Back to the old computer, just for this story. Song is Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.
Disclaimer: The song nor the characters belongith to me.
Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk. Because of you, I learn to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt. Because of you, I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me! Because of you…I am afraid…
"Look both ways before you cross!" Mary scolded her youngest son, tapping the tip of his nose in a way that drove him mad.
Dick scrunched up his nose, ducking back before rolling his eyes in irritance. When his face fell calm again, he folded his arms over his chest.
"Mom!" he whined, "I'm not a baby! I turn 10 in March!"
Mary's blue eyes darted to the walk signal, but it was still on red.
"That's six months from now sweetie," she reminded him, attempting to fix the awkward cowlick that always stood on edge to the left of his head.
He backed up again.
"Six more months than you have!" he blurted out.
It was mom's turn to fold her arms over her chest, an annoyed look coming over her features.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, curious for his response.
He set a pale hand to his neck.
"W-Well, you're o-old a-and Matt said that a-adults o-only last to f-fifty before they t-turn to d-dust…" he stuttered fast, hopefully looking to the signal.
Mary's eyes widened before narrowing as she glared into space. It figures that her half son would go as far as that to scare his brother. Matt was always a bit of an ass, but weren't all big brothers? And since when did her son think she was fifty? She was just barely forty!
"Your brother's head is full of shit. Don't listen to a word he says. He's a bad influence on y-…" she stopped when she noticed Dick was already across the street, sticking out his tongue at her.
When she saw that the signal still said 'can't walk' in red, her eyebrows furrowed furiously and she shook her head in shame.
"I swear Richard," she mumbled beneath her breath, tightening her brown ponytail, "I'll be gray at 43 if you keep this up."
When the light switched to green, she looked both ways before swiftly crossing the well kept street to rejoin her son. He had a wide smirk over his lips and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously.
"Look mom! I crossed without looking! And I lived? WOAH!" he made a dramatic show of sarcasm.
Mary frowned.
"I've had it with you mister! You hang around your brother too much!" she declared, "If you don't clean up your act, you won't perform with us on the show on Saturday!"
Dick's eyes widened in horror.
"What?" he cried, tensing up, "You can't do that!"
She smiled secretly, snatching his hand and holding it lightly.
"I can, and I will, if you don't start behaving. If I can't trust you to cross the street, then how on Earth can I trust you on a bar fifty feet above the ground without a net?"
Dick's heart quickened in pace at even the thought.
"Mom! It's our biggest show! I have to be in it!" he insisted.
She tugged him after her down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.
"Then you'll just have to be a good boy until then," she teased.
Dick let out his breath in a huff, just barely keeping up with his mother. A silence hovered over them.
"I love you," she said finally, when the quiet got to her.
He smiled lightly, but he hid it, still pretending to be angry.
"Whatever," he mumbled, brushing it off.
Mary smiled, a secret written over her lips, as if she knew something he didn't.
"You're going to miss hearing me say that in the future," she told him lightly.
He shook his head.
"Why would I miss it? I hear it every day!" he complained.
She looked down at him quietly as if she wanted to say something more, but she didn't. She just smiled and continued walking along.
XxXxX
Four and ¾ years later, Dick stood at that same walkway, holding tight to his Sharpie abused binder. He didn't try running across before the signal turned green like he had done what seemed like forever ago. Instead, he carefully trained his blue eyes on the 'can't walk' signal, patiently waiting. When it turned to just a green 'walk', he carefully looked to the left and right of the abandoned street before crossing, his face rid of all emotions.
Earlier, he had told Bruce he was staying after to play football with Thom, Brennon, Jesse, Tyler and Scott. He was really going to the cemetery though. It still didn't feel right to lie to him, but Bruce still wasn't Mary or John Grayson. Bruce had bought the lie and made Dick promise to be back by five, which he had happily agreed to. It was three now, so that gave him an hour to do what he wanted and an hour to walk home.
He didn't know why he needed an hour though. One minute was painful enough, but an hour killed him every time. He never did anything when he went where he was going. He'd just walk to their graves and kneel between them, put his hands on either side of him and laying his head down, thinking mostly, remembering. The memories stung like a knife, but the pain was the good kind. The tears were the comforting type. The isolation stung though. It made him want to get back up on the trapeze bars and jump, reaching out for no one before he hurtled to the ground, screaming no one's name.
Dick knew he'd never do that though as the locked black cemetery gate came into sight. Bruce had silently forbidden him from returning to any circus in fear of someone on the team digging too deep. The ebony walked up the bars and slipped his binder through first. Then he looked both ways, but beside the dead grass, the dying streets and the broken buildings, he was alone on the dying street. When he was sure that no one was there besides him, he scaled the fence swiftly, landing in a crouch position, one hand unconsciously on the dying grass that lined the cemetery to steady himself.
Four years ago, looking at a tombstone reminded him of zombies and ghosts from the scary movies he had watched behind his parents' backs. Today, as he looked at the imprisoning hunks of stone, he saw a broken hearted survivor, suffering somewhere as they deeply missed their departed, just like him. He missed the old vision. He missed the old innocence. He missed his parents.
He picked up the binder again, walking along the rows of headstones that were showered with love from bouquets of dead flowers and dead rings of flowers. Dick averted his eyes to avoid the depressing statue of the girl who starved herself because she thought she was heavy. He looked away from a little girl who must've also scaled the fence who was sobbing her heart out at someone's grave. He tried to pay no mind to how deathly this place looked. He knew it wasn't really this bad; it was just because of his parents.
If the elder Graysons hadn't died, Dick wouldn't see all the darkness and pain in things. He'd notice a girl's pretty eyes before the cuts on her arms. He'd notice his best friend's grin before the heavy bite marks that covered his lips. He'd notice that Bruce was hugging him before the worry on his face. He'd notice the little girl's pretty polka-dotted purple dress before he noticed that she was in the cemetery with him. He couldn't help what he noticed though. His parents weren't there to correct him and Bruce didn't even know he was here.
It was all because of them. If they hadn't been stupid enough to not put up a net during their performance, or at least check the wires, then none of this would be happening. He wouldn't be cautious in everything he did. He wouldn't have punched C.J. Bell for cracking a series of 'your mom' jokes, directed at him. It was too late though. And fifteen minutes later, the first staggered breath he took and the tears that threatened to fall were all because of them.
Blah, shitty ending. Oh well, just love me. I wasn't going to write anything, but this song was in my head during History and I was bored. I wanted to write a different one along the lines of someone not being able to break his heart because it was never whole… but… I don't remember it… so… uh… yeah. And my boyfriend was being an ass today and I'm feeling all down and cloudy so… Review?
Yours 'til the tree houses,
-FrankandJoe3