Discalaimer: I don't won Teen Titans in any way, shape or form.

She loved him, desperately and with a passion- but he didn't love her back. The tall, chiseled boy with bleached, whitere hair whose sweet words once decieved her, and deceived her still. He had told her he loved her, that she was his "Sweet Rachael", that they would always be together. Those lies she ate up - devoured - and took them to heart, implanting them there like poisonous weeds. He let the lies grow, harbor in her heart until she fully believed them, without a doubt and she gave him what he wanted.

Then he just dumped her, left her, pushed her aside after he used her, leaving her broken and in tears for weeks afterwards, calling his name.




But she, being the wonderful girl who believed in second, third, fourth chances because she thought he was the one, dried her tears and chased after him, violet eyes shining with hope and brokeness.

She became a butterfly chaser - running after something she couldn't catch. It annoyed, frustrated, infuriated him to no end. It was always so agonizingly there in her reach, but she could never touch it, no matter how hard she tried. And he hated that. He hated that she was chasing after some boy who didn't even like her, when here he was in front of her, practically holding out his heart for her to take.

He who comforted her, the one who wrapped his arms around her and let her soak his favorite t-shirt with her tears. He who was always there to make her smile, make her laugh and cheer her up, offer her a tissue for her sniffles. He who loved her. He who waited for the day when she would jump into his arms, pepper him with kisses and whisper his name softly into his ear.




"You've got to stop chasing butterflies, Rae." He'd say softly on somedays when they're alone, running his hands through his sandy-blonde hair. "You'll never catch them."

She'd look sadly at him then, hiding behind the waterfall of her black hair. Even through her efforts he could see the pain reflected in the violet of her eyes. "I may not find another butterfly, Gar."

"But Rae, you're hurting yourself. You've gotta love what's good for you." You gotta love me.

She'd shake her head and smile at him. "I do love what's good for me."

Then she'd walk away, leaving him there, staring after her, wondering when she'd turn around and see him - when she'd turn around and tell him that she loved him too. He wondered when she would realize that she didn't need to run after anyone.

He'd stand there, hands in his pockets, kicking at the small pebbles on the sidewalk - staring longingly at where she'd dissapeared to.

He continued to watch her chase after her butterfly, his anger rising day after day. And day after day, he'd watch her break a little more, seeing her heart crack before his very eyes. He watched as she grew wearier and wearier, each step - each tear - tiring her out. Her eyes would get emptier and emptier, the shine that used to be there no longer visible, the illustrious smile usually on her face faded into a forced grin.

And he, for one, couldn't stand to watch anymore.

He confronted her one day, running after her and grabbing her wrist as she was walking home. He jerked her to a stop, whirling her around to face him, his grip tightening and eyes hardening.

"You gotta stop this, Rae. You're killing yourself!"

She jerked away from him, and turned away, staring off into the distance - arms crossed in front of her and tears forming on the edges of her eyes.

"I'm fine." She had stated simply, even though he knew - positively, without a doubt - that she was lying through her teeth.

"No," he retorted, anger and bitterness rising in his voice. "You're not. You think that that insensitive jerk who usedyou and dumped you really loves you? You're fooling yourself, Rachael! Why can't you see that?"

She whirled around to face him, her long, night-sky hair whipping his face and tears streaming down her face. "Stay the heck out of my buisness, Garfield Logan!" She screamed, arms clenched at her sides. "You think you know what's good for me, but -"

"I don't think, I know."

"No, you don't! I need him. I love him!"

"He doesn't love you."

Her lips quivered in anger as tears flowed steadily down her face, blurring her vision. Her fury rose as she raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.

"Shut up, Garfield Logan! Just shut up! You don't know what its like going through life wondering who possibly could love you. You don't know what it feels like to know that you'll always be alone! You don't know what its like not to be loved!"

"Yes I do."

The revelation was so sudden to her, so unexpected, that it stopped her mid-tirade and caused her to loose her words. She sputtered, trying desperately to spit out a rebuttal. He stiffened, grabbing hold of one of her hands with his.

"You don't know this, Rae, but I do. For a whole, agonizing year I had to watch the girl I loved run herself ragged trying to catch something that was never good for her. For one whole, miserable year I had to watch her beat herself up and break more and more. For a whole year, I hoped and wished that she would just stop and turn around to see the boy who truly loved her!"

The fire in his eyes held her gaze as did the fury in his voice, her tongue useless as he stepped closer, arms moving to grip her shoulders.

"For a whole year, I watched her chase butterflies,"

His eyes softened as he used a hand to stroke her cheek, looking down into her purple irises that stared at him in disbelief.

"And watched, and waited, and wondered just when she would notice me."

He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides as he stepped back. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets looking down at the ground while she stood there, soaking it all in. He looked up at her, hurt and sorrow etched in his features, blinking back the tears brimming in his sapphire eyes. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, turning away so she she wouldn't see the tears that escaped. He sighed once more and looked over his shoulder at the stunned girl - her mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. He stiffened and walked away, turning once more over his shoulder, breath hitching and voice breaking - his pain as evident to her as the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You don't need to run after butterflies anymore, Rae. You've already got one - you always have."

Sunday night is upon me! Ugh, I really don't want to go back to school tommorow. But anyways... This story was really strange for me to write. It feels sorta detatched. Ionno, maybe I'm just rusty at my angsty stuff. Anywhoo, Rate and Review please! Tell me what you thought! Please don't make my muse mad at me! Review! :D