"Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company." -Mark Twain

"Jericho? Can you let me in?"

Back under the safety of his overly warm covers a pillow was gripped so tightly it was nearly bursting at the seams. The feathers stuffed inside were poking out through the fabric stabbing into his chest, but the silently sobbing boy ignored the uncomfortable prodding. His body was still trembling -pulsating from the latest broadcast; squinted viridescent eyes were staining the sheets once more leaving wet spots to rub against his flushed cheeks. Boots pulled up over his shins tangled with the blankets trapping his legs in softened shackles, but despite his plush surroundings the pain winding up in his heart continued to unleash waves of earth shattering eruptions.

He was never going to be accepted. Never.

"Jericho! Open the door!"

Somehow throughout all the commotion of ghost hands running down his back, and soothing words failing to reach his ears Jericho had sprinted out of the room, unfollowed- alone. His team, still probably waiting for his return, prepared to lie to him for the sake of ending his detrimental wallowing.

"Dammit! It's locked!"

They didn't understand, but how could they? All the others were strong with their resolve, and they could fundamentally speak. Talking, laughing, shouting; it all was taken for granted.

"Jericho please!"

He was… pathetic.

Here, hiding like a coward because of some disgusting man's cruel words. Just as weak like his father had always said he'd be. Sensitive and delicate little lamb, too frail to stand against the harsh reality of life outside the flock, always having to be coddled by others. It was… disgraceful.

A hero? How could he even call himself one when he was curled up in complete darkness quivering like a fallen leaf in the midst of winter's snow? Shivering on legs like a skittish fawn forgotten in the tall grass as the wolves prowled. He was prey, he was fragile. How… worthless.

"Joey, I don't like this. Please open the door!"

He didn't belong here, not with the titans- not with anyone. The mountain is where he should've stayed; rotting away forgotten.

"That's it! I'm coming in!"

Amidst the chaos of his emotions as Jericho ran into his room the dresser had managed to fall in front of the opening preventing anyone from coming in; an unexpected saving grace. That was until a loud bellowing note of a trumpet was heard. He winced, clutching his soaked pillow closer to his heaving lungs.

"Oh Joey…"

The bed dipped as Mal sank near Jericho's feet, his quiet breathing filling the gaps between the harsh gasping of the hidden boy's wails. A sympathetic hand patted down on top of his fabric shield.

"Joe… I-I know today was rough." The sound of a throat being cleared echoed like thunder in the confines of the room. The Herald continued regardless, his voice gruff and tired.

"I know that you're probably suffering beyond anything I could understand. I get that," A sharp exhale- "You've gone through something I'll most likely never experience. But-" A questioning lull- "but running each time someone insults you isn't going to get rid of the pain. I just want you to be alright, to not be blown over by every idiot with a platform. It hurts me to see how… how broken you are."

Jericho's rapid mind halted its raging as the adrenaline depleted, straining to focus with partially deafened ears to Mal's wobbly speech; the tempestuous tears dominating his sight began to falter.

"You're such a beautiful person, Joey, and to see you this upset. It's gut wrenching."

Guilt replaced his sadness as Jericho threw off the comforter, bolting straight up fingers flying as sign language slurred from his contorted digits.

'It hurts! Hurts! I can't talk and-and… it's only me.'

The blanketed mess paused shuddering in shame as the last words were haphazardly spelled.

'I am… a burden.'

"No, no, don't say that!"

Seizing the shorter teen roughly by the forearms Mal tenaciously reprimanded him.

"You are not a 'burden,' or anything like that! You're a special, incredible person who is capable of so much more than what people say! Joey, you kick ass!"

He lowered his tone.

"You're amazing Joey, you just don't see it yet."

Disbelieving the Herald's statement, Jericho timidly argued, 'But the TV-'

"-Is full of bullshit! They don't know anything about you, about who you really are. They don't see your kindness, your talent, or how powerful you are because they're consumed by gossip and ratings."

Alarmed Jericho was taken aback.

The anger on Mal's face caused his brows to scrunch up and those full lips were pulled taunt. Could he have a point? Was Jericho not really the liability he thought he was? But what about the news? The media? All around him plastered on screens were his faults, his disabilities, painted in bold lettering screaming for the public's attention; marking him a failure.

Or was Mal right?

Crawling over the flattened pillows Jericho made his way on to the stressed teen's lap.

'That's not-'

Pinching the bridge of his nose the Herald cut him off.

"I'm not done. Lemme finish Joe."

Mal let go of his face and instead ran his hand through his tangles.

"You are worth more than what's said about you. Don't let other people's judgments tell you what you are. They don't really see you, the real you. The one that tries to not space out during Wally's science lectures, or hugs Isaiah even when he's moody. They don't see how you braid Jenna's hair, or paint Toni's nails. And they never will because they're not invested in who you really are. Joey, this team loves you, I love you. And I'll say it as many times as I can until you're able to love yourself too."

It felt… unfamiliar. To be kind to others was an easy task for him, but to himself was a whole different ordeal. Bubbling inside of him an unknown emotion began to rise as Jericho awkwardly signed.

'I don't know how… how to love me.'

He bit hard on the inside of his cheeks feeling the gums becoming bloody as he obsessed over his upbringing. His fingers anxiously twisting back and forth, unable to choose which words to use.

'All my life I've been told what to be and when I don't act the way that I should then I'm a… disappointment? I need to be told what I am. I need to know that I belong, that I'm not useless.'

Frantically Jericho begged, his muddled gestures nearly unreadable.

'Please Mal! Tell me what I am!'

Like a steel sword splinting at the tip upon the battlegrounds, Mal felt his soul shatter. He should've known how damaged Jericho was. It was easy to see the signs of the other's malaise; the way the boy would merge into the shadows of the rest of the titans, how his appearance would stiffen when the invading lights of cameras flashed by.

Swallowing hard, the blockage in his windpipe felt larger than before as he choked.

"Joey… you, you're a lot of things. And there are so many wonderful parts about you, every signal one I love and admire. You are a hero, a titan, you're a teammate and friend, and to me…"

Jericho perked up, staring intently back at him, those glossy eyes of his all puffy and sore.

"… You're someone I can't live without."

Vision blurry from the budding teardrops, Jericho found himself mere centimeters away from Mal, the cramping of his entwined limbs unnoticeable.

'You promise?' He asked, desperately taking hold of Herald's wrinkled sweatshirt.

Mal hugged him securely as he answered, his usual husky voice cracking.

"Yes, one hundred percent yes. I promise Joey, I promise that every moment I'm alive that you are enough. Enough to love, to be happy, to live."

A cough covered up a sniffle as he carried on.

"Joey, you are enough."

That did it; his insecurities questioned.

All the memories of his inadequacies were bulldozed by a simple phrase.

Enough. He was enough.

Laying in the arms of his boyfriend the urge to sob rose up from the depths of his stomach leading to masked blubbering, as Jericho furiously tried to command the moisture to stop pouring out of the orifices of his jade colored orbs.

Wiping carelessly at the droplets trickling down the younger teen hiccupped into Mal's fleecy hoodie.

'Mal I'm sorry.'

"It's okay, you don't need to apologize."

Skin marred with tear streaks from his incessant crying, Jericho sloppily signed.

'I love you.'

His boyfriend craned his neck further affectionately mumbling a distinct, "I love you too."

A tentative glance met Jericho's dampened emeralds; hesitation drifted in the air.

"Can… I touch you?"

His sorrows emptying in the form of rivers were drying up from the unannounced lustful heat of the other's undying benignity. Melting, Jericho with vulnerability lacing his tongue wordlessly mouthed his unbeknownst response carrying his yearning of unperturbed togetherness.

'Yes.'

Mal's gentle fingers tousled deeper into his curls, as a warm breath by his ear fluttered underneath the lobe causing his throat to hitch. Jericho gnawed his bottom lip, eyes shut closed as those firm hands traveled down to his waist cupping his protruding hip bones. Squeezing lightly Jericho let out a noiseless gasp, the boy's dexterous fists shook still clenching the Herald's sweatshirt; Mal smirked.

He was playing with him again.

Mewling and flustered Jericho brought his boyfriend's gaze to meet his own as the blond childishly pouted, his mouth puckering glistening with unshared saliva.

"Aw don't look at me that way Joey."

Leaning in for a kiss Jericho pushed Mal away; surprise crossed his face.

"Joey?"

Jericho huffed as he crossed arms before messily signing.

'It's not fair. How come you always tease me?'

At first the Herald's jaw dropped in confusion before morphing into one of his sly grins.

Jericho felt one of his eyebrows raise.

Snorting into his palm barely making eye contact with his disgruntled boyfriend Mal burst into melodious laughter.

'Don't laugh at me! I just went through a mental crisis!'

Slapping at the older teen's shoulder Jericho's frown deepened as his irises glowed brighter.

Trying to reign in his chortles, the Herald muffled with apologetic hands, "Ah sorry! Sorry Joey, it's just that you're just so cute."

Reaching over to ruffle his blond ringlets Mal with an amused smile said, "I can't help myself you know," His steady gaze met Jericho's as he practically hummed with his honey-glazed seductive voice.

"Especially when you make yourself so irresistible."

Face flushing brighter than the revolving sun the cornflower blessed teen ducked away, long fingers interlocking with the tresses framing his face, pulling them straight as a last ditch effort to hide from the embarrassment.

'Stop! Don't be so… so…'

"So what?" The Herald joked, bumping their foreheads together as Jericho slouched on his lap.

"Don't be so in love with you?"

Slipping his thumb underneath the towheaded boy's chin Mal methodically traced the scar on Jericho's neck followed by a passionate kiss. Giving him no time to draw a shaky breath from the residual sensations, the Herald uttered a mellifluous whisper.

"Because I don't think I can do that, Joey."

Jericho's eyelids fluttered ardently as he felt the other's rhythmic heartbeats flow into his own being; galvanized by the sincerity, addicted to the poetic romance.

"Our love is forever. And no lousy news anchor is gonna end us."

Mal's shimmering mocha irises confidently met Jericho's.

"You can bet on that."

The media would invariably attack him no doubt, and the scornful words of the press could root itself into his subconscious, but deep inside Jericho knew that in this moment his place of belonging wasn't lost in the endless hills of distant mountain range. No, it was here smothered in the arms of the boy he adored. And whatever the trials he would have to bear witness to, his team would stand by him, more importantly Mal would be beside him. So let the vultures swoop down from the Heavens to peck and bite at him, here centered in the chaos of the city was his newfound sanctuary; he was home.

Jericho smiled.