Behind the Mask

Chapter 18

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You ran away?” Roy’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow, Rob, didn’t think you had it in you. Seriously though, go home.”

“Why?”

“Because someone will be looking for you.”

“Highly unlikely.” Bruce probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

“Listen, kid, you can’t run away from your problems.”

“Learn by example.”

“GA was holding me back. He didn’t trust me. He lied to me and kept things from me that I had a right to know.”

“Join the party.”

“You’re too young.”

“Shut up, Roy.”

To the archer’s credit, he did.

“If you’re not gonna let me in, fine, I’ll go somewhere else.” Dick shivered at the idea of going back out into the cold night air, but tried not to let it show. “Just thought maybe you’d understand.”

Roy looked like he was going to argue some more, but then his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Fine. I’ll get some dry clothes. Stay here, don’t get the carpet wet.” And he turned and headed down the hallway.

Normally, Dick would’ve smirked to himself, but now, smiling didn’t come easily to him. Instead he just nodded and proceeded to kick off his wet shoes and socks, glad to be rid of them, even if the tile by the door was cold on his bare feet. His jacket came next, getting dropped unceremoniously on the floor followed by his sweatshirt and hat until he stood only in a black t-shirt and jeans. Roy appeared again shortly, his upper half now clothed in a t-shirt and a bundle of clothes in his arms which he handed to Dick.

“They’ll be big. Your fault.”

Dick rolled his eyes and grabbed the clothes, brushing past Roy and heading towards the hallway.

“Bathroom’s first door on the left.”

Dick was already shutting door. Roy was right, the clothes were huge. He’d given Dick a pair of sweatpants and a shirt; the pants didn’t even stay up and Dick had to use the belt from his jeans on them and even then, it looked like he was wearing a blanket around his waist and the shirt came down to his knees. He ended up folding it over and rolling it up so he could walk as well as folding the waist of the sweatpants and rolling up the legs. He still looked like he was drowning, but at least he was dry.

Upon reentering the main room, Dick found Roy sitting on the couch, his feet propped up, a coffee mug in his hands and the TV on.

“That’s a good look for you, Robbie.”

Dick ignored him, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down next to the older boy, curling his feet underneath him to keep them warm. Roy forgot to give him socks. On the screen there was some sort of middle of the night, low budget, comedy-wannabe show about what looked like Darth Vader entering stores and scaring customers. Roy didn’t look very interested.

“Here,” the older boy handed Dick a mug. “It’s hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” Dick mumbled, taking the cup in his hands and staring into it at the rich brown liquid.

“So, you and Batman had a fight?” Roy turned down the volume on the TV as he spoke, Darth Vader’s breathing slowly becoming less obtrusive.

“Not… really.” There hadn’t actually been a fight yet.