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Never have I ever celebrated July 4th.
It's kinda hard to when you have no money, an abusive drunk father, and a mother too high to function.
It doesn't matter though; you can't be upset about not having something you never had in the first place. That's just the way it goes, I guess.
I remember 4th of July from last year, actually. It was… fucking horrific.
My eyes were glued shut, as gunshot after gunshot went off, and light of every color exploded all around me from bombs. And people were screaming, running around like maniacs with children at their side.
That wasn't really what was happening, though. In the moment, I thought it was. The next day—after getting over my stupid panic attack state—I realized that Gotham wasn't being bombed or anything crazy like that. It was just fireworks. People were crowed together to watch and screaming in cheers. They were happy.
Of course. Not a surprise I couldn't fucking recognize a happy scream from a terrified one.
I opened my eyes with a scowl on my face.
Sometimes when you wake up, you just know it's gonna be a bad day, no real reason required. Today was one of those days. Except… I did know it was July 4th. That definitely didn’t help my mood.
The clock on the nightstand read 10:52.
"Fuck." I muttered.
Why the hell did I sleep for so long? I'm getting weaker, getting careless, and I'm letting my goddamn guard down far too much.
Odds are, Bruce Wayne is a billionaire from selling children across Gotham.
Sure, I may no longer think that Brucie Wayne himself is a child kidnapper out to rape me, but that doesn't exactly mean he won't have other plans for me.
Though, Bruce... hasn't really done anything suspicious. He says he cares about me, actually. Is he lying? Probably. When has anybody ever really cared about me?
Cathrine loved drugs more than she loved me.
It’s just a fact. Nothing to beat myself up over.
Dick and Alfred seem so genuinely kindhearted though. If they turn out to be evil… then I’m just gonna kick the bucket and give up on humanity.
A few knocks sounded at my door, and I scrambled to pretend to be asleep.
Why did I even bother doing that? I don't think Bruce would yell at me because I slept in. Would he? Maybe. Willis would. He’s dead though. Hmm.
“Lad?”
The owner of the voice was Bruce Wayne, and I didn’t flinch as much as I should’ve when hearing him speak.
My door was locked, I knew it was. No way in hell would I be able to sleep in the creepy manor with my door unlocked. Might as well cuff up my hands and jump into a trafficker-filled warehouse while I’m at it.
“Jason?” More knocking, “Hello?”
I sighed, realizing he was trying to wake me up. At least he didn’t kick the door down or some shit. I can… respect that decision.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, surprised to find that I wasn’t as sore as I normally was. Perhaps this “rich kid life” is finally catching up to me. I’m not even starving!
Not a bad lifestyle at all, really.
I didn’t care what I looked like when I opened the door, because I knew it couldn’t have possibly been worse than my old filthy street look. I hardly ever look at myself in the mirror for that same reason. Can’t change what I look like either way, so it doesn’t really matter.
Bruce gave me a smile I didn’t know he was capable of. Warm. Happy. It reminded me of Alfred, sorta. Hard to believe that Batman was capable of such a smile.
“How are you feeling, Jason?” He asked, “You sure did sleep for a while.”
I scowled. “So? I’m not sorry about it.”
The man’s smile didn’t waver, “You don’t have to be.”
“Good.”
Why does he never get mad? I purposely test his patience every single day, waiting to see what he’ll do when he finally snaps… but he never does.
“Alfred has breakfast ready for you,” Bruce said kindly, “But I suppose it would be more like brunch now.”
“I’ll wait for lunch.” I spat, just to be annoying.
“Maybe you could just have a small snack first?”
“No.”
His smile faltered slightly, and he looked unsure of what to do with me.
“You can bring it up with Alfred.” Bruce finally said, “Come on downstairs, chum.”
I rolled my eyes, but followed him nonetheless.
Maybe I’m getting sick or something. Slept in late, no appetite, and a random headache is beginning to form. Isn’t that just fantastic?
I scanned the dinning room as I entered, looking to see who was inside.
Alfred was the only one.
“Good afternoon, Master Jason.” The butler said, eyes finding mine immediately, “Would you like to eat something?”
Bruce sighed, “Alfred he—“
“M’kay.” I sat down at the table and smiled innocently at Alfred.
The butler raised an eyebrow at Bruce, who just sighed and muttered something along the lines of “never mind.”
Alfred placed a plate of pancakes in front of me, and I couldn’t help but grip the plate tightly. Old habits die hard.
They tasted like everything else Alfred makes; good. Great, even. Maybe it’s because I went so long without food, but Alfred’s cooking always amazes me.
“Hello!”
I flinched—just barely—from the sudden loud announcement, Dick Grayson sauntering into the dinning room with a huge-ass grin plastered on his perfect face.
The young man sat down in the chair next to me, still smiling.
Is that smile directed at me?
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Do you know what today is?”
July 4th. Why? Who cares? Do the Wayne’s have some sort of agenda planned? A gala? No, not on a holiday. Right?
“I dunno.” I lied, causing the acrobat to frown. “It’s Saturday.”
“July 4th,” Alfred answered instead, “American Independence Day.”
“Yes!” Dick nodded at the old man, excitedly turning back to me, “Isn’t that sweet?”
“Guess so.”
Bruce smiled at Dick’s antics. “I’ll meet you three later for the show.”
My eyes narrowed in confusion as the dark knight left the room.
I slowly turned back to Dick. “Wha’s he talkn’’bout?”
To my surprise, Dick laughed at me. “I always forget how strong of an accent you have.”
I scowled. “I do not have an accent.”
I said the words extra carefully, the Gotham high life way. The way fancy people probably jabber on at galas. Do the gala folk say “jabber on”? Do they even say “folk”?
Well, I probably failed at sounding un-accented, because Dick only smiled harder when I spoke.
“Hey,” Dick shook his head, “I think it’s cute. Jersey tough.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Language.” Alfred chided.
I glared at Dick like it was his fault. “Shut the F up.”
Alfred sighed.
Dick chuckled, “Anyways, Dad was talking about the fireworks show tonight! It’s supposed to be massive. We have really good seats!”
“Of course we do. We’re fu-freakin’ billionaires.”
Slowly, Dick moved his hand over my head to ruffle my hair.
I shoved him away, “Dick! Stop!”
“Haha, no. Sorry Jace, but it’s my job as your older brother to annoy you. I don’t make the rules.”
“You’re not even my brother.” I scoffed.
“Not by blood.” Dick winked, “But in my heart—“
“Oh, be quiet!” I rolled my eyes, “I’m sick of your teasin’ me always.”
“But Jason I—“
I stood up and walked back towards the stairs, “See ya later.”
“Oh.” I heard him as I fled, “Yeah bye!”
———
I wasn’t very excited for the show.
First of all, there were way too many people crowed together. (At least most of them seemed legit, and not creepy old men there to kidnap me.)
Secondly, I just thought that fireworks seemed like a really bad idea. Why are they even legal? It’s just fucking dynamite with color, yeah? It’s gonna blow us up. I don’t want to get blown up.
The icing on the goddamn cake had to be the way Dick, Alfred, and Bruce were acting. They were being so nice to me. Way too nice. Are they really that kindhearted? Is it an act?
“Almost time,” Dick grinned, leading me to a seat near the front, “You ready?”
“Yeah.” I lied.
We sat down, Bruce on my other side and Alfred next to him.
“Have you seen fireworks before?” Dick asked me.
Still. Fucking. Smiling.
I cracked, finally smiling back. It was a small smile, but it still made the man next to me beam.
“Not like… a whole show of ‘em.”
“You’ll love it!” Dick pointed up at the quickly darkening sky, “The sky will light up and it will be awesome.”
Hopefully.
I nodded at Dick, trying to trust him.
A few minutes later, a voice started announcing, the sound booming across various speakers around the venue.
You should need a license to blast fireworks, right? Doesn’t that make sense? I feel like that would be a whole lot safer.
What if some spandex-covered villain messed with the launch and made it so they would blast into the audience? Has that ever happened before?
I guess if that had happened before, they would probably stop doing firework shows. But the Wayne Gala gets attacked nearly every year, and yet it never stops.
“Welcome everyone!” The man announced, “To this year’s 4th of July fireworks show!”
Everyone cheered or clapped, but my hands were glued to the side of my chair, gripping the edges tightly.
“Fellow Gothamites,” he continued to say, “I’m happy to share some exciting news with all of you!”
Oh great. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?
“This years display will be almost double that of last years!”
Holy fuck.
“So sit back and enjoy!” He finished, walking back to wherever it was that he came from. Indoors somewhere, it looked like.
I watched the sky anxiously, waiting for something to happen. Nothing yet.
Stealing a glance at Dick, I was surprised to find him completely at ease. Bruce and Alfred were calm and collected as well.
Suddenly, the first firework lit up. It was fairly small, and there wasn’t even a—
BOOM!
Right… light travels faster than sound.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
I flinched.
They definitely sound like gunshots, don’t they? Or is it just me?
BOOM!
Fuck.
The next set of fireworks were even louder, and when one of them caused a piercing whistle to sound, I jerked out of my seat.
Gotta go, gotta go, gotta—
“Jason?”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
I ran.
Where the fuck is the—oh, there it is. Door. Building. Safety.
BOOM!
My run became a sprint.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
I fumbled with the handle for a second before flinging the door open and bolting inside.
My chest started to hurt from breathing so hard, and my heart was racing with my mind for some kind of prize I wasn’t made aware of.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Why can I still hear—
BOOM!
I kept running, down a short hall and past another, but the sound of gunsho—no, fireworks, continued to follow me.
How are they so fucking loud?!
My eyes finally latched onto a sign for one of those bigger disability/family restrooms, and I immediately locked myself inside. I leaned shakily against the wall across from the door, sliding down until I was sitting with my knees to my chest.
BOOM! BOOM! BOO—
CLICK.
“Check if you wanna, but safety’s off.”
“Come on, put the kid down. He ain’t part of this.”
“He’s my hostage, how ‘bout that?” A creepy laugh, “Hand the cash over now, or I’ll shoot ‘im.”
“Wait—“
“Shudda fuck up, kid.” Another laugh, “I won’t fuckin’ hesita—“
A tackle from behind didn’t stop the trigger from being pressed, but at least the man missed his precious hostage.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Why is it so loud? Is it even possible for me to be hearing them, or am I hallucinating?! Why is so fucking loud?!
Breathe in, breathe—or that. Hyperventilating works too.
I’m gonna die in here, holy fuck.
“Jason?”
The few knocks on the door that followed made me wince.
Too loud, too loud, too loud—
“Ja—“
“Go… away.” I wheezed, “Leave.”
“Hey, are you ok?”
“S-Stop.” I whispered the word to the point where it was probably imposible to make out. “Just stop.”
BOOM!
I covered my ears the best I could, but was still able to hear Dick on the other side of the door.
“Can you open up please? I’m worried.”
Wait, why can’t I breathe?
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Jay?”
Should I… open the door? I don’t really want him to see me like this, but maybe he could help?
I was barely able to get to my feet.
Stumbling, and still breathing heavily, I made it to the bathroom door. The handle felt cold, and my fingers wouldn’t even function right, so I just clicked the lock.
Immediately, the door was pulled open.
Dick… he really does fucking care about me, doesn’t he? You just can’t fake an expression like that. No chance.
“Jason?” He looked me up and down, “Are you—“
BOOM!
I backed away from the door and back to my spot on the floor, knees to my chest and head down.
The smallest little “squeak” escaped me when another set of guns started going off.
Holy fuck, this has got to be the most pathetic I’ve ever acted. I need to get it together. Why am I like this?
I heard the door close.
Great. He’s gone, isn’t he?
Wonderful job, Jason. You fucking managed to drive away the world’s kindest person ever. He won’t even be able to look at you after this. Not even Nightwing can stand you.
The Wayne’s are gonna send me back to the streets.
Fuck.
No, no, no—
“Woah there, it’s alright.”
I jumped, head snapping up.
The door was closed, but Dick was… inside. He was crouched in front of me, still wearing that concerned expression on his face. He didn’t leave.
“What…” I trailed off, too busy trying to take normal breaths. “Dick…”
“You’re ok.” The young man smiled kindly, “What’s the matter? Can you try and explain so I can help you?”
I shook my head.
He’ll think I’m pathetic if I tell him the truth.
“Here,” Dick slowly reached for my hand, bringing it up to his chest. “Feel when I take a breath, and try to copy the rhythm as best you can.”
I tried. I really fucking did.
“You’re doing so good.”
I wasn’t. Was I?
“Keep on going, just like that.”
Guess so.
The sounds of the guns—no, fireworks, started to fade.
I slowly glanced up at Dick, the second I was able to breathe properly. “I-I’m sorry.”
His face changed, and I thought it must’ve been to one of pure disgust.
“I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to fucking panic over that. You can leave me. Please leave. Go back to Bruce and just—just please don’t be mad. Don’t… be… mad at me.”
The last of my rambling got cut off by sobbing.
A sob that ripped through my body, leaving me feeling naked. I was stripped of everything that was keeping me together, and Dick was right in front of me, watching the shattering happen with wide eyes.
“Jason, listen to me—“
“No, ‘m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Hey, hey, hey, listen to me.” He paused for a second, “You don’t have to be sorry, Little Wing.”
I shook my head as he spoke.
“You can’t control how you feel.” Dick tried to say, “And you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m not mad at you.”
“You sh-should be.”
“What?!” His exclamation caught me off guard, “No, that’s simply not true.”
“I-It is true, Dick. It is.”
I tried to wipe away the tears—that just wouldn’t stop—the best I could, rubbing my eyes till they started to hurt.
Dick carefully removed my hands from my face, holding them delicately, making it clear that I could pull them away if I wanted to. I almost did, but… I didn’t.
“It’s ok to cry.” He said softly, “Do you feel any better now?”
I shrugged.
“That’s ok.” Dick hummed, “Do you want to head back to the Manor now?”
Part of me wanted to say yes, but the rest of me knew that I should probably say no. What about the rest of the show? The infamous Wayne’s should really stay for all of the festivities, right?
It was like the man crouching before me could read my mind. “Don’t worry about the rest of the party. Seriously, it’s all super duper boring. I would love an excuse to go home.”
My throat felt too dry to utter a word out of, so instead I just raised an eyebrow.
“I promise.” He smiled, “Let’s go home, Jace.”
I watched him move to a standing position, now looking down at me, still with that warm smile.
“Wi-Will he be mad?”
Dick froze up. “What?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Bruce? Alfred?”
“Both.” I whispered.
“No,” Dick shook his head, “Definitely not. They were just worried about you, like I was. So if they ask a bunch of questions—which they probably won’t—then that’s the reason why.”
I nodded, still slightly unconvinced.
The three Wayne’s were all worried about… me? Kind of nice, but also just… interesting. Very interesting.
“Can I carry you?”
The question took me aback.
“W-What?”
“Carry you.” Dick carefully gestured to my spot on the bathroom tile, “You’re a bit shaky.”
He was… painfully right about that.
“Sure?” I muttered, confused on what exactly it was he planned on doing.
Dick didn’t miss a beat.
He bent down and grabbed under my armpits, easily lifting me up into a forward piggyback situation.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head into his shoulder.
“Sorry.” I muttered again, unsure why I even said the word.
“For the ride? Don’t be! You’re still pretty light, Jay.”
Somehow even after over a month at Wayne Manor, I was still small as shit. I’ve been eating three whole meals a day, for gods sake!
According to Alfred—ever the medical professional—I was “severely underweight” when he did his latest checkup. He was probably right, but I honestly feel fine, so I don’t really think it’s as big of a deal as the Wayne’s are making it out to be. I don’t want to argue with them though—especially not Alfred.
Dick unlocked the bathroom door and carried me outside, heading down the halls.
My eyes were closed, so I wasn’t exactly sure where we were going, but it felt like a different way than I came.
I felt a cool breeze, and pieced together that we were outside.
Chatter was heard. A good amount of people around us, probably. I got embarrassed, before realizing that none of them were talking about me or Dick. To caught up with—
BOOM!
I flinched closer to Dick, who seemed a bit confused. His confusion quickly became realization.
“Oh.” He whispered, “Ohhhh, I’m sorry Jason. I didn’t—ugh.”
I was confused as to what he was apologizing for, so I just stayed quiet. He didn’t seem to mind my silence though, so it worked out fine.
After a few moments of standing outside, Dick started walking forward again.
“Bruce and Alfred are here with the car.” He said, “Do you want to sit by yourself, or with me?”
“You.” I said, the word sounding muffled against his shirt.
Was it weird that I could tell he was smiling? That soft, Dick Grayson smile. The one that makes you feel like you need to smile back.
I heard the car door open, and Dick set me down in the middle before climbing into the row with me.
Finally opening my eyes, I closed the door.
Alfred started driving, though I noticed he was keeping an eye on me through the rearview mirror.
“Jason, are you ok?” Bruce was the one who asked me this time, speaking anxiously from the passenger seat.
Fuck, are my eyes still watery?
I looked out the window, ignoring the question.
“Jason?” Bruce sounded more worried than before, “Dick, is he alright?”
Dick’s eyes latched onto me. “Yeah… he’s just a bit stressed, I think.”
———
The rest of the drive was devoid of conversation.
I tried my best to focus on breathing like a normal human being, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became. Could’ve been worse though. It was worse, actually, just earlier today.
Bruce and Alfred got out of the car the second we stopped, and Dick followed suit.
My door opened before I could even think to fumble for the handle, revealing Bruce, who was smiling softly at me.
I got to my feet, but tripped and nearly faceplanted into the hard tile.
Bruce caught me, hands gripping my shoulders steadily. “Woah there. Would you mind if I picked you up, lad? I don’t want you to fall.”
I shrugged, not meeting his eyes in fear of seeing something even in the same realm as anger.
The man scooped me up as easily as you’d expect—he was Batman, after all—and I didn’t… hate being carried.
Bruce ended up plopping me down onto the huge sofa, sitting down in an armchair across from me.
I didn’t look at him.
Dick came into the room then, handing me a cup of water.
Hesitantly, I took a sip. It tasted fine. Calmed my aching throat a bit.
“Jason,” Bruce said cautiously, Dick sitting down on the floor next to him as the man spoke, “Are you feeling better now?”
I shrug, “Yeah. I’m fine, ok?”
Bruce frowns slightly. “You didn’t seem ‘fine’ an hour ago—and that’s perfectly alright. I just want to know what went wrong so it won’t happen again.”
He seems genuine enough. Really genuine, actually. I… I think I can trust him.
I hesitated. “It’s embarrassin’ though.” My eyes latched onto the floor. “I don’t wanna say.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” Bruce tried to say. “I just want to help you.”
I bit my lip, staying silent.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Jace.” Dick sighed, turning to Bruce. “But I think… he was scared of the fireworks?”
So pathetic. Bruce can’t know about that. He can’t. He’ll hate me.
I shook my head, still not daring to meet any of their eyes. “I’m not.”
“It’s ok if you are, chum.” Bruce said softly, “They’re awfully loud, aren’t they?”
He’s… not mad? How? Whatever, I can work with this.
“Sorta.” I risked a glance at Bruce, who still didn’t look upset with me. “But it’s not really that they’re… loud.”
At least I can give him a better reasoning for my fear; make it sound more plausible.
“Ok,” Bruce nods along, looking grateful for my cooperation. “What bothers you, then?”
“Well…” here goes nothing, “They just kinda sound like guns.”
Bruce and Dick both freeze up in surprise.
I fidget with my fingers, picking at the skin. “Sorry about that reaction, though. It was totally overdramatic.”
“Oh Jace,” Dick comes over and hugs me, “You don’t need to apologize.”
The hug is nice.
I nod, and after a few long seconds, he pulls away. He then sits down on the couch beside me, staying close. I appreciate it.
Bruce clears his throat, “Thank you for sharing that with us, Jason. I can definitely make adjustments for the future and avoid… things that sound that way. My apologies.”
“It’s alright.” I say, “You couldn’t have possibly known. And… I’ll probably get past the fear eventually.”
“Don’t worry.” Dick rubbed my arm, “Either way, you’ll be ok.”
This time, I believed him.
Bruce nodded, “We’re all here for you.”
Maybe life at Wayne Manor will be nice after all.