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Dick and Roy found they disagree on many things in life. After having known each other since they were nine years old, sometimes they know each other better than themselves. They’ve had countless arguments on every topic under the sun over the years. These arguments often explode into awful name calling and even physical violence, they always seem to bounce back covered in each other’s scratches. The one thing they have perfectly in common is their music taste.
They drive down the interstate between Indiana and Illinois with the windows down, singing loudly along to Neon Knights by Black Sabbath. They’ve been on the road for almost two months, and haven’t had to change the station on the car radio, the same one that plays their favourite songs from anywhere between 1970-1989. Dick nods his head along to the beat of the drum and Roy does air guitar gestures in the passenger seat. The road is almost empty and they drive towards the setting sun with the wind in their hair.
This road trip was not an impromptu decision. Roy expressed wanting to get away from everything over a year beforehand, Dick kept postponing the call. First they were dealing with various villain threats, then Tim showed up. He decided not to leave the kid alone to be trained solely by Bruce, and help him out. But then there were no more excuses, and breathing became harder as the days went on, and Dick couldn’t deny he had to get away for a while. Maybe longer than a while. It’ll be good for him, is what he said. And what he thought is that it’ll be good for him and Roy, god knows they haven’t been getting along well. Maybe it’ll be a chance for them to bond again. Or at least he hoped so.
Turns out he was both right and wrong. When they got along on this trip, they got along very well, it was almost perfect. Complete each other’s sentences, attached at the hip, head over heels in love kind of perfect. When they didn’t they were two ticking time bombs both just waiting for any chance to explode. When they did (and they always did) it was this slightly marvelous explosion, like fireworks if they were close enough to hurt people. Being in Dick’s horrid Dodge Dart from the 70s all the time didn’t help the explosions. Before, when they exploded they could take space until they were friends again. In the car they have to sit side by side and stew in the poison they spit at each other until one of them almost throws up trying to apologize, and they move on.
That radio station, the one they love so much, plays modern rock songs too sometimes. After Sabbath, comes Linger by The Cranberries. The album came out a year before, and Dick is obsessed with it. He owns it on vinyl, CD and tape. Roy called him neurotic when he heard, maybe he was right. The song is announced and Dick turns up the volume on the radio. Roy laughs in that oh god, here he goes again voice of his that makes Dick want to kiss him and punch him square in the face at the same time. Dick smiles and rolls his eyes, singing along to the music. When he glances sideways he sees Roy is smiling too—that bastard. Then they smile at each other for a moment. Then they stop. It’s happy and sad at the same time. Dick fixes his eyes on the road again, he tries not to think about it too much. He really shouldn’t. Dolores O’Riordan sings on the radio. She doesn’t care that they were smiling at each other.
She has a sweet, high pitched voice, and a melodic accent. Dick thinks he fell in love with her voice the moment he heard it. He’s so focused on the song and the road and anything that isn’t stupid Roy and his stupid gorgeous eyes and stupid beautiful hair, that he jumps when he feels a touch on his wrist. It’s Roy’s palm. He slides it up a bit, interlacing their fingers. He refuses to look at Dick, leaning his head back on the seat like nothing happened. The song fades out into one they both know; Tom Sawyer by Rush. Dick isn’t a huge fan of theirs, neither is Roy, but a few years back they were in New York when the Titans all operated there together, and the two went together. It was fun, super fun. So Dick memorized every word to every song they played that night. He and Roy didn’t get many fun nights together at the time. It got better. Then worse. Then better again, their relationship has always been a roller coaster. Just when everything goes well, they ruin it to feel something. It keeps working, they keep coming back. Maybe they’re idiots.
Roy’s still holding his hand several songs and many miles later, Dick notices. He doesn’t say anything. In fact, they haven’t said anything at all in a long time. It’s getting dark out. Dick notices a sign advertising a motel nearby. He takes the next exit there without asking, they agreed on it without saying a word. It’s time to turn in. They’re so close when the car engine starts making a strange whiny noise and acting weird. Dick stops at the side of the road and tries to check what’s going on. He pops open the hood and it starts smoking. Engine’s busted. And they’re still over five miles away from the hotel. Roy calls emergency services to tow the car and they get a ride to the motel. They check in and get a room, the motel’s a complete dump but they’re both too tired to care. Emergency services say it’ll take a while to fix the car, if that’s even possible, so they try and prepare for a long stay.
The room has one bed, that’s fine. They’ve shared a bed about a dozen times before. Dick starts unpacking the suitcase he got out of the car before it was taken away. He refolds his clothes and puts them into the closet. He doesn’t need to fold them again, he just needs something to do with his hands. It helps, in a way. He can hear Roy taking care of his own things on the other side of the small room. Dick reaches in to take out another pair of pants, but instead he feels his palm graze something sharp, then a stabbing pain. The jar of his lotion broke in the suitcase, and his hand bleeds rivers. Just what he needed.
Dick curses and Roy turns to him, then hurries over when he sees the blood dripping down into the rest of Dick’s things. He takes Dick’s bleeding hand in his, just like he did an hour ago. He looks at it from afar to inspect the damage, and they’re standing so close to each other. Dick notices the scars on Roy’s face, he feels the calluses of his hands, rough from years of archery. He smells Roy’s shampoo, he can’t quite nail it but it’s familiar. Roy’s hand is covered in Dick’s blood. And Dick kisses him.
He doesn’t even know why he does it, he just does. He shouldn’t, things have been so great the past few days after their last fight and now he might be ruining everything for a kiss with the man he’s bleeding on. Roy’s face has a stubble, Dick hasn’t seen him shave in a while, while he makes sure to do it every morning. It’s scratchy in a nice way, and his cheeks and chin tingle when he turns his head slightly, now their noses fit right against each other, and Roy’s either come to his senses or lost them completely because he kisses Dick back. It’s perfect and it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. They kissed a few times when they were teenagers, Dick replayed those moments in his head when he was feeling particularly lonely. Those were different types of kisses though, immature and inexperienced and even a little innocent. This is just love and lust and pain and they all mix into each other until they’re all the same sensation. Maybe they always were. It’s a really good kiss, which makes it so much worse. If he had kissed Roy for the first time in six years and it was awful it would be better.
They pull away and stand there for a moment, looking at each other. Roy’s a really hot guy, more than he gives himself credit. He was good looking when they were young, but now it is a whole different situation. He has a rugged, handsome look now. Now Roy’s so hot Dick just wants to stand there and look at him and bleed out and go hungry and whatever, as long as Roy doesn’t move either. So they stand there. They don’t talk. Then Roy lets go of Dick’s hand and gets the first aid kit. They sit down on the edge of the bed and Dick watches the concentration on Roy’s face as he bandages Dick’s palm. The iodine he applies first stings, and Roy almost laughs at the pained expression on his face. The white bandages quickly get a bright red stain.
Roy gets in the shower and changes Dick’s bandages again before they both lay down in bed together and go to sleep. All of Dick’s feelings about this day mix around in his stomach and dry up, heavier than cement. He might throw up. He doesn’t know when it happens, but eventually he falls asleep.
He doesn’t know when he wakes up, but it’s definitely not morning yet. It’s still dark out, and the freezing cold wind is probably what woke him up. The door to the tiny balcony they got with the room is wide open, and Roy is no longer lying next to him. Dick gets up and stretches. He fell asleep in the same clothes he’d been wearing all day.
He goes out to the balcony and finds Roy leaning against the railing, watching the road they drove on to get there. Without a word Dick walks up to him and leans next to him.
“What are you doing up?” Roy asks quietly.
“I dunno. What are you doing up?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Needed fresh air.”
They stand there for another minute. The orange street lights flicker; not a single car passes. After a while Roy reaches into the front pocket of Dick’s jeans, and he pulls out a box of cigarettes. Dick fishes for a lighter in his other pocket and lights it for him. Instead of getting another one for himself, they pass the cigarette between them. Dick wants Roy to get in his space again. The skin of his thigh burns under his jeans from Roy’s previous touch. He wants to say a lot of things.
“Do you think my car’s gonna be okay?” He asks instead. Easy conversation.
“No way man,” Roy shakes his head, “that piece of junk is totalled. I’ve been telling you to buy a new car for ages.” He takes a drag from the cigarette and passes it to Dick, who does the same.
“I like that car. And I hate listening to you.”
“I know.” Roy laughs. He has a rumbly, deep laugh. It always sounds a little funny and a little beautiful. “I never understood why you like the car so much. It’s awful.”
“I don’t really know either. It has a great color though.”
With that, Roy seems to agree. Once again, there are a lot of things Dick wants to say. I think I’m in love with you and I think it’s gonna destroy both of us. Your hair is beautiful when it’s long. I really want to kiss you again, are just a few examples. He still can’t say any of them.
He jumps to sit on the railing of the balcony, facing the inside of their room. “Sometimes I think I’m gonna end up flinging myself off a roof before I turn twenty five and die like my parents.” He’s going to celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday in two months.
They’re quiet for a long time after that, it feels like eternity. Roy finishes the cigarette and keeps the butt in his pocket. He always waited to have a trash can around him. His pockets are always full of old tissues and receipts and cigarette butts.
“Please don’t say that,” Roy whispers eventually. “Not even as a joke.”
“I don’t really wanna die. I don’t think so, at least.” Dick sighs. “I’m just…”
“Tired?” Roy looks up at him with a dry smile.
“And stuck, I guess. And I don’t know how to get out. Do I have options for that other than dying?”
“I’ll let you know when I find out. That’s why I asked you to come with me on this trip. I think it’s been pretty good so far.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Another lull in the conversation. Dick urges himself to bring up the kiss. It’s the only way to change things between them, he knows this. His mouth won’t cooperate with what his brain wants to say. It often doesn’t.
“No killing yourself, okay?” Roy asks, the next time he speaks it is a whisper. “I… I care about you. I don’t want you to die.”
In the language the two developed between themselves, this is equivalent to a declaration of undying love.
“I won’t. I think I’m too scared to do it, even if I wanted. Kinda dumb, right?”
“A little, I guess.”
“I care about you too, Roy.” It’s such a beautiful name. The stars here shine so much brighter than any city Dick’s ever been in.
And here’s another chance. It’s the third time. For a third time, Dick squanders it. Roy is the next person to speak this time.
“What are we gonna do about the car?”
“Well, tomorrow we’ll see if anyone can fix it. If not, we’ll go buy a new one.”
“Do you have money for a new car?”
“No.”
“Fantastic plan.”
Dick shrugs. “Got any better ideas? We’ll make do. I’m good at saving.”
“That’s code for cheapskate.”
“I thought you’re a communist?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I’m cheap.”
They both laugh quietly. Dick thinks of pulling out another cigarette, an excuse to stay out longer with Roy on the balcony, until he gathers the courage to say anything that’s on his heart.
He fears that any minute Roy will turn back to go into the room and they’ll go back to sleep and everything will stay the same. But Roy doesn’t move. Neither does Dick. They just stand there together. It’s the worst feeling Dick’s had in a long time. He’s not even sure in how long. Could be Jason’s death. Wow, here’s something he shouldn’t think about at this hour.
It is really late, they should go back to sleep. But Dick is glued to the railing and his eyes are glued to Roy, who doesn’t look away from him either. Maybe they stand there three minutes, maybe thirty, but eventually Dick sighs.
“We should turn in.”
“Right.” Roy finally lets go of the railing and starts walking inside. Dick jumps back to stand on the balcony and hangs back for a moment, watching Roy slowly make his way inside. He almost says something but decides to keep his mouth shut. It’s too late for any of this. He walks inside and closes the door behind him. Roy wishes him goodnight quickly and burrows himself under the blanket. Dick lays down next to him and shuts his eyes so tightly that colorful fractals start floating around him in mesmerizing patterns. There will be other chances, he tells himself as he falls asleep. They can still change things.
He knows it’s an ugly, horrific lie.