Work Text:
Hold something precious in your hands: like this.
The world slips away. Light slips through your fingers, and it’s dark. You try to hold on and you break apart. Brute force can only get you so far. You keep trying anyway.
Hold something precious in your hands, don’t crush it.
Children are so very fragile. You don’t know how to be a father. You don’t know how to build instead of break. But you can’t leave things shattered, can’t turn your back. You hold the child close and you try.
Dick Grayson bounces back. He’s like sunlight, like laughter in the dark. He hurts easily, but then he heals. He smiles at you, and wipes away his tears. He flies like all of Gotham is his playground. You feel your lips twitching upwards.
Hold something precious in your hands. Look through the cracks to see the stars. Hope isn’t something you reach for far away. Hope is what you hold within your arms.