WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
-homophobia
-attempted suicide (flashback)
"Are you okay?" were the first words to come out of Jaime's mouth.
No. Bart wasn't okay.
He cried somewhat, and tried to stop himself because he realized how embarrassing it was. But the tears kept flowing, and Jaime wrapped his arms around him to try and reassure him.
"Shh, it's okay, it was just a dream."
Just a dream, Bart tried to tell himself. Though it wasn't as convincing compared to Jaime's verbal reassurance.
"Say it again." he begged.
Jaime was confused at first before catching on, "It was just a nightmare."
Bart nodded, and Jaime let him go, looking at him, still concerned.
"What was it?" he asked.
"I feel like the entire world is against me." Bart mumbled.
"What do you mean?"
"The dream... I was being jumped... for being gay." Bart responded slowly, "Fuck. The entire world hates me."
"That's bullshit, Bart." Jaime insisted, "For every person who hates you, there's like, twenty people who support you. Me being one of them. I'm always here."
"But Tim and Cassie-"
"Please, they're not so much homophobic as they are uneducated. They're starting to come around." Jaime assured.
Bart nodded, "Okay. Okay. Right."
Jaime smiled, "And you're safe here at the farm. Nobody's gonna hurt you here. Just remember that."
"You're right, Blue." Bart repeated, "Thanks. Goodnight."
Jaime was silent for a few moments. He wasn't exactly used to Bart calling him 'Blue' just yet. "'Night." Jaime he, making his way back to his bed.
Man, it's kind of sad, Bart thought, when a former drug dealer is more accepting of your sexual orientation than your peers.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21ST
Jaime needed to splash water on his face that next morning.
That was not okay.
For a moment, he denied himself having such a dream. But there was enough evidence in his pants the next morning.
Doesn't mean anything.
Nothing at all.
He felt sick and twisted. He shouldn't be having wet dreams about his roommate.
Because goddammit, he was not gay.
Not gay, not gay, not gay, not gay...
Even if he was gay, the dream still wasn't okay. He was to be eighteen in three days, and Bart was fifteen. Having sexual thoughts or desires about Bart would make Jaime in all legal and political stances...
God, he didn't even want to think about it.
...a pedophile.
Which was absolute bullshit. Jaime was definitely not attracted to children. Even then, Bart had been going through puberty for at least two years as well, Jaime figured.
In the eyes of nature, Bart was practically a fully developed man.
In the eyes of the law though, he was still a minor, and a child.
Jaime took one good, long look in the mirror. Despite getting plenty of rest the previous night, he was tired as hell. He saw a tall figure standing behind him, and gasped, too scared to turn around. It only took a second for him to realize it was Black Beetle. The Beetle wasn't very happy, and Jaime nearly jumped out of his own skin when he talked.
"Little brother, you are not-"
The sudden harsh knock cut him off, and Jaime nearly jumped out of his skin a second time. The reflection of Black Beetle was gone.
"Hurry up Jaime, I have to shower!" Roy commanded from the other side. Jaime nodded, opening the door.
But he wasn't going to let Roy in just yet.
"Did you hear another voice in here?" he asked suddenly.
Roy gave him a confused look, raising an eyebrow, "No?" he asked, then lightly shoved Jaime aside to make his way in. In defeat, Jaime walked out of the bathroom, not knowing what to do next.
"Hey!"
Cue the third time Jaime nearly jumped out of his skin that morning.
"Bart!" he cheered nervously, facing the other teen.
"I wanted to ask if you could help me polish the horse stuff this morning, the uh, seat and mouth things." Bart replied.
"The saddle and reigns?" Jaime asked.
"Yeah! Those. Wanna help?" Bart asked, and put on a charming smile.
"N-no." Jaime stammered.
"Huh?" Bart asked, confused.
"I mean- I'm just feeling kind of sick today. Can you have Tim help you or something?" Jaime suggested.
"I mean, I guess." Bart admitted, "But I like you more."
Jaime felt stupid for the blush that formed on his cheeks. He hoped it wasn't too obvious. "Just ask him." he muttered, quickly spinning around to go back to their room.
"Oh, okay. Feel better then, man." Bart responded before leaving himself.
Jaime plopped himself onto his bed, feeling guilty and dirty still. He just needed time away from Bart. Then the strange and inappropriate feelings would go away.
But he couldn't be further from wrong.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28TH
As the week progressed, it worsened. After the second dream for the second night in a row, Jaime tried to avoid Bart as much as possible.
It was a lot harder than he initially thought.
Especially on his birthday on the twenty-fourth, Bart was practically glued to him the entire day.
After one week, he just gave up. He decided to just ignore it as best as possible. Neither he nor Bart were having nightmares anymore, which left the nights peaceful and quiet.
It was a very rainy day, and the thunder wouldn't shut up. Not knowing what to do, Bart proposed they go back up into the attic again.
Jaime wasn't sure if this was such a great idea. It had been a month since they last went up into it, and the last time they did, Jaime got blood all over his face.
Though eventually, he agreed to it. They were smart enough to bring flashlights this time around, and the muffled thunder plus the rain bouncing off the roof gave the attic an even creepier ambiance than it already had. Bart's flashlight eventually landed on a television, looking to be from around the 90's or early 2000's, with a stack of old VHS tapes next to it.
"Dude, look." Bart pointed out, and Jaime turned his head.
"Ha. I remember those." he said, walking up to it along with Bart, who began to inspect the movies.
"Was your mom ever afraid of one of these things falling on you? Because mine was." Bart said.
"Oh yeah. Definitely." Jaime nodded, then grinned, "Come on. Let's take it downstairs."
"Why?" Bart asked suddenly.
"I'm in a spontaneous mood. Besides, I'm sure it only takes a few plugs to use it. On top of that, we have a whole bunch of movies here." Jaime explained, "So, are you in?"
Bart shrugged, setting down his flashlight, picking the T.V. up with Jaime. Even with their combined strength, it was pretty heavy. Carrying it down the steps proved another challenge. Eventually though, they found a place to put it near an outlet, and went back up to fetch their flashlights, grab a few more cords, a remote, and the movies.
After working with that for a few minutes, Bart attempted to turn on the T.V. with the remote, but the batteries died many years ago. Jaime found a button on the side of the T.V., and it roared to life, letting out a high-pitched ring and loud static noise as well as the fuzzy black and white snow.
The image of the active screen was pretty foreign to the both of them. It had been nearly two months since either of them had seen a screen, and they had forgotten how harshly bright screens were.
"Whoa." Bart said, putting his fingers on the screen, "Wow..."
"Sometimes I forget what day it is here." Jaime brought up seemingly out of the blue.
"What?" Bart asked, clearly confused by the statement.
"Like, think about it. Back at home we always had screens to show us the time, the day, the month, the year... these days, we don't have any of that. And this just reminds me of that." Jaime explained.
"Well, this won't tell us what day it is. And I'm pretty sure it's the twenty-seventh. Or twenty-eighth. I'm not sure entirely." Bart admitted, then switched the subject, "Come on, put in a movie."
Jaime nodded, going through the stack of movies. One that caught his eye right away was The Rugrats Movie, something he used to watch as a kid. He slid the orange VHS in the compartment that took the tapes, and the movie began.
And everything was just great.
But only for a day.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 31ST
It started off innocently enough. They were just two guys sitting on a floor, watching a movie that was a based off a cartoon they both watched during childhood.
But as the days passed, the rain only worsened. It would pour and pour, and Jaime and Bart would be left with nothing else to do except watch movies. There were a surprising amount, and all were children's movies. Some they could recognize right away, like Pete's Dragon or Air Bud. Others were pretty strange, though.
And it almost got kind of old as well. Sure, revisiting childhood was great, but it was only so great before it got boring. The movies they were watching were intended for children ten years younger than them.
And with each movie they slid in that VHS compartment, the more Bart felt comfortable being close to Jaime. By Halloween, he was sitting on his lap, and Jaime watched the movie over his shoulder.
Not platonic, not platonic, not platonic, the words rang in Jaime's ears. But the more he thought of it, the more he thought of the words, Don't care, don't care, don't care.
A soft knocking was heard at their door, and Bart made his way off of Jaime's lap quicker than he could process, and Jaime paused the movie. Conner made his way in, seemingly in a better mood than usual.
"Come on downstairs." he commanded, though it wasn't a harsh command.
"Why?" Bart asked, "Something wrong?"
Conner shook his head, "No. We're going to carve pumpkins. It's Halloween after all."
"It is?" Jaime asked. Sometimes he didn't realize how much time passed.
God, we've been here for almost two months.
Conner nodded, and the other teens followed him down the stairs, where there were newspapers scattered all over the dining room.
"-and Dick, don't make your pumpkin into a bong, please." Mr. Kent said.
"Aw man. That's not cool." Dick mumbled.
Mr. Kent rolled his eyes, then spotted Bart and Jaime, "Oh, there you guys are. It seems like you two never leave that room. That T.V. entertaining?"
"How did you know we had-" Jaime started, though Mr. Kent cut him off.
"Please, that thing's so huge, it's pretty impossible not to see it when your door is open."
Jaime and Bart laughed along, glad that Mr. Kent wasn't mad. They sat down and Mrs. Kent slid some pumpkins to them, and a few steak knives.
"Wait, so you guys have a T.V.?" Tim asked, stopping in the middle of his cutting.
"Yeah." they replied in unison.
"How?" Tim asked.
"We found it in the attic. It's nothing fancy. It's probably as old as us, if not older." Bart explained, "It plays VHS movies."
"Oh, cool." Cassie commented, "Maybe we can watch some movies with you guys."
Jaime didn't know why that made him so uncomfortable. It was kind of something special between him and Bart, and getting other people involved in the mix, even if they were friends, seemed strange.
"Maybe." he eventually ended up saying.
They continued carving their pumpkins, making small talk along the way. Eventually they finished, showing off their finished products. Cassie had a pumpkin that looked extremely pissed off, Tim's was a stereotypical happy face pumpkin, Dick carved a marijuana leaf into his, Roy's was a scared-face pumpkin, Bart had another stereotypical happy face pumpkin, Jaime's was a bat, and Conner did surprisingly well, carving a ghost. They put the jack-o-lanterns in front of the fireplace in the family room, and Mr. Kent placed tea candles in each one, lighting them up, and they all watched as they flickered, really setting the feeling of Halloween in the house.
"They look great." Mrs. Kent smiled and laughed, "Especially your's, Dick." as she pulled a book out of the bookshelf, sitting back on her rocking chair.
"And kids, it's supposed to stop raining tomorrow. So get ready to get back to work." Mr. Kent warned. The others nodded in acknowledgement, and left to do their own thing.
Bart and Jaime went back upstairs to continue their movie, Bart happily making his way onto Jaime's lap once again. Jaime continued to think to himself as the movie progressed.
He couldn't be gay, right? There was no way he was gay. He never thought himself of potentially being gay before being with Bart. And Bart being gay himself didn't make Jaime gay. He didn't "catch the gay". It was okay for Bart to be gay, because he knew for a long time. But Jaime? No way. Jaime was eighteen. If he was gay, he definitely would have figured it out by now. It just didn't make sense. Jaime never looked himself in the mirror in the past and think, "Look at me... I'm gay."
Did it even work like that?
See, that's the thing- he didn't know how the whole thing even worked! There was no way he was gay. Nope, not at all.
But the dreams-
-don't mean a thing, he thought.
He was an eighteen year old boy who has been far away from girls for a while, so of course he would think that way. It was kind of like prison- minus the disgusting cells and rape. When there aren't any girls around, what do you think would happen?
Of course, there was always Cassie, who was pretty and strong and down to Earth- and he totally didn't take the opportunity to have her when he had it for some reason.
Because you're a raging homosexual, a little voice teased in his head.
"I am not!"
The voice startled Bart so much he fell off of Jaime's lap.
"Yo... Blue. You okay?" he asked as he leaned towards the side of the T.V. to pause the movie. Jaime seemed to have a complex look smeared on his face, and he was obviously thinking deeply about something.
"Sorry. I just- I don't know. Continue the movie. I'm just stressed." Jaime stuttered.
Bart looked concerned, and hesitantly pressed play, about to climb back in Jaime's lap, but Jaime pushed him off, letting out a small "No."
Bart seemed disappointed, though he shrugged it off. If Jaime was upset, he wasn't going to make things worse. Everybody had their bad days.
About forty minutes later, the movie wrapped up. It was kind of discouraging to grab another VHS, because children's movies were almost always short, and soon enough, they'd run out of their supply.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bart's voice was soft and sincere, but it scared Jaime so much he nearly screamed.
"What? N-no." he continued to stammer. Dammit, English may not be his first language, but he shouldn't be having trouble speaking it this much.
Bart raised an eyebrow, "I mean, something's obviously bothering you. And I'm not the guy to judge. You should know that by now."
"I know you aren't. It's not you I'm worried about." Jaime responded, but by now, he couldn't tell whether or not he was speaking the truth.
"No?" Bart asked curiously, facing him, "Come on, talk to me." the voice was much more persistent than Jaime liked.
"I have some sort of inner demon to fight." Jaime stood up, and began to leave.
"Where are you going?" the now distant voice of Bart called.
"The bathroom."
"For what? Are you gonna kill it with the plunger?"
Jaime hated himself for laughing.
But he couldn't help it.
x
The image in the mirror didn't seem to reflect him. He sighed, closing his eyes, leaning against the sink.
"Why do you retaliate against me?" the voice behind him asked in a neutral tone, "You used to accept us without question. Now ever since that Bart Allen has caused influence in your life, you fight."
"I won't fight you anymore." Jaime responded, and he could basically feel Black Beetle grin behind him.
"That's a good boy. I've had quite enough of you trying to convince yourself you're something you're not." Black Beetle said, "It's time for you to return to the Reach."
Jaime turned around to finally and get a look at the Beetle, but he was gone.
He knew what was happening; auditory hallucinations. That was the most logical answer he could think of at the top of his head. Still, the short conversation was meaningful.
And he knew exactly what Black Beetle was.
Though, he didn't want to admit it.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD
He'd been lashing, nearly in tears, screaming, and even punched in a wall.
All over the course of three days.
"Are you okay?" Bart would always ask, though Jaime would just snarl at him.
There was something seriously with him. Jaime wasn't mentally stable at all, and Bart was starting to become scared of Jaime. Not of Jaime hurting him; he'd never do that. No, he was afraid of Jaime hurting himself. He was scared Jaime would end up breaking down like he did a few years ago.
He didn't want that happening to him, too.
He just didn't know what the hell was wrong with him.
"Are you okay?" he repeated, and Jaime replied with a snarl, but added a harsh "Leave me alone" as well.
So he cut. Not because Jaime hurt his feelings, but just hoping that maybe inflicting the pain upon himself would spare Jaime the pain.
It was irrational, but Bart wanted to do anything he could to help him. He cared about him so much. Jaime was the only one who was there for him nearly this entire time. He was there for Jaime, too. They had some sort of bond Bart couldn't describe. It was the strangest friendship Bart had ever involved himself in, but he didn't care how strange it seemed to others, because he loved Jaime, and that's all that mattered.
Bart's knife clattered to the floor, some of the blood droplets spilling along with it.
His eyes widened, and his breath shortened. He gulped, but his mouth was dry, and he could feel all of the color from his face disappear.
What had he just thought?
No.
No.
This can't be happening.
No.
No...
Sure, he thought Jaime was hot, no doubt. Any gay guy or straight girl who didn't think that way was absolutely crazy. But loving him? No way! That just wasn't right. He couldn't be in love with a fucking drug dealer who threatened to kill him not even two months ago. People didn't fall in love that fast. Besides, Jaime was straight and just kind of... out of it.
He quickly picked up the knife, hiding it under the pillow, cleaning his fresh wounds with a wet towel before shoving that under as well. It was barely evening, but he didn't want to stay up any longer. He needed some sleep to clear his head. He lay there for about fifteen minutes, but was unable to fall asleep. He was much too wide awake. He sat up, looking out the window, trying to allow its pretty view to relax him.
But whatever he tried, failed.
Just accept it. Fighting it won't help anybody.
He let out a large breath,closing his eyes, then inhaled and opened them.
He had to give himself the benefit of the doubt. He and Jaime have been seeking each other for comfort nearly all of the time. And even though only two months have passed, he had to remind himself he was pretty much spending the entirety of the day with him. Which basically is equivalent to 1,464 hours. That's a lot of hours.
Dammit Bart, now's not the time to be doing math.
He repeated his method of closing his eyes while exhaling and opening them while inhaling once more.
"I'm gonna help you however I can, Jaime," he mumbled to himself quietly, "because goddammit, I love you."
"You will always lose against me." Black Beetle laughed as Blue Beetle tried to push himself off of the ground, heavily breathing, the only noises besides Black's voice were the shrill and sharp short breaths and his pumping heart.
"No." Blue mumbled, "Can't let you win."
Black Beetle just laughed, and swiped Jaime to the side as if he weighed less than nothing. He cried out, crashing into the side of the wall, unable to recover.
He admitted to defeat.
"I surrender." he said weakly, looking up at Black, who was smiling like a maniac.
"Good."
And as he entered the Reach ship, he couldn't help but know it.
There may be the scarab on my back, he thought, but that doesn't mean this is me.
He could escape.
He knew.
And suddenly, he regretted surrendering.
DECEMBER 2016
J.C. and Bart would hang out everyday.
J.C. was Bart's best friend.
But it was sure a surprise when J.C. grabbed Bart's head and kissed him.
He couldn't react.
"Why'd you do that?" he asked, though he wasn't upset.
J.C. apologized. Bart had told him there was no need.
"I'm actually gay," he explained, "and I like you like that, too."
If Bart could take his words and swallow them back down, he would.
But it was too late.
It was far, far, too late.
x
"A hundred bucks. Now." J.C. demanded.
"How could you do this to me?!" Bart screamed, "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Give me that fucking money or the whole town is going to know you're a faggot." J.C. smirked, "Including, I don't know... your dad?"
Bart's heart sank into his chest.
If only he could just snatch J.C.'s phone out of his hand, but J.C. was bigger and stronger and taller and he'd probably lose a fight with him. It would never cross his mind that J.C. would be recording the whole thing.
Because he trusted him.
And he fucking betrayed him.
Still, there was no guarantee even if Bart gave him the money that J.C. still wouldn't release the video.
"Tomorrow." he promised, "I'll give you the money tomorrow."
"Great. Now get out of my house." J.C. commanded. Bart nodded, giving J.C. one last painful look before leaving through the back door. He just hoped J.C. would have a change of heart.
But that was unlikely.
J.C. sent the video to his friends, along with the text.
So it's true... guys gay lol. Got the whole vid. Make sure to edit the part where i'm kissing him though. just the part where he admits it.
Within a few minutes, he got a text message back.
Meet us at the basketball court.
Cool. Be there in a second.
J.C. made his way to the court, and his friends Ben and Lucas stood there, satisfied smiles on their faces.
"Nice job, man." Ben said as he high-fived him.
"So is he giving us the money?" Lucas asked.
"Yeah. By tomorrow." J.C. nodded.
"Great. Now where's your share?" Ben asked.
"What? We already got his money." J.C. responded, confused.
"Nope. Your money." Lucas insisted, "A hundred bucks from you, too."
"What the fuck is this?" J.C. commanded.
"Bro, give us the fucking money or else we're releasing the unedited version. And everyone'll think you're a faggot as well." Lucas demanded.
"No!" J.C. responded, "That's not cool- what?! You fucking assholes!"
"Tick-tock." Ben responded, "Both you and your boyfriend need to give us a hundred bucks each. Or else it's bye-bye reputation. And friends. And hello getting the shit beaten out of you everyday."
"But I'm not gay!" J.C. cried.
Ben and Lucas just smirked.
"Fine, okay. I'll give you the money tomorrow." J.C. admitted in defeat, and walked away. In a panic, he texted Bart.
Bart
I'm sorry.
Please forgive me.
Stop ignoring me. Dude it's an emergency.
Fuck you.
Dude they're blackmailing me too. If I don't give them money too they'll release the vid
We'll both get caught up in shit
YOU DUMB ASS
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
I'M SORRY
FUCK YOU.
BART PLEASE
I DON'T HAVE A HUNDRED BUCKS!
I need you!
You know by now my family is poor.
I hate you.
I'm not giving you the money.
How do I know this is not another trick pulled by your friends to get more money out of me
I guess you dont
but you have to trust me
please
Ugh
Okay
I'll give you it
THANK YOU OH MY GOD
only if you clean my entire house though.
...are you fucking serious?
hell yeah
my mom's been trying to get me to do it for weeks
and that thing better be spotless
fucking hell
fine
That night, having no choice, J.C. did just that. Eventually he finished cleaning the house though, by the next morning. Whenever Bart's parents asked him what he was doing, he said it was a surprise.
They arrived to Ben and Lucas, giving them the two-hundred dollars that afternoon.
Bart hoped and prayed to whatever god may be out there that Ben and Lucas don't decide to release the video anyways, because it would pretty much prove the end of both of their social lives and reputations.
Luckily, they dropped it, and the controversy disappeared.
But still, Bart felt like an idiot, and was severely disappointed in himself.
He cut himself a line so deep he was on the borderline of bleeding out to death. He wasn't sure if it was on purpose or accident, but he honestly didn't care, though. He sat there, on the floor, hiding the knife away. He waited for mother nature to take her course on him.
It was kind of peaceful, really. Watching his blood spill out of his arm and dye the bathroom rug beneath him red, and he began to feel dizzy and sparks swam in his vision.
I won't make it to see the new year, he thought in the back of his head, how sad.
He imagined his gravestone, how it'd be put with his first name, the first initial of his middle name, and last name. Then underneath it would be something stereotypical like, "BELOVED SON AND FRIEND". His birth-date and death-date sit underneath that.
And it'd be all new and shiny.
Who would really care if Bart was dead, anyways? All of the Bible verses claimed he was condemned to Hell when he died. Might as well make the trip early. Bart personally didn't believe in God or Satan or whatever, but if they were real, then that is what death would be like.
Or there would be the calm nothingness instead.
Which, really, is all he wanted.
x
When Bart first woke up, it occurred to him that he shouldn't have woke up. He looked around, feeling pain in his left arm up and down. He nearly fell off the bed in surprise as his mother Meloni got up from her chair and started crying.
"Oh, Bart, you're alive!" she grabbed his hand and held it gently, but firmly.
"Why?" Bart asked.
Meloni gave her son a concerned look, and Bart suddenly realized what he just asked.
"No, honey." she scolded softly, "You should be alive. One hundred percent alive."
"But I was bleeding and dying." Bart mumbled, tossing his head to the side and he sighed. He wasn't in the mood to talk.
"Don saw your blood underneath the door. He kicked it down and saw you. We dialed an ambulance and we found out if he had discovered you a mere two minutes later, well," her eyes watered, "you'd be gone."
Why couldn't have Dad waited those two minutes?
"Wow." Bart replied simply.
"Now honey, please tell me how you ended up bleeding." Meloni begged.
Bart's face went pale.
Shit. How was he going to explain to her?
"Mom, I've just... it's been a long day and I nearly died. Can I please tell the story later?"
She nodded, "I understand. I can go if you want."
"Please do." he responded, "I need some time to... catch my breath."
She nodded once again, kissing him on the forehead before leaving.
He had to think of an excuse before she came back.
But he was already asleep.
x
By now, Bart had no idea what day it was. It all seemed to be mushed together in one blur, and the hospital room door squeaked open, only for him to see his dad enter.
"Oh, good. You're awake now." he said, grabbing one of the chairs in the room and pulling it towards Bart's bed, sitting backwards on it, looking at his son with concern.
"I found a knife in the sink cabinet."
Bart froze, and he knew he was done for. He didn't dare look his father in the eyes.
"Bart, did you try to kill yourself?" his father asked, his voice so hurt that Bart could barely hold back his tears.
"N-no," he mumbled, trying not to break down, "Not on purpose." He was lying. Or he wasn't lying. He honestly didn't know anymore.
"Then why was there a bloody knife?" from years of experience of being a cop, his voice was commanding but calm.
And it scared the hell out of Bart.
"I-I-" Bart stuttered, but couldn't even think of a sentence. He began to cry, super embarrassed that he was bawling in front of his dad. But he couldn't help it.
"How many fucking secrets have you been keeping from me, son?" Don's question was much more impatient and angry than his previous one.
"Dad, I- please." he begged, continuing to cry, and loudly, and let out a yelp as his dad grabbed his good arm, and inspected it.
"Why have you been doing this to yourself?!"
"I can't tell you." Bart mumbled.
His father looked ready to slap him, he was so infuriated, "We're gonna send you away to get you help, you hear that?"
Bart didn't care.
Anything to get away from his father.
x
The hospital was somewhat strict, but Bart liked it much better than home. No, the food wasn't that great, and people could be hostile, but overall, as long as his dad wasn't there to yell at him, he was happy. Though he would constantly look at that goddamn scar left on his arm. It was huge, and didn't heal like the others did. It was so red for such a long time, Bart thought it had reopened and started bleeding again every time his eyes fell on it.
The stay lasted around three weeks. Bart didn't make any friends during the time duration. He was very reserved, and he was glad nobody there was from his school to go back and tell the tale that Bart Allen was at the loony bin.
He made up an excuse; he'd just go back and say he was visiting his dying grandpa, Thaddeus. The man was actually quite alive, but he was so old and cranky, he might as well be dead.
Bart missed Christmas, but was back before New Year's. He got plenty of Christmas presents to unwrap once he arrived back home, as well as an obnoxious amount of "Get Well Soon, God Loves You and We Love You" type of cards. In the days before New Year's arrival, his parents would constantly check his arms to make sure he didn't cut more.
On New Year's Eve, he was far too excited for midnight. It'd be the New Year, and Bart would get a shot to have a good year. 2016 hadn't gone too well for him, and perhaps 2017 would bring better times.
Though, in the back of his mind, he knew that a New Year wouldn't change a thing. His parents would still check to make sure he hadn't been cutting, his father would still give him that strange glare whenever he passed by him.
Nothing would change. It'd just be the same shit. He'd go through the rest of eighth grade feeling like shit, he'd go through the summer feeling like shit, and start high school feeling like shit. He'd come home each day and perhaps cut. He had been going for his thighs recently since his parents always checked his arms. Then when 2018 came around, he'd repeat the process. All the way until he graduated high school- if he graduated.
And as the very last seconds of 2016 passed, he wished for something to change in the upcoming year. He wanted something special, that would give him a sense of joy, something that would make him want to live and be as positive as possible.
But what were the chances of getting that special something?
Happy New Year.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4TH
Bart traced his finger across the large scar that sat on his left arm. Nearly a year later, it still hasn't healed completely.
It never would.
Jaime entered, and he quickly brought his sleeve over his arm, smiling as if he were doing nothing wrong.
"Are you feeling better today?" he asked.
"Yeah. I guess." Jaime nodded, grabbing his sketchbook from his nightstand, and beginning to leave.
"Okay. See ya." Bart said, and Jaime nodded again in acknowledgement before exiting the room.
Bart was almost disappointed that Jaime hadn't come to see him.
Didn't matter, though. Bart really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone but himself.
x
Jaime was never really a fan of the holidays, but they already began, and Halloween passed by a few days ago. Soon enough, it'd be Thanksgiving, then Christmas.
As a child, they were pretty much the highlight of his year. Ever since his dad's death, however, they were nothing but an emotional toll.
He grew up too fast.
Being so high up in the air plus the mix of the cold early-November air made him shiver, and he began to draw in his sketchbook. He really didn't have any idea what he planned on drawing, but just went with whatever was on his hand's mind right now.
Oh, boy.
What was I thinking?, he asked himself. He drew him and Bart, except it was in his superhero-alternate-reality-dream-place. It was a night sky, and for some reason, in a desert. He was in his Blue Beetle armor, in which all except the headpiece was covering his body, and it reflected off the moonlight. He was suspended in the air, wings open to maintain the hover. He was holding Bart in his arms securely and affectionately. The guy was in his Impulse costume instead of the alternate Kid Flash one.
The smiles on their faces made Jaime smile himself. The drawing was pretty, no doubt. He wondered if he should color it in.
God, no. he shook his head. His smile faded. He was concerned more than anything else. How had he subconsciously drawn something like this?
From the corner of his eye, he swore he could have saw the image of his father sitting on a thick tree branch, in his clean white robes, fishing. Though when he centered his vision on the area, there was nothing.
Maybe the air up here was too thin. He had to get down. He closed his sketchbook, and traveled down as quickly as possible, taking in the the clean air that the ground provided him.
He began to walk back towards the house. The sun was beginning to set, and dinner would be soon, he noted. He returned to the house, placed his sketchbook back on his nightstand, then returned back downstairs. It was a stereotypical dinner; chicken, green beans, and cauliflower.
Still, his mind wasn't focused upon the food placed in front of him. It was more of what happened when he was up in the trees. In a strange way, he wasn't crept out. It almost felt normal, but not normal at the same time. Jaime couldn't place his finger on it. It really didn't make any sense, but somehow he perfectly comprehended it.
Before he knew it, he was finished with his plate, and Dick began to exit the house.
Maybe Jaime could confide in him.
"Oh, hey, Jaime." Dick greeted as the Hispanic teen caught up to him.
"Can we talk about something?" Jaime asked quickly.
"Sure. Want a joint?" Dick offered, and Jaime was happy to accept. He really needed to calm down more than anything else right now.
They traveled their way to the weed-tree, Dick pulling out a lighter and rolling a couple of joints, and they began to smoke. Jaime sighed, slamming the back of his head lightly on the trunk of the tree.
"What's up, Jaime?" Dick asked, blowing out the smoke.
"Dick, I think I'm gay." Jaime admitted, the words tumbling out of his mouth.
"Oh?" Dick grinned, "Which farm boy made you start thinking that?"
"That doesn't matter." Jaime could feel the heat hitting his cheeks, "I just want reassurance. I'm not sure if I'm actually gay, I mean I've had girlfriends and-"
"Bisexuality is a thing, y'know?" Dick asked, then looked at him, "You can like girls and boys at the same time."
"But even girls, though. Like I think girls are pretty and cute but... but I'm not like, attracted to them like that." Jaime explained, "That took me a while to realize. But still."
"Well, you can be attracted to neither, too. Just because you don't like girls doesn't mean you automatically have to like boys. Asexuality?" Dick asked.
Jaime felt like such a child getting so embarrassed like this. He was an adult now, he knew. He should act like one.
"Jaime, have you found guys attractive?" Dick asked next when Jaime didn't respond.
"Yeah." Jaime mumbled. God, he needed to stop blushing so much. This was ridiculous.
"Well, congratulations. You're gay. Let's throw a party." Dick laughed, and Jaime laughed along nervously, too.
"I guess so." he mumbled.
"You should ask him out." Dick commented, taking another hit.
"Who's him, hermano?" Jaime asked.
"Oh, shut up. We both know who I'm talking about." Dick slapped him playfully, "I kinda ship you two."
"What's shipping?"
"You don't wanna know."
And Jaime laughed, looking at Dick, suddenly feeling at ease. This Dick wasn't like the Nightwing in his dreams. Nightwing was very fit, well groomed, and serious.
Yet, there was a tint of similarity between the two. Maybe if Dick put more effort into his appearance and sobered up, they'd be two of the same.
"I don't think he's interested in me." Jaime mumbled.
"Please, dude. You're super fucking hot. I'm surprised he didn't try to get with you already." Dick commented.
"You think I'm hot?" Jaime asked, suddenly super confused.
"I mean, yeah. You're friends with my little brother though, so fucking you would be kind of weird." Dick continued.
"Sheesh, you're really open about your thoughts." Jaime commented back.
"Hell yeah. You know, when I was a senior in high school, I made it my goal to fuck as many freshmen as possible." Dick began to tell his tale.
"Oh? How'd that go for you?" Jaime asked, genuinely curious.
"Great. I did the calculations and I got my penis inside seventy-one percent of them." Dick finished.
"Wow. That's kind of disturbing yet I'm proud of you. And the fact I could have been one of them terrifies me more." Jaime laughed, lighting up a new joint.
"Well, you weren't. And if you're curious, fifty-one percent of them were girls. The other forty-nine percent were boys."
"Holy shit." Jaime gasped.
"Please don't tell Tim about this." he requested.
"Nope. This talk stays between us. Everything we said underneath this tree stays underneath this tree." Jaime insisted.
"Now that," Dick grinned, "I like the sound of."
Blue Beetle tore across the sky, slamming into Black Beetle, who was thrown off by the blow, and he slammed into the brick wall, sending cracks in it. He grunted in pain, falling to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
But Jaime wasn't done. He took both of his arms and put them in front of his chest, to form a large plasma cannon. The plasma cannon charged up for a few seconds before letting out a blast, sending the larger Beetle through the brick wall, and into the office building.
Blue Beetle walked through the broken wall, his orange lenses allowing him to see through the debris that floated through the air. He walked over the broken brick, and saw Black Beetle on the ground, gasping for air, his armor ripped to shreds, exposing his green skin that previously hid underneath it.
"No," Black Beetle grunted, "This can't be happening." he looked up at Jaime, his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and fear.
"But it is." Jaime responded in a husky voice, and he bent down and flipped Black over, to where his scarab was. He grabbed hold of the scarab, and with a swift and strong motion, pulled it out of his back. Black let out a cry of pain, and Jaime threw the scarab across the room, to which it clattered somewhere in the distance.
It was over.