Dick Grayson One-Shots { requests open }

is the author writing it about dick or herself? who the fuck knows?

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𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗽 (𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝘆): n/a

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 784

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Dick's depression spirals (yes again fuck you all) (not really, i love all you guys and i adopt you all as my family) (you guys honestly don't have to read this. there's literally no dialog. it's just dick being an angsty bitch lmao)

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: s*icide, d3pression, all the usual stuff

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If Dick Grayson had to use one word to describe how he was feeling, it would be 'tired.' He was just plain tired. Not tired like he hadn't been getting enough sleep. No, no, he was mentally tired. And physically tired. And emotionally tired. He was just overall... tired.

The constant pretending to be okay, the calls and texts he had to put all his energy into answering, always being strong and the one people could go to when they needed advice or someone to talk to. It was all just so exhausting.

Dick didn't even know why. That was, quite possibly, the worst part. Yeah, he'd been through some shit in his life. He'd seen death, he'd felt loss, he'd experienced pain. But he'd always gotten over it. They weighed on him, yes, but they never drowned him.

This was something different. This was a goddamned disease that took over Dick's mind. He could be perfectly okay, having the best day of his life. But, all of a sudden, the disease would decide that he wasn't okay anymore. It would decide that he was going to abandon whatever he was doing and begin to contemplate whether his presence on Earth was even worth the pain it brought anymore. Maybe he'd just be better off if he was dead...

Because, honestly, what good was he really doing? All the goddamn time, he felt like a burden. He felt like he was bothering other people with his problems, so he kept them to himself. And when he did talk about them, he always felt guilty for keeping the attention on him. How the fuck did that even make sense? Why did his mind have to play such tricks on him?

He'd be having a good day with Wally, but all of a sudden bail and decide to go lay in bed instead. He'd be on the phone with Damian, but suddenly lose all the social energy he had saved up and have to end the call. He'd be texting Jason and just... lose all motivation to answer and leave his brother on read all day— always ending in a big argument about how Dick didn't care.

Honestly, it'd gotten to the point where days he felt good were rare. Eighty-percent of the time, it took all the energy Dick had to get out of bed— and sometimes he couldn't even do that.

No one worried about him— not really. If they did, it was out of courtesy. Because, after all, nothing could ever really happen to Dick. He was their rock— their anchor. He'd never feel actual emotions or go through actual pain. That would be ridiculous. So, really, why would anyone bother to check up on him?

But, then, wasn't he being selfish by thinking like that? Wasn't it selfish to wish people cared more about him? That was the way he felt. Like if he focused on himself for even a minute, he'd become the selfish, toxic person he was terrified of becoming.

God, maybe it would all just be better if he offed himself. Maybe he could finally sleep. Maybe he could finally push all the exhaustion away. Because, honestly, he really couldn't take it anymore. He was so goddamn sick of having so many freaking responsibilities. He was so goddamn sick of being alive. It was all too much to handle.

As these thoughts ran through Dick's head, he'd found his way to a rooftop without even realizing it. Suddenly, he blinked and there he was— the top of Wayne Enterprises. The wind stung his face, making his eyes water and skin burn. He welcomed the unique pain. It finally let him feel something. And, there standing on that rooftop, he really needed to feel something.

Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to put his family through the pain of losing him? But, then again, they'd probably be better off without him. It wasn't like he did any good in their lives anyway.

So, yeah, Dick was ready to do it. He was scared— terrified out of his motherfucking mind. But it was a good scared— like before you get on a big rollercoaster. Because there was something good waiting for him on the other side.

He just had to jump and find it.