it's okay. Rae's just healing his broken arm. You know how it goes."
A hot tear slides down her cheek. She does not dare to move.
"You're the one who kept him safe, Star. Okay? I promise that he's alright."
She nods, feeling like a child again. He rubs her back, but regrettably, she cannot find it in herself to appreciate the gesture. It does not comfort her. It just makes her want to break the door and get to him. See him. Touch him. Talk to him.
"We'll get 'em. Soon." He whispers the promise before standing and leaving her.
In the heat of July, she is cold. She does not know how long she stays there. Her legs go numb.
Nothing is fair. That is a truth she's seen time and time again, everywhere in the universe she has ever been. Nothing is just, nothing is right. Things merely are. And they hurt her through and through and through to the point where her heart begs her to stop.
She had decided to withdraw from him. To cut herself off from him. To stop loving him.
So what was this? What has she been feeling since she saw the blood trickle down his face? Beneath the fear and concern for her leader, her teammate, her friend, what was it?
It was as if she had been killed. Struck helpless and abandoned.
There is nothing she can do. She does not move.
"How are you feeling?"
Like shit.
"Like shit." Just speaking makes his head throb. His mouth is disgustingly dry, too.
Raven helps him sit up slowly and then hands him a cool glass of water. Throwing his head back so quickly makes his blood pressure drop, but he ignores it. When was the last time he's been this thirsty?
For water or for someone?
He physically shakes the intrusive thought out of his head. Gross. He feels gross. Probably looks gross, too.
"So what happened exactly?" he rumbles, resting his face in his bare hand.
"What do you remember?"
"Someone holding me," he says without thought.
Raven doesn't speak for forever.
"What happened?"
She sighs, and it sounds annoyed, but he knows she's not. Concerned is a better word. "Explosions went off from the surrounding buildings. You're the only one who really got hit."
"Do you know what or who set them off?"
"No. Robin, you don't need to worry about that right now."
"Is anyone else investigating? Cyborg?"
"No. You need to take it ea—"
Robin forces himself up onto shaking legs. "I need to know what the fuck is going on," he growls. Just as he takes a step forward, Raven grabs his wrist and he's almost embarrassed at how easily she pulls him back.
"No. You need to rest."
"Why? I'm fine."
"Yeah, thanks to me. And I'm not done healing you."
"What's there left to heal?"
"Your arm. Your head. I had to stop before. You need to gain some of your strength back before I go all the way. Please."
The look in her eyes reminds him of his own. Except a lot more restrained. He stares for a second or two.
Her hand slides down into his. It's strong compared to him right now.
"We'll figure everything out. Just like we always do. But right now, you need to rest."
"I don't think I can."
"We need you to."
"Who's we?" he spits bitterly, pulling away from her. Like he's a wounded animal. "Last I checked, not everybody here cares much."
The sudden surge of emotion gets him dizzy. She guides him down onto the bed.
"That's ridiculous and you know it," she scolds. "You're tired. And injured. It could have been a lot worse if Starfire didn't get to you on time."
Her name makes his gut drop. That was her. Of course it was. Of course it was. Why did she? Of course he'd do the same, but… why?
"How much worse?" he mumbles.
"A lot more than a broken arm and a migraine."
Why wouldn't she? She'd do that for anyone. That's the kind of person she's always been.
There's a light knock at the door and without a response, it creaks open.
"Hey. Just checkin' up on ya," Beast Boy says, a bandage under his brow.
"He's fine. What about you?"
"It's nothing. What about you?"
Raven shrugs and looks away. And god, does it make him feel guilty.
"Rob, I'm sorry that happened, man. I'm glad you're okay."
He forces a small smile for his friend. "Well, not nearly as bad as that," he says, nodding his head toward the white band over his eye.
"Can't wait for this baby to scar. I'll look sexier than ever. Right, Rae?"
She rolls her eyes. Hard.
"Hey, uh… what time is it?" Robin says.
"Like… three in the morning, dude."
"What the fuck? How long was I out for?"
"Three hours. You should still be asleep right now." Raven gently pushes his shoulders until he's lying down again. "Or else."
"Speaking of sleep… we've got someone doing just that right outside," Beast Boy says, voice gradually dropping to a whisper. Robin pretends like he doesn't care. Or isn't listening. Or whatever. He's actually pretty damn tired.
"Stay here," Raven says before leaving the room.
"So, uh… you come here often?
"Who's outside." He picks himself up into a sitting position.
"Nobody…"
"Who. Is. Outside."
"Look, man. Raven's right. You took a pretty gnarly blow tonight. And it's time for you to go back to sleep."
"I won't sleep until you tell me who's out there."
"Why does it matter? You never fuckin' sleep. And now's as good a time as ever."
"Fine, if you won't tell me…"
Robin rips himself off the bed, ignoring the black spots in his vision. Nothing feels real for a second. He's gliding.
"Please, I want to see him…"
"Rob. C'mon."
"He's not looking good. He needs to rest."
"C'mon, dude, not right now."
"I do not care."
"Lie down."
"Starfire…"
The knob turns.
They're both standing on either side of the doorway. Before he can register the sight of her, the flash of relief and pain, something that looked like regret, her arms are wound around him.
His stay stock still.
