"Please, Bruce," You say chasing after your gaurdian. He's walking so fast you can barely keep up and your heart is this lump in your throat that you can't swallow down. And he won't look at you. You thought the silent treatment was bad, but no... You had to say this was worse.
You didn't do it, you want to shout, your legs straining a little to keep the pace as you follow Bruce back upstairs through the manor. You really don't think you pushed that man. Did you ever even lay hands on him? (There was that struggle on the stairs, but it wasn't with him, it was with someone else, wasn't it?)
It wasn't your fault you had came along at the right (wrong) time. Not your fault that when you shouted on him, he took that step backwards and lost his balance. Straight off the roof of the building. You're used to people thinking you're a fuckup. They've always written you off, skipped you over because you were an idiot street kid who wasn't good for much else. Which is why this hurts so much worse.
A soft, shivering breath slips from you as Bruce finally stops and you falter and stumble, almost running into him. The look the man gives you makes your skin crawl and you take a step back. His eyes that usually carry such a stoic disinterest actually carry emotion to them. It makes your heart feel heavy and your throat feel tight.
Fuck, you want to turn and run. All the protests you held on to, you want to throw them out and see if you can get away sorry. Instead you hold your ground and wait for him to say something. But the words you're expecting never come. Instead he just says, "I'm dissapointed in you, Jason." And he just looks at you, before turning away with a small sigh and goes into his study, leaving you standing in the hallway.
Yeah, you think you prefered the silent treatment.