Wouldn't you have guessed it? The very first word to be chosen from the hat just had to be a BB/Rae. And I'm sooo not even being dramatic when I say this was the most difficult piece of writing I've ever done. And I'm not even going to delete that sentence from this Author's Note, because YES I am going to be a big whiney-pants about how much I suffered. :D Because I never suffer in silence. :D
...Oh yeah...Dudes, I'm so tired of angst. Review at the end if you'd like, leave another word, just PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, DON'T MAKE IT BB/RAE. OR ANGST.
Well…Unless you really have to. :)
--
Prompt #14: Blight
Submitted by RabulaTasa
BB/Rae
It's always the forbidden fruit that tantalizes her the most.
When she was young, it was innocent, childlike. The last slice of cake in the pan – the one that her mother had been eyeing all day – was the one she wanted so badly that her five-year-old mind was overwhelmed with Longing. She'd cry out of sheer terror from the strength of her want, her craving, but her mother would just sigh and click her tongue against her teeth and assume that her diaper needed changing or there was syrup coating her plump fingers. An hour later Arella would succumb to the craving and delicately slice into the cake. Raven would avert her red-rimmed eyes and cry silently into a silk-tasseled pillow, her too-young mind terrified of the whims of her body.
And the want died a quiet death in her throat.
Now that she is older, it is less charming – the wishes become desires, the wants become needs. What was once childish indulgence has morphed into something darker, something deeper, something that is terrifying to experience and all the more terrifying because it never goes away.
Desire is ruthless. She imagines a tiger: snarling; merciless; curled away in her chest, ripping her insides apart from the fury of unrequited want. And, in the few, shining moments where she unleashes her mind from its disciplined chokehold and unwraps the tight bands around her soul, she imagines that the tiger is green.
Because of course he had to find his way into her heart.
And of course it was only predictable that it was going to hurt, too.
--
Her friends, she reflects, are the most perfect, painful example of her screwed-up life.
Wonderful people; fantastic fighters; invaluable friends. Cyborg, the big brother. Starfire, the soul sister. Robin, the best friend.
And Beast Boy.
The one for whom she can find no words.
They all know that her mind is…complicated, to say the least. But not one of them has ever fathomed how difficult it is for her to exist among them. How grueling each and every day is. How absolutely terrifying it is when she knows she's about to lose control and can feel her soul slipping away between her fingers.
The closer her friends come, the farther she distances herself. Any emotion: Joy, Sorrow, Warmth, Despair…they threaten to overwhelm her. They threaten to unleash themselves upon her friends – if she were to lose control, their flesh would be as soft and yielding as cottage cheese to the tendrils of her black, black power.
And then she would have no one left.
So of course they are forbidden to her.
Yet because they are forbidden, because they are barred from her touch, she finds herself intoxicated with them. She despairs at their distance and finds relief in it at the same time. Her life is a mass of contradictions.
They are untouchable. Every moment of closeness is charged with the electricity of fear. The glut of emotion is overwhelming.
And she can never, ever be overwhelmed again.
So she holds them at arm's length. Because at arm's length they are never close enough to touch her, never near enough to see the terror that never quite leaves her throat. Every moment of every day is laced with the fear that she will snap – and, in doing so, destroy the only people in her life who love her.
She will never, ever snap.
Because they mean far too much to her.
What she feels for her friends is…strong. But smothered. Every time Starfire ignites a warm glow in her chest, every time Cyborg makes her want to grin in Delight, she stifles the feeling, chokes it into submission and buries it deeply in the compost pile of her mind. The memories glow there, like jewels, bright bursts of joy amidst the enormous pile of crap that used to be her life.
But Beast Boy was never one to be stifled.
She hates him as much as she finds herself mesmerized by him. The way he wriggled into her life, crashing through the careful walls around her soul, demolishing every standard she ever created for herself. He clawed his way into her heart, ripped his way into her chest, and stayed there, purring as only a well-satisfied cat could.
She hates how the lush, mossy green of his skin seeps into her mind until every dream looks like a parade in Dublin on Saint Patrick's Day. She hates how easily the effortlessly the smile curls his mouth, how quickly he decides to throw his arms around a person, how easily he finds it to love. Beast Boy has never held anyone at arm's length in his life.
And she hates how she will never be able to draw him closer, no matter how she tries.
Her touch causes pain. She knows this from experience. Once she sliced her hand while hacking open a package of sharp cheddar cheese. The pain was surprising – the size and depth of the cut even more so. Stretching the length of her palm, jagged from the edges of the serrated knife. Her stomach twisted in a sickening wave of pain.
She screamed.
Robin came running, his eyes wild. He took one look at her, kneeling on the cold tile floor, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood with her cloak, and dropped to his knees beside her.
She was wild with pain: too feral to control her emotions. The moment Robin seized her wrist to inspect the damage, a jagged wall of black knocked him backwards into the wall. Pain forgotten, she stammered apologies, horrified with her unhinged mind. And then she ran, ran, ran, fast as she could, shocked with the knowledge that her touch caused Robin pain and sick with the realization that it would never, never change.
The only truth she'd ever rejected, the only one she'd tried to forget, the only one she found too screwed-up for even her life…it pulsed in front of her eyes as she fled.
Unchangeable.
Unconquerable.
She was a blight.
It wasn't a melodramatic thought. Her emotions were destructive. Her touch was devastating. Sickness bled from her fingers like ink from a broken pen; spreading, spreading, spreading, in a pool of frenzied sensations.
And so, for the sake of the Titans, she locked herself away, chanting faint pleas to her home, stretching frail fingers to the father-that-wasn't in an effort to keep her friends just far enough.
She cold-shouldered Starfire's tempting offers for an afternoon of Happiness. She pushed away Robin's alluring proposals of Friendship. She snubbed Cyborg's well-meant words of kindness and brotherly symbols of Affection.
And Beast Boy?
There was no name for what she felt.
He was cheerful, and frivolous, and in love with life. He had an easy warmth and an easier smile. He had wormed his way into her heart, captured it, stained it green: the green of his skin, the green of envy…it didn't matter which one had painted her heart, it just mattered that it no longer belonged to her.
She has no experience with Love. She has read enough to know that it is life-changing, awe-inspiring, mysterious, terrifying. She swallows these thoughts without bothering to name them – because, deep inside, she knows she Loves them all.
She Loves him more.
She will never touch him, of course: she will never trace his firm jawline like she's always wanted to, or whisper in his grass-green ear that she loves him, she loves him, she's always loved him and she always will.
She will never do any of this until he dies.
And then, finally, when he has passed from the mortal plane and lies cold and still and silent in his coffin, she will brush her lips against his and murmur everything she's ever wanted to tell him.
Because only when he is dead will she cease to be a blight.
And only when he is dead will she finally leave the world that caused her so much pain and pleasure…and join him.
Forever.
--
SO TIRED OF ANGST.
Review, dahlings! Remember, this is just another chance to get another word into the hat! :)
Love and cupcakes,
--Phina
P.S: A huge, lovely thank-you to Sylver, who got her drill-sergeant on and made me suck it up about all the pain this chapter put me through. She's fabulous. :) Ooh, and thanks to XxNightfirexX as well for being a lovely and sympathetic listener as I moaned about how awful BB/Rae is. xD She rocks too.
And Rab? You are an evil, evil little man. :D