asterous

chapter seventeen

chapter seventeen - disordered

•

WAYNE MANOR
OCTOBER 17th — 02:15 EDT

dick muttered eloquently, "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

he grabbed the nearest piece of cloth he could find, pressing it over the wound. it was, regrettably, a wrinkled crewneck. dick pulled it off, squinting in the darkness of his bedroom to see which one.

"really?" he sighed. it was his gotham gymnastics crewneck from last year. making a face, dick pressed it back onto his forearm.

he held it for a minute, stretching his legs while he waited for the bleeding to staunch. because the world did not revolve around idiots, dick's music continued to play quietly. eminem was talking about everyone envying him. quite a juxtaposition from the issue at hand.

he pulled off the crewneck slowly, tossing it into the laundry bin by his closet. letting out a string of curse words in multiple languages, dick surveyed his current situation.

not great.

he washed up quietly, bandaging the wound with a sick sense of familiarity. nine months, down the drain. nine months over a training exercise.

he changed into a long sleeve, pulling a zip-up hoodie overtop for good measure. he tidied his room and finished his calculus homework but anger consumed him. his fists shook and all he could do was resist the urge to scream and thrash. he did this to himself.

dick closed his window and made his bed.

his stomach heaved with the thought of what he did. it rolled with how everything he worked for, fought for, was thrown away for nothing.

he sat down on the edge of his bed, facing the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. his leg bounced up and down, up and down.

he looked unkempt. he looked tired. his hair was too long, his eye bags were too dark. his mouth was set in an unhappy line.

dick took a melotonin and listened to eminem until he passed out.

MOUNT JUSTICE
OCTOBER 23rd — 17:12 EDT

recognized: robin-B01

dick pulled his sleeves down past his palms. his hoodie was unzipped, revealing the graphic tee he wore underneath—merch from a local gotham band called new genesis.

he walked with light footsteps, his fingernails pushed deep into his palms, causing little crescent-shaped indents. the sight of the mount justice living room—the green couches, the holo-screens displaying live footage of the capital cities, the flat screen playing static—just made him more anxious.

the league had decided to put them into therapy. dick didn't really care—been there, done that—but he could tell that the rest of the team was fighting against it just based off of bruce's expression when telling him.

bruce also drilled in that it wasn't optional. coming to the mountain was the first time he'd left the manor in nearly a week. it was a silent trade: dick could skip school for however long as he needed as long as he attended therapy.

"robin?" m'gann's voice broke through the silence. it would have startled him if he wasn't trained to hide fear.

dick spun around slowly to face her. she looked rough. paler than he'd ever seen, hair tied into a messy ponytail, dark eyebags under her green eyes.

dick's throat was suddenly too dry to talk. he opened his mouth, so many words on the tip of his tongue, so many apologies. he said nothing.

"i'm surprised the league let you in," she said, crossing her arms. "you're not a hero, you're a murderer."