When he'd lived with his parents all he had ever felt was happiness and love { his mother's hand gently combing through his hair hugging him calling him her little robin' …. the comforting weight of his father's arms clenched around him, a shield between him and the rest of the world he's never appreciated until it was gone' A Grayson through and through'} His family had always made him complete, whole.
The day he saw his parents fall he lost a part of himself, felt the grief keenly, tearing into him with a ferocity he's never known {mami tati no…} when he heard the snapping of bones, when he saw the spreading blood around their distorted figures, the smell of blood mixed with cotton candy and popcorn and the bright, soulful eyes of his mother lifeless and dull staring back at him.
He was thrown into the cold stone walls of Juvie before his parents' corpses had a chance to cool, and his heritage had him marked as a target long before he's arrived. "Gypsy, thief, circus freak" were constant mutterings of the hostile crowds. Bruce may have saved him from that hellhole, but he couldn't save Dick from the prison of his mind.' By the time Bruce came, he'd already learned his place, and not even the rare approval of his mentor could change it. He knew his value, or lack thereof, knew his purpose. He'd been meant to die with his parents, but he hadn't, and what exactly did that make him?'Who would want to befriend a freak like him? After all he was just a charity case, the sole child of Batman's brood who was not even adopted. When little Jason hugged him and declared that he had been adopted and now they both were brothers , how could Dick refute him and tell him that they weren't brothers ,that Dick had never been important enough for Bruce to adopt him. He just smiled at Jason, concealed his anguish and treated Jason to pizza on officially being brothers.
A mask became firmly fixed on his face, a mask which hid the turmoil inside him. He did not want to be a burden, a bother, so he hid himself, hid his pain and his suffering and his grief, only to let it out in the solace of room, alone with no one to see and no one to care. They were just words why did they hurt him so much?
Everything he loved he was determined to lose, but he could never stop giving his all, could never stop foolishly hoping that they could fix him, save him from himself. It broke his heart to see Roy stumbling over his feet, high as a kite while blaming Dick for everything wrong between them. Was he such a big fuck up that Roy had turned to drugs to find some comfort? He hadn't been there for smart, sweet, beautiful Barbara when joker had shot her. He had failed to help Jason when he was all alone, beaten with a crowbar while his mother had betrayed him .He was the reason why Wally had died to save them all. It was no wonder that his Team hated him and left him. Barbara, Kory, Wally, Roy… he loved them but it was never good enough, not for him, and definitely not for them. They slipped, fell apart and he was left alone to suffer. He never could save his loved ones, his parents, Barbara, Jason, Wally, he failed them, he failed them all.
He pushed everyone away. He was toxic, poison. He was grateful that people let him close, dealt with his unwanted affection. It seemed that even death didn't want him. Sometimes he would just stand near the edge and look down, wondering how easy it would be to end the pain forever, to join his parents… But no death was too easy, he had to atone for his sins, feel the agony of his mistakes, numerous as they were, endless as they seem to be.
He saw the pity in their eyes but they could never see his desperation. After all no one was abusing him {he deserved it for failing, it's just the part of training}, it's not like he was replaced as a defective model, they were just words which he would laugh off as if they were not tearing his heart apart, as if they were not true {pathetic, liar, whore, stupid, you are just like batman, you should have died with them, desperate bitch}. He wants them to forget him, to ignore him and leave him alone with his intrusive thoughts and babbles and stupid puns. It's not like anybody notices, anybody cares. He's always left alone just like he belongs.
He is alone with no one left to care for him, no one left to see his fake smile , his grief, no one to take him out of his misery because that is what he wants, what he deserves. His shoulders are burdened with responsibilities, he had work to do. His own desires didn't matter and never would.
And the day comes when he is on the cold payment, after fighting Deatstroke, blood dripping from the gaping hole in his chest while everyone around him screams at him, pleads with him to not let go, he finally will be free, finally be happy to let go, to forget their barbed words and actions and smiling will he leave his miserable existence to join his parents.
He will at last breathe freely, knowing he no longer has to lie.