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He was feeling so alone. It wasn’t the first time, and it was sad to realize that he was now used to feeling alone, to feel like no one will ever be there for him.
Jason was laying on the cold bed of his safe house, looking at the ceiling for what seemed to be hours.
He was lonely, he was cold, he was feeling so sad.
Why was he feeling that sad? Why was he feeling like no one cares about him?
Maybe it was the truth, maybe no one cared after all. His family was better without him. Bruce now has a blood son. He also has Dick, that everyone loves so much; Tim, who managed to end up the heir of the Wayne Industry even though he was adopted too. Cass… everyone loves Cass.
But no one loves Jason. Jason was not welcome in this family. He had been replaced so easily.
They would be happier without him, that’s what he was thinking tonight, and that's what he’s been thinking for the last month.
He only brought troubles to the Bats, always too violent, too emotive, too rebellious, too much himself.
They never sent him a message asking him how he was feeling, or if he made it home safely. Never sent him a message just to see him or to act like a normal family.
Always “We need you for a mission,” “Join us on patrol tonight.”
Never a simple “how are you doing?” or “did you heal properly from that wound?”. Never an “I love you” or a “you’re important to us.”
Jason wasn’t surprised. Who would even care about him?
His personality was shit, he was always too much. Too angry, too enthusiastic, too different.
Jason believed that some people were born to be alone, born to feel lonely and outcast. Jason believed he was one of these people.
He didn’t like to be alone. Actually, he hated to be alone. But he didn’t have a choice, so he tried to pretend that he would rather be alone, to convince himself mostly. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart where he used to feel so warm when Bruce was watching movies with him. He tried to ignore the way his eyes burned when he imagined his family at the moment. They were probably having a movie night, all of them curled up together on the giant couch, laughing at the movie and sharing a big blanket to protect them from the cold weather.
Jason was alone, and he was so cold.
Jason was so tired of feeling cold. He was tired of feeling lonely, he was tired of being alone.
He always tried to comfort himself by thinking that he was strong. Strong enough to stay alone, strong enough to handle the cold, the pain, and the loneliness.
But the truth is Jason was tired of acting strong. He was tired of hanging on empty words and promises.
Secretly, Jason was hoping for the window to open, for Batman to jump on his room and realize how bad he was feeling. Secretly Jason was hoping for his father to comfort him, to tell him that he was enough, that he was loved, instead of telling him that he was strong.
Strong.
God, Jason started to hate this word.
Everything would be simpler if he was weak. A few minutes of pain, the feeling of his body crashing on the streets, or the burning of all the pills in his empty stomach, and then nothing. No more. No more pain, no more sadness, no more cold, no more feelings.
Jason knew death already. Death was sweet. Death was nothing, no feelings, no thoughts, no one. Not even himself.
He couldn’t stand himself anymore.
Jason wanted his window to open on his father. Jason wanted to be held close, to be reassured like a child. He wanted to feel as if he was someone, for once.
Here, alone on his cold bed, in his cold and empty safe house. He wasn’t even sure to be real. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he didn’t wake up after dying.
He should have stayed dead. He would rather be dead.
Bruce liked him more when he was dead. Everyone liked him more when he was dead.
Being alive now was having to accept seeing disgust, fear, and judgment in the eyes of people he used to see as family and friends when they were looking at him.
Being alive was having to let the pain, the anger, and the sadness build up in his heart. Having to hide it from the world, because he had no one he could tell about it.
Jason was tired of looking out the window.
It won’t open, he told himself. It won’t open, stop looking.
Jason used to believe that everyone had a place in the world. Now, he thinks he’s an exception.
Jason keeps telling himself that if the world doesn’t need him, he doesn’t really have any reasons to stay.
Jason was tired of hanging on to the idea that it will get better one day. Because it never went better, and it’s been years.
No one will ever understand him, no one will ever listen, no one will ever know, no one will ever love him. He was alone.
I’m alone.
He never thought being alone would be so painful.
He never thought he would feel so empty, so sad, so out of it.
His alarm clock was showing 4:00 AM, red digital numbers being the only colorful touch in the dark apartment.
Already 4:00 AM? He felt like midnight was just two minutes ago. He just wanted to lay down for a minute.
It wasn’t terrible. No one was waiting for him anywhere. No one will ever know what happened in the safe house tonight, nor yesterday or tomorrow.
Jason didn’t have to take off his clothes, he stayed in pajamas the whole day. He just curled up under the blanket, trying to create warmth that will give him an illusion of love and safety for the night. At least to allow his body to sleep for a few hours.
Jason didn’t want to wake up anymore, anyway.
Life wasn’t a fairytale, and even though Jason prayed for it the whole evening, the window remained closed.