[tuesday] teen titans; raven & beast boy
Sometimes someone can say something so small and meaningful that it manages to fit right into that empty space in your heart. Written for 50_lovequotes.
tuesday | ~300 words
“Hi,” he said one day, and sat at her lunch table with his brown paper bag full of tofu. That was it. That was how it started.
People used to whisper things about her. (Who’s that strange, quiet girl with the dark eyes? They say her name is Raven.) The answers changed as she learned how to fade. Keeping caustic comments to herself, disappearing in the folds of her comfortable blue sweatshirt, shrouding intensely violet eyes under a pulled-up hood. (Who? Oh, that’s just Raven.) Until, finally, no one asked anymore. She became indistinguishable from the colorless walls of the school around them.
So how did he see her, this unseen girl at the back of the lunchroom? Why did this bafflingly loud, joking, tofu-consuming creature decide that he would waste his time on this girl?
Every day for weeks, she wraps her hands tightly around the warm thermos of tea and lets his endless river of words wash over her.
It’s irritating and eye roll-inducing.
It’s the first time in forever that she hasn’t been hollow. She starts to talk again, a little.
His words, his smiles, and his wild hand gestures seem to fill her up to the brim with...she doesn’t know what. He starts walking her home. She doesn’t stop him.
On a Tuesday afternoon, exactly four weeks after he first sat with her - not that she kept track in her small black book, waiting for the day he’d get bored of her - he’s going out of his way to crunch the brown leaves along the sidewalk, still talking. Quietly, she breathes out, watching her breath escape into the cool air.
He laughs at his own joke and cocks his head at her sarcasm. When he leans forward with a grin and vows he’ll make her smile somehow, the whatever-it-is that fills her quivers at the edge and threatens to overflow.
tuesday | ~300 words
“Hi,” he said one day, and sat at her lunch table with his brown paper bag full of tofu. That was it. That was how it started.
People used to whisper things about her. (Who’s that strange, quiet girl with the dark eyes? They say her name is Raven.) The answers changed as she learned how to fade. Keeping caustic comments to herself, disappearing in the folds of her comfortable blue sweatshirt, shrouding intensely violet eyes under a pulled-up hood. (Who? Oh, that’s just Raven.) Until, finally, no one asked anymore. She became indistinguishable from the colorless walls of the school around them.
So how did he see her, this unseen girl at the back of the lunchroom? Why did this bafflingly loud, joking, tofu-consuming creature decide that he would waste his time on this girl?
Every day for weeks, she wraps her hands tightly around the warm thermos of tea and lets his endless river of words wash over her.
It’s irritating and eye roll-inducing.
It’s the first time in forever that she hasn’t been hollow. She starts to talk again, a little.
His words, his smiles, and his wild hand gestures seem to fill her up to the brim with...she doesn’t know what. He starts walking her home. She doesn’t stop him.
On a Tuesday afternoon, exactly four weeks after he first sat with her - not that she kept track in her small black book, waiting for the day he’d get bored of her - he’s going out of his way to crunch the brown leaves along the sidewalk, still talking. Quietly, she breathes out, watching her breath escape into the cool air.
He laughs at his own joke and cocks his head at her sarcasm. When he leans forward with a grin and vows he’ll make her smile somehow, the whatever-it-is that fills her quivers at the edge and threatens to overflow.