Disclaimer: First foray into fanfic after nearly four years of not writing anything not a term paper. Comments welcome, and flames are used to heat my cold little apartment. I own nothing, profit not at all, and enjoy everything.
Warning: mention of suicide, non-graphic, AU of a world without Batman.
Swing from the Chandelier
Party boys don't get hurt. Jason had always felt something missing, some giant hole in his heart. He laughed and partied and fought, and everyone thought he had it made, the poor little rich kid charity case, taken in by the kindest philanthropist in the world. Bruce had tried to fill it, yeah, but only succeeded in tearing it farther open. He needed more. He needed family, and Bruce and Dick were family, just not for him.
He didn't belong here in this shining-dark house, with the glittering chandelier and beautiful carpeting, memories of sorrow and stinking of money. He belonged in the grungy alleys, where falling on your knees hurt and bruised and cut. Where powder was something to snort, not ski in… not that he did that.
Even though that was where he belonged, that wasn't where he wanted to go. Not by a long shot, so…
He stepped off the bannister, and the prep-school tie tightened, the glittering chandelier held, and Jason was finally free to fly like a bird through the night.