A/N~ I'm ashamed to say that I've been working on this since late january and I've only written three chapters. That's way below my usual and I apologise. I've lost interest in Hetalia, but I might go back to it eventually.

Anyway, this story is a normal AU of Young Justice, centered around Roy William Harper Jr (the Clone Roy), Conner Kent, and Richard John "Dick" Grayson- each character has a facet of their hero persona in their every day life, but each one is human and they all face normal human problems, some of them greater than others, but all of them something that someone somewhere is going through.

For Roy, the problem is drug addiction and prostitution, both of which contribute to his life falling apart.

For Conner, the problem is a distant father figure and aggression, something that is honestly the easiest for me to write.

But Richard is different. Richard still lost his parents, and he was still an acrobat as a child. His problems are more complicated.

{Prologue}

~ (Harper) ~

(More. I need more.)

My stomach and back ache, a dull throbbing that feels strangely good. It doesn't just feel good, though- no, it feels great. It feels amazing.

It feels real. Completely irrevocably real.

I am me, I am real.

(Worthless, but real.)

I am Roy Harper and I am real.

I'm alive.

(Addicted but alive.)

~ (Grayson) ~

Who am I?

I don't know. I really don't know.

I thought I knew, but I guess I was wrong.

No, I was very wrong.

I thought I was Richard Grayson, Ward of Bruce Wayne, son of John and Mary Grayson. Thought.

I don't know who I am.

I don't know what I am.

Am I a boy?

Am I a girl?

(Am I neither? Am I both?)

I'm young, still small, my chest a smooth plane of alabaster skin, my shoulders still narrow. I'm slim, well-built, extremely flexible. I don't have curves; my hips are just as narrow as my shoulders. I'm short enough that people think I'm thirteen, but I'll be fifteen this year.

I'm fourteen and have no chest to speak of, no curves, no hips.

I'm a boy.

A boy.

(Breathe in, breathe out.)

I'm a boy.

(Only I'm a girl.)

~ (Kent) ~

When I look in the mirror, what I see never surprises me.

Black hair, blue eyes, tall, square-jawed.

(A farm boy.)

I look into that face every day.

Every morning, I get up and make myself something to eat.

(Nothing for dad, just coffee. Black, two spoons of sugar. That's all.)

Turn on the coffee maker- premium dark roast, something strong -then wait for dad.

(I hope I made it right.)

When he finally comes into the kitchen, there's no "good morning". I merely point the coffee out to him, sipping my own cup.

(Black, no sugar, no creamer, straight from the pot, as soon as it's done.)

I watch out of the corner of my eye as he gets his cup. Everything is quiet.

After a few more moments of silence, I speak.

"Is it any good? The coffee?"

He looks up, not looking at my eyes but glancing in my direction. "It's decent."

"….decent," I repeat, my voice sounding just like his did.

When you're talking to my dad, decent meant bad.

I check the clock and sling my bag across my back, standing and heading for the door. "Don't forget that you have an interview with Lex Luthor, this afternoon."

"How could I forget?" He mutters.

I sigh, smiling just a little, no more than a momentary smirk, really. "Bye, Dad."