𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂- (Telltale Batjokes)

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

"Easy.." Bruce said as he held John. John's body shook, and his breathes became heavy. His small fever heated into where it felt like he was burning hot.

"John- say something! Please-!" Bruce panicked. "..Something." John replied quietly, giggling afterward. "John- I'd tell you it's not the time for games, yet I don't think I should screw with you like that."

Bruce picked the male up, taking note up him being extremely light—light-... How is he- never mind that!! Bruce carried John and walked out of the Batcave, then set him down on a nearby sofa.

John still kept a smile on his face. How was he so good at that... "John." Bruce called, catching John's attention. "Does anything hurt. I want an honest answer, please."

John took a moment to slow his breathing, taking on a slow, steady pace. "I..Just feel real dizzy..." John ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it so suddenly. He was willing to do anything just to stay awake for him. For Bruce.. His Bruce...

HIS BAT

John felt something touch his hand, softly grabbing it and bringing it to John's side. "John.. Don't do that. Ok?" Bruce gave him a soft yet concerned look. John nodded as a response.

His eyes closed

And he was out.

Tears.

A lot of those...

Where am I?

..Oh... Arkham. Again.

Tears rolled down John's pale cheeks as the pain in his head, and from the bruises only increased. Two men left the room, leaving John. Crying, on the floor, and in a blood-stained straight jacket.

Why cant I just die already!?

I cant let Bruce know...

Ever.

He'll get worried!

He might leave because...

..He'll think I'm lying.

...

..Ha...

...Ah ha...

...I wanna rip out my intestines

Throw them in the sea

I wanna raise the money

To invest in plastic surgery

I wanna cover myself head to toe

With super sexy scars

Because aren't you supposed to burn if you're a star?

I want to be torn apart excruciatingly

I punish my body 'cause it's not good enough for me

These scary thoughts are spreading like a weed

The thoughts that say

"I deserve to bleed.."

John brought the glass over his arm, leaving a deep line. This line drew blood. He found the pain.. Oddly addicting. He did it again.. And again... And again. Round and round, like a carousel. It repeats its circling cycle.

He looked over to the broken photograph case that he broke to get the glass. He found the photo of both him and Bruce at the funereal. "What's he gonna say to me... If he.. sees this..." John huddled into a ball, he was already on the floor. He sobbed and laughed.

John sprang up, looking around. He looked over and he say a blurred figure.. Or two... everything's a blur. As long as he was nowhere near Arkham, he didn't care.

"Master Doe, I'd advise you to lay back down." Alfred put a hand on John's chest, softly pushing him back down onto the sofa. John's vision focused, realizing it was Alfred.

"Hey, Al.." John giggled. "Hello. Master Doe, are you feeling alright?" Alfred asked softly. "Mhm!..W-what happened exactly?" John chuckled once again. Alfred sighed and wrapped a bandage tightly around John's arm. From the wrist to his shoulder.

"You've been out for the past few hours. You're wound was infected with.. Some sort of poison—" "—WHAT!?"

He sprang up once again. "-Don't move! Y-you might hurt yourself—!" Alfred tried to get John to lay down. "I'm fine, Al.. W-where'd Bruce go- is he okay?"

He asked, his voice and breath shaking. "He's fine. Now lay down. .Alright?" Alfred asked him softly, so John did as instructed. His head was spinning, he could barely focus. . .He just heard laughing.

Everything blacked out again.

John sprang up, his eyes fluttering around the room. He was- what seemed like a bedroom. "Sh. .Hey, John. It's okay." A quiet, calming voice called.

Was he in Bruce's arms!?

Bruce sat up and looked him over. "How's your arm?" He asked, eyes like daggers. He could get anything out of John, with just one look. It wasn't using him, John was just. .Scarred. There was a wound that would never heal. Another thing they have in common.

"I-. .We're you. . .Sleeping with me?" He croaked, giggling while he was at it. Bruce's face flared red. "I—No! No, John. .Alfred told me you needed someone to watch you. And you were. . .Shaking."

The Dark Knight admitted, folding his arms. "If you say so~" The pale male cooed playfully, smiling. Something he was always so good at. Smiling.

It was more of a comforting device, really. Just like laughing. Like a hyena. Cunning, smart, playful, yet so misunderstood.

"I'm just. .Worried. I cant loose anyone else." Bruce choked out, loosing eye contact. "Aw, buddy. ." John reached over and pulled him into the hug.

"I'M NEVER LEAVING YOU"