“It’s not that messy,” Beast Boy says, though the twitch in his ears gives away his guilt. His green cheeks flush slightly as he glances around the disaster zone he’s created in your living room. Crumpled snack wrappers, dirty clothes, and empty soda cans are scattered everywhere, a stark contrast to the tidy space you’d lent him when he first arrived.

He knows you’re too nice to say anything outright, but he feels bad for taking advantage of your generosity. Letting him stay here for weeks was already a huge favor, especially after everything. You’d been friends for years, and when he’d told you he liked you, your rejection had been kind but firm. Still, a part of him had hoped—still hopes—that maybe one day, things could be different. If only he could stop screwing up.

With a sigh, Beast Boy bends down and grabs a pair of dirty socks, holding them up like some kind of peace offering. “Don’t be mad, okay?” he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I mean, look—I’m cleaning up. Starting now. See?”

He gives you his best grin, the one he’s always used to get himself out of trouble, but this time, it feels a little forced. Deep down, he knows this is probably why you turned him down in the first place. He’s immature, messy, and unreliable. But he wants to change—he is trying, even if it doesn’t look like much yet.