Steady On Forward

Chapter 15

A/N:

WARNING Chapter Contains: Severe PTSD episode

As previously mentioned, you can skip from the ✹ to the ✹‖ to avoid the triggering section if you wish.

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Dick leaned against the wall, waiting in the glacially slow dinner line the next night. He hated how tiny the little cafeteria room was. The only time he missed being on status was at lunch and dinner, when he had to come into this cramped, crowded room just to wait for twenty minutes with a severely reduced personal space bubble around him. It usually didn't feel like there were a whole lot of patients on the ward, until it was mealtime and they were all crammed into the one small room.

At least as soon as he got his food, he could book it out of there and eat it at one of the little tables in the hallway instead of one of the two long ones in the middle of the cafeteria room. Damn, he wished Bruce hadn’t left when they’d called mealtime ⁠— it would’ve been nice not to eat alone.

He slid a bit further down the wall, cringing away from the body heat he could feel coming from the person right behind him. Unfortunately, they caught right back up. Dick wondered if there was any hope he could get Bruce to push for a mandatory class in schools on personal space and taking a fucking hint, so at least the kids in Gotham wouldn’t be like this asshole.

The person behind him shifted closer, and Dick glanced back. Of course.

Of course he got stuck in front of the fucking douchebag of the mental hospital, the very same homophobic ass clown who had felt the need to make his views abundantly clear to Dick and Jason yesterday. Life sure liked punishing him.

And of course the guy caught his eye, and even when Dick quickly looked away again, he took that as an invitation to start a conversation. Maybe it would be worth it to go back on status just for the fucking meals.

“Your boyfriend know about your other man?” he asked snidely.

Dick ignored him, still facing away, but he wasn’t to be deterred.

“Huh, Richie? Can’t wait to see how that pans out; bet they’ll visit at the same time at some point.”

Dick turned exasperatedly. “Who are you even talking about? I know you know who my boyfriend is, because you called us faggots yesterday. Sorry to disappoint, but I only have the one.”

“What about the guy who was just here? I don’t buy you’re just friends, and I doubt your boyfriend would either,” he taunted, still too quietly to be overheard by anyone else.

Dick flinched back. “That’s my dad, you fucking creep.” 

“Didn’t look like it, the way you were all over him. Or are your type just into that too?”

“Don’t fucking talk to me. Leave me alone.” Dick faced back toward the front of the line, which hadn’t moved so much as an inch. He huddled further against the wall and tried to scoot up a tiny bit more without getting too close to the person in front of him, but the man (Tom, Dick thought his name was) was still right there behind him.

“Both pretty big guys. You got a type?” Maybe-named-Tom needled over his shoulder.

“Leave me alone.” ✹

“Bet you do. Never met a fag who wasn't a slut like that.” Dick’s vision started to go black and fuzzy around the edges, and he could distantly feel that he was breathing too fast, but possibly-Tom just kept talking. “Classic faggot with daddy issues, all over anyone who comes to visit your crazy ass in here. Bet you like ‘em big and strong so they can do whatever they want and you can’t stop 'em ⁠— that’s the fucked up shit people like you are into, right?”