Transcendental
A carefree, daredevil playboy with a tortured soul. A shy, traumatized artist with a past. This is a story of two broken people healing each other, overcoming the past and looking towards a brighter future.
Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews - I'm Not A Princess, JewelFire3, AmandaLee31, and teentitansluver, I will not disappoint you! I am glad that you think that I had started off great, it gives me more motivation to do better and to keep updating. I am very excited to see where this story goes and your reactions to it, so happy reading, everyone. Enjoy! - Mayumi Y.
Warning: Out of character-ness. Mild language. Sexual themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans, any DC Comics based materials, and Corona beer.
Transcend(ental): to overcome or surpass something (a goal, an experience, etc.) beyond ordinary limits
Chapter 2: Redeemer
Gar splashed some water on his face and hair, a towel around his neck. He and Richard ended up at the boy's bathroom after Mr. Mod's little accident. Richard leaned on the wall with an amused smile, "Why do you think Mod is so good at aiming? Maybe we should make him bet on basketball."
"Dickhead," Gar muttered, annoyed at his best friends antics. "He was out to get you!" he shouted, growling, splashing more water on his face as some chalk went in his eyes.
"Really?" Richard teased. "I thought he was reminding you not to sleep in class."
Gar straightened up, wiping the towel on his face, slung it over his left shoulder, "No. He was trying to stop you from stretching out your wanton, evil hand. You better not hit on girls in class." He looked at him seriously, "You might fail."
Richard shrugged carelessly, "There are many ways he can fail me. Hitting on girls makes no difference."
Gar proceeded to wash his face, then uttered softly, not looking at Richard in the eyes, "Anyways . . . you better give up on Kori."
Richard crossed his arms over his chest, curious, "How did you two get to know each other anyway?"
Gar wiped his face again, then licked his lips, choosing his words carefully, "I was in the same class as her in high school, so I know her well. She was weird," he ruffled his blonde hair. "She drew all day long and wouldn't talk to anyone. Moreover, she didn't like boys at all," he looked at Richard. "She acted as if some filthy thing touched her." He paused, and then thought about one example, "Once, there was a folk dance competition. I don't know what happened to her, but she wouldn't hold hands with any boy. So we had one extra boy, the whole class was almost not allowed to participate in the competition. Finally, I volunteered to withdraw from the competition and she still acts the same way."
"Is there something wrong with her?" Richard wondered out loud.
"Maybe she has men phobia?" Gar suggested, throwing a theory out.
Richard leaned in, wondering if he heard it right, "Phobia of what?"
Gar rolled his green eyes, "Phobia of men." He eyed Richard, "Especially like you. A walking sex organ." He threw the towel in the laundry bin and warned him, "You better not go near her."
Richard looked down at his organ and laughed at the irony, "My name isn't Dick for nothing."
"Can we have Miss Anders help read the following paragraph of translation?" the Spanish language teacher, Mr. Slade Wilson, suggested. His white hair was smoothed back with gel and he had a black patch on his right eye, leaving his left blue eye exposed.
Kori stood up slowly, gently picking up her notebook to read from it. Richard and Gar sat two rows behind her. With her head low and eyes glued to her paper, she began to read quietly and softly to herself.
The whole class started to groan. It was always like this when it was Kori's turn to read.
Rachel sighed in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and uttered loudly in a sing-song voice, "I can't hear!"
One of her friends, Tara Markov, sighed loudly as well, "Ugh! Could you please read louder?"
Another girl, Karen Beecher, joined in, "Did you eat your three meals on time?"
Richard and Gar looked at each other, feeling sorry for the poor girl.
"Hello? Miss Ant?" Rachel called haughtily.
"Miss Ant?" Tara raised an eyebrow, confused at what she just said.
"A. N. T. Ant, as in small, defenseless, and easy to crush," Rachel defined coldly.
The whole class 'oooooooh'ed. Richard looked at Rachel with a scowl.
Mr. Wilson walked up the theater steps towards Kori, "Alright, class. Let's not make a fuss. I'll change to another student." He walked up beside her and firmly placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "You may sit down now, Miss Anders," he purred.
Kori stiffened and stared at his hand as he pushed her down to her seat.
"How about you Miss Roth? You have a loud voice," Mr. Wilson suggested. "Stand up, and read."
Richard watched Slade and Kori intently. He saw that her posture stiffened under his touch, and Slade was a little too comfortable touching her shoulder.
"Okay," Rachel stood up and started reading the passage in Spanish.
Richard tore his eyes away from Kori and without a word he took Gar's notebook and ripped a page out of it. Gar protested, but he ignored him and started writing a note. As he finished, he crumpled it up and threw it near her desk. Kori noticed the piece of paper near her shoe, but she decided to ignore it as she hunched her back and concentrated on taking notes. He raised an eyebrow, wondering why she did not pick it up. He straightened his back and whispered, "Pst. Kori." The students around them started watching them in curiosity. "Hey, express mail. Hurry up. Take it and sign it." Kori glanced at him for a second, and then turned around to look at her book.
Gar noticed their exchange and narrowed his eyes at Richard.
Richard exhaled noisily through his nose and decided to take matters into his own hands. He picked up the crumpled paper and placed it gently on her desk. She stared at it for a few seconds, then slowly opened it with her fingers. Reading it aloud in her mind, the note wrote, "I have the mother and child drawing on the back of the map you drew."
Kori straightened her back and gasped loudly.
Richard's eyebrows shot up and he slightly flinched at her loud sound. Gar looked at her in surprise and every other student turned their eyes on her. Kori shrank in her seat, blushing furiously.
"Miss Anders?" Mr. Wilson turned around from the whiteboard. "Is there something wrong?"
Richard pressed his lips together, fighting a smile.
"Mixed Veggie and Pineapple Rice. Two orders, please," Gar ordered at the cafeteria chef.
"You have to wait a little for the Veggie-Pineapple Rice," the chef replied absently.
Gar fidgeted his feet, impatient, and nodded to the chef. His green eyes traveled to his table, where Richard and Kori were sitting face to face. Kori had her back hunched as she ate her food quietly, while Richard had his chin rested on his elbow as he had his arms flat and folded on the table.
"Hey," Richard started. "Did you draw the picture?"
Kori nodded silently, chewing her spaghetti, with her hair tied up into a ponytail.
"Who did you draw?" he interrogated further.
She did not respond, looking down at her food.
He scoffed. "If you still won't say anything, I might use my tongue to open up your mouth," he warned huskily.
She paused as her fork was about to enter her mouth. She settled it down on her plate and asked quietly, "Why didn't you throw it away?" She glanced at his eyes for a second, and then returned to her food.
"You're voice doesn't sound bad," he confessed with a charming smile, then he answered her question slowly. "Because . . . I'm interested in it."
She stared at him, gaining a little more confidence due to curiosity. She couldn't help but ask, "Why?"
"Why?" he repeated in a thoughtful tone. "That's a good question . . . Because . . ." he left his sentence hanging.
"So . . . the answer is . . ." she waited patiently.
He looked at her food, deep in thought, then admitted, still with a smile on his face, "Because . . . it moved me . . . Because it reminds me of my mother . . . who I thought I had forgotten," his smile disappearing.
She stared at him again, watching as his blue eyes filled with sadness and then it disappeared as he started talking lightly again, "How about this, give me your cellphone number. We can go out to eat or do something we both will enjoy a great deal," he started chuckling to himself. Still chuckling, he said, "Ah, you stopped talking again. You really want me to use my tongue to open your mouth."
The fork she held dropped on her plate with a clang. She hastily stood up, gathered up her things, and hurriedly walked away without a glance or a word at him.
"Hey, Kori," Richard called, still laughing. "Why take it so seriously?" he looked at her retreating form, but made no move to follow her.
Gar looked back at the table, his back straightened up as he saw that Kori had disappeared. He exhaled noisily through his nose as the chef handed him the two plates of rice. "Here's your two plates of Veggie-Pineapple rice."
"Good timing," Gar retorted sarcastically and walked reluctantly to the table.
Across the cafeteria, Rachel had been watching the whole scene.
As his last class of the day ended, Gar stood up and ran out the door to make it to the courts. In the hallway, he spotted the familiar red hair up in a ponytail. He stopped running and stared at her walking as if she was alone in the world. He followed her, watching her with his green eyes filled with longing and acceptance. She walked down the stairs and stopped, feeling as if someone was watching her. She turned around and came to face him.
She recognized him, an acquaintance in high school.
Gar froze as she caught him. They stared at each other for a moment.
A student bumped his shoulder and Gar snapped out from their contact. Slightly blushing, he jogged down the stairs, leaving Kori to look at his back, wondering why he was following her. She continued to walk down the stairs but, again, stopped as she heard someone calling her name.
"Hey, Kori," she turned around and saw Richard, with his shades on and holding a basketball. "Are you going home?"
Kori ignored him as usual and jogged down the stairs.
"Hey!" he called and followed her, asking again, "Are you going home?"
She sighed quietly, knowing that he would not stop asking until she answered. "Not yet," she responded, not looking at him. "I'm on my way to the art studio."
"Art studio? I'm on my way to the basketball courts. It's on the way," he conversed happily, then nudged his elbow to her arm. "Are you a member of the art club?"
Kori stopped walking and stared at him, why on earth was he talking to her and being nice. Richard stared back and started to ask, "What-,"
"Dick," one of his friends, Isaiah Crockett, called. "Gotham peeps are here. Hurry up."
"Okay, I'll be right there," he replied to him and turned to Kori. He licked his lips and leaned in, whispering, "Do you have any money I could borrow?"
Without thinking, Kori took out her only money, which was twenty dollars, out of her pocket and handed him two five-dollar bills and a ten-dollar one. She answered quietly, "I only have this much."
Richard smiled and took it from her hands, "This is enough. Thanks, I'll definitely pay you back." He turned around and walked two steps, then paused and walked back to her with a mischievous smile, "And, uh . . . let me borrow this for a while," his fingers reached behind her tied up hair and gently took out the pink hair tie, letting her hair fall gracefully on her back. He smirked as he saw her stare at him and blushed.
"Dick, hurry up!" Isaiah shouted, impatient.
"I'm coming," Dick threw the ball at him and jogged towards his friend.
Kori stared at his retreating form, before heading to the art studio to clear her head.
She brushed her thumb on her black chalk drawing of a sculptured man. Kori focused her eyes on her drawing, her hand shading in the color. She shut out her surroundings, ignoring the conversations she could hear and the scratching of stroking pencils from her fellow artists. She had her long-sleeve shirt rolled up to her elbows and her scarf hung at a chair next to her. Since she did not have her hair tie, she settled with tucking her hair behind both of her ears and her hair flowed down her straightened up back.
Kori overheard two girls by the large, glass windows, chatting about boys.
"Look at those boys playing basketball," a voice with a foreign accent, who she recognized as Toni Monetti, whispered. "They are quite good looking. Especially that tall one with his hair tied." She squealed as quietly as she could through her black colored lips, "He's so cute, he's even using a pink hair tie."
Kori stopped drawing and turned her head to look at the girls.
One of them, who she recognized as Kole Weathers, shook her short, pink-dyed hair, "They're betting on basketball again. They can bet on anything when Dick and Gar are together."
Kori recalled him asking her some money and borrowing her hair tie. She focused her eyes back to her drawing and stroked her chalk harder on her canvas.
She heard the main door of the studio slam closed as the last artist left. Kori wanted to make some changes, so she decided to stay in a little bit more. A few minutes passed by and she felt content with the isolation, glad that she could concentrate now that she was by herself. No distractions, no noise, just silence.
Near the front door, somebody entered silently, closing it without a sound and locking it.
Kori heard footsteps and she looked up from her drawing, she stopped, a little surprised and asked hesitantly, "Mister Wilson. What are you doing here?"
Mr. Wilson smiled charmingly, his hands were folded behind his back, "It is nothing, Miss Anders." He started walking towards her slowly, in a predatory-like way, "Please, continue your drawing. I was just passing by, so I came down to take a look."
Kori stiffened and kept her eyes at her drawing. She felt him standing behind her back, admiring it, "You're very good at drawing. It looks exactly like the model."
And then, she felt his fingers in her hair.
She closed her eyes, hoping that the feeling would go away.
She felt his fingers grip her shoulders. She felt his cheek leaning into her hair, inhaling her rain-kissed leaves scent.
"Your hair," he whispered huskily. "Smells so good."
His hands slowly crept to her cheek, caressing it.
She held her pencil tightly, wishing she would have the courage to stab him.
His hands continued their creeping journey and headed south, beneath her clothes.
She snapped her eyes open as she felt his calloused, cold hands grope her breast.
Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
She was shell-shocked as that one memory returned to her. And she could not do anything. She felt weak. Vulnerable. Powerless.
A door slammed loudly.
Mr. Wilson's head snapped up, swiftly taking out his hand from under Kori's shirt. He came face-to-face with a no-shades Richard wearing a black fitted, collared shirt. Kori stared at him, her eyes giving off relief.
"Huh," Richard scoffed at what he found with his head tilted slightly. "When did you become a consultant to the art club . . . Slade?"
Mr. Wilson retorted, trying to act normal as if nothing happened, "What are you doing back here? Sneaking around?"
Richard scoffed once more, "Sneaking around? That's not it. I openly walked in." His blue eyes landed on Kori, who he noticed had relief lighting her eyes, but fear written across her face. He could see that her green eyes were watery. "Slade, you might want to know that the back door is open," he pointed to his back with his thumb. "And that door leads to the basketball courts."
Richard noticed Slade's Adam's apple was bobbing nervously, he swallowed and tried to keep his composure, "You are not in the art club, Mister Grayson. Now, I ask again, what are you doing here?" he folded his arms across his chest.
"So . . . if you're not in the art club, you can't come into the studio?" Richard questioned with a smile. It was not a happy smile, nor a sad one. "Okay then . . . I'll join the art club."
"You do not have talent for this club," Mr. Wilson retorted impatiently.
"You never know," Richard continued in a light tone, his eyes scanning on the paintings on the wall, "I might have an aspect people don't know about . . . Just like some considerate and nice Spanish teacher who sometimes sexually harasses his female student." He stated his last sentence coldly and looked at Slade in the eye.
Mr. Wilson snorted defensively, "Do not talk nonsense, child."
Richard chuckled, "Slade, don't be so eager to give in. I was just giving an example." Something caught his eye on a table. It was a cutter. He picked it up and stared at it. He then started to walk slowly towards them, pushing the blade up and down, creating a fast clicking noise in the silent studio.
"What do you think you are doing?"
He continued to walk, his blue eyes dark and brooding, "What do I think I am doing? . . ." He asked himself absently, stopping, and looked at the box cutter in his hands, "I'm not going to do anything," he said in no emotion. "I just want to . . . sharpen a pencil . . . How could I possible think of using it to cut off a teacher's gentle and honest face?" Again, he continued to walk towards them.
Mr. Wilson slowly backed away, while Kori still sat down, watching him, her eyes getting wider with each step he took. As Richard was inches away from Slade, she stood up sharply, her stool falling to the floor.
The clicking noise stopped.
Mr. Wilson stared at Richard. Without a word, he backed away and as soon as he reached the stairs, he ran.
And the two were alone.
Richard chuckled, "So quick to admitting defeat . . . it's really not fun," he threw the cutter aside carelessly and turned to look at Kori, who was trying to calm her breathing with wide eyes.
"You're really stupid," he told her. "You let him touch you for so long without asking for a lot of money."
Kori looked down, her lips pressed together, trying very hard not to break down in front of him.
"You don't like it," he continued, now feeling concerned. He heard her sniffle. "Don't be so timid if you don't like it. Cowardice is the most useless thing. Especially your expression, it would only make people want to do crueler things to you." He ended his speech, so as not to make the girl cry. He looked at the canvas in front of her and he changed into a happier mood, "Woah!" he touched the painting, inspecting it as a black smudge smothered on his index finger, "This is really done by drawing! Are you drawing that plaster statue?"
Kori nodded meekly as Richard walked to the sculpture.
He leaned down to read the description of the model, "M – A – R – S," he spelled the tag of the sculpture out loud. "Mars."
He turned to look at Kori, eyes filled with curiosity and interest, "Mars, as in the Planet?"
She shook her head and replied, her voice a little rough from what had just happened, "The Roman God of War."
"Was he the coward who the Greek say was bloodthirsty and belligerent, and yet was afraid of failure?" Richard conversed to her his knowledge about Mars. "Isn't he supposed to look mean and ferocious?"
Kori stared at him and decided to share her knowledge about Mars while her arms hung in front of her, her hands clasped together, "Indeed, he is the God of War. But I heard that Romans described him differently. They said Mars wore shining armor, look dignified. He was a dark hero, who helped people overcome tragedy."
Richard leaned in to observe Mars closer and whispered to himself, "A hero who overcame tragedy." After a few seconds, he turned around, a warm smile on his face, "Go home early . . . oh, and, I already doubled it," he reached for his pocket and took out a roll of money tied with her pink hair tie. He threw it at her.
Kori caught it and looked at the money. She raised her head and saw the back of his head, walking out of the studio.
Richard traveled to a liquor store, his hands in the pockets of his sports jacket, whistling a tune he had just made up. Taking a basket, he strolled his way down to the beer aisle and automatically grabbed two packs, each containing six bottles of Corona beer. Quietly smiling to himself, he made his way to the cashier, showing his legal identification card and paid in cash. As he was about to walk out the door, he stopped, slowly turning around and looked at the wall he just passed by.
It had a mirror.
Richard slowly walked in front of the mirror, staring at it for the longest time.
He could see no reflection.
He started hyperventilating. His eyes could not blink, could not turn away from the mirror. His hands started shaking, nearly dropping his bottles of beer. As he finally had the strength to close his eyes shut, he opened them again to face the mirror.
He saw himself.
Richard panted in relief, clutching his chest as the pain stroked through him. He stared at himself, looking into familiar green eyes.
His reflection was smiling.
But he himself was not.
So, he punched the mirror.
Author's Note: Please feel free to PM me for any questions or clarifications. This story is inspired by a drama called Mars, that is why the subject of Mars will be making some appearances. But, don't worry, it will now overshadow the plot. I have included some of the characters seen in the show, they will be in order of appearance throughout this chapter: Slade, Terra, Bumblebee, Hotspot, Argent, and Kole.
I want to clear up a few vocabulary words, in case some of you do not know what they mean:
Redeemer - a rescuer, a savior, someone who aids in a time of difficulty
Wanton - shameless, promiscuous (sexually active) [when Gar told Richard about his wanton hand, he was indicating that Richard is shameless for flirting and trying to pick up a girl at the middle of class]
Thank you very much for reading this chapter! I hope all of you are enjoying so far, I shall be updating in a few days due to the interference of my summer homework. Please review and tell me what you think, I enjoy reading your opinions. - Mayumi Y.