This story now has a companion called Guilt. Both stories take place together around the same time. The only difference is Breaking Promises is from Dick's point of view and Guilt is from Wally's. I might add more but I'm going to keep it complete since I don't know how many more of these I'm going to add.
He was fine. He was fine. He was fine. Lather built up between his finger and hands as he kept rubbing his hands together. He was fine. Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was falling apart.
He ground his fingers against his other hand with a little more force. He could breathe, of course, he could breathe, because there was no reason that he wouldn't be able to breathe. It was okay. It was okay. Everything was okay.
Of course, it would be easier to believe that if his breath wasn't coming out harshly and his hands weren't slightly stinging. It had to be okay because he couldn't not be okay. He had to be okay. He was Nightwing. The first Robin he was better than this, whatever this feeling was. Whatever it was doing to him, he was better than it. Nothing was happening!
Blood.
He swallowed harshly and felt a soreness in his throat that hadn't been there before. It didn't matter, nothing mattered. Nothing other than being okay.
Callado.
Why couldn't he be okay?
Pitter-patter on a tin roof.
He felt like screaming! Falling to the ground and just lying there and like breaking the mirror in front of him all at once. His chest heaved and his heart hammered so fast in his chest. It felt like it was trying to break free of his rib cage. He had to be okay! He had to be okay! He had to breathe!
A loud crack sounded and Dick focused on the sound intently, only to realize it wasn't the mirror it was just the door opening with a bit more force than normal. A guy darted in and immediately passed him heading for a stall.
Focus. Focus. The sink. The mirror in front of him, the one he refused to look at, not wanting to see how much of a mess he looked at. The door. The bright slightly off white bright lights. His hand-no he didn't want to focus on those. The black bathroom stalls just to his right. He was pretty sure that someone in the third stall was doing drugs. The bar was not super classy but it wasn't just a dive bar either, but thankfully no one else was in the bathroom but him and the guy in the stall.
Focus. Soap on his hands... and maybe blood-no just soap. That's all-soap. Just soap. He closed his eyes. Soap. The cool draft that seemed to be coming in from underneath the door that led back to the club. Dick moved his feet slightly and felt the slightly tacky floor stick to his shoes a bit. Water rushed over his hands but he swiftly ignored it.
Focus. He had to focus. The sound of the door had made as it had frantically snapped open. The sound of the loud snort Dick had heard in the stall about ten seconds later. There was a somewhat loud humming also in the room which could be the lights or the heating. And the water-
Focus. What could he smell? What could he smell? For one urine. Although they were relatively clean bathrooms, it was a bar and there was probably always going to be some inebriated man with poor aim. The other strong smell was the disinfectant used liberally to try to combat the first scent.
He could taste the remnants of his gin and tonic that he had only had a few mouthfuls of still sticking in the corners of his mouth. Dick licked at the corners for a few seconds before stopping.
Stopping everything.
Every movement including his hands. His body felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds, he refused to look at his hands though even as they stung. Knew that if he looked at them, it might start again. He put his hands down by his body and managed to turn off the faucet without looking closely at the sink. He focused on his lungs and on taking a deep breath into his lungs. This time, his lungs seemed to cooperate and breathe with him though it was still faster than normal, no matter how much he tried to slow it down. But at least, his heart no longer seemed to be trying to exit his chest, even if his pulse was still racing. He closed his eyes again and put one hand on his heart and the other on his chest where his lung should be. He focused on breathing as deeply as he could force himself to.
"Dude, you okay?" Dick's eyes snapped open and his pulse that he managed to slow quite a bit in the last few minutes spiked again. Dick's eyes searched for the owner of the voice. It was the guy who walked past him. The druggie. The druggie wanted to know if he was okay?
"Yeah, I'm fine," tumbled from his mouth automatically without thought.
"Your hands are bleeding" Dick's eyes automatically caught the first glance of his hands and found the addict was right. He had really rubbed his hands raw. There was a small rivulet coming from between the knuckles of his left hand between the ring and middle fingers. There was also a decent size wound on the back of his right hand, just above the wrist. His nails must have repeatedly attacked the area since it took up almost his entire back of his wrist.
Dick realized after a moment that he hadn't responded.
"Must have reopened a wound," he said, grabbing a few handfuls of paper towels to cover them from view, as well as soak up any blood. He hoped his facial features had grouped into the one that said, ' There's nothing wrong and I am totally trustworthy'. Apparently, it bore enough semblance to it, or the man was high enough that it didn't matter because the man nodded several times and then dashed back out the door, leaving Dick alone, again.
His hands trembled slightly but he grabbed firmly to the edge of the sink, the paper towels still sticking to his hands. He was fine. It was just a weird...strange thing that didn't mean-
He hung his head. It was stupid to react so much...too much. He had never had a visceral reaction to this particular stimulus before. It was fine. He was fine. Why had it bothered him so much when it used to only make him embarrassed but he had always been able to play it cool like it wasn't anything before. It wasn't anything, he reminded himself. Just extreme flirting with people who had slight issues with boundaries. Not a big deal. It was fine.
Dick stood up straight and looked down at his hands. After moving the paper towels, he discovered that the streams had stopped and threw away the towels in the trash. He checked his reflection in the mirror just long enough to make sure the makeup was still there and everything looked like it should before he exited the bathroom.
The sounds of the bar were louder on this side. He didn't drink much, had never been much of a drinker but a couple of his coworkers had asked him if he wanted to come out tonight. Even though he knew he should be working on Nightwing cases, he couldn't find it in him to say no. He should have said no...No it was fine. Everything was fine. He was just too sensitive. He had made his way halfway back to his group when he saw her.
Dick just barely managed to only stumble once as the blond girl in the pink tube top smiled at him from across the way more than little suggestively. She had grabbed his ass on his way to the bathroom. It shouldn't have affected him so much. There was no reason for him to react so viscerally. He used to get it all the time, especially from rich socialites. It shouldn't have bothered him.
He rejoined his friends at the bar and was able to make it an hour before he made some excuse to go home.