A/N: I wrote this when I was feeling dark and dismal at about two in the morning a couple nights ago. I don't think it's half bad, either. It's meant to be lyrical in quality.Here, Beast Boy laments about his feelings for Raven - BB/Rae. I will most likely post a second part to this that will be Raven's response. Dedicated to Diana, who remembered my birthday was today when I forgot, and kept at me to continue writing.

Please, review!

Timeless

I'd love to say that I hate you.

I'd love to say that when I was nice to you, and you were mean in response, that I didn't care. I'd love to say that your cruel remarks bounced off me like rubber, and didn't affect me in the least. That it didn't matter to me.

But that would be a lie. Your disparaging remarks cut me deeper than you'll ever know. After you lashed out at me, I immersed myself in a virtual world, taking my frustration out on video game characters.

I cared about what you said to me.

I still do.

I'd love to say that when I tried to talk to you, and you cut me off or ignored me, that it didn't faze me in the slightest. I'd love to say that I was able to simply shrug it off and take it in stride. I'd love to say that your dismissal of my conversation attempts were your loss, not mine. That it didn't matter to me.

But that wouldn't be true. Your casual brush-off's stung me as if I had been struck with a whip. The fact that you had no interest in talking to me hurt, and left me withdrawn and melancholy.

I cared whether you wanted to talk to me or not.

I still do.

I'd love to say that when I tried to spend time with you, and you avoided me like the plague, that it didn't upset me whatsoever. I'd love to say that I went and relaxed in my room, enjoying my peaceful time alone. I'd love to say that I was perfectly content without you. That it didn't matter to me.

But that would be false. Your emotionless dismissals crushed me time and time again. I locked myself in my room, torn, my emotions raw. I wished that I was with you, that I were spending time with you, that we were enjoying life together.

I cared if you wanted to spend time with me or not.

I still do.

I'd love to say that when I tried to make you smile, your sarcastic retorts didn't change me in the slightest. I'd love to say that your dry responses were futile. I'd love to say that your sharp tongue didn't affect me. I'd love to say that your ever-present scowl didn't faze me. That it didn't matter to me.

But that would be fiction. Your acidic responses felt like a blade cutting into my flesh. Your dry wit left my soul sore, your sharp tongue left my heart tender. Your constant scowl depressed me wherever I went.

I cared for your happiness.

I still do.

I'd love to say that when I paid you compliments and you retaliated with sharp insults, that I didn't bat an eye. I'd love to say that the barbs at my weaknesses didn't earn a reaction. I'd love to say that my ego was fine, that my self-confidence was as high as ever. That it didn't matter to me.

But that would be a fib. Your insults felt like a slap in the face. My ego was bruised, my self-confidence shattered, my courage gone.

I cared about what you thought of me.

I still do.

I'd love to say that when I showed I cared, and you were completely apathetic, that it didn't hurt me at all. I'd love to say that my aplomb was fine, that my poise was perfect, and that my reaction was absent. That it didn't matter to me.

But that would be inaccurate. Your emotional detachment from me struck me hard. My happiness caved in, my sense of humor was killed, and my hope was gone.

I cared if you cared about me.

I still do.

But no matter what I do, you always sneer contemptuously. No matter what I say, you're always cruel in response. No matter what I praise, you always shoot me down. No matter how hard I try, I'm never good enough for you.

I'd love to say that I hate you. I'd love to say that I loathe looking at you. I'd love to say I despise your very presence. I'd love to say that I abhor your existence, and that I wish you'd never been born.

I'd love to say that I hate you.

But I can't; it'd be a lie.

I don't hate you at all, despite everything you've done to me.

Instead, I find that I love you.

I always did.

I still do.

And I always will, too.

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