Dick’s seated, gaze blank as he stares at – nothing, actually. He hasn’t exactly been paying attention to anything for at least the past hour, sat slumped with his arms tuckedaround his torso. “I told you I’ll be fine.” He says, tone stern. But the matter of fact is, he won’tbe. Not if he doesn’t talk about it. Canary’s therapy session? Helped. But of course it wasn’t going to repair everything. No, not after everything they’d went through. The scars weren’t shown on their bodies like with some other traumas. They couldn’t wrap it up and forget about it a few weeks later.
He’s quiet. So what was he supposed to do, then? The only people to turn to had to be those who’d experienced it with him. Who better to confide in then his best friend, who’d ‘died’ by his side? His tense demeanor slowly fades, Dick’s expression softening out as he exhales. “ … No, you know what? Okay. I’ll talk.”
Wally snorted, turning his face to look up at the ceiling. He should’ve been comfortable, laying on his back, but he was tense and agitated and it made him an ass. More of an ass than usual. “I think that’s bullshit, and you should know that won’t work on me.” But maybe he didn’t. Wally hasn’t been the same, as hard as he tried to pretend otherwise. He was out of it, maybe Dick didn’t think he’d notice? How awful.
Wally’s brows raised in surprise. He expected more of a fight, but Dick... agreed to talk. Well, Wally was the only one to resist talking so much, he shouldn’t be surprised. He grimaced at the condition set, forcing himself not to make a flippant remark or flat out run. “Are you kidding me?” He sighed, closing his eyes.
Maybe he should talk. He couldn’t keep going like this, he couldn’t focus or sleep. He didn’t want to eat. He didn’t want to do anything. He couldn’t hide it anymore, so something had to change. As much as he loathed the thought of spilling what bothered him... this was his best friend. If he couldn’t talk to him...?
“Fine. I’ll talk.” He folded his hands over his stomach, eyes firmly shut. “I know I should be bothered that we died. A-and I am, but. It’s not the worst way to go. I’m not upset with it. I mean, I’m upset you died too, I wish it’d just been me. I was upset over Arty’s death. We all were, but. I don’t know. I didn’t think any of us could really die. I mean- I did, I did, in that fucking pool, never gonna be over that, but.” He groaned. “This is a mess- this is why I don’t talk about my feelings, but whatever.”
He sat up, chest heaving once, twice, then he steadied it. “Kaldur pushed me out of the way.” His brow furrowed. “Then he died. I saw it. It should’ve been me. He would’ve died later, but... I-I don’t understand. He’s our leader, sure, but he didn’t have to do that. Why did he do that?” He pushed his face into his hands. “Barry and Iris died too. I know I knew it was a simulation when they did, but it still hurts. Everything hurts. I’m so tired, I just want everything to stop. I want us all to be okay, I want to help, but I can’t think straight and I think dying would’ve been better than this.”
He swallowed. “I don’t know what else I want to say. Your turn.”
