She stomped off, her face flushed with rage, brilliantly clashing with her pink hair. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't do this.
She could see why so many people liked him. He remembered every person he had saved, always asking about their health, their spouse, their children, their life. He made them feel remembered, important. Significant enough to be remembered by a world famous hero.
She seriously couldn't understand how he could remember all that. Heck, he probably saved hundreds and thousands of people by now.
There was also the fact that his figure was perfect, and that his red spandex actually made him look even better.
There was also the perfect red hair and clear, honest blue eyes.
There was his jaunty voice that made you wish for more.
There was that stupid romantic way he acted.
There was all the knight in shining armor saves the damsel in distress thing.
All the reasons she loved him.
Starfire just smiled and held Robin closer to her whenever this happened to Robin, bringing envious looks from the crowd. She held on to his hand and waved to the mob, making sure to send death glares at anyone who got to close for the wrong reasons.
But she couldn't to that. She couldn't just ignore other girls' advances on her boyfriend.
No – it was fiancé now.
She stormed away, her worked up temper firing up her bad luck powers. She aimed her hand at the concrete, tearing up the sidewalk. She aimed another shot at the nearest fire hydrant, flooding the streets. She sorely wished to point both her hands and blast something big – maybe a tall business building. God knows everyone in there are boring suckers.
But then he'd have to explain everything, apologize endlessly to the public about her actions, and convince them again and again that she was really a hero.
So she stopped short, contenting to vent her spleen by making the bad traffic even worse. The cars were now standing head to tail, not moving an inch. She smirked. Misery does like company.
He always didn't keep his head when there were more than three girls present. He just reveled in female attention, which was given quite liberally and with enthusiasm. It didn't help that he was flirtatious by nature.
He would always come find her say that he was sorry, that he would never do it again.
But he always did.
Last time it was some reporter.
This time it was a teammate. Was it Fire, or Flame? Whatever.
Didn't he know that these things strain their relationship? Didn't he know that he promised her his heart? Didn't he know that she was always afraid of him falling for someone else?
She always told herself that this was the last straw. She would steel herself to tell him that the engagement was off. It all went right in her head. She'd yell at him about forgotten responsibilities. Maybe she'd shed a few angry tears. Then, shouting that it's over, she would throw her engagement ring at him.
But then he would stand in front of her, his head drooping.
"Jen, I'm sorry…" he would whisper.
Jen. Something only he called her. She'd break down completely, shedding tears unashamedly in front of him, the tears wetting his shoes. They were that close to each other. He would embrace her tight, allowing his warmth to permeate her cold heart.
Then they would literally kiss and make up.
She would be happy for maybe a week. Then she would catch him flirting again.
The emotional ups and downs were slowly killing her. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally, she was drying up like puddle in mid-July.
This time, it really was the last straw. Her trust had long disappeared.
"Trust me," he had said so long ago. But he was the one who had broken that trust. She had trusted him, but it didn't lead to anything but another scar on her already mangled heart.
"It's your fault." she said aloud to the pavement.
A soft voice came from nowhere. "I know."
She looked up right into those clear blue eyes and promptly started melting again. She quickly looked away. Not today. She needed to say this.
"Flash. This can't go on."
His voice was even softer. "I know," he said again.
Her eyes met his again.
"What?" she rasped, afraid to even ask. Did he mean what she thought she meant? Was he going to say them before she did?
"You're right. This can't go on. We need to think this through."
The whole world was spinning, and nothing was certain in her world. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking off their relationship.
"Stop talking. Stop beating around the bush. I'll say it for you."
She took a deep breath and looked away, so she wouldn't see anything in those blue windows.
"Lets call off our engagement."
She spoke with an edge of finality that masked the underlying despair.
There was a sharp intake of breath.
He gripped both her upper arms.
She shrugged, trying, and failing to look indifferent. "You were going to say it. I said it first. That so shocking?"
He shook her slightly, his grip getting a little painful now. "Jen, you're not serious!"
"I'm dead serious." Her voice was cold now.
He let go of her and they stood there in silence.
Then he lifted her chin so that she was forced to stare at his masked face.
"Tell me you didn't mean that. Tell me that's not what you want it to be."
He spoke quietly, but she could still hear the cry of pain he wanted to utter.
"What am I supposed to do then?" she muttered with a wild laugh. "What am I supposed to do while you flirt with every girl on the face of this planet? Always wait for you? Break my heart to pieces while you're out loving someone else?"
She was laughing, but hot, bitter tears were streaming down her pale face.
"What on earth do you want me to do?" she asked him, her voice now totally out of her control.
He hugged her tightly to him. She let her tears soak into his shirt. It was much better than using her sleeves and spending hours trying to get the stains out. It was going to be the same scenario all over again. But it wasn't.
"Oh, Jen…Jen…I love you, don't you know?" he whispered into her ear, his hot breath tickling her.
"I never loved anyone else. My heart's still yours. Flirting's just something I do.
"I know I don't deserve it, but give me a second chance, please…."
He held her until her tears stopped flowing, until she stopped shaking with suppressed sobs. Then he lifted her up, bridal style and sped to their shared apartment.
This time they didn't kiss. They didn't even share the one bed. But she knew somewhere deep in her heart that this would work out.
And sure enough, in the morning, there was a plate of warm pancakes and a single red rose near her plate, his promise to her.
And you know, she never regretted giving him that second chance.