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Damian knew he was going through a flare-up. He could feel the exhaustion and aching deep in his bones, he could not stop noticing how lax his joints seemed and how he needed to lean on something when standing for barely even a minute.
He also knew he should make an excuse not to go on patrol tonight. He could say he ate something bad, hadn’t slept well recently, or thought he was coming down with a cold. Anything to get him to stay home. But he was nothing if not determined to show little weakness. So, despite his body screaming at him to rest, he went out.
The whole time he was out patrolling with Dick, he was fighting himself. He was fighting the urge to grimace when he felt a bone slide slightly out of place before correcting itself, he was fighting the urge to lean over to calm his aching stomach, he was fighting the urge to wince whenever he put more strain on his already pained joints. He counted down the minutes until he could get back home as his heart beat out of his chest and his breathing became labored, not just from exertion.
He continually hoped that he wouldn’t have a full dislocation, because, in truth, he hadn’t told anyone about his condition. He hadn’t told anyone in the family about how there was something wrong with him fundamentally, about the way his nervous system didn’t work correctly, about how a vital building block of his body didn’t do what it was supposed to. He had always hated it about himself. The idea of having to tell Dick makes his already tachycardic heart rate spike up, and he has to pretend as if it doesn’t feel like his heart might explode.
After an uneventful patrol, Dick and Damian make their way safely back to the Wayne manor. Damian heads to the locker room quickly, despite protest from his aching knees. There’s nothing more he wants to do than to get comfy clothes on and go to bed.
He can’t help but let out a strangled cry as he tries to pull off the top piece of his suit and his shoulder dislocates. He immediately goes quiet when he realizes what he’s done, but Dick had already heard him, and Damian’s face heats up as anxiety fills his body.
“Damian? Did you get injured on patrol? What happened?” Dick asks, voice laced with worry. He walks over, still in suit, to the seated Robin who’s clutching his shoulder with shame in his eyes.
“I- It’s okay. It happens a lot- I just dislocated it. I’m fine, don’t worry. I can put it back,” Damian replies, and does exactly as he says. He holds in any sound of pain, but can’t help but grimace and close his eyes. His shoulder still aches greatly, adding to the list of the joints in his body that hurt.
“You seem… very calm. I mean, strangely calm, seeing as you just put your shoulder back in its socket. Do you need help or anything?” Dick says, and immediately Damian is standing up and telling him that he’s completely fine.
His body says otherwise, though, as presyncope hits him. Dark spots swarm into his vision as his body gets fuzzy and his hearing muffles, and if Dick wasn’t there to catch him, he would’ve fallen over.
A couple of seconds pass and his senses go back to mostly normal as he hears his blood rushing in his ears. “Yeah, okay, fine. Fine. You didn’t just almost pass out or anything,” Dick says as he sits Damian down and then joins him on the bench. “Now tell me, seriously, what’s wrong? I… I want to help you. Please let me help you.” His voice is slightly desperate, and it makes Damian’s heart hurt.
For a long moment, Damian is completely silent. He sits next to his big brother, not daring to look at him, and tries to come up with the words.
“I… I have these disorders. Illnesses. One from when I was born and the other after a couple of years. “ he winces at how pathetic he sounds. “The doctors call them ‘postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome’ and ‘ehlers danlos syndrome’. A disorder of the autonomic nervous system and a connective tissue disorder. If you have heard of them. And I have been having many troubles with them recently. I have tried to get past it but tonight it seems I pushed myself too far.” when Damian is finished, he looks over to Dick, who has a surprised expression on his face.
“You know I have that too, right? Ehlers danlos I mean. You have seen how hypermobile I am, right?” Dick replies with so much care in his voice it almost stings.
“I had just assumed it was because of your circus days… And I guess I had felt as if you couldn’t have something like me, because my grandfather had always called it a sign of weakness, and I have never viewed you as weak” Damian finally looks at Dick. His eyes are warm with sympathy.
“Damian… it’s not your fault. You can’t control it, and it’s okay if you need more help or rest. You know what might help you? I have compression garments and joint braces built into my suit, Bruce is the one who came up with the idea. Me and Bruce could help put some in your suit, too.” Dick pulls back his glove to reveal a wrist brace that connects to the arm of suit.
“So you do not think I am weak for this?” Damian’s voice is quiet and hurt. Dick looks at him a second longer before pulling him into a hug, tight but not too tight.
“No, Damian. I think you’re so strong, for dealing with this every day but still going. Things like this are unfair, but you’re handling it, even when you’re so young. And I’m proud of you, so much more proud of you than you could imagine.”
Damian’s body still aches and he knows he’s still ill, but for the first time, he feels like he doesn’t have to pretend like this part of himself isn’t real. He melts into the hug, squeezing Dick back as hard as his joints can take.
“Thank you.”