Ficlet: felled :: Jason/Bruce | ~200 | Angst
Cliched bullshit for impalafortrenchcoats. :)
“I killed him,” Jason says, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. He gestures at the headstone with it. “I know you-- you wouldn’t approve.” He ignores the way his hand trembles ever-so-slightly and smokes quietly for a moment, staring at the lettering. Bruce Wayne.
Ashes fall on the fresh earth. “Again?” he asks in a rushed breath, out of the blue. “I don’t know if you can come back from this. After... After everything. We’ve already been through this, Bruce.”
He blows out a thick stream of smoke and drops the remaining half of his cigarette to the ground and crushes it beneath his boot. “You weren’t supposed to leave. You’re...you.”
There’s no response. He keeps waiting for that gruff voice to tell him he’s disappointed, to scold him for being so disrespectful.
He expects someone to try and turn him in for murder.
“Damn it, B.” His voice breaks. “I came back.”
Jason thinks of the one time he’d kissed him--just to see what Bruce would do, he’d told himself. There had been the briefest little flicker of shock before Bruce had hidden behind that unfeeling mask again.
He’d always thought he’d get to do that again, that for some reason--hope, maybe--Bruce would kiss him back.
“You’re supposed to come back.”