I have no idea what this is. Really.

I don't know if I even like it, but I figured I'd submit it anyway. It's just . . . I have no idea. Pointless writing that is pointless. I don't even have a time frame or anything. XD

I hope no one skewers me too roughly for this.

Have a wonderful week!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Teen Titans, yo.

Love, Sadie

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A loud clanging sound, followed by the slam of a heavyset door that echoed down the hallways. Then silence; silence that seemed to weigh heavier than air itself and that pressed into the mind instead of freeing it from the day's distractions.

The four left on the other side of the door exchanged glances and retreated beyond the hearing distance of the personage behind the door. Only when they were safely away from any sort of closeness that might allow him to hear did they begin to speak to one another, in hushed voices that were thick with worry.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"Of course he's okay, this has happened before."

"I dunno, though, he looked pretty tense."

"He always looks like that when this happens."

"Yeah, but I don't think he can take much more of it."

"We should try to make him feel better."

"With a big ice cream sundae with all of the toppings!"

"That's what makes you feel better. Stop being stupid."

"Well, do you have any better ideas?"

Only one figure stayed out of the conversation, watching the three keep their heads close together as they tried to think of ways to comfort the one that had locked himself in his room. The ideas were completely absurd – buy him balloons, make him a pie, sing to him – and somehow the fourth figure knew that none of those would make a difference at all.

So she slid discreetly away from the group and shook her head slightly, disappearing down the hall. As much as she trusted the trio – who wouldn't love a man who was half-machine, a lithe little man who could change shape at will, and a girl whose eyes were hidden beneath the hood of her cloak? – she was somehow aware that something else was needed.

Her fist knocked quietly on the door, which was wedged so tightly that it barely even rumbled. Her ear was cocked to listen for any response, but nothing sounded. Her lower lip pushed out in a vague pout, and she knocked louder this time, determined to get some kind of reaction out of her sulking teammate.

"No, Beast Boy," the snap of a reply came. "I don't want any ice cream, would you just go away?" The sleeping rage inside the voice made her flinch, and she considered melting away into the shadows and returning when the pain was lessened. But something inside her made her knock once more, lifting her voice so that he could more easily identify who the sound was coming from.

"Please, Robin, might I come in?" An audible swallow. If he refused, she might just cry. It was so painful to watch such a dear friend feel so tormented inside.

There was a long period of silence, and the girl thought that maybe he had decided to ignore her. Finally, there was a response that was so quiet that she almost missed it entirely. "Fine." Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and shuffled inside with all the hesitancy of a small animal entering the cave of a bear.

His room was scattered with various objects that appeared to have been thrown around. A metal rod, the source of the clanging from earlier. Green gloves, thrown on top of the desk that was cluttered with papers. Boots, tossed off to the side near the closet. Utility belt, tossed over the side of the chair and only a hair's width away from sliding off and toppling to the floor.

And a body, lying on the bed and glaring fiercely at the ceiling as though it was relieving to take out rage on inanimate objects. Bare-chested, tensed, furious – for the first time, the girl felt afraid for him and the consuming pattern of his emotions. When he didn't say a word to her, she realized how deep his fury truly was.

"Are you. . . alright?" The question was juvenile on her tongue, and it seemed unworthy of the current situation. Anyone could see that he wasn't alright, that he was anything but. She wished that she could retract the question, and ask something that would help the situation instead of only burdening it further.

"Yes." The short, quick reply suggested otherwise, and finally, with some degree of submission, she simply sat on the end of his bed and stared at the floor, trying to catch the words that she needed out of thin air. Maybe some inspiration would be able to give her what she needed.

"You know. . . we will succeed," she whispered, staring at her hands and away from his eyes that carried so much anger and rage. "It is only the matter of some time before we catch Slade. He cannot evade us forever." The words were so futile. What good were words when they couldn't smooth over the creases on his face and pull up the corners of his mouth?

It was a few minutes before he answered. "I know." This did not lessen her worry for his current state, nor did it make her feel any better at all. In fact, they only seemed to frustrate him further, for his mouth tightened along a thin, bloodless line. "I just. . . I know, Starfire."

She let out a sigh and put her hand on top of his fist, trying in vain to transfer some sort of comfort into him. Of course it didn't work, and she resigned herself to the fact that she really just ought to leave soon. It would be good to let him get some alone time. "I was simply. . . worried. That is all." Nodding once, she began to push herself off of the corner of his bed.

"Really?" The question came more quietly than anything else he'd said, and with a quick motion, he sat up, pinning his narrowed gaze on her instead of the ceiling. She could not quite capture the meaning behind the question. All she knew was that it make her cheeks flush slightly, and the desire to look away was strong.

"Of course." Her attempt to smile was weak, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Meaningless, futile, but she kept hoping that maybe coming in here would make some kind of difference in his sense of defeat. That maybe he would realize that one loss did not weaken his capabilities as both a hero and a friend.

As though mulling over that for a moment, he did not respond. And then he leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers, a feather-like interaction that put barely any weight on her at all. An expression of gratitude, and nothing more than a promise. When he pulled back, his voice was a simple whisper. "I'll be fine. I'll come out soon, okay?"

With a strange feeling of warmth in her cheeks, she nodded and gave him a fleeting smile before scurrying out of the room and closing the door behind her. On her face grew a wider smile than before, one that stretched over her entire face with the new knowledge that she had just received and welcomed entirely.

Coursing with a new confidence, she walked back into the living room to inform them that Robin would be alright. Because, somehow, she just knew that he would.