Always the dumb brother. The one who gave in to favors too easily. The one who was air headed. Empty minded. Dense.
Because after all, he was the circus freak, born and raised. Which other bat boy grew up surrounded by clowns and outcasts? One died at the hand a of clown, sure, but none of them were taught by clowns. Traveled with clowns. Lived with clowns.
That must make Dick a clown.
Of course it did. Because where else do the outcasts run away to? To the circus, of course!
Their quips and laughs about his upbringing only ever added fuel to the fire. Because what else makes a smile so bright?
"Dick, come one! We're gonna be late!" Tim yelled, his voice echoing off of the marble hallway. Quiet shuffling could be heard from a far, left room. His younger brothers were timing Dicks hurried actions- always impatient, always ready to lay the blame on him.
Not even a few seconds had passed before Jason rolled his eyes and stomped towards Dick's room, slamming open the door to reveal a half dressed man. One who slept through the alarm that failed to ring.
"Wow, what a surprise," he dryly muttered. "Goldie here just woke up." Shaking his head, Jason grabbed a random hoodie and threw it at the older boy.
"Sorry, I just-"
"It doesn't matter how you look. Just be ready faster," Jason cut him off, icy venom dripping into his statement. Frantic, Dick pulled on a random pair of pants and a too-small shirt. Afraid of being dismissed- yet again- he chased after his little brother as he stormed out of the room. Just making it in time, the boys loaded up the car, and somehow- for whatever reason- they let their overly excited brother come along on their 'family outing' too.
One small example of their impatience for their clown-of-a brother.
It wasn't that they disliked Dick.
No.
They loved him; after all, he was the glue that held the family together. It was just that their affection died before it surfaced. Because the boy who could hold a one-sided conversation for hours on end was the one who never asked for approval.
Without him, the only talk that would surface would be complaints. More than likely, constant arguing. Hatred.
Jason had the patience of a child waiting for recess- he wasn't one to sit there quietly as Dick nattered on about nonsense.
Tim, as sweet as can be, was riled up within second of Damian uttering a single word, and often times spit malice into Dick's face out of pure reflex.
And Damian, for what it's worth, loved Dick to the ends of Earth; he was the Robin to Dick's Batman, quite literally. But that didn't matter when all that came across was 'ungrateful' or 'frosty'.
All of the boys loved him.
Except it was just difficult to even try to decipher their subtle message.
Arguing, that's all that ever happens around here. The constant bickering, their yelling voices never ceasing to shut up. Dick should be use to this, he shouldn't even be fazed by their constant squabbling.
And maybe that's why he snapped, why he drifted away from saving the innocent and stopping the guilty. Really, they should've expected him to snap at one point; for his bright, smiling eyes to turn dark and cold. For his laughing chatter to one day cease forever more.
Because when it happened, they all were there- the results shockingly surprised all of them, but still, they were ever-so unresponsive to the odd change of events. All of his little brothers, screaming and cursing as usual, ignored his presence as if he were just another stain on the wall. Their 'father' had been there too- just sitting there, watching them tear each other apart, limb from limb, never bothering to involve himself and help the tiring boy. (And that's all Dick was. A boy in a world of men, a novice when it came to normal life issues.)
Maybe he should've been use to it. Maybe he should've been use to the constant name-calling, the ever-so-present demeaning comments. But he wasn't- and as always- he tried to soothe the tensions. He tried to end the heated arguments. Constantly, he was the peacemaker to their nonstop war, however unsuccessful he would end up being.
So it was no unusual occurrence when he was promptly dismissed, yet again.
"Just shut up for once, Grayson!"
And he says it as if Dick's constant chatter was the worst thing on Earth, as if his constantly friendly talk was like fire to their ears.
"Maybe stop thinking so much about yourself and help others for a change!"
But it wasn't as if he hadn't dedicated his life to helping others- to putting his life on the line to save their own…
"You don't get it, you're nothing but a circus freak!"
Maybe that's all he'll ever be, an ignorant freak because after all, he's forever the mud on society's shoes. (But while he may be a freak, at least he's proud of his roots.)
"How can you even try to help? You can't possibly understand!"
He may not be the smartest, but at least he can try and help them. It wasn't as if he's never felt pain, their struggles were never that different from one another after all...
Their words always hit him, and emptiness was all that ever resulted from it. Because how can a manwhore help? How can an uneducated circus freak soothe things over? He always took their comments and ignored the pain, always trying to help. And it always resulted in nothing but hurt.
At that moment, his insides burned like fire. His hands were shaking and his vision turning black at the edges. But as always, he shut it all out and calmed down. He never sunk to their level of pettiness and instead, he tried to fix the problem, to distinguish the fiery arguments. Except that day he couldn't. The shaking wouldn't stop and instead all he saw was black, angry, unforgiving darkness.
Rage shook his insides, raw hatred bled through his voice. And instead of smiling, instead of hugging it out and most importantly, instead of talking it through, he laughed. His voice shook, and his empty giggling shook through the manor.
What gave them the right to judge him? What made him less than them? Was it his ethnicity- background- demeanor?
They all looked down upon him for his friendliness, they never took him seriously. But what honestly gave them that right? He was the original Robin, the one and only Nightwing, and he sure as Hell had been through the same fucked up mess the rest of them had been through- if not more so! Those good-for-nothing replacements always walked all over him like he was nothing because while he may have been a 'circus freak', he still wasn't worth any less than the rest of Bruce's side show.
For once in his pitiful life, he walked out on them. But before that, he couldn't help but look them all in the eyes, his face splitting into two. His laughter rattling their heads, and five sets of shocked eyes watched his uncharacteristic actions unfold.
"What a worthless bunch you all are, nothing but a collection of replacements."
His voice came out emotionless, his face vacant of expression- albeit it was painted over with a cruel smile, false hope to be drizzled in his final testimony. Jason couldn't blink as 'Goldie' started acting completely dark, and in that moment Damian and Tim finally realized how much they took Dick for granted. That one painfully simple statement pushed them all in despair because the one person in the world to constantly have their backs had turned on them. That one short sentence- barely whispered, nonetheless- had hurt them all so much. Because while the boys could curse all day at one another, their oldest brother could wound them so much simply by not smiling along.
Ignoring them though and skipping away, his heart left his chest. Instead of pain, depression or any other fucked up emotion, all Dick felt was emptiness. Maybe it was their constant arguing, maybe it was the never-ending villains or maybe his cheerfulness wound too tight in his chest, but nonetheless, an honest-to-God smile never graced his lips again.
His brothers watched as Dick skipped away, even their father and the butler were worried at the sudden change of events. The happiest, most benevolent person to ever grace their presence just took a complete 180° flip and seemingly changed before their eyes. And for the first time in awhile, the three boys were quiet. Their screeching had come to a halt as soon as Dick's chortling begun, because after all, what had been so funny to the oldest boy?
They watched as he left, and they didn't bother approaching him, didn't bother to make sure he were alright.
Because after all, Bruce's golden child would come to his senses and apologize.
Right?
Because surely it wasn't their fault for his sudden anger.
Right?
Time stood still as they waited.
They waited for him to come back. To apologize. To make amends. But it was too late when they realized he wasn't coming back. That Nightwing was the next villain. That their brother was no more.
So then they searched. And searched. And searched.
So that they could apologize, make amends, and indemnify for their lost brother.
But while they were too late, they never stopped looking for him again.
