Pairings:
DickxWally
Summary:
Wally barges in on Robin... with a knife...
Rating:
T for self-harm and the feels.
AN:
I'm thinking of making a related one-shot, only with the aftermath of this one instead of a replica. Should I?
Don't be afraid to leave a comment! It gives me a little thrill when I see [New Review] in my emails :3
"I thought you had a detention."
They were the first words out of Robin's mouth, and the movement of his lips caused the shining streaks on his cheeks to move with them.
Wally's brain was torn.
First aid or talk – first aid or talk – first aid talk first aid talk.
By the time he'd decided the logical thing to do would be to undo the clasp on the box underneath Robin's bed, he was at the acrobat's side, throwing the knife as far away as possible. Damn, he was so small that gash so big the blood so much-
"It's not fatal," Robin murmured as Wally zapped away and back, unrolling the white bandages. "I thought you had a detention."
"Christ." He ripped off the glasses, searched for a red tint in the whites of his eyes or the dilation of his pupils. Nope. Not drugs. He knew the answer before he asked the question, yet he did anyway. "Dick, what the hell were you doing?" As he spoke, his fingers twitched so much he couldn't push the needle of the pin down. Crimson blotches were already forming – already soaking through the smooth white. He pressed his palm against it. The liquid was still warm with bodily heat.
"Don't tell me you skipped it."
"Skipped what? What are you talking about?"
"You had a spitball fight with James yesterday, didn't you? Got your ass kicked both in the battle and into trouble." He smirked. "You're teacher's gonna sentence you for double if you 'forgot it'."
Wally wasn't sure he could contain the urge to slap him.
At that moment, however, fat, swollen tears began to form over his lower lashes and they burst, dribbled down his pink cheeks. Then the corners of his mouth faltered, followed by the confident brows. Wally pulled him forward and hugged him, a hug into which Dick heaved uncontrolled sobs.
"Br-Bruce doesn't know," he wept, "he thinks th-that they're jus-st from the R-Robin stuff."
Wally hushed him, his own eyes burning with saltwater. Ever bone in his body felt awful; Robin—Dick—had been cutting... maybe more... and his best friend hadn't known? What an idiot. What a selfish, conceited, neglecting "best friend" he was. Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot.
He threw back the covers and lifted Dick up and under them. The boy needed to be warm and safe – he needed to stop shaking through each violent, lung-shattering breath as he cried into Wally's T-shirt.
He needed to be close.
Wally's arms stayed locked around his little bird, lips pressed to his forehead. He'd never noticed. He'd never have known. He'd never had suspected that behind those mischievous cackles and punch-lines would be this.
His heart ached and his throat felt like someone had turned off the faucet at the back of his mouth. Restricted the intake of air, of oxygen, of thoughts that weren't panicked and drowning in regrets.
Dick, I didn't know. I didn't see it. I didn't realise. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
"I'm so sorry." His voice was barely audible, but Dick heard it and tightened their embrace. His tears ran over his pointed nose.
"It's not your fault, Wally. You probably just stopped me from doing it."
Wally didn't have to ask what "it" was.
He wondered maybe, without the costume...
...had he saved Dick's life?
Yes.
But he'd never know for sure.