"This is your room!" Beast Boy exclaims, leading Axel to another metal door.

To explain, the Justice League's junior team work out of a mountain. The shift from shipping containers by the beach to the inside of a mountain is, well, pretty freaking awesome.

It's a little hard not to be star struck as we pass by a room that is entirely walled by glass, where I can see the Black Canary, talking to Blade.

"This is your room!" Cassie, Wondergirl says, pulling Lenore away from myself and Miss Martian to another door embedded in the wall.

"And this is yours," M'gann continues, taking me to the next one. I had expected it to be cold in here and smelling of damp dirt. Instead it's a normal temperature and the air smells like sweet nature and Earth.

Gently, I press the handle of the heavy metal door down and push it open. It swings wide to reveal a dark, rock-walled, spacious room.

"The light is on your left," M'gann says. I reach in and flick it on. It's slightly bigger than my room back in Creeper's Point. There's a bed on the far side, big enough to tightly squeeze two people- ha, a chest of draws, a floating wall shelf and a desk. "Here's your things."

I duck into the room, out of the way of Miss Martian telekinetically levitating my bags and suitcases into the room.

Seeing my stuff in here makes everything all the more real.

Suddenly, the green-skinned girl giggles. That's right, she can hear my thoughts.

"You know, it's nice to finally meet you," she tells me.

I blink, "What do you mean? Were you a fan of the channel or something?"

"I've seen a few videos here and there," she smiles, "but I mostly heard about you from Jaime's thoughts. From the way he absent-mindedly wondered about you, accounted memories of you, you sounded wonderful. I don't usually tell people what others have been thinking but I just thought you should know that."

I stare at her in silence. What am I supposed to respond with? A thank you? A nervous chuckle whilst waving it off? She seems to understand my internal battle and starts laughing again.

"Welcome to the Team," she smiles warmly, leaning over me with a hug. Confused I go along with it, accepting the embrace. "I'll leave you to unpack!"

With that, she leaves me alone in my room. My room. 

My first instinct should be to unpack, put my clothes in my draws and set my laptop up. Or maybe I should be getting out the recording equipment and sending a tweet out to the followers.

But instead, I sit on my bed and pull my phone out. I scroll through my contacts until I see the name I was looking for.

Otou-san. My dad.

I don't know what I'll get, calling him. It could be his secretary, or his new wife, or his daughter. I press the phone to my ear and it rings a couple times.

And some more. 

And some more. 

The voice mail message starts in robotic Japanese and I'm already hanging up, tossing my phone towards the pillow.

Dammit. If tears could fall they would. I'm used to this. He doesn't care, and he never has.

So instead I grab the first suitcase containing clothes and begin unpacking them into the draws. Halfway through the second case there is no room, so I tuck the bags at the base of my bed, in the corner of the room.

Next I grab the case that has non-clothing items in it. My laptop, small TV, PS3, my speakers, a couple of little fandom things, shoes, makeup, accessories. Just things.

Carefully I take out the box containing items in reference to El Paso and hide it under the bed. Then I change the bed linen to that of my galaxy quilt and pillowcases.

Lastly I unpack the heavy-duty hard case that protects the sound equipment. I put it in the corner. There are other rooms; I wonder if Nightwing (or Batman, I suppose) would let us use one as a sound booth? I'll have to ask.

On the wall shelf I place a couple of ceramic antiques and a few photo frames. In one of the photos there is a picture of myself and my friend from Rio Grande High School where I went with Jaime, named Harper.

The more I look at it, the more I fail to recall too many happy memories. There's memories, but I don't feel as if they hold a positive emotion. In fact, they hold nothing at all.

It's almost sickening because I distinctly remember thinking about how much I missed Harper last week. Why do I feel nothing now?

A knock on the metal door draws me out of my stupor.

"Uh, come in," I answer it. I expect M'gann or Nightwing, but I ultimately feel my heart rate pickup when I see Jaime poke his head through the door.

"H-Hey," he says awkwardly, fully pushing the door open. One hand rests against the back of his neck, a nervous habit most boys have. He's wearing jeans and a blue sweater; typical Reyes.

I try to defuse the uneasiness by smiling at him.

"Hi," I respond, placing my photo with Harper on the shelf. I turn towards him and put my arms up, gesturing around. "What do you think? Pretty cool, right?"

It works. His shoulders stop tensing and that pesky hand moves to his jumper pocket. 

"Yeah, you settled in fast," he smiles. It's an expression that has me...elated. 

"Well this place is pretty cool, ya know. My only issue is I'll need a clothing rack because I have jackets that should be hanging, not folded in a draw," I tell him, gesturing to the pile of hangers, jumpers, coats and the like on my bed.

The pile ignites some sort of confused look on his face. I follow that gaze and realise that he is staring at the jacket he gave me a while back. 

Now I'm no, well, ahem, hoe, but I don't mind messing with Jaime just a little. I take long, bouncing steps towards my bed and pick up the soccer jacket. It's a red windbreaker with an 11 and Reyes on the back.

Without taking my eyes off of Jaime, who watches silently, I slip it on over my shirt and denim overalls. Then I purposely turn around so that he can see his own last name stated clearly across my back. 

That's a thing, right? Possessive people like seeing their names on others or things?

Not that Jaime is possessive, but it may still mean something.

When I turn back to him, there is a slight blush on his cheeks and he seems stark frozen. I guess it is going to take a while to get back into that languid swing of things.

Suddenly he seems to snap out of it. He frowns at the floor and mutters something along the lines of 'Shut up, that's normal'.

I'm startled for a split second before I remember that he's talking to the thing on his spine.

"You alright?" I grin. He laughs nervously, running his hands through his hair. It is the cutest thing and always has been.

Man, I'm falling fast.

"Yeah, even with you trying to kill me," he responds.

I scoff, "Me? I'm not doing anything." Innocently I walk towards him and I can see he's battling on whether or not to back up. "Am I?" I ask, leaning into him that our noses nearly touch.

Despite his blush he somehow stays with it, glancing to the top of my head before looking back down at me.

"Did you grow?" He frowns.

The words tumble around my brain for a couple of seconds, before I start to laugh softly. Out of every sultry remark or stupid joke he could have made, he asks that.

"Maybe," I tease, "Maybe I did you and you stopped."

He raises his eyebrows, "You really think you're going to be taller than me?"

"Hey, I've got some good milage for a half Japanese half Mexican girl," I argue playfully. This brings a cute grin to his face as he looks to the side apprehensively.

"You have," he murmurs, smile shrinking to this cute, soft little twinkle. It makes my heart beat even faster. If he keeps being this cute my heart may literally spring from my chest. 

It emphasises how much I've missed it- missed him. 

When his head finally turns back to me I close the distance between us without thinking about it. After all this time the familiar feeling of those lips on mine is there like yesterday.

I can't see his reaction, I expect shock because just the other day I couldn't even speak to him. Yet when I receive a response and his hands move to grab my waist underneath my/his jacket it all makes sense.

Of course he was going to respond.

I draw back, just to breathe. Curse my lungs.

My vision is blurry. He's already staring at me, big brown eyes piercing and making my head spin. Is this right? Is this really the time?

As he presses his forehead against mine, he whispers it, shutting his eyes, "I'm sorry."

I understand. It is our deal. For me to forgive him he has to apologise everyday until it's enough.

"I know," I respond. My hands glide up his jumper-clad arms, before my fingers clutch at the jacket on me, deftly gripping it and pushing it off of my shoulders and arms. "I know." 

His grip tightens, "Your heartbeat-"

"It's you," I tease, smile tugging at my lips.

 The two of us move in again. I finally settle one hand at the back of his neck, the other resting on his chest. There are all sorts of tingles over my skin that ease my worries about how I would handle this, now that I am a Metal Adolescent. 

It's just the same, however. He's like a flame and I'm the moth. Jaime radiates this complete and utter warmth that I can so easily get addicted to.

Before I know it I'm slowly taking steps backwards, towards the bed, leading him there as our long-awaited kiss reaches new depths.

The backs of my knees hit the bed and I slowly pull him down into the galaxy material with me.

He's mine and he will always be mine. He'll always be here to make my heart beat.

*You can choose how far that goes yourself