AN: This is a story I did for the 30angsts Live Journal community. The basic premise? I pick a pairing and write 30 angst fics according to a pre-established list of themes. These stories will be independent 1 shots. The theme for each fic will be included. My pairing is Robin/Speedy from Teen Titans.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

Title: "Black and White Macabre"

8. Articles; Newspapers (broken promise)

Robin groaned quietly and sat up. He didn't remember falling asleep but he knew that he must have. He glanced around his room and noticed that how late it was, nearly 4 in the morning. The only light came from a meager ceiling bulb that was almost dead. The pale yellow light cast the room in shadow and reflected off the black and white images that plastered almost every inch of available wall space. It gave the photos an aged look that sunlight would never give them and it made the sixteen year old boy feel much older than he was.

To some it would seem like a elaborate macabre, or a funeral pier, or even a sick memento mori. The photos were a reminder that everything wasn't perfect forever that even the brightest things faded. Each of the images showed scenes of the past and even the most triumphant ones were being overshadowed by the sick yellow light of age. Every image, happy or sad was overcome by the obsession that was slowly driving the boy who surrounded himself with them to his breaking point. Almost as though it were confirming his views a soft breeze blew through the barely open window and a couple of pictures fluttered haplessly to the floor.

The boy wonder sighed in frustration and stood, knocking the chair he had been sitting in over as his usually graceful and deliberate movements were replaced with clumsy ones that only shear exhaustion could bring. The sound of it clattering to the floor snapped him into a more wakeful state and he quickly righted it, praying that none of his friends had heard the racket and if they did hear it that they didn't come to investigate.

He moved to the center of the room, halfway between the bed and desk where he had been sitting and turned in a circle, slowly taking in each image that he knew by heart, hoping against hope that they would spell out some kind of message that would lead him to Slade. After a minute of staring at the images he finally gave up turned off the lights before he turned and walked over to the bed. He had to sleep or the others would notice, if they hadn't already, that his fixation was keeping him awake.

He laid there awake for what seemed like forever and finally realized that he would have to do something more drastic to make sleep come to him. He sat up and turned on the lamp that sat on the table beside his bed. This light was brighter, less used and cleaner than the one that usually guided his movements. With a sigh he picked up a small silver key and inserted it into the lock on the bottom most drawer of the bedside table. The lock clicked easily and he pulled a thin album from the bottom of the drawer. This wasn't something he opened often and the pictures that were hidden inside had been carefully preserved to avoid the age that the others had suffered. The color in these photos and clippings hadn't faded and they were as fresh and clean as the day they had been clipped from the paper or magazine, or wherever they had come from.

Every photo showed pictures of a smirking red-headed boy that had captured Robin's imagination from the day he had first witnessed his fellow hero in action. Speedy had always been so different from him, so much more free and not tied to the same brooding darkness that Robin had associated with his mentor and his training. He had looked like that once, a happy young boy of thirteen who had tagged along on the tails of Batman's cape and enjoyed the ride that fame had brought him.

The smile that always seemed to grace the archer's face whenever he he stopped for photos brought a smile to Robin's face as he flipped through the pages and the image before him slowly grew older, more mature and the smile matured as the pictures got newer. It was still happy though, he seemed to be genuinely happy and Robin wandered if it was just an act. The other boy had been his inspiration in his darkest hours. He had treasured every scrap he could find about the archer because each little image reminded him that he wasn't alone in the world, that there were kids just like him who tried to live up to a legend.

It was a tall order to fill but he was trying even as doing so was slowly consuming him. He slowly drifted off to sleep with the album lying open at his side. It was sad that he only found peace in pictures but pictures were all he had because he knew he couldn't have the real thing.

I hope you guys liked this. I have a question, should I post all my 30 fics in 1 story in chapter format or put them up as individual stories?