Chapter Text
Dick took his razor from the sink and sat on the top of the toilet lid, He took off the bandages wincing at the gruesome sight of crimson colored cuts that littered all over his arms.
Too bad he was going to cut over them He took the razor in his hand and stared at it. His eyes lingered at the small gleam of its surface and rested it on his bloody arm.
He pressed it harder on his arm and started striking the layers of skin with it.
A feeling of relief washing over him from the feeling. ‘So this is my life now huh?…cutting through my skin until I get some sense of control..’ Dick thought to himself because this is his worth no more or le- no.. definitely less.
Dick deserves worse. He had failed everyone
He failed his brothers..especially Jason.
He failed Wally.. his best friend, his platonic soulmate, his partner
He failed his own parents..they’re probably up there in heaven looking down at him in shame and embarrassment from the failure they birthed.
He failed Kori..she’ll never forgive him…he should’ve known it was mirage, Dick is a detective, after all.
And most importantly, he’d failed Bruce. Bruce may act nice but that kindness was renewed only after he brought Jason to the manor after Bruce kicked Dick out and fired him Bruce had started being nice..
maybe it’s because Dick didn’t deserve kindness.
He always argued with Bruce.
Sure, Bruce kicked him out because he thought it would do him good. Sure, Bruce gave the name Robin that Dick got from his dead mom and presented colors from the circus he lived in with his parents to another kid. Sure, Bruce almost beat him to death so he could go to Spyral and fake his death, which would in turn make his family and friends refuse to speak to him for a while, meanwhile his tongue burned everytime he tried to because he couldn’t tell them it was Bruce’s fault.
But he still loved him, Bruce was still his father after all. Even if he never signed any adoption papers for no reason.
Bruce raised him when he himself was still young, in his early twenties and hadn’t a clue about being a parent. After all, his parents died when he was still a kid, which was something he can relate to.
“I shouldn’t be dwelling on this.” Dick muttered quietly to himself as he re-wrapped his arm and got up from the toilet lid with a grunt before hopping in his bed.
sleep will cure him.
The next morning
Dick woke up to the sound of doors opening and closing. -his batlike instincts cause him to stir with every sound-
He went to his closet—filled with spare clothes he left there in case he needs to crash at the manor—and picked out some black sweats, a t-shirt, and a zip up jacket to cover the leathery monstrosity that is his arm.
He got sluggishly shrugged on his clothes, splashed his face with cold water, and roughly brushed his long hair.
(This is the long hair okay?)
Alfred usually finishes making breakfast by 8:30, since most of the family members are still in school, which meant the rest of them have to suffer through the early morning.
As Dick went down the stairs he spotted Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie , Damian, and Jason lounging in the living room. Tim was on his computer, either working on a case or doing homework except everyone knew he was doing the latter, Cassandra was reading a book on the kindle Bruce got her for her birthday, Steph was on her phone texting someone, Damian was drawing on his sketchbook and Jason’s eyes were glued on a paper-back book which was unsurprising.
“Morning,” Dick chirped.
“morning,” they all answered back monotonously.
“Where’s Duke?” Dick asked, yet as always, everyone was all too glad to leave him unanswered until Duke came down the stairs, promptly answering his question.
“Morning,” Duke said while the rest answered in the same monotone voices.
“Missed your alarm?” Dick asked, trying to entice a conversation.
“Yea..” Duke answered absently and sat down to open his phone. Wow..even Duke was ignoring him. What had Dick even done to make them that mad?
He could feel another panic attack coming his way. ‘No, not right now’ Dick took in a lungful of air as he sat down on the couch next to Jason, took out his phone from his pocket and began checking his social media.
Later, Bruce comes down the stairs in a smart suit and tie paired with expensive dress shoes. “Morning,” he greeted gruffly, his voice at odds with the early hour.
“Good morning,” Dick replied while the rest hummed.
Tim shot up from his seat and showed Bruce his laptop.
“Bruce, I’ve found the latest sighting of Penguin, we just need t-”
Tim was cut off as Bruce said:
“Not now, Tim. We’ll talk about this later tonight. Dick, a word?” Bruce said while offering Dick a soft expression.
“OoOoOo someone’s in trooubleee.” Stephanie drawled while the rest snickered.
“Shut up, Steph.” Dick said, looking down to hide his smirk.
Dick walks behind Bruce into one of the many hallways of the manor.
“Are you…alright?” Bruce said, worry colouring his voice and sinking into his expression.
“Yea, why?” Dick answered with a wavering smile.
Bruce deadpanned for a second before sighing. “You know why, Dick.”
“Oh..uh…” Was all Dick said for a few seconds.
“I’m fine,” he finally said, after the tense silence between them became unbearable.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Dick whined with a roll of his eyes.
“Alright,” Bruce looked down at his wrist-watch “its a little past eight, we should go for breakfast,”
“Oh,” he blurted out, his thoughts already consuming him. “yea, alright.”
They walk to the dining room where they all normally have breakfast, everyone was already seated and forking down their meals.
“Morning, Alfie!” Dick cheered.
“Good morning, master Dick. I trust you slept well after yesterday’s gala?”
“Yep slept pretty well” Dick lied to the older man with a nod, guilt curling into him as he did so.
“I’m glad to hear that, master Dick.”
Breakfast continued on a leisurely pace, and Dick didn’t bother to try and hide his boredom, simply chiming in when needed.
Until,
“—ick? Dick? Dick!”
Dick realized with a start that someone was calling him, he shook his head roughly, as if it will shake the weary ennui from him and looked up.
“Huh?”
“I was asking if work was going well at the Blüdhaven PD?” Bruce repeated, concern tapering his brows.
“Uhh, yea, we caught a few criminals a few days ago.”
He nodded minutely, trying to turn the gears in his mind back on. “Hn, that’s good,”
Bruce said while cutting up a piece of his pancake.
“Yea,” Dick hummed, his fork scraping against the plate as he played with his food.
“Master Dick I would advise you to eat, master Bruce is patrolling tonight. You need the energy if you’re going along with him” Alfred said, watching Dick calmly from a distance.
“You don’t need to go if you don’t feel like it, Dick,” Bruce followed up.
“Hey, why does Goldie get the princess treatment? what if I don’t wanna go?” Jason complained, brows knitting together.
“It’s not princess treatment, dipshit. I’m the favorite,” Dick clapped back.
“There are no favorites in this family, I love you all equally,” Bruce tried to pacify them, even if they weren’t actually fighting, instead his efforts were ignored.
“Yeah, and why are you two the ‘favorites’? I’m the smartest one here!” Tim piped up, leaning over the dining table.
“‘Smartest’? get a grip, Drake. I’m obviously the favorite,” Damian said as if it was a known fact.
“Oh yea? And why’s that?”
“I’m loving this,” Duke whispered to Cassandra and Stephanie, who were quietly watching as the boys fought.
“Hell yes,” Stephanie added, Cassandra nodded.
“I’m the bl—”
“And DONT say ‘I’m the blood son’.”
Damians mouth was ajar, but no words came out, which caused everyone to burst in laughter.
‘This is going well’ Dick mused to himself, watching with a small smile as taunts were thrown back and forth.
Until,
He realized... no one was sparing him an eye.
Not even a glance.
Albeit the conversation started with him.
‘Am I just not that important?’ Dick could feel his stomach retch.
He got up quickly, the chair behind him leaning backwards, his hand swung to catch it before it fell.
And again… not a single glance.
Dick was about to burst into tears right then and there.
He sprinted to the bathroom, dryly heaving into the toilet as soon as the door slammed shut behind him.His hands clung to the porcelain bowl desperately.
He retched, his throat scratching harshly and stomach regurgitating until he spewed out acid.
Dick got up to the sink and wiped his mouth. God, he wished he had a toothbrush on hand.
He shrugged. Too bad. He gurgled water into his mouth and left the bathroom.
He went back to the table just as everyone was leaving.
“Goodbye, Grayson,” Damian said, hurling his backpack over his shoulder.
“Bye, Dami,” Dick said while ruffling Damian’s hair.
“Grayson!! I have spent an hour combing my hair!! How dare you?!” Damian shouted indignantly, swiping his hands over his head as he walked out the door.
“Have a good day at school!!” Dick yelled back, a smirk playing at his lips.
Damian only grumbled in response.
“Thanks Dick, now he’s gonna complain the whole ride to school,” Tim snickered, grabbing his own backpack.
“Bye, Timmy. Have a good day at school,” Dick said, laughing despite himself.
“Bye bye” Tim called over his shoulder through the door.
“Bye!” Duke said, following Tim.
Another well-meaning farewell later, Dick padded back upstairs to fetch his gym clothes for training.
He went to his closet and grabbed some sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt, not bothered to care if the bandages can be seen through the bumps on his arms.
Because who cares? Who would truly waste a thought on him?
Not him, Bruce, or any of his siblings for that matter.
Dick travelled down to the cave, his mind a whirring mess as he placed his things down, letting his body move towards the training equipment in an instinctive routine.
His fists met the hard surface of the punching bag with fervour, beads of sweat dripping down his temple as he wildly swung at the leather.
He threw blow after blow until his knuckles turned a purple-ish red hue from bruising, the skin barely holding itself from cracking.
“Shit, Bruce’ll notice these…” he muttered to himself absentmindedly.
“Whatever,” Dick shrugged, already moving on to the acrobatics section.
He continued with his eccentric routine of flips and tricks reminiscent of the circus until his joints ached with effort, his draining energy reminding him of his grumbling stomach.
He went to the showers to wash up, the cold water of the showers hit his bruised back, the stinging sensation sending him back to the present. A numb hand lifted to wipe the water from his face, the aimless adrenaline fading as he finished and left the dark stone of the cave.
Jason and Cassandra were bundled up on the couch, watching a movie on the large TV.
Dick plopped down on the armrest, involving himself with a raised brow.
“What’re you guys watching?”
“Dead Poets Society,” Jason said, his eyes glued to the TV screen just as the protagonist finished his heartfelt performance.
“Can I join?”
“I mean, it’s the end of the movie, but sure.” Jason scooted over to make room for Dick on the couch, while Cassandra sat unmoving on the floor.
“It’s alright, I’ve watched it in my teenage years,”
“And when was that? 50 years ago?, old fart,” Jason snorted.
Dick gasped dramatically. “Old fart?!! Im in my twenties!!”
“More like Nineteen-twenties, Gramps!” Jason returned.
“Gramps?!” Dick held an open palm to his chest in mock-offence.
Jason was about to keep going until Cassandra gave them a piercing look, more interested in the movie than their useless bickering.
Dick glared at Jason through narrowed eyes as he smirked devilishly.
And for once…Dick was calm.
Until..
“Dick, there’s blood coming out of your sleeve…” Jason started, concern colouring his voice while nodding at his arm.
To be continued