“I just want to be alone right now, please get out”
There was a long moment of quiet followed by a sad sigh. The floorboards creaking as Bruce walked out.
Regret burned in his gut. Please don’t leave me alone.
Dick waited with bated breath for the click of the closing door. A signal that he could let out the brewing sob.
But it never came. Bruce’s sturdy presence could be felt through the cracked door. Refusing to give up and let him grieve alone.
“I know you’re still out there,” the bravado Dick tried projecting was cancelled out by nasally sniffles.
“It’s just- you shouldn’t have to deal with me. My anger and hurt, I know it’s not healthy, but. . . But it’s all I have left of them.”
The admission hung in the air. A vulnerable, unifying truth.
“I won’t tell you to let those feelings go, lord knows I still haven’t.”
A quiet voice wafted in. Full of sincerity.
Dick was fully crying now, curled up in a Superman blanket and hugging his pillow.
There was a sharp inhale from outside the door. Was Bruce. . . crying too?
There was some more creaking floors as Bruce stood up and hovered in the doorway. Not hiding his tears.
“But sharing it can make it easier to carry”
Silence. Not inviting, but not pushing away. A start.
Tentatively, Bruce sat on the edge of the bed. Testing the waters.
Slipping off his shoes, Bruce sat on the bed fully. His broad shoulder nearly touching Dick’s smaller one.
There was no pressure, no prying. A patient understanding.
And just like that, a wall collapsed..
Dick closed the gap, burying his head in Bruce’s chest as he began to sob.
“Oh Chum, I’ll always be here for you. You’re not alone.”
He hugged the small sobbing frame. A warm embrace of shared pain and love for the child who allowed him the privilege of letting him into his life.
— — - — — - — — - — — - — —
Nightwing was still, listening intently from where he was perched outside the open window.
He couldn’t get into a position to view the people inside without giving himself away.
Though he had no need to. Hearing was enough.
There was gentle and deep tone, an older voice . There was small, young voice. Someone who’d seen too much.
Another soul forced to grow up too soon.
His stomach churned at the familiarity.
He told himself it was disgust, anger at Bruce.
Deep down he knew that wasn’t true.
“You should have just let me be, I was doing fine on my own-“
Defensive and fiercely independent. The sound of angry tears hiding deep gratitude and desperation.
There was a rustling, a shifting of position as Bruce sat next to the new kid.
So that’s my replacements name.
“You amaze me, you are so brave and capable.”
A tissue box being opened and handed to the child, Jason.
“I know you’re hurting Jaylad. . .but sharing it can make it easier to carry”
Dick’s heart stuttered, nearly falling off the ledge he was perched on.
He did not just say that.
Those words, full of love and sincerity. Spoken to him. That brought comfort to him. By a father that belonged to him.
Stealth be damned, Nightwing risked a glance through the window.
Bruce was hugging the child. The blue-eyed, black-haired child that looked too much like him for comfort.
Their estrangement had been taking a toll on Bruce. In passing moments when he’d spotted him the man had looked tired, older.
But in that moment, he looked. . . Content. Saddened at whatever tragedy this child had endured, but more whole.
A fire burned within him.
Hurt morphing into the ugly creature that was jealousy.
Fantasies of their reconciliation fixing everything, of having Bruce hug him like that again-
Somebody, that kid, had taken that from him.
It was a shameful ugly feeling. It wasn’t Jason’s fault, not really.
But the burning put inside him didn’t care for logic.
— — - — — - — — - — — - — —
“Hey Dad I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. . .?”
The kitchen and living room were empty. The sound of Bruce’s voice vaguely reached Dick’s ears from wherever he was upstairs.
It stopped him dead in his tracks. Nearly dropping the bag of Chinese takeout he was going to surprise him with.
That tone, gentle and sincere, was very familiar to him.
He couldn’t quite make out the words, but their soft cadence could be heard despite the painful sobs coming from the same room.
Without making a sound, he crept to the door. A childhood of practice at avoiding the manor’s creaky floorboards coming in handy.
“Oh god. I- I still can’t believe it, I-”
Dick had heard Tim cry before. But this was different. Something had changed, something terrible had happened.
His heart ached for Tim. He had an idea of what kind of tragedy may had befallen.
The kind of loss that killed the child you used to be.
The kind of loss that brought you into Bruce’s arms.
The kind of loss that brought out that gentle, kind tone. A patient understanding and a needed reminder that you weren’t alone.
A familiar fire flickered to life inside Dick, despite his best efforts.
“It hurts so much- oh god oh god”
The sounds of movements and a knowing embrace.
“I can’t take your pain away Tim…”
A voice crack. Bruce was crying now too.
“But sharing it can make it easier to carry”
Those words. Those goddamned words.
Jealousy burned in his gut. Angry at the words that were once special to him. Angry at yet another hurt child taking his place.
Angry at himself for feeling this way.
[Got some jealous Dick here for ya @ilovemybruciewayne >:) - but make it angst because I’m evil lol]
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