He jolts awake to a sound outside of his window. His heart's racing already. What the hell was that?
He listens for anything else to follow. For a good minute, there's nothing.
Then he hears a door sliding open in the hall.
He knows it's hers. As much as he doesn't want to react, his stomach drops, and he's stock still in his bed, hyper focused on the slight sounds of her footsteps.
It's none of my business. None of my business. None of my business.
He repeats the mantra in his head, attempting to will his anxiety away but failing miserably. It's quick in his chest and it's making him pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
He doesn't know for sure what she's been doing. Why she's getting home past four in the morning. But the other night, when she came into his room, the mark on her neck —
It could be anything. And if it's that, it's none of my business.
What he knows and believes isn't what he feels. And he wants to fight it. Kill it off. Get it out of him before he goes back to the way he was, in one way or another.
He scrambles for his phone, charging beneath his pillow. His hands are trembling slightly, but he can't believe he's already so worked up over something so… so… ridiculous.
She's not mine. She doesn't belong to me.
He doesn't want to call her and scare her. It's not like this is an emergency, anyway. It's not like he's having a panic attack.
He'd really rather not let it get there, though.
hey
u up?
He only hesitates for a split second before hitting send. He has no reason to be ashamed with her. Plus, it keeps him waiting and a bit more steady, staring at the screen and sitting back down on the edge of his bed, leg bouncing.
Okay… what if she doesn't reply? He'll be fine. She might feel a little bad about it, but he's fine. He can handle this by himself. Maybe. He can manage.
He places a hand around the base of his neck, letting his phone go to sleep. It's been minutes but it should be hours. He doesn't want to bother with the passage of time anymore. He just wants it to be over.
So don't fight it.
He pauses, blinking stupidly. He could've sworn he heard Raven's voice in his head. Or maybe he just knows what Babs would tell him right now.
Don't fight it. So how the hell does he sit with this? How does he keep it all from coming up? Where does he go from here?
Just let it.
He takes in a deep breath until he can't take in anymore air. And he lets it out until there's nothing left in him.
He jumps a little when he hears another door sliding open, light footsteps echoing down the hallway. Is it her?
Should he leave it alone?
He hesitates when he hears them stop right in front of his door. He holds his breath, afraid to give himself away.
There's a harsh huff before they walk away.
He gets to his feet, sticks on his mask, and opens his door before he can think about it.
And he was right.
It's her.
She's standing outside her room, in her pajamas, wet hair dripping onto the floor. Her body so rigid he thinks it's about to crack somehow. Her frown is deep, so etched into her skin that she looks too much older.
In other words, she's pissed.
"Star?" he whispers, his anxiety replaced with concern.
He watches as she forces her clenched fists to relax. She cranes her neck only to glance at him for a second. Now she's only looking past. "Apologies," she says quietly.
He slowly steps into the hallway. "Star? Are you okay?"
Her brows twitch. She turns back to face the door. "Yes. Good night."
But just as she places her palm on the scanner, he's standing right in front of her. "What do you need?"
He's sick of the obvious lies. He misses their transparency. He misses when he was there for her, when she'd at least acknowledge that something was wrong.
He can't stand her walking away right now. And maybe he's selfish for it. Maybe he doesn't care much right now. He needs her to be okay.
"I need to rest," she says.
"Are you sure?" he rushes out. "That that's all?"
She looks at him from the corner of her eye. Everything about her is so tense and it scares him.
Then she sighs heavily and leans her forehead against the door, shoulders slumping forward.
He thinks he hears her mumble, "Do not look at me like that…" but it's lost in her sudden movement.
She's standing straight again and looking straight at him, a sort of intensity in her stare. Like she's daring him to say what he wants to.
What does he wanna say again? He's never been very good with words.
He swallows his discomfort, and ignores the fact that his heart is pounding through his whole body. She's the only person who makes him get like this, all nervous and tongue-tied, even at the worst possible times.
Especially at the worst possible times.
"Star," he begins pathetically, more of a sound than her name. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, too embarrassed to look at her now.
"Yes?" she asks gently. Even though it sounds a bit passive-aggressive, it's still… polite coming from her.
Talk to her.
"Okay, okay…" he mumbles to himself. She crosses her arms and raises a brow. "I'm sorry. The last time I saw you so angry was when—"
"The beach," she cuts him off. "The cave. When you came unexpectedly."
It must be her curt tone of voice. 'Cause she's not wrong, but damn, he feels like she just bitch smacked him.
"Mm… yeah." He cringes at the memory of driving her over the edge. Making her hurt him.
He glances down at his leg. He hasn't paid much attention to it, but it stopped hurting not long after he got the mark. If anything, the phantom sting he sometimes gets from it keeps him grounded.
Ask her.
"Did you stop in front of my room?"
Her eyes widen for a second, betraying her surprise.
"Tell me the truth. Please."
She resets her expression, arms wrapping tighter around herself. She nods. "Yes."
He presses his lips together. She pulls hers down. "Did you want to talk?"
She looks down to the ground and tenses. "I do not know."
Oh, shit. "Okay. If you decide you want to talk… you can talk to me, okay? About anything." He steps backwards, eyes lingering on her. "Good ni—"
"Why are you awake?"
He freezes in place, running any possible answer through his head. But he settles on the truth. "I heard you coming in through the window."
He thinks that's her physically cringing, but she's doing a better job at hiding it than he ever could. She smoothes her face out before he can be sure. "I did not mean to wake you."
"It's okay. I was barely sleeping anyway…"
She gulps. "Were you… thinking about…"
"Raven. Yeah," he chuckles nervously. "We talked a couple hours ago, actually."
Her face melts with worry, and it hurts his heart. "Is she feeling better?"
He gives her a reassuring smile. "Yes. Of course she is. She's strong."
She seems to deflate in relief. "I know."
"And you are, too," he adds without thought. It's true, anyways. "But you don't have to go through anything alone."
She hardens again. "I do not know what to tell you."
"You don't have to tell me anything. I just wanna know if you're okay."
She's struggling, it's written all over her face. Like she wasn't ready for what he had to say. Like she's wondering If she should walk away from it. If she should lie. He waits patiently for her to decide.
"I am angry."
He nods, encouraging. "How come?"
He thinks he can actually feel her blood boiling. It could be that her eyes glow for a split second, and that fact that it makes his stomach sink.
"You wanna head to the training room? You could blow off some steam there," he says gently. "And I don't wanna wake anybody up."
She spins on her heel and he follows, unsure if she even should be. He catches up to her, the awkward silence actually killing him inside. But she doesn't tell him to go away. And she didn't say no.
But it turns out she's going to take him up on his offer. They head down the staircase and reach the gym. She walks in silently, the room barely illuminated by the night outside. She stands on a mat before sitting down, head tilted towards one of the windows.
He turns on the lights and walks to her. She doesn't react when he sits on the floor near her, keeping a safe distance. Not the first person tonight.
"Whatever you wanna do," he says, giving into the need to fill in the silence, "however you wanna let it out. Just… let it out."
She turns her head, and without really meaning to, his eyes search her neck. Her hair is covering it, but he thinks he catches a glimpse of something, purple and unhealed.
She hasn't been in the sun all day.
He turns away, ashamed of himself. He's intruding. Does she even realize that he's seen it?
"If you don't want me here, I'll leave," he adds, his voice rough.
"Why?"
He turns to her, puzzled. "Hm?"
"Why did you do it?" There's something so heavy in her stare and he feels it drag his soul down. "Why did you push me away?"
Tell her.
Tell her the truth.
"I was afraid. So, so afraid."
He sees the sadness behind the anger. Pouring through the cracks in her irises.
"More afraid than I've ever been of anything in my life. Letting someone see me… someone… you… how can I?"
"What does that mean?" she says, her voice soft, unmatching with her expression.
He laughs breathily. "It means I'm not good enough for you. Or at least I don't think I am."
"What…" She sits back on her heels. "What does that mean?"
Even a good distance away, he can feel the heat radiating from her body, like the anger is building, ready to burst out of her.
She rubs the heels of her hands into her eyes and bares her teeth. "What is so difficult? When I love you? When you know it?!"
Love?
He doesn't have time to think about it. The tears are pouring down her cheeks and neck, and he doesn't know if it's okay to reach out to her. But he wants to. So, so bad.
His hand hovers near her side where he crawled closer, her heavy, shaking breaths racking through her whole body. "Starfire…"
"I do not understand!" she seethes, standing abruptly. She rips her hands through her hair and tugs harshly, her shirt lifting up as she —
What the fuck.
"What is that?" he jumps, going onto his knees and trying to get a closer look.
I saw that. I saw that. I definitely saw that.
"What?" she barks back, wrapping her arms around her waist and backing up.
He stands on his feet. "Starfire."
And she knows he saw it. The red marks that dented the skin near her waist.
Now he's pissed.
But he needs to control himself. He can't do this again. He can't be that way again. He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes.
"I'm sorry," he says when he looks at her again, at her defensive expression. "I'm sorry, that wasn't right…"
She lifts her head, nose higher in the air, and wrings her pink tank top in her hands. Daring him again.
And he takes it. For once, he takes it. He steps closer, following her as she backs against the wall, palms pressed to her stomach. Her hair slipped behind her shoulder.
He can see it clearly now.
He swallows the pain and levels his eyes with hers, straining to keep himself together.
"Is someone hurting you?"
And she just stares at him.
"Starfire. Answer me. Please."
And she stares even longer.
He doesn't want it to be an answer. He wants to hear her. He doesn't want to decipher this.
"Remember what I said? That I need to know if you're okay?" he continues softly, wanting to touch her but refraining. "I need that now, Star."
"Why? Are you the only one who is allowed to hurt me?" she snaps, eyes full of venom.
He shakes his head, dumbfounded. "What?"
She slides past him and walks quickly away, but he catches up in no time. He gently takes her arm in his hand and waits for her to stop before letting go. "Please —"
"Please what?" She spins to face him. "I cannot reassure you every time, when you do not do the same for me!"
"I know, I know… I know." He pushes his hair back off his face. "I'm trying, Star."
"Try harder."
"Are you seeing someone?"
Neither of them seem to breathe. It must be because all the air in the room left once he said it.
Even if she spoke, there wouldn't be anything to carry it. It didn't matter, though.
Her silence is more than enough of an answer.
She's walking away and again, he's alone.
He loves living alone. Well, he's technically not alone, just without other human beings. He doesn't get takeout too often. Hell, he actually enjoys cooking now that he isn't doing it just to survive.
He doesn't have much here. He's always been more of a minimalist. Quality over quantity and all that. That includes workouts, fruit, cigarettes, and company.
He never broke the habit. He started young and he has no plan to stop now. It reminds him of being fourteen and hanging out with his friends back home. Sometimes, that's all he has to hold onto. He had a life before this one.
And before he fought the good fight.
The fire escape is big enough for him to fit a couple chairs and the plants he's been taking good care of all summer. They're tall and proud in their styrofoam cups. So he always moves them aside when he smokes.
The building he's currently residing in isn't too big. But he's got a lot of space here since he's the only one in the whole damn thing.
He stares out at the shrubs in the backyard, the flowers vibrant even in the night. He doesn't know why he planted them there in the first place. Maybe he wanted something else to be alive around him. He's killing his lungs, so he figured he should make up for it, somehow.
She never noticed them. She never bothered to look out the window, there wasn't any point. They were busy in bed and he's not sure if he wants her to see. He doesn't know how she'd take it. She's more of a mystery than she realizes.
And he likes that about her. A lot. She's open enough but she still keeps him guessing, keeps wanting her to come back, even when he knows he shouldn't.
It physically pained him to turn her down. But he can't afford it right now. He's losing track, he's spiralling down somewhere deep. He's gotta get out while he still can.
He breathes out the smoke and watches it cloud the sky above him. There's stars tonight. He thinks of her.
She stays on the roof for hours, watching the day break only for the clouds to take cover. The humidity settles deeply into her skin, and the solitude soothes her soul.
But nothing seems to go her way — she hears the door to the roof open and shut.
"I don't want it to be like this."
She turns her head away when he sits next to her, legs hanging off the roof like hers, even farther away from her than a few hours before.
"I just want to tell you that I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Is that all?"
"No."
She wonders what it is that emboldens him so. She welcomes it, despite the quick irritation that cuts through her.
"What is it?" she questions gently.
He looks her in the eyes. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide anything."
What is it with him? Why does he anger her and soothe her in equal measures? Something bubbles up to the surface, a flame that's old now but still going, but she stifles it before it comes out worse than she intends it to.
She is not guiltless here. That sends her back down.
A fog forms above them, something that makes her feel both suffocated and surrounded. It reminds her of him, always cutting her open without the intention to, but dressing the wound with such care that healing doesn't seem so impossible.
She laughs softly and shakes her head, her bare feet swinging in the air. A slight breeze brushes over them. It feels nice.
"Can I ask you for something?"
"Of course."
"Do not make me out to be someone without faults."
He furrows his brows and frowns. She nods.
"I was afraid too, Richard," she says, his name nearly catching in her throat. "I still am afraid. I am terrified to show you… me. But X'hal, I was willing to give myself to you despite that. You asked me for what I need. I need the same, Richard."
The weight of her words settles between them. It is so much easier this time to say them.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
She stands. "For listening. And I am sorry as well."
"For what?"
She feels a raindrop slide down her cheek. "For hurting you."
He stares up at her, confused and bewildered. She would laugh, but the humor seems to be drained out of her in the moment.
The world is hazy before her. Her mind shuts down, her emotion swell before settling inside her chest. She can stand to look at him right now. It is easy this time.
So simple. So right.
She wants to keep it this way.
"You want to give me everything, don't you?" she whispers as the sky sings.
