"Y-You can't be serious," Dick's fork slipped out of his fingers as he stared across the long breakfast table at his mentor. The silky black hair that Bruce carefully combed and styled as 'Brucie' was matted and tangled and his face was unshaven. His eyes betrayed his weariness, clearly he hadn't slept the night before, and likely a couple nights before that. The older man said nothing, and if Dick didn't know the man better he would assume that he was being ignored. But that's not how Bruce worked. He was being carefully studied, sized up so that Bruce may choose his next words as strategically as possible. Having reached a decision, he slowly turned his attention to his ward, but not before carefully folding his newspaper and placing it beside his half empty cup of coffee.
"Dick… it was by a lapse in my judgment that you became my sidekick. You were too young, and I can see now that you were clearly not ready. I'm sorry." His entire face… his entire body language read to Dick as guarded. Clearly, this wasn't up for debate, but if Bruce thought that he could end this without a fight, he was dead wrong.
"So what? That's it then? Bruce, if I'm not fighting crime, what am I-?"
"You are my son."
"And?" Dick asked, his voice starting to waver with emotion. Bruce almost winced at the emotion in the boy's voice. He sounded as though he was on the verge of breaking down, but that would never happen. Bruce could feel the boy's hurt and anger as though they were coming from his own heart and he had to remind himself, This is the right thing to do. Dick would be strong through this. He always was.
"…and nothing more. You'll be attending Gotham Academy and you are welcome to hire any subsequent tutors as you see fit. You will be doing what you should have been doing in the first place and focusing on your education." As Bruce spoke, he could see Dick's eyes growing cold. Refusing to make eye contact, the young teen pushed his chair back from the table and stood mechanically before running out of the room. The air seemed to weigh more heavily on Bruce's shoulders as he heard his young ward run up the stairs.
He cleared the second landing before he could think and he almost knocked the serving tray out of Alfred's hands as he passed. Instead of pausing to help the elderly man as he would have done under normal circumstances, he merely met eyes for an instant before his bedroom door slammed loudly behind him. Shaky breaths teased his lungs as he leaned against the door, slowly sinking to the ground. He could feel his entire world crashing down around his ears.
He knew that he had made a mistake… maybe a couple mistakes, but it was hard for him to identify exactly where everything had gone wrong. Sure, he'd nearly been killed due to his own carelessness, but the end of his world started before that. It started with Connor… He hadn't spoken to Connor since then. He wanted to know where everything stood with them… he wanted to know that Wally was okay with whatever feelings he may have… and most of all, he dearly wished that he could see everyone again. He'd never be able to see any of them again.
There was no room for Richard Wayne, heir to the Wayne fortune and up-and-coming Gotham socialite in an intergalactic superhero team. Richard Wayne had no business visiting Superboy, even at his home in Kansas. In order to maintain both Bruce's and his own secret identity he'd have to give up everything he'd felt for Superboy in these last months before he ever really knew what it was.
He crawled over to his bed and climbed in, laying face first into his down pillow. His wounds ached and burned wherever they were touched and some places that they weren't, and in his chest he could practically feel all the hurt and all the affection pressed into a dark space in his mind so that he wouldn't have to look at them again for a long while. That was it for his friends, his life, and his… Connor. Tomorrow he'd be back in Gotham Academy doing his best to live the lie he had created to hide everything he really was.