Just Robin Oneshots Part 2

self-indulgent writing

lemme just be self-indulgent real quick because I am exceedingly fragile and I need it

EDIT: TW WALLY'S DEATH IS A THEME THROUGHOUT

Dick's index finger tapped on the steering wheel nervously. What was he doing? This was perhaps his dumbest idea. Yet there he was on the highway, driving to a place he really didn't want to go. In the passenger seat was a diary that once belonged to Wally. He glanced at it from time to time, nervously chewing his bottom lip. That leather bounded book with a gold latch on it was the reason he was driving. He'd found it in their apartment, although, he supposed it was just his apartment now since he was gone. Dick preferred the word gone over dead. It had less punch to it. Dead was so finite. Someone being gone meant they could or would come back. Sure it was a pipe dream to have but he couldn't help but have it. He'd found the diary when cleaning up for the first time in months. He didn't feel like he had to keep it. In the back of his car was the rest of Wally's stuff that he thought he didn't deserve to keep even though he wanted to keep them so desperately. However, he'd been the one to get him killed so he couldn't have them. His family needed the possessions more. They deserved the comfort he didn't. He'd debated on going to Barry's house to drop off the things. Would the hero even want to see him? Sure, he'd been all for their relationship but how could he feel the same about Dick after what happened? Would showing up just make his grieving worse?

As he parked in front of Barry's house, he began a fiercer debate. Maybe they didn't see him park up so if he just drove away now he wouldn't have to face them. He could just keep the stuff at his place. It's not like they asked for it. Then his eyes would fall on the diary Wally kept. Dick had read through it in one of his low moments. It made him feel close to him when he read the thoughts. Wally gushed about how much he loved his uncle and auntie. They were talked about on every other page. There weren't many fights written about and Dick doubted that they had a lot. Wally and Barry weren't like him and Bruce. Maybe because they compromised more than him and Bruce did. Keeping his stuff just wasn't fair on them. It wasn't fair on Wally. He sucked in a deep breath and undid his seatbelt. All he had to do was pass over the stuff, say his condolences, maybe deal with someone he loved and cared for yell at him then go home. Easy peasy. He could deal with that. Right? Judging by the sudden frog in his throat it wouldn't be easy. All the same, he had to do it. For Wally. He picked up the diary and got out of his car before grabbing the box that was in the boot of his car. He locked his car to make sure that he went through with giving the things back. Dick needed the motivation to do it.

The walk up to the front door was the longest thing he'd ever done. The night air was freezing cold but he felt boiling hot. He blamed his nerves for making his hands clammy. Things had been so hard recently, he just wanted to give up and sob right on the doorstep. He couldn't stand not knowing how they would react to him showing up. Dick took in another deep breath. He choked on it, feeling the cold burrow it's way into his lungs. Eventually, after what felt like forever, he got to the doorstep. That's when he became paralyzed. Should he knock on the door? Ring the doorbell? Which was more considerate? Oh, what was he thinking, neither is good enough. He should go back to the car. No, he made it this far, he could deal with it. A trembling hand reached up to knock on the door. He wasn't ready. He'd sob if Barry even hinted that he didn't like him anymore. Perhaps he didn't think this through properly. He definitely didn't think this through properly. As he silently berated himself, the door began to open. Shit. Barry and Bart stared at him as he stared awkwardly back. "Oh. I-I uh was just about to erm knock," Dick stammered, unable to form a statement.