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The morning after it all is remarkably quiet. Not entirely unusual for the team but by the time it reaches the afternoon and their leader still hasn’t made an appearance - the silence is more deafening than peaceful.
The last few weeks had been a-lot, so it was no real surprise when the day immediately following their win against Slade, and a hearty breakfast celebration, had been spent recuperating in each-other’s presence. Cyborg himself preferred to simply play video games and scoff junk food with Beast Boy - Starfire had attempted to pickup another ‘human hobby’ in the form of scrapbooking beside a meditating Raven, all while Robin wrote an exceedingly detailed report of recent events a few feet away under the semblance of wanting the entire ordeal over with.
It’d been nice really, some well needed time amongst each-other that didn’t have an immediate threat lurking around the corner. Cyborg hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it until it was back. Until he was back.
All in all, they’d eventually trailed off to bed in the late hours of the evening not long after convincing each-other it was okay to take a day or two more of rest if nothing major came up. Jump city wasn’t entirely helpless.
Uncharacteristically, Robin had even ended up heading off to bed at what he thought was extremely early and Cyborg considered perfectly normal.
“Friend Cyborg? Are you alright? You look troubled” He startles immediately, repositioning his gaze from the kitchen’s dirtied countertops to meet Starfire’s eyes. She looks up at him with a small frown, eyebrows pulled together anxiously. The older teen blinks the previous thoughts away, shuffling awkwardly from his position leaning against the cabinets beside her to fold his hands over his chest; choosing not to focus on whatever it is she’s currently cooking in the base of their frying pan. The smell of charcoal really doesn’t help the creeping feeling crawling through his stomach.
“I’m cool Star, no worries” He does his best to make it sound organic and not like a trained response. He fails.
“Hm” She hums feebly, drawing her view down to the pan before her. The hood of her jumper is up, zipped to cover her mid-thigh length dress and forcing her silky red hair to cascade over her left shoulder. It’s the one Robin bought for her during their first few weeks at the tower, under the excuse of her ‘not even having money’ of course.
“You’re worried about Rob too, huh?” Cyborg predicts with a purposefully soft tone, meddling could wait for another day. The tameranian seems shocked at his revelation for a moment, slight tint of warmth passing over her cheeks before she sighs wistfully. Her chin drops to her collar bones, two hands coming up to brush through her hair repeatedly. His heart aches at seeing her so unusually solemn.
“It is strange for friend Robin to sleep for this long yes? He usually rises much before me”
“I didn’t wanna say anything but I noticed that too- I mean he even actually went to bed, like, before three AM. That’s just freaky.” Beast Boy chirps out from his place across the room, legs slung over the back of the couch where he’s slumped upside down and staring mindlessly into the TV; dressed lazily in some worn sweatpants and a few layered shirts. Even from here, he can see Raven - sat opposite the shorter boy - rolling her eyes dramatically at the comment. Surprisingly, he’s pretty sure she too is wearing something more casual - though her cloak mostly covers it.
Cyborg sometimes feels a little twinge of jealousy when they dress down. He doesn’t really need clothes anymore, but he usually makes an effort to tag along a simple zip-up hoodie. It makes him feel a tad more human…he probably shouldn’t think like that.
“I shall go check on him” Starfire decides abruptly, placing a hand over her heart as she floats a few inches from the ground. He catches her arm before she can get very far.
“Woah-woah Star, I wouldn’t go searching if I were you. Rob is the kinda guy who likes being alone when he’s being all…y’know- Robiny” He winces at the lack of better words. She scans his face momentarily, sighing before muttering an apology he doesn’t quite catch; grabbing a spoon from the counter to continue prodding at the food.
“Hey” A softened voice speaks softly, cracking with wear and volume barely above that of a mumble. Like clockwork, they all snap their heads over to the door; BB even shifting up from his position on the couch to see him.
The sight they’re met with is unfamiliar. Robin, stood awkwardly against the doorway; head lolling against the frame as he cradles the side of his chest with one hand and pockets the other. He looks, frankly, exhausted. Even from behind the mask his eye bags stick out starkly on his paled face and his hair is anomalistically out of place. Strewn over his head messily and bearing a noticeable side parting as bangs cover the left side of his forehead. It’s also partially wet, a small indicator he’d already partaken in his morning shower. He’s a creature of habit in that way.
The way he’s dressed doesn’t help; decked in considerably oversized baby-blue pyjama pants that wrinkle at the base of his foot and a visibly worn blueish-grey band hoodie he doesn’t recognise. The little of the eccentrically colourful Superman socks he can see is nothing short of perfect teasing material.
It’s not often the vigilante lets them see him in casual clothes, let alone PJ’s. Robin had been probably the most reluctant to begin wearing leisurewear around the tower for ‘no reason’ - second only to Raven - but he’d reluctantly trailed along after the others in the end. Cyborg’s always been torn between assuming it was an ego thing and knowing it was a paranoia thing.
Despite it all, he’s still wearing a domino mask, plastered over his face as if holding the final shred of his hardened persona.
The teen blinks tiredly at the group, bringing a hand up to slowly rub the final remainder of sleep from his eyes before dropping it to thumb the hem of his shirt in small circles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep in…Is everything okay?” He hesitates, tone shifting with worry at the end.
“Yeah, man” Cyborg starts, swallowing down any uncertainty. “Don’t worry about it, you looked pretty tired after-“ Robin’s mouth twitches downwards. “…yesterday”
“Mm” He hums softly, the sole indication he was even present in the moment beyond the slight rise and fall of his chest now his mouth had fallen back into a line.
“Robin!” Starfire’s voice cuts in cheerfully, body floating over to stand brightly at the smaller teen’s side. She holds a ceramic plate in her palms, displaying a charred mush of what he finally assumes to be her attempt at pancakes. To her credit, they don’t look horrendous so much as horrendously burnt. ”may I interest you in some late breakfast? I believe I am getting the hang of your earth morning delicacies!”
Robin doesn’t reply, just nodding his head meekly with a bare smile. Cyborg chooses not to comment of the fact it’s well past lunch at this point. Small victories.
The tameranian girl beams at him enthusiastically, suddenly taking a strong grip on his forearm as she drags him towards the booth seats that line the left side of the room from the door. She doesn’t catch the aggressive flinch he gives, curling in on himself for a moment before following after her - Cyborg does though, and by the look he shares with Raven across the room, he’s sure she does too.
The pair slot in next to each-other, Robin hunched over the table and Starfire sitting a tad too close than strictly necessary. He can’t fully stifle a short chuckle as the two share a plate. It’s become a bit of a bet between himself and Raven for how long the two of them will hold out before finally catching onto their obvious feelings for one-another. Personally, he thinks it borderline impossible they remain clueless for any longer than another month. Raven thinks it’ll take them years.
Eventually BB kicks himself up from the couch, trailing along to meet the team in the back end of the room; immediately B-lining for the bottom cabinet he keeps his favourite chips in. Raven follows a few feet behind, slotting in beside Cyborg by the kitchen counters and staying remarkably silent. Her stare pins to Robin with a hesitant expression. It’s about as close as she typically comes to looking worried.
The next ten or so minutes pass normally enough, save only for the way their leader still has a hand clutched around his side. He doesn’t get a chance to bring it up before a quiet voice rings out.
“Cyborg?” Robin turns to him, fork slack against the plate in his hand. His half of the plate is barely touched.
“Yeah man?”
“Would you-um, help me look at my rib in a minute please?” His faces tinges pink with embarrassment as he speaks. Robin was a lot of things but someone who actively asked for medical assistance was not one of them. The older teen can still remember the time he offered to take a look at the other’s banged up leg during their first week as a real team - to which he’d glared him down and yelled at him about taking him ‘seriously’ and not ‘coddling’ him. It’s almost definitely worse than he’s letting on if he’s bringing it up. “I-I’ve been keeping an eye on it but I just wanna double check it’s nothing too serious. It’s fine if-“
“Of course dude. Anything you need” Cyborg speaks cautiously, softly. If it were any other day he’s sure Robin would’ve gotten annoyed with him for being condescending. His fingers uncomfortably clench into his elbows when the shorter boy simply nods meekly.
“Thanks” He slowly brings himself to his feet, taking a few steps away from the table before speaking again. “…I’ll go wait in the medical bay” He says it like it’s a question, visibly tensed as if waiting for a refusal - feet planted firmly to the ground as he awkwardly huddles by the door.
Cyborg offers an awkward thumbs up in response, and that seems to be enough for him. He leaves quietly.
“Well that was wierd” Beast boy abruptly cuts through the silence, tone flat as he continues to stare at the doorway their leader had just vacated. Raven glances back down at the floor, still as silent as before.
“I do not understand” Starfire starts uncertainly, bringing a hand up to cradle in-front of her chin; pancakes forgotten. “why is Robin still so…so-“
“I think he’s just finally crashed” Cyborg sighs to himself.
“Crashed? Is he injured?” Worry bleeds through her voice, face contorting in alarm.
“No, no. I just mean-well, between all the Slade plotting to getting” He pauses. “…blackmailed into working for him- it’s been a rough couple of weeks. It might take a minute for him to get back into the swing of things”
“Oh, but what if he never-“
“C’mon Star!” Beast Boy cry’s out, laughing awkwardly to himself. “It’s Robin, he’ll be alright…right?” His voice trails off towards the end, looking up at Cyborg unsteadily.
“Of course he will.” Raven cuts in calmly, voice twitching with the slight concern that peeks through the cracks of her exterior.
“…I’ll go help him out” Cyborg grimaces.
—————————
“Hey Rob, you gave the others a bit of a scare up there y’know” He drops into the doorway of the room, pushing the latch to a close. Robin’s sat leaning over the side of the bed in the centre of the room. His sweater is abandoned beside him, displaying his bare chest wrapped tightly with stained bandages and bruising scattered generously along his skin. Most of the blood looks old, smaller cuts from passing injuries plastered in one way or another. He’d done a decently good job of patching himself up alone but he’d definitely need to be re-bandagedsoon. Cyborg silently wonders how often he’s done it alone before.
“I did?” He looks up, brows furrowing. “Are they okay?”
“They’re worried about you Rob” The older chides tenderly, pacing the room to drop down on the rolling chair beside the bed, It’s decidedly much too small for him.
Really, they didn’t need to be in the medical bay to do this. Hell, Robin usually disappears into his own room to patch up most of the time - he’d done it literally yesterday. It’s easy to assume he just didn’t want the other titans to see him like this. It’s a little touching he trusted him the most to look him over. “To be honest, so am I”
“Well don’t be. I’m fine” Robin argues sharply, tone flat as he bunches his fists in the duvet of the mattress below him.
“You don’t have to be tough all the time y’know”
Robin doesn’t respond.
The taller can’t withhold a sigh, inching forward as he reaches both hands up to gently cradle around the younger teens ribs. His hands practically dwarf the other boy in size and he nearly frowns at how stark his ribs are in his chest. The vigilante hadn’t really been eating very well before he was taken from them, stress presumably, he hopes that little habit didn’t take over too much when he was in Slade’s grasp.
Cursing the thought, he traces his right thumb over Robin’s lowest rib, working along the bone before slowly before ferreting upwards. The boy’s chest twitches up suddenly, body contorting away from him in a flinch that couldn’t even be attempted to describe as ‘light’. He trails his hands away, looking up at him a quivering smile.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”
“No. No I-i might be stubborn but I’m not stupid. I’ve got a bit of a concussion, honestly. I don’t want that to cloud my judgement and end up leaving the bone crooked or whatever”
He nods, repositioning his metallic fingers over Robin and keeping his touch as feathered as possible while still getting the information he needs. Cyborg ultimately chooses not to do a respiratory test, the slightly stuttered rise and fall of his chest speaks loud enough. Plus, he really didn’t want to intrude further than absolutely necessary and risk scaring the smaller teen off.
“Well, they don’t seem broken so much as badly fractured”
Robin all but melts in relief, sighing audibly and letting his head loll backwards. “Just take it easy for a few weeks and keep icing it, it’ll heal over”
“I know how to handle it” He says it like it’s obvious, gaze hardening for a split second. Oh there’s definitely a story behind that.
His scowl comes off as more as a pout, slim shoulders hiked up and feet tiptoed to reach the ground. Looking at Robin now, Cyborg can’t help but think he looks sickeningly young.
They’re all young, really.
For some reason it’s just felt more obvious recently.
Between all the battles and petty arguments amongst each-other, it’s easy to forget none of them have even had eighteen birthday cakes in their life…. Or whatever the tameranian and demon equivalent of funfetti may be.
BB still hasn’t hit his major growth spurt yet, Rae still gets the others to order for her when they go out, Star still barely has a full hold on her powers between the mood swings, Cyborg still gets way too competitive when they play video games and Rob still asks for help from his taller teammates when reaching into the highest cupboards of the tower.
He’s only blown out fifteen sets of candles in his life. It’s kind of easy to forget that sometimes.
“Y’know I still don’t understand.” He finds himself saying instead; Robin tilting his head at him in question. “Why was Slade so obsessed with you. I mean, he could’ve targeted anyone on the team… off the team, why you?”
“I don’t know.” His stare drops, eyes burrowing towards the tiled floor. “He said we were alike a-lot. He wasn’t wrong” His voice shakes.
“That’s ridiculous” Cyborg can’t stop himself from blurting out, muttering quietly at the vigilantes small hum of acknowledgement.
“He said a lot of things. Saw himself in me, I guess” He drones on robotically, expression hollow. “He didn’t want an apprentice so much as an obedient son who did whatever he wanted with a nod and a ‘yes master’” He spits the final part like it poisons his tongue. Cyborg hopes it’s a bad joke.
“What a creep” Instantly, his mouth draws into a line, face paling as he hesitantly glance up to see the other’s reaction. To his surprise, Robin gains a warm smile; barking a laugh at the unexpected comment - which he counts that as another win.
“Mind if I help you out with-“ He loosely waves across his entire torso. “-this whole situation?” The vigilante chuckles at the comment, glancing down at himself to give an anxious nod.
With that, Cyborg lets himself roll his sleeves up, taking them up to the base of his forearm as he swivels backwards on the chair to raid the nearing cabinet filled with various first aid supplies. He grabs one of the small sleek red boxes tucked away in the corner, popping the lid open as he reproaches his friend. The previous bandages peel from his skin with varied restraint, one by one separating themselves from his body with either considerable ease or the strained pull of dried blood gluing them to his frame. Cyborg finds it surprisingly easy to keep his face neutral, blood on its own didn’t really phase him anymore. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.
None of the wounds are particularly life threatening, most just showing in the form of sickening colourful bruises and awkwardly positioned scrapes across his skin. He doesn’t show any explicit signs of torture, which admittedly, he’d been terrified over the prospect of. If anything, it looks like he’s been beaten into the ground forty times over. Honestly, there’s a chance he was. He almost considers asking Robin about the injuries that surely lie beneath his pyjama pants, but ultimately thinks better of it.
There’s also the matter of trying to distinguish which scars were new or not. The slim trails of white marks that litter his skin in varying degrees of severity could be from anything really. Anyone. Robin was gone for too long - and he didn’t exactly make a habit walking around shirtless before - it’s practically impossible to distinguish them. Not that he’d find out if he asked.
It’s easy enough to apply sundry creams, gauze and bandages across his injuries, Cyborg attempts to keep his touches pliable but Robin cringes away several times over the process anyway- usually followed up with small apologies. He doesn’t bother making a big deal of it this time. They nearly finish before Robin frowns again.
“I got-“ He starts before cutting himself off, swallowing uncomfortably. “I got a missed call from… from Batman, while I was away” He says it like he’s not supposed to, strained and almost a whisper as he tucks his chin into his chest. Cyborg nearly pales at the full name drop. Hands freezing midair from where he’s currently wrapping a starkly white bandage with gauze over a particular burn in the underbelly of his forearm. It’s a weird cluster of small unhealed burns at various stages, located below the gloves he’d once wore bearing a blaster towards the titans.
It’s pretty well known Robin has a considerable connection to the Gotham vigilante, or used to anyway. He doesn’t exactly make a habit of talking about it though, and has previously shut down any and all conversations over the manner abruptly and uncaringly. No one knows for sure what happened to tear apart the so called ‘dynamic duo’ but considering how cagey Robin is over the topic, it probably wasn’t pretty.
“Oh” Is all he can find to say.
“I should probably call him back. It’s not-“ He stammers, staring down scornfully at his free palm as he waves it around to talk. “it’s not like him to- he doesn’t usually- we-“
“Robin?” He tries, gently, as if approaching a feral stray. The boy in questions shrinks a little, hands finding place beside him as he tightly grips the mattress; face dropping to stare into the carpet. Cyborg cuts the bandage free, tucking the excess into itself.
“He doesn’t usually call first. We’re not exactly talking right now and I guess I just- i didn’t expect him to reach out first.” His lip quivers. “I mean I -wanted him to. I think. I guess it’s just been so long I didn’t expect him to. Ugh- I don’t know!” The final part comes out as a weak yell, cracking like porcelain as he trails off. He keels over to rest his elbows on his knees, hands ripping upwards to settle in his hair - pushing locks of black off his forehead in a way that might resemble his regular hairstyle from afar.
“I get it” He tries, anxiety running through the wiring of his palms. Cyborg always kind of knew their leader would crack from something somewhen, he just didn’t think he’d ever see it.
“You really don’t” Robin deadpans, head twisting up to look up at him though his hair as his hands slide down the side of his face - coming to rest beneath his chin to support his hunched position.
“I think I’ve got an idea” The taller takes the opportunity to lean back on the small chair, crossing his hands over his chest and swinging the base of his heel up to rest over the metal of his lower thigh. “For one, I don’t know the big guy but if he’s half as stubborn as you, I’d bet you’re both tryna’ ignore the fact you miss eachother after your big fight.”
“How’d you know-“ Robin startles, momentarily recoiling as his mask’s lenses go wide.
“It’s kind of obvious, Rob”
He frowns but makes no movement to object. Cyborg continues, “So now you’re both playing the long game to see if the other gives in first. You don’t wanna be the one to fold and you didn’t think he did either, and now he has…you feel guilty” He smiles, eyebrows pulling together hesitantly. “How’d I do?”
“Something like that” He simpers, head craning to rest heavier on his right hand. “I shouldn’t miss him this much should I?”
“…There ain’t exactly a handbook Rob” He decides on after a moment of consideration. To be honest, he had no idea what Batman’s relationship was to Robin. He’d been on the scene since he was eight, apparently, so it was easy to assume they might be related… but Robin had scrunched his nose uncomfortably at the topic the first few days in Titan’s tower before they all learned to bite their tongue on the matter, so maybe not. Really, it was remarkable BB managed to keep his head after the fifth ‘so, wait, is Batman your dad or uncle?’.
“Can I ask you something abou-“
Instantly, Robin’s face hardens; voice taught.
“No.”
Worth a shot.
“Got it” He snickers apologetically before letting his voice turn sincere. “But, Robin?”
“Yeah?” He asks uncomfortably, reaching over to grab his abandoned hoodie and slipping it over his head. Cyborg leans over to help him pull it down his waist when it threatens to roll over a particularly gory bandaged wound.
“You do know you can talk to us right? The same way we talk to you” His head shifts sideways, keeping eye contact. “don’t be afraid to reach out man”
“Okay” He blinks dumbly, body slack.
“I mean no offence but you didn’t and then you kind went all stir-crazy over-“
“I said okay” He growls, slumping dramatically as Cyborg brings himself to a stand; kicking the chair back into the corner of the room.
“C’mon, let’s catch up with the others” The hero turns slowly, strolling the length of the room before he meets the door. He flips the switch off and shadows fill the room, enveloping his friend still inside.
“I probably could’ve done this without your help” Robin blurts out, voice run with shame. Cyborg swivels back around, catching the sight of Robin pulling himself off the bed; hands stuffed tightly into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms.
“I know.” What’s really wrong? Why are you so stubborn? Why won’t you let us help you?
Why now? Why me? “Why did you ask?”
“I don’t think I should be alone right now” He mutters quietly, head turned to the side.
Don’t press. Don’t press. Don’t press. Don-
“Whatever you want dude”
Robin meets him by the door, he steps back to let him shuffle his way out; closing it with a resounding click. “We aren’t mad at you, Y’know. We missed you”
“Thanks I-… I missed you guys too” His mask wrinkles at the corners, voice slowing. “A-lot”
They fall into a comfortable silence after that, steps echoing down the tower’s halls as they make their way to the elevator. He picks the top floor.
“I know it ain’t my place to say but… I’d really recommend you call the big guy back”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay” The vigilante smiles, anxious. “Tomorrow though” He hurries to say afterwards.
“Course” Cyborg chides sarcastically, rolling his eyes with an area of fondness.