Author's Note: I found this drabble that I'd written awhile back on my computer. I think I had intentions of finishing it somehow, but I think it's pretty powerful how it is. Hopefully the title of this drabble is enough implication that this isn't happening conscientiously, or in real time.

This drabble is my first contribution to the Teen Titans fandom. I hope it's well-liked!


dreamstate


"This is so unlike me," she breathed into his lips, steadying herself against his comparably small frame. He chuckled at that – a low, raspy sort of thing – and snaked his arms around her waist, returning her fervent caresses.

"I know that," he replied softly. "I knew that all along."

"What do you mean?" she said to his smile.

He mistakenly poked her lip with his lone, protruding fang, but it hardly perturbed the contemplative girl. She retreated from his embrace, absentmindedly rubbing the numb spot on her lip as she engaged his animated eyes in a taut gaze.

"What do you mean, 'you knew all along'?" The little things he said wormed their way into her mind and festered there for days thereafter. These were not those things that were blatantly nonsensical; rather, those little murmurs and mutters that were entirely coherent but lacking context. She needed context.

"I thought you'd never want me," he explained, "or, if you did, I thought you'd never show me. That's not like you." He shifted his gaze down to her hand, with which she had clutched his own with intentions of removing it from her hip; she had forgotten to let go. "This isn't like you."

She tilted her head pensively, examining him with that stone-cold, scrutinizing look. "But...I did it." She felt the heat of mortification stinging her cheeks; why was she so inarticulate with him? "It's bizarre."

"You're right," her teammate sighed his agreement, "it is bizarre." He pursed his lips momentarily, returning her skeptical gaze. After the pause, he continued, "You wouldn't do this."

She blinked. "Forgive me – " she took a step closer to him, " – but I thought we had established as much." She nearly beamed with approval regarding her own speaking skills.

Beast Boy's gaze turned stony. "No, Raven," he said harshly, "you wouldn't do this."

She froze in place, perplexed. "Are you implying that I am not who I am?"

"No." The changeling's eyes narrowed as he spat, almost mockingly, "I am implying that you didn't do it."

Ah.

Realization dawned on the empath's face, sinking into her as she once more backed away from her would-be love. She hugged herself tightly as a defense against the reality of the situation, her own cowardice angering her beyond belief. He watched her the entire time, saying nothing, gauging her reaction. She knew what expression would flicker upon his face next: satisfaction. He was right; she wouldn't do this. She would never do this. She had almost forgotten.

"Must you always remind me of my own weakness?" she asked brokenly. Her fingers clambered for the hood of her cloak as darkness fell unnaturally fast over the corridor in which they stood.

An uncharacteristically sadistic smile played on Beast Boy's lips. "Unintentional," he replied simply.

She merely nodded in response, her chest heaving raggedly with her uneven breathing. Darkness continued consuming her little world; he was a silhouette in the dark now. She would guess everything was spinning, a whirlwind of shapes, but she couldn't see. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she crumpled to the ground.

He wasn't hers. He would never be hers. She was as cold as stone, stoic and emotionless even after all the trouble that was endured in order to assure that she would not have to guard herself any longer. She kept to herself. She opened up books and not much else. When she spoke, her words were as biting as arctic winds with a seemingly personal vendetta against her warm beloveds. She was mysterious as ever; she was cautious, distant, reclusive...

"Can't you see?" His tone was taunting now, dangling the facts right before her eyes.

She didn't know how to love.

"Stop!" she finally wailed, the turmoil wracking through her body, pounding on her ribcage as her heart threatened to burst, ricocheting around her mind with energy that never ceased. Pain, bitterness, resentment; the only things she ever felt. The only things she could ever dream of feeling. The only emotions that remained with her always; the only emotions she knew how to display; the only moods for which she was known. What was happiness? What was it like being able to curl up beside another person – another warm body, with a pair of strong, comforting arms – and to open your closet and let your skeletons come pouring out and into the ear of your companion? What was it like to kiss another without second guessing your every heartbeat or monitoring the passionate roaming of your hands? Really: what was it like to love someone?

With the recognition that these questions would never be answered came a piercing screech expressing all of the frustration her lack of emotion had ever caused her. She looked up to beg him to help her – to make her understand, to make her be human – but he had gone – whether leaving by his own accord, or being consumed by the darkness, she had no way of knowing.

She had no way of knowing anything anymore.