So, I came home for the week of spring break and my birthday. And my computer found it high time to crash again, so... Better malware protection! Hopefully, that was the last time. Got it back up and running, though.

Since I am at home... I have to cook and stuff, so my delectable meal stories may be... lacking. For breakfast today, I had a cold piece of French toast with a little syrup and a Reese's candy heart. T_T I miss… my daily… croissant…

Edit: That's why you cook, now!

Dun own Teen Titans or anything, blahblah waffles...

Edit: This is in Robin's POV.

–

Sometimes, when talk to myself, I tell myself a story. Some people would think it's weird but... I don't know. It makes things feel like... Like it's not me, I guess. It's someone else, telling me about what they're going through. I can give them advice and help them. It's kind of a self-help mechanism, now that I think about it.

I settled down next to him, in the darkness. Mostly, it was opaque, but there was a strip of netting that went around the middle, so that when you laid down, you could look at the stars. Our stuff was next to me, and our sleeping bags touched. I felt close to him, in that we were next to each other. I felt so far away, because I didn't know him anymore.

I rolled to the side, pressing my back against the smaller boy, taking some of his warmth. I guess I didn't realize how cold it was outside. He was cold, probably. From here, past our things, I saw droplets of moisture forming on the inside of the tent. It would be cool to the touch, and unpleasant if you got more than a little on you. I scooted away from his warm, closer to our packs. If natural instinct kicked in, he'd move with me. Drawn to the heat, I guess. It was an embarrassing lesson that Bruce helped me learn, with a loud smack and a "GET ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TENT."

Easy for me to say, he is not a pleasant man when sleeping. I guess it's because of what goes on in his mind. He's been through a lot... I bet his dreams are terrible. I hope he has dreamless nights, from what I know about him... A dreamless sleep would be bliss, to be truthful.

I heard the rustle before I felt the movement of Garfield squirming in his sleeping bag, and I felt his body against mine, and I heard my pulse increase. Didn't feel it, but heard it – that weird, almost rushing sound in my ears accompanied by a loud thumping. I rolled over, because we were kind of like, spooning, and I just didn't want to wake up like that. I didn't want him to feel... Gah, like I did. Except pressured and weird, I can't stress him like that.

I know he's hurting, I can see it in that tired face. I think that waking up like that would hurt him more. I don't know why, it's a gut thing.

I like the way the moonlight hits his face, and the way his eyelashes glimmer in the soft light. His hair looks bristly, but I know it's pleasant to the touch. The dark creases I saw earlier in the month – they're gone, kind of. Faded. That makes me feel better. He's thinner than when I first met him. His face is longer, and the jaw is more defined. His nose twitches, and he yawns. His teeth are almost perfectly naturally straight. They look like mine, except the incisors look sharper, and bigger. His nose is long and straight, but curved upwards, because the bridge is small.

I sigh, and watch him sleep. It makes me feel a little calmer. Seeing someone at rest gives me a feeling of relief. It makes me think that their mind is resting, and makes me feel like I can rest, too.

I did it before I knew I did, if that makes sense. My hand was in my view, but I didn't feel it come out from under the bag. I probably shouldn't have… His skin is soft to the touch, even though he's been sweating all day. It wasn't oily, either. I ran a thumb over his eyebrow, and the hairs lines up under my finger. His cheek was warm under my hand. I should definitely stop. I run my fingers over the bone structure underneath the oddly-toned skin. I can feel the bump on his cheekbone where he got his head crushed against the concrete. Another where he broke his nose in a fistfight at the arcade. There's a small bruising on his temple where we fell in the plane. I don't even bother trying to stop myself as I ran a thumb over his lips. They're a little chapped.

Whenever I see anything dry, I lick my lips and swallow. That's what I did then, except it felt like I was on fire, and that I was doing something wrong. My throat burned, and I swallowed. My face felt hot, and I kissed his forehead. It felt right, like someone you take care of, and they're important to you. Even though he wasn't awake, I felt... I don't even know. I wanted, in that moment, to be better for him.

I really shouldn't have done that to him. I really really really shouldn't have done that.

He scooted closer to me, and I couldn't move back any more. My back was pressed into the backpack. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to sleep.

–

My little sister is going to cook dinner! Ever since I went to college, she learned more..cooking stuff. :D She's making baked chicken with seasoning on top, Mrs. Dash and lemon pepper and basil and stuff! I AM SO EXCITED. And she's making green beans and mashed potatoes and toast! SHE IS SUCH AN AWESOME 10-YEAR OLD.

Edit: Okay. This chapter was originally "creepy" because it wasn't a forehead kiss. I changed it, and feel as though it is much less creepy now. Also, old me, your sister is now a jerk. She became a relentlessly sucky mean butthead 15 year old that never texts you back and ignores your calls but you love her and buy her clothes anyways.