Work Text:
Wally West wasn't dead.
It was a fact that way or may not have been true, but Dick couldn't bring himself to feel the emptiness in his chest that went hand in hand with loss. He felt it so often he had to wonder if maybe this time he was immune. Or maybe the reason that there was just a stinging pain instead of a gaping wound in his chest was because Wally wasn't really gone. He clung to the explanation. It was easier than anything else to trick himself into that belief. If Wally were here he would say something uber nerdy along the lines of “Its basic quantum mechanics man, you can't know if it is or if it isn't so you have to assume that it is and isn't at the same time!” But Wally wasn't here. So Dick chose to ignore science for once, and stick to what he wanted to believe. And when, yes when, Wally came back, he could yell at him all he wanted for choosing heart over mind.
So he did the only logical thing one could do in this sort of situation. Wait. Wait for Wally to step through the door, weary and worn from patrol, hair dripping sweat and eyes shining with life.
Wally was always so bright. Zipping through the streets like a ray of sunshine. Brightening everyone's day with his shitty jokes. Sometimes physically pushing people's faces into a smile with the tips of his fingers and a stupid look of concentration on his face. If Wally were here he would know exactly how to bring everyone's spirits up. Of course Wally wasn't here, and if he was no one would even be mourning in the first place. Even though Dick knew that this train of thought was a dead end waste of time that made him feel even worse, he kept circling back to it.
Dick felt dull. Everything was dull. His bones, his thoughts, his mourning. The only time he felt his heart pick up speed and send a buzzing through his veins was when he closed his eyes and relived his favorite moments with his best friend. The times when they'd collapse on each other after a tough patrol had them worn down in every way possible. Or when Wally would come to hang out at the manor, and Dick could just be, well, Dick, not Rob, or Nightwing. They could just hang out and talk about life outside of the cave without having to filter anything they said. When Wally would practically sit in his lap in an attempt to block his view of the tv during their infamous smash bros battles. Or when they started holding hands randomly, to assure the other that they were still there and solid. Dick kept instinctively reaching for his best bros hand, to leech support and solidity out of him, only to remember in a bitter shock that his best bros hand, along with the rest of him had dissipated like mist in sunshine right in front of him while he stood helplessly by.
He would clutch his head hard, in an attempt to physically force the venomous thoughts out of his mind.
Stop Dick.
Think about his eyes.
Think about the times you would lay awake with each other at night trying to solve the greatest mathematical riddles of all time, and eventually giving up in favor of building crazy gadgets out of the box of spare parts under your bed.
Think about how he used to race over to your house every week to watch Nova with you, and always interject fun facts he knew off the top of his head while he played with your hands, and your hair, the strings of your sweatshirt.
Think about the first time you realized that your best friend outings were turning into dates, and the random hand squeezes you used to give each other did not end at a squeeze. Think about when he stopped texting you cheezy pickup lines, and started texting you hearts. About how you used to laugh and say “I love you dude!” and then eventually dropped the laugh, and the dude, and he dropped down a few inches to cup your face in his warm hand and whisper “I know.” and then kiss you with the intent to never stop kissing you, only to be cut short by you pushing him away and yelling “Did you just quote star wars at me?” to which he laughed and nodded, and you had to yank him down and swallow that laugh because you really did love him and it was unbearable to not be kissing him.
Think about how easy it was to fall into a relationship with him.
Think about the way he moaned when you would straddle his lap and suck marks into his neck. Think about how he looked ontop of you, bracing himself over you with shaking arms, hair falling into his eyes and lips barely parting from yours. Or the way he looked under you, hands twisting into the sheets, back arched, mouth hanging open and skin flushed from his ears to his belly button. Think about how he lost control of the words coming out of his mouth and either let out the hottest string of words you’ve ever heard, or the stupidest. Sometimes he would just repeat your name over and over again like a prayer, until his voice cracked and he came with a soundless cry.
Think about falling asleep in his arms, mind blessedly blank and thoroughly satiated.
Think about the lazy mornings afterwards.
Think about the times he would lay on his bed, naked, and let you trace out constellations in his freckles with feather light brushes of your fingertips.
Remembering him hurt. But it hurt so much more when he opened his eyes and didn't see his boyfriend lounging next to him, with a huge stupid grin on his freckled face.
He tried to keep his eyes closed, keep himself lost in memories for as long as he could before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
He went into Wally's room sometimes. When Mary and Rudy were out, or asleep. He didn't want to bother them, seeing him would just remind them that the son they raised and loved for 20 years wasn't upstairs, he want even 6 feet under. He was just gone. Lost without a trace, not even leaving behind a tangible thing to mourn over.... So Dick would shimmy in through his bedroom window and lay in Wally's bed. It was an act he used to do when they were younger and wanted to hang out past the guise of patrol. There he could pretend that the redhead was just in the kitchen getting a snack, and would return in a gust of air and a creak of the floorboards.
There was a picture of the two of them on Wally's bedside table. It wasn't in a frame or anything fancy, it was just leaning on a pile of books so that Wally could see it when he woke up. Wally had taken it after a mission, they were still half in their uniforms, and his cheeks were pink from the breeze, hair blown back save for a few strands that fell into his eyes. Dick had just taken off his mask, and was still holding it in his hands when Wally had zoomed up and kissed his cheek, snapping a selfie and zooming off again before Dick could fully react. As such Wally was grinning and Dick was laughing surprised.
Looking at it made him feel safe. Wally was so vibrant, so alive, he would return from the kitchen any second. Dick found waiting became easier when he was looking at the picture.
He took it with him one day, on a whim. A dark voice in the back of his mind whispered Wally won't miss it anymore as he slipped out the window.
He didn't go anywhere without it. Not even on patrol. It was always in his pocket, as close to him as it could be. Whenever he felt the nauseous feeling of grief prick at the back I his eyes and claw at his throat he would stare at the picture until he remembered how to breathe.
He didn't talk to anyone about Wally. No one mentioned him anymore. His old team used to bring him up casually, laughing easily until it caught in their throat when they remembered he was gone. Then they brought him up as a fond memory. And then not at all. He knew no one forgot him. They all just wanted to remember him silently and personally. It made him feel closer. Dick sometimes found himself laughing and smiling as he remembered something Wally did or said. He would turn to the empty couch next to him, the words 'hey remember that time Wally-' on his tongue. He choked on them. Swallowing them like bile and laughing until tears ran down his face.
He would reach blindly into his pocket and cling to the worn picture blindly. Holding it to his chest like Wally would hold him until his shaking stopped. Then he would wash his face, remember how to breathe, and get back to waiting.
Waiting for Wally to come home.
Wally had always believed in him, and now it was hit turn to believe in Wally.
Because it’s all he could do.
Because it’s all he had left.