Author's Note: This chapter is a hot mess


"I would. Believe me. Believe me, baby." He says it softly, and it's the most honest he's ever been.

He knows something about fate and destiny — they're not meant to be.

He knows numb by the look of it. Knows something's tipping and freezing over. He wishes it were different. He wants to cripple over from the sudden shame that replaces his blood.

"Not in this life."

"Fuck you."

It sounds so off with her sweet little voice that he almost laughs, but the coldness in her stare has him release her.

"Forget about me."

"I'll never do as you say. You know nothing. You do not even know how to be alive. How to love."

He'll keep the sting of her words long after his body decomposes again.

He's sick. He's a masochist. He's a stupid fuckhead, watching her leave for what better be the last fucking time. If there's one thing I did, baby, it was loving you. He prays, don't let me see her again. I won't be able to help myself.

He has to leave tonight.

God forbid I get the chance to love her again.


"Where did you go."

Almost a snarl. But it's as rough as his hand wrapped around her arm. As raw as the guilt in her eyes — he can't remember when it all changed.

He barely remembers what he did to her room.

Her gasp is sharp, and it stabs him in the middle of his forehead, pierces his ears as it echoes. He wants it to finish.

"You went back."

Something broke. Inside his chest.

He's never seen such contempt in the color of her eyes. The betrayal is not enough to pull him back from under. Nothing makes sense. She doesn't deserve to understand.

If he doesn't, neither does she.

I loved you more.

He tore the sheets off her bed. Knocked everything off her dresser. Threw whatever he could find — he knows he did it, but barely, like he was possessed, still his, still haunted by the ghost of his brother's unreal existence.

He has no excuse. Never really did. There's no excuse for being a shit person.

Every nerve and vein was torn by the dullest knife the second he realized she left.

His cold fingers dig into her warm skin.

"Let me go," she says softly, though her jaw is set.

She doesn't look the same. She's beautiful, but not as much. She hurt him. He's too aware of his heart. Shriveled. Blackened. Collapsing. He wants his own fingers to break around her.

She sticks her chin at him, nostrils flared, and he follows her movement. Takes her jaw in his other hand. He watches her with bare eyes.

He wants to take the thought back. Maybe he was lying to himself again. Because the truth is, she's so beautiful that it makes him want to burn the world down.

Or maybe just his own world. So that she'd stop looking at him like that. So it'd stop feeling like his soul was rotting in real time. His guts decomposing while a zombie comes back to life somewhere else. A zombie he doesn't want to name.

It's funny — she makes him believe in everything but the impossible.

Their time together feels like a waste. He's become ashamed of his own life.

With his stare, he blames her.

"How dare you," she whispers. He feels the movement of her jaw. He wants to drown.

"How dare you," he spits back, his face slowly contorting. He pulls her in, eye to eye, nose to nose, and he despises that he loves her to this point of destruction.

He'll never have her. He'll never hold her right. He'll never forget her. He'll die, and his last thought will be her, and it will kill him twice over.

He regrets that something doesn't break when she slaps his arm off her face, her hand gesturing to her room. "Who are you to do such a thing?" she seethes.

"You know who I am," he says from behind his teeth, grits them so hard that his jaw aches almost instantly, and he hopes all the bones break. "Why can't you stay?" It was a thought, but it tumbles out, and his hands splay open to her.

"I do not know who you are." Her finger points to the door. "Get out. Immediately."

The minutes or hour or two or something flash back in his mind, to him knocking on her door, to the dread that dragged his guts down to Hell, to watching his own hands ruin things that weren't his, never were, never will be — she's not his — he lost the chance — lost it to a ghost — lost it to someone who isn't even alive.

Dacă mor, mă va iubi atunci?

"Don't say that."

"Richard."

He tries to grab her hand, but she moves it and points it at his face, like she was scolding him, and he can't explain the little pinpricks of fire that shoot under his skin. He's quick to take it this time, but she doesn't let him — he pulls away before she can burn his palm right off with her growing heat.

He finds himself pleading, disguising it as a command. "Please." He knows he's pathetic. Can see it in the reflection of her pupils, how hard he's staring her down, like it'll change something. He can't hide the desperation or the depravity without a mask. Can't hide the gore of the hole she shot through his heart, all falling to the floor and lumping together, how he's about to slip on it and beg for mercy.

In other words, she's ending his life. He's dying. It's not actually what he wants. But it's what he knows he deserves.

A thousand hearts beat beneath his chest, drumming something like a prayer before succumbing to whatever life isn't — she used to keep him feeling human, why can't he come back anymore? When did he fuck it up so bad? Why can't they just be on Earth together?

"I shall come and go as I please. My absence is not permission for you to enter and destroy my room." Her voice lowers into a harsh whisper. "X'hal, what do you want from me?!"

"You."

I want you to stay with me. By my side. Forever.

She blinks once, twice, three and then four, he's counting his pulse as his veins turn to ice. It shatters when she laughs, something bitter and disbelieving, and he blinks back. She shakes her head with a smile. Until the smile drops with the tears. Not again. Not her tears again.

Everything he says is wrong.

He's so ashamed that he wants to stop breathing.

Vindecă-mă.

"Why do you do this to me?"

So ashamed that he'll do anything to cover up the feeling.

"What?" he whispers. "Love you?"

Her face twists in pain. Her tears curl down her cheeks like the curves of a heart. "This is not the way to love."

"Neither is leaving your home every night for a criminal who shouldn't even be breathing."

She shuts her eyes. "You only want to instill shame into me." They open right on his. "Despite the fact that you drove me to this. You pushed me in this direction, and truly, I cannot tell which one of you is worse. If you hadn't been a coward, Richard, we would not be here. If you had been a man… and told me how much you loved me. But still did not feel ready for something more, I would have understood. And I still would have been your bestest friend. But here we are, Richard, and I do not recognize you. Not the look in your eyes or the tone of your voice. I do not know the person who has made me drown in my own tears. This person is not even an acquaintance."

She scowls, brows furrowed. He swallows thickly. "This person is dead to me, as far as I am concerned."

She turns on her feet and walks to her dresser, where she pulls open a drawer and rummages through it. He's frozen as he watches her pull out an envelope. "This person," she points at his body, "is not the person who wrote this." She points to the letter that took too long to write. With a steady hand, she reaches back in and takes out a withered rose, its dried petals falling to the floor. She stares at him blankly and tilts her head. From here, he can see how he aged her. "Who are you?"

"I'll—" he catches himself. Nearly stutters but swallows instead.

"Hm?" She drops the rose and letter on top of the dresser.

His mouth is glued shut — he's afraid to speak, but something's trying to pry him open.

"I did everything I could. And it still was not enough. Not for you or for him." She leans against the dresser. "I do not think I will ever understand." He's never heard defeat in her voice, not like this, and he can't fucking stand it. And it comes out in a huff and a puff, but it only makes her face turn like the moment's long past sour.

He reaches for her like he always does, like this wasn't all his fault — she turns her body this way and that, backwards and to the side, and he follows, his brows bending upwards as the sorrow pours onto his face. He tries to take her hands, but she steps back and holds her arms out, her palms connecting with his chest. He grabs her wrists only for his hold to break as she pushes him.

"Stop! Enough! No more of this nonsense! Richard!" she yelps as he wraps his hands right above her waist. She grips his biceps, sinking her fingertips in. Her words slide past him, his vision slowly tunneling in, and he can't really tell who he is. Only that there's something that's reminding him he's alive. Then he can't remember why being so angry mattered.

It's one more look into her eyes that has him curling himself around her, cheek on top of her hair, arms like anchors at her middle. He doesn't know what he's whispering — he can't release the guilt or the right sorry, not the right words, and there's no way he can go back in time. He just feels the need to say goodbye. He understands her, then. There's a weight in him that tells him she's leaving.

He turns his head so his lips meet her cheek. He kisses it wholly. A tear drips off the tip of his nose. "If it's the only way, it's okay."

"What are you saying?" she says hoarsely.

"I don't blame you," he mumbles into her ear. "But please tell me… one day… how I can fix this…"

Her hand at the slope between his neck and shoulder. "Hello?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"I'll fix it."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe you." She shifts in his hold, but he still doesn't let go. "But you are not making any sense."

"You're leaving."

"What makes you say that?"

"I just know." He swallows. "I just know that you're done."

"I do not want to leave you…"

"You should."

After a moment of silence, she shakes her head slowly, hair brushing against his cheek. "I am not doing it to punish you."

He chuckles bitterly. "I deserve it, though."

Her hands awkwardly slide up his arms slightly. He loosens his hold the slightest bit.

She blinks up at him. "How does this always happen?"

"What?" he breathes.

"How do you break my heart over and over and still have me in your arms?"

He has no answer.

"How do you always look at me with so much love?"

None.

"How do I still not hate you?"

.

Her hands shake. It's like her tears follow its pattern, like the earth is shaking beneath them, nothing's straight anymore. Not his vision, especially not.

"You refuse to believe me… refuse to see my side. You decide to do things that ultimately hurt me. And destroy me. You hurt yourself, and it hurts me. You attempt to rectify your wrongdoings, but it is all in vain. You have become nonsensical… completely unreliable. I wish I understood you now. That I knew why you've done this all. Can I get through to you? Do you truly love me, or do you just cling to the idea of me? I am not your sanity. I am not your ground. I am a living being…"

She inhales sharply, violently. Squeezes her lids tight shut before grabbing his face with a suddenness that rattles him. "I still love you."

He blinks.

"I was thinking of leaving. But now I know I must. I must go. I cannot breathe here. Not when you tear yourself a part like this. I cannot go down with you… what use would I be? What use would I be to this Earth, Richard? Shh, I know…"

She's cooing now, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. It used to all make sense when he looked into her eyes. But now, all he sees is the debris that still hasn't settled. He can't tell just how much needs to change after the damage.

"I wish I hated you… no, I do. I hate you. I can only hate you because my love for you ends me. You've destroyed yourself from the inside out… and I am still here… I cannot stand any longer… I cannot watch you."

She drags him closer. "I cannot watch you die."

Their lips sink together and she's kissing him so hard that it almost hurts. He staggers back from the force before he meets her in the middle, her arms wrapped so tightly around his neck she's basically choking him.

She moans and he responds with his own, even though something about this feels wrong. Even though he's just as desperate and he's kissing her like the sun just fucking died out. She floats up and wraps her legs around him, her tongue licking up from his bottom lip to the top, tracing the shape before sinking her teeth in. He splays his hand on her thigh, the other at the small of her back, his own tongue licking into her mouth.

"Mmm. Star… ah," he sighs with an open mouth against hers as she kisses along his jawline, and then down his neck. She rocks her hips forward and pushes at his shoulders, urging him to sit on her bed. He complies, sliding all his fingers up her warm thighs and then up, up, up her skirt. He squeezes her ass once, twice, before grabbing at her hips, picking at the edges of her underwear.

She cradles the back of his neck and it's so warm. So soothing. But so thrilling. He feels the electricity shooting down his spine, the heat going straight down to his groin and with the way it meets her center, he's already drowning, overwhelmed in a way he didn't think could be beneficial, really. He kisses her with an open mouth, wet and heavy down her pretty neck, pulling off her breast plate and covering every inch of it with this desperation.

He kisses her collarbone, her shoulders, even goes down each arm, to each finger. And he wants to take his time but the world feels like it's ending or something and she's watching, waiting, hips rolling around and drawing these noises out of him, making him remember just how hard it always was to stay away from her.

It's not supposed to be this way. But it is.

It might be the only way. The last way.

He kisses back up the center of her neck, and stops right underneath her chin, his hand holding the back of her tipped head.

He runs his finger down between her ribs, over her navel. Squeezes the back of her neck when she tries to come back forward. Her breath is as heavy as his.

She grabs his shoulders. He turns to kiss the tops of her hands on either side.

His arm snakes around her waist. Pulls her stomach right and snug against his. Pulls her head to him until her forehead rests on his. They don't look anywhere but at each other.

"Come closer," she whispers. "Please."

He pouts, a deep affection puncturing his heart. "Ce este, dragostea mea?"

She exhales harshly, fingers raking through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Vino aici, în interiorul meu."

He kisses her long, sweetly. Languidly. Like there's time to waste. Like he's not throbbing and she's not aching right on top of him. He feels the heat of her on the heat of himself, drives his hips back and forth just slightly, setting a rhythm that'll haunt every one of his fantasies.

He wants to fuck her broken but despite the contrary evidence that is their despair and her trashed room, he'd rather burn the world down than do anything but love her.

Even though she's tearing her shirt and her bra off and he loses the last bit of sanity he was clinging to.

He grips her waist, rubs circles with his thumbs into her belly as he leans forward to mouth at her breasts. But just as his lips brush her hot skin, she's pushing his back onto the bed and grinding down. He squeezes her thigh and moans.

"Richard," she says breathlessly, leaning down on top of him. He trails his eyes from hers down to her chest and licks his lips, sliding his palms to her ass and pushing up until he can suck her nipple into his mouth.

The taste of her is unlike anything else, but the noises she's making are even more insane, and now he's nipping at her, making her back arch into him. Her waist feels so small here in his hands.

And then so does her pussy when he dares to reach down and touch.

"Yes," she sighs, so delicately, so beautiful. He takes her other breast into his mouth and rubs at her, feels her pulse through her underwear, the wetness he's been wanting to taste for too long — he regrets himself.

He kisses the center of her chest. Kisses down the space between her ribs. Pushes her up his body so he can press his lips to her belly, then back up again. Back up to her beautiful face.

He hugs her tight and kisses the same spot on her cheek, over and over and over. She rests her fingers against his face, squirming as his kisses grow harder and deeper, until they're covering her mouth and she's kissing him like they might actually be dying.

"Inauntrul meu," she pants. "În mine, te rog."

They're taking his shirt off together, his pants, her skirt, her boots, and then there's skin on skin and the day wanting to break in the world behind them. He throws her down and climbs on top of her, grabbing the backs of her thighs so he can spread them before bending down to do what he's always wanted to.

He tastes her, kisses the sweet heat of her. He doesn't get the luxury of staying there because she's clamping her legs shut around his head and pulling at his hair.

With sounds that sound like his name, she draws him back over her. Grabs the length of him. Guides him in.

He doesn't know what to think about it. So he doesn't.

'Cause all he can see is white and all he can feel is hot because she's so gorgeous around him.

But she's fast — she won't let him enjoy it, won't let him make love, because she's whining and grabbing at him and begging and who is he to not comply? To not keep himself over her, cradle the leg that's hooked around his torso. To not hold her head and hold her frantic eyes as they drown in the fire of him moving deep and fast in her. Inside of her. God, he's inside of her.

And he can't stop moving. He tries to keep quiet, but she's only getting louder, so he kisses her mouth shut and swallows every moan, eyes blinking open to find her own fluttering as he hits her deep.

"I love you," he says into her open mouth. And then her name. "Starfire." Over and over. "I love you I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

"I," she gasps, "love you — ah — Richard!" she exclaims breathlessly.

"Mhm," he mumbles into his kiss. "Love… you… fuck…"

Her arms wrap around his head and neck, and then his face is tucked against hers. He can't tell if it's tears or sweat that's rolling down their faces, but it's probably both.

She's so hot. So hot around him, and he can't get over it, can't get enough of it, doesn't know how he'll survive without her.

"God, just marry me, Star," he says into her ear.

She kisses his lips. "No."

He can't help but laugh — and neither can she — until her nails are sinking into his back and his hips are stuttering and they're — he's — fucking cumming.

"Baby," he goes, hips slamming hard, sporadic, slower, her legs shaking violently around him.

And then tragically he's outside of her, his cum on her stomach, her body still shivering. Despite the need to just collapse beside her, he forces himself to pick his shirt up and clean her up. When he's done, she places a hand at the side of his neck. "I did not finish," she states simply, her cheeks bright and pink.

He kisses her cheek. "I'm sorry." He lays beside her, lifting her head so she can rest it on his arm. Then he pushes her legs apart easily, one resting against his own as he walks his hand down in between them.

He slips his fingers inside of her, forehead pressed to hers, watching as she opens her mouth in a silent gasp and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She wraps her hand around his neck. Scrapes his chest. Leans in closer when he kisses her face until she cums hard around him, head thrown back and giving him the chance to drag his lips down her throat.

He stays inside her for as long as she allows. As he licks her cum off his fingers, he watches her close her eyes and tuck her body against his.

But when he hugs her tight, there's a cold wetness by his shoulder. When he tries to hug her even tighter, she turns around, back to his chest, and it feels like she's torn a new wound down his front. He recoils as she shoots up off the bed, rushing to her closet and throwing a robe on.

"Star?" The hurt in his own voice echoes.

She sniffs but doesn't answer. He stands, quickly pulling his pants on so he has a chance of catching her before she leaves. "What's wrong?" he says uselessly.

He freezes as she opens the door and peeks her head into the hallway before leaving. In a second, he's following her out, but she's fast and soundless in the air.

But it doesn't matter, 'cause he can see the light on in the bathroom. He follows her in, further down the spiral, because there's nowhere else left for him to go but to her.


She removes her robe, but that is all she has the time to do before she hears the door open. Her dreaded companion enters quietly.

She cannot believe herself.

She should tell him to leave, but she cannot yet speak without betraying herself — the night is too much, and too quick. Too regretful. Too painful. The black, rotting hole in her chests remains stinging.

Because regardless of how much damage he has done to her, he does not deserve something so… reckless.

Where is her mind? She struggles to even turn on the shower. She enters it, but before the steam even begins to form, he enters it, too. He slides the shower door shut and stands behind her.

She loves him more than anyone else.

And yet.

And that is why she crumples to the tiled floor. Her hair grows heavy as the scalding water hits it. He mutters curses as he turns the faucet.

He is clearly unwell… and she has known this. But she did not truly realize.

And yet.

It is almost a surprise when he settles beside her and pulls her to his chest, between his legs. The water only hits the lower half of their bodies from where they are.

When he tugs her heavy hair out of her face, she tucks it into his neck and curls up against him. His loving hands smooth over her back and head, over and over, their heavy, heavy hearts beating with the pressure of the water.

"Forgive me," she says, almost hoping the sound would be covered, but he catches it anyway.

"For what?" he says softly against her cheek, her heart aching.

"That is not what I truly wanted," it tumbles out of her clumsy mouth. "That is not what you deserved."

She feels his chest sink beneath her, like a defeated sigh. His silence frightens her until he breaks it. "What do I deserve, then?" and it holds everything he can't say at the moment.

"For love to be made to you."

He closes himself around her, and she feels his smile stretch by her temple. He rocks her slightly, back and forth. "That wasn't love? When I told you 'I love you?' And you said it back?" He laughs. "What am I doing here then, Star? Hm? Why am I still holding you? Why are you letting me?"

"Because I know." She says it without thinking much.

"Know what?"

She finds it appropriate to look him in the eyes, so she lifts her head off his chest and finds them easily. "Perhaps that is not the best way to phrase it."

"Hm?"

She lays a hand on his shoulder. "I took advantage of you. Forgive me."

He frowns, his dark brows furrowed. "No, Star," he says, shaking his head.

"You need love and care." She smiles sadly. "I cannot give that to you now. I cannot tend to you properly."

"I pushed you away. It's my fault. Don't blame yourself."

"I think I understand why." She lays back down, her head resting on his shoulder. "I can imagine why you did so."

"We are not the same in that regard."

"I did not say we were."

"Then what are you saying?"

"That I am too tired to be angry anymore."

She is met with silence once again.

"Did I lose the chance to express it without hurting anyone? How do I know what we did will not hurt you in the long run? I was blinded by too many emotions… too much anger. You still tried to be kind, despite your lack of control… I do not know anymore what is right and what is wrong. What is fine and alright to do or think. If I should truly be this intimate with you after you went into my room and ruined it in a jealous rage."

He swallows thickly, awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"That is why I can't be here anymore, Richard. How much more will you do that will require my forgiveness? I cannot help you. I see you in your darkness, and it seems to be my doing, somehow."

"No, no, it's not, it's—"

"Him?"

He tenses immediately.

"Your brother." She places her hand over his heart. "You must grieve. You must make amends. For yourself."

"Starfire…" he says. A warning.

"Who will you listen to, then, if you will not listen to me?" she huffs, the tension growing exponentially. "I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me to forgive you!"

"Star." He places his hand on her cheek and holds her gaze.

She shakes her head, willing her face to remain straight, but she cannot help the way it crumbles with her tears. "This is why." Her chin wobbles. "You are dangerous for me, Richard. You do all this and I still love you with my entire soul." She sucks in a breath. "I need to forgive you from afar."

"Go."

"I shall."

She slides her hands up his chest and then her arms around his neck. He hugs her around her waist, like they had not nearly fought once again.

"This is not at all what I wanted," she breathes, a confessional.

He leans in and kisses her neck, the noise of it echoing in her mind. "Me neither, Star."

It is almost too casual of a conversation. It hurts so much that it does not hurt at all.

In the same night, she is left behind, and she decides to leave another behind. It feels too cruel. All she wanted was for her best friend to tell her that he loved her, too.

She kisses his chest. "So you heal."

He takes her hand and holds it over the spot. They remain until the water runs cold. Even after they shut it off. Even after the sounds of the morning ring out in the hall.


Author's Note: Genuinely I enjoyed writing this chapter even though it's confusing and angsty as hell. It is borderline tragic. I simply write what feels organic for me and the progresson of the story lmao. Anyway. We are almost DONE ladies & gentlesirs (broken heart emoji)

Yaaaaaaayyy more translations! Because Dick speaking in Romanian DOES things to me!

Dacă mor, mă va iubi atunci? - If I die, will you love me then?

Vindecă-mă - Heal me

Ce este, dragostea mea? - What is it, my love?

Vino aici, în interiorul meu - Come here, inside me

Inauntrul meu - Inside of me

În mine, te rog - In me, please

Hope you liked!