Work Text:
Pain.
So much pain.
His ears were ringing.
Was that the sound of him crying, or was it someone else?
There was a flood in Florida and a tornado in Australia.
His legs and arms were screaming at him to stop, but he couldn’t.
Not when someone was being raped in Japan and another was being held by gunpoint in Finland.
Not when everyone was counting on him to save the day.
He wobbled on his feet, punching the would-be robbers away from the elderly couple, he didn’t get to hear their thank you’s before he was off again.
Earthquake in Milan.
Lightning storm in Canada.
Sandstorm in Egypt.
They never stopped; the list was endless.
How long since this had started? How long since his powers grew and suddenly, he could hear just as well as his dad. Did he suffer like this? Probably not, his dad was perfect, he was Superman, a symbol of hope to everyone in the world. Why couldn’t Jon turn it off? Why did he have to suffer?
Child smuggling in Mexico.
Gun smuggling in Washington.
Drug smuggling in Russia.
He fell, it had been ages since he last fell when out flying, he needs food. Italy has nice food, he should’ve stopped for a bite to eat when he was there last, had he taken care of a thief or a rapist? They were starting to blur together, or, starting would be a strong word, they had started blending together ages ago. He thinks. Was it still Monday?
He crashed into the ground, at least it wasn’t a building, and just… stayed there.
People were calling him, he could hear them, they were all asking for Superboy.
He didn’t feel like Superboy at the moment, he felt a lot like Jon.
He didn’t want this, he didn’t want these powers, he just wanted it to stop.
He wanted it all to stop, the screaming, the problems.
Why couldn’t the world just be good? Why did people do bad things?
“Superboy,” the voice was soothing, smooth and rumbling, reverberating in the owner's chest for a couple of seconds before leaving.
“Jon,” the voice said.
Damian.
He wanted to call out to him, but he was so weak, he couldn’t even fly straight, much less string a sentence together.
Damian would probably laugh at him, Wow Kent, you can’t even control your powers? Then he’d raise a brow like he could see right through Jon.
He could, he always could.
He wanted to laugh, but his body was too weak to even do that.
He really missed Damian right now.
“I have tracked your location, I will be there soon,” and then his voice was gone, and the other voices came rushing back.
Abusive parents in Germany.
Someone was about to overdose in France.
Snowstorm in Denmark.
And he was too weak to do anything about it.
Tears were streaming down his face; he was almost thankful when the salty taste hit and he realized that he was parched.
“Please,” he begged, not sure as to who, just to someone.
Maybe Damian, that seemed appropriate. Damian was always fixing his messes, he’d chide him, tell him never to do something like that again because next time he wouldn’t be there, and then Jon would do it again, because of course he would, and Damian would come running without a second thought, because of course he would.
He wasn’t sure how long he waited, wasn’t sure how long he spent listening to every minor thing that was wrong with the world.
But it didn’t matter, because as soon as Damian had landed beside him, had swept him up in his arms and mumbled words in a language he didn’t understand.
All that was wrong with the world faded, and all he could focus on was Damian.
Damian who was now singing, Damian who was carding his fingers through Jon’s hair, Damian who was holding up water for him to drink, Damian who was rocking him to the beat of the song he was singing.
“I can’t-“ Jon started, not sure how to finish the sentence as he looked at Damian with a look he hoped conveyed everything he needed to say.
“You did so great Jon, I am so proud of you, but it is not your job to fix the world,” his voice was soft, soft and firm and filled with something Jon could trick himself into believing was love.
“It’s so loud,” he said, shaking his head like that would help, it didn’t.
But the voices were quieter now that Damian was here.
“Just focus on my heartbeat,” Damian said, placing Jon’s hand above his heart.
Thump… thump… thump.
Steady, Jon liked that, Damian was always so steady. He had always been his rock, something to tie him to the ground so he didn’t fly away.
“What if I lose control again? What if-?” Jon was cut off by a sob, pictures of his cat being brought up to the surface.
“That was not your fault, and you know it,” Damian said, always so firm, always so sure of every word he said.
Jon wished he was more like Damian.
“Just focus on my heartbeat, always focus on my heartbeat,” he said, singing again.
Thump… thump.
Jon wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, with him curled up to Damian as he sang in languages Jon didn’t know.
He woke up in his bed, Damian wasn’t by his side and all the sounds started rushing back in, screaming at him to get up and help.
He took a deep breath, focusing on Damian’s heartbeat.
It took a while to pick it out between all the other heartbeats, but when he did, he held on tightly.
He felt the sound in his bones as he lay in bed, breathing, getting his powers under control.
When he went down for breakfast, he lost focus multiple times and had to take a couple of minutes to find his heartbeat again before he could continue.
But it helped.
Jon trained a little harder after that, Damian was precious, he was the only thing tying Jon to earth, he couldn’t afford to lose him.
He had to protect him.