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Lalala, my naaaame is Eso, and I~ like... lemonade! And pizza! And xylophones! So don't..you... dare...Ruuun awaaaaaaaayyyy~~.

Yeah... I don't know. But this is kind of a continuation of the last chapter, but I'm picky-obsesssive-weird about the 'spacing' and stuff..Sorry if it annoyed you.

Also, the Bloodhound Gang's "Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo". Listen to it. Caaatchy~.

Edit: Yes, yes it is. But you're an idiot.

–

Suddenly, the warm was gone. BeastBoy tried to open his eyes, couldn't, and just started groping around in the darkness for the warm again. When his hands failed him, he pulled them back, and tried to rub at his face. It was sopping. The normally oily, water-resistant spiky hair had been completely scrubbed of the natural oil, and was covering his eyes. Ugh. Last time that happened, Starfire tricked him into letting her braid it into corn rows. Bad experience... But, now he could see.

The rain wasn't gone, and it was dark. As in, he could only see a few feet in front of him, and that was only because he had amazing night vision. He wondered what time it was. Moreover, where he was. This definitely wasn't the bottom of the ocean.

When he tried to stand, he couldn't. The entire bottom half of him was asleep. He tried wiggling his toes, and go from there. Every single tendon, ligament, muscle, bone, tissue... He thought maybe he could even feel his liver. It was all there, from the waist up. Maybe waking up his lower half wasn't a good i- oh, there it was. Suddenly, he was aware. If his throat weren't drier than the Sahara, he'd have yelled out in agony.

The bottom of his feet, well, he figured that the soles were gone. In his head, he could see what was there. He'd run so much, over and through so much, that it was just bone. No skin, but open, ivory bone, with coagulated blood and dirt lacing the sides of the swollen, broken feet. Maybe he'd turned wrong a few times, and the ankles were broken out of the skin, in the wrong direction. It felt that way. His calves burned, like glass was in his blood, slicing and ribboning the veins and arteries inside. Every single muscle fibre was broken – he was probably a paraplegic now. The knees were skinned to the bone, and there were pebbles inside, sharp-edged and poking at the bone underneath, scraping grooves into them. Green thighs quivered with tiny spasms as the gut-wrenching pain moved its way up. Sticks and bark from the tree he was leaning on speared his sore rump, and his back was scalded, the skin probably peeled back so the tree was rubbing on his insides. A lithe green chest was holding in the breath that wanted to scream from the utter destruction.

Suddenly, something appeared into his vision, haggard, limping, and bent. Whatever it was was hurting, but stronger than him. For a moment, he was scared. Like this, there was no way to fight off anyone or anything. He was completely and totally vulnerable.

Robin slumped back down onto the ground with a large 'plud.' He'd have fallen over, but he'd already self-medicated and eaten something. At the moment, he was considerably stronger than the changeling, even though he'd had to exert over four times as much effort to get to the same place. A pale, shaking hand reached towards him.

After tensing a bit, BeastBoy realized Robin wasn't reaching for him, but something next to him. The backpack. Robin pulled out a bottle of water, and offered it to his friend. BeastBoy took it. Then, he pulled out a little vial of pills and a bag of berries and nuts, as well as some flat-bread the natives had sent. He unrolled the cloth of bread on BeastBoy's lap, and set the berries and nuts on it, next to the bread.

The Boy Wonder laid back down, and BeastBoy heard him fall back to sleep. All of this happened completely wordlessly, and it was understandable why. Their throats were burnt from simply the breathing.

The pink feeling ballooned under a black ocean, pushed by a lovely magenta propeller. Indigo and yellow and white and orange ribbons flew in circles around the magenta, and the pink grew larger, close to breaking the black, tarry barrier. He felt almost cliché, thinking that this person cared about him. It was pleasant to have someone take care of you. It made him feel bad that he had run away. Surely, if Robin didn't care, he wouldn't have followed him, right? That was a perfectly logical assumption. He wouldn't have half-killed himself, trying to keep up with a beast if he didn't at least have some inkling of reason.

The rain was mostly dissipated, but a steady shower lingered. It was no more than a mist in the trees. BeastBoy drank the water, even though every muscle in his arm wanted to stay limp. It twitched some. The bottle felt like it weighted fifty pounds, even after he sipped at it. He ate some of the painkillera. There wasn't enough in there to do any damage – four. Robin had taken them out earlier, all but those. It didn't kick in immediately, but once he had managed to pick up the bread and make his fingers close around a clump of nuts and fruit, it started. The glassy, sharp pain lessened to a dull ache. Instead of iron nails and pebble shards, there were invisible, bony hands clutching at the muscles and squeezing them uncomfortably, poking in a few wrong spots. Also, his lips weren't dry anymore. For several minutes, he drank the water and polished off the rest of the small meal, chewing slowly and swallowing thoughtfully. The painkiller was also a sedative, apparently, because now he was tired.

So tired.

He slumped back against the tree, water bottle resting at the end of his hand, cloth over his lap.

–

Du du du, l-e-m-o-n-a-d-e.

Sorry for the lack lately.

Last week was surely a plot to murder me, just so it's known.

Someoneisouttogetme D:

Edit: Good news: You're not dead, get over yourself, yay! Hopefully this is an improvement! Just some tweaking.