Work Text:
His head is fuzzy when he comes back to himself, now disgustingly aware of how much pain he’s in. He vaguely remembers the fight, and getting his ass whooped.
As much as that’s embarrassing, what’s more is the fact that his body shut down. To much damage to fix in so little time
He also remembers crying like a baby in his brothers arms, if that wasn’t enough, he conked out in front of him.
He feels like he just did something embarrassing on the playground and everyone saw it.
His brows furrow as he tries to wiggle his toes, and then his hands, only to find one of his being held.
He squeezes his eyes closed a bit, before slowly waking them with a sigh, blinking as he looks over at where his hand is currently being held
Jason cant help but frown as he sees Dick laying against the couch, holding his hand. Now he’s confused, didn’t he know that Jason would be fine? He didn’t have to stay.
Though, the more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if he’s ever told Dick about his slow healing before
Jason sighs once more, squeezing Dicks hand, before pausing. He’s cold, Very cold.
Why is Dick cold?
Out of all the years Jason has known Dick, he has always been warm. A portable heater if you will. Even in the winter of Gotham, he was warm to the touch.
So why is his brother cold?
He grunts as he forces himself to sit up a bit, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he looks down at his brothers form, narrowing his gaze
He’s not breathing.
Jason can’t stop the nervous confusion that crawls in his throat, the terrified whimper that echos in his throat as he moves to cup Dicks jaw up with trembling hands
His vision blurs with the start of tears, and his breathing quickens with panic as he feels how cold Dick is.
the peaceful look on his brothers face sickens him. He doesn’t know what about it does yet, but it makes him feel icky
Dick
Isn’t
Breathing.
Fuck. His hands began to shake as he moves his hands down, fingers desperately searching for a pulse
He lets out a sob of disbelief, a feeling of anguish washes over him as he cannot seem to find the rhythmic thumping of Dicks pulse that he was begging himself to find
But he can’t find it.
Its radio silence from his brother. No sounds, no breathing. No pulse.
Oh he feels sick.
Jason scrambles to sit up, using whatever strength he has left to pull Dick onto the couch, hating the way his brothers body is limp, cold and unsettlingly vulnerable in his presence.
He’s never thought of Dick as vulnerable. It doesn’t feel right, it feels wrong. All of this feels horribly wrong
He looks at the pale form of his big brother, his mind blanking as he just stares at him
Tears escape down his cheeks, soaking into his shirt and falling down onto his brothers clothing
What happened to his big brother?
Why can’t he feel Dicks pulse?
His body trembles, staring with unfocused eyes at Dick, his mind is reeling and he has a cocktail mixture of emotions stirring in him
There’s so many questions he has, so many needed answers. But his main question, is why.
Why was his big brother dead in his apartment, clinging to him?
Why did he have to wake up to him gone?
Its always WHY
He lets out a cry of anguish, anger and just utter bafflement.
He can’t even find it in himself to feel comfort in the fact that his brother stayed, that he held his hand when he knew Jason wasn’t in a good position.
All he can feel is his life falling apart.
His big brother is dead in front of him. A sight he’s never, ever, wanted to see. A sight that will that will stick with him forever.
He never thought he would have to go through this.
It was never supposed to be like this, Dick was never supposed to die before him. If not at all.
It didn’t make sense, and that’s what confuses him
He stands up on shaky legs, making his way through his apartment, going to try and find his phone in his room, only to pause by the bathroom, as something had caught his eye
And in that moment, he wish he never got up at all
His legs gave out from under him, dropping to his knees as he looks into his bathroom, shock and grief settles on his face as he sees the empty pill bottles strewn about on his bathroom floor
The stray pills that didn’t make it.
Despair covers him like a blanket as he lets out a broken sound. He knows he didn’t do this, the only other person in his apartment, who is currently cold and dead.
He didn’t want to believe it. Never.
But the evidence was right in front of him. His previously full, or half filled pill bottles were now empty or discarded to the side
And suddenly his gut feeling of something being terribly wrong, hits him like a bag of bricks.
His brother killed himself.
His big brother, the man who no matter what, took care of him even when he claimed he didn’t want it
Killed himself.
Then, and only then, did he allow himself to completely break down in the moment. Cries of pure terror, of grief, rips itself from his chest, his vision yet again blurred with tears, with his sinking reality
His big brother is dead. Killed himself.
And it’s his own fucking fault. He knows it is, deep down he knows it.
Dick thought he was dead, didn’t he?
Oh god. The thought makes him feel worse, makes him want to revolt away from himself.
He drove his brother to killing himself.
Yet again, any other moment he would feel a sense of comfort in the idea that Dick wanted to be with him, even in death..
And yet all he can feel now is a horrible feeling of guilt.
He almost wished he was dead again.
This kind of thing is something you’d see in movies, this isn’t the kind of shit you experience. This is..surreal. It doesn’t feel real, it shouldn’t be real.
Now, all he can do is scream out his cries, hitting at the floor, before he starts tugging at his own hair, not knowing how to feel, how to process a fucked up situation like this.
His big brother killed himself!
It doesn’t feel right. He always thought of Dick as this..big strong person, one who didn’t let anything get to him, no matter what happened.
He knew Dick got through his first death! He survived it, so why is this different?
Distantly he knows that his death had fractured Dick, and that what happened last night, was the final straw.
Jason’s only thoughts on this, is the fact that he killed him. He ruined his brother enough to the point that he actually went through with it
And that’s something Jason will never recover from.
Again, in this certain moment, he only just wishes he was dead again.
He now hoped his next death will stick this time.