Dick had a problem. A pretty big problem, in some cases. He was being bullied. Note, for a college student, that shouldn't be too bad. You were old enough to know that what they said didn't matter. Your were supposed to be mature enough to handle it on your own. Dick knew he should be the one to handle it.
Didn't his family know about this? No, they didn't. Not even Wally knew. Dick had kept his little problem a secret, fearing his family would tease him about it. Besides, it was just words. It wasn't like they were going to corner him in a locker room and beat him up.
Until they did.
Dick laid shaking on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth onto the floor. He could faintly hear laughter echoing around the room, making his head pound. Dick Grayson, son of one of the richest men in Gotham, lay in a bloody mess on the Gotham University gymnastics locker room floor.
Dick waited until he heard a door slam before he attempted to get up, leaning against the lockers for support. Some others, probably other gymnastics students, started helping him up. "Are you alright?" They asked, sitting him on one of the benches. They sounded familiar, but Dick couldn't place it. "Fine. I just need to get to my dorm." He grunted, holding the paper towel he was offered to his nose. Someone wrapped their arm under his shoulders and gently hoisted him up, another doing the same on his other side.
The few people that dared to help led him though the campus, someone carrying his bag. "Where's your dorm?" "It's…it's in Glenn, first floor, third room on the left." "Stay with us until then, okay? Jay, take his ID and get the front door open so we're not wasting time." But, there wasn't anyone in his class named Jay. Did he know a Jay here?
Dick tried to open his eyes, but the light hurt. He hated the fact that his class got out right as the sun was at the highest point. It always hurt, even when he had sunglasses. But it hurt more than it ever had.
Dick heard two doors open before he was being laid on something soft, someone supporting his head. "Tim, get water. Jason, find his medkit. It should be in his room somewhere. Damian, set his bag down in his room, then be ready to help in any way. Dick. Dick, can you hear me?" A soothing voice asked, stroking his cheek. Dick groaned, trying to open his eyes.
"Shh, it's alright, Dick. You're safe. Jason, have you found it?" "Yeah! Just found it." "What happened to him?" "I don't know. Yet. Once we take care of some of these wounds and he rests, I'll talk to him." "Where the hell does he keep his cups!" "Second…second cabinet to the right." Dick murmured, feeling someone grab his hand. Based on size and feel, he presumed Alfred.
Dick felt cool glass being pressed to his lips, a cool liquid following. Based on lack of flavor, he guessed water. His head hurt. He could hear footsteps. Someone was rummaging through a box. What was going on again?
The glass was removed, and someone started wiping the blood away with a damp rag. "He's not responding much." "He may have injured his head." "You mean they may have beat the hell out of him until he couldn't defend himself, then injured his head, right?" "Jason, we'll talk about what happened later. Right now we need to tend to Dick." "It's not like he can tell us what happened!" "And we'll talk more about it later, when he can explain what's been going on."
Dick slipped into unconsciousness, trusting his family to take care of him. They were worried, and he obviously couldn't take care of himself at the moment. There wasn't much to do after that. All he could do was stare into a black void, completely bored.
When he woke again, a cool washcloth was being patted on his forehead. "Hey, Dickie. How are you feeling?" Wally whispered, kissing Dick's cheek. "Sore." "I'm sure you are. Your family is in the living room. You're lucky your roommate is on that trip, or you'd probably have police at your door." Wally grabbed Dick's hand, intertwining their fingers.
"Hey, Wally?" "Yeah, Dick?" "Do they know who…" "Attacked you? Not yet. Do you?" "Some of them." "Dick, please tell me you aren't getting bullied again." "I could tell you that, but I'd be lying." "Dick, why didn't you tell anyone? We couldn't prevented this?" His voice dropped. "Why didn't you tell me? Do you not trust me?"
"It's not that. I trust you, Wally. You're one of the people I trust the most. I thought I could handle this on my own. Before today, it was just words." "Yesterday. You've been out all night." "Oh." "Even if it was just words, you should've told someone. Everyone can talk trash, but some people take it seriously." "I'm in college. I should be able to handle this."
"So? I'm a junior in college, and I still call Barry, asking for chicken nuggets. I don't trust myself with a drink in bed. I know how it feels, but you do need to consider that others can help you." Dick sighed. "Just…tell me next time you're being bullied. I don't care how serious it is, I want to know immediately." "Alright." "Good. Now, you get some sleep. Alfred was making dinner, last I checked." A meal from home. That would be nice.
