A/N: A little angst piece with the Batboys reacting to Bruce's death.
I smile to hide the silent tears
You all pull me 'round like a puppeteer
And you laugh as I cry until I break
I can't endure anymore of this throbbing ache
You force me down 'till I can't stand
My silence speaks words but no one understands
I stay silent cause no words can explain;
The pain, the suffering; it's all in vain
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"You don't know pain until you're staring at yourself in a mirror with tears streaming down, you're face, begging yourself to just hold on and be strong. That is pain"
Tim stepped out the shower, grabbing a damp towel and rubbing it on his dripping hair and face, water mixing in with the dripping tears.
The reflection showed a pale, frail, shaking boy, with wet and sticky, black hair. The face was the worst, a tear track had made its way across the boy's face, smudged in with his pale-face, as if the tears were there forever. His blue, once shining, eyes held a broken expression, as if they had suffered too much pain. Loss.
He shook his head slowly. Surely this broken boy couldn't be him. His own body. His own broken expression, and eyes.
The blue had used to shine out, showing a youthful 13-year-old, with optimism and shining with happiness and excitement. Now... now they only showed the tragedies no one should be forced to endure. The pain, the suffering, the traumatising events... they all shouldn't have happened to a now 17-year-old.
The boy was him. A 17-year-old, begging silently for help, for assurance, to feel wanted. He crumpled to the floor, a glass of water cluttering the ground. He felt as if this represented him, a shattered boy with no one. My hands dug into the broken glass shards on the white bathroom floor. Broken. Just like Tim.
He shook with sobs, letting out the tears from the jails of his baby-blue eyes. He remembered the past day, week, year. Death. Loss. Pain.
"Come on Timothy, stop being so weak. Everything's going to be fine"
He didn't believe his own words.
"Everything's going to be fine" he stressed, taking a gasp of breath.
"You're going to be fine. Keep it together. You're going to be- "he choked on words. How could he say it, when it wasn't true? Nothing was going to be fine. Ever again.
He was too beaten. Too broken
---------------
Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it
Dick felt numb, looking at the grey headstone in front of him. He felt a sense of claustrophobia, the gravestones, decaying and rustic, closing in on his body.
"You okay Dick?" someone asked. He wasn't sure who. He didn't really care.
No.
"Yeh" he lied. The figure nodded, turning and walking away.
Dick let the numb envelop him, because, numbing the pain is surely better than letting it show.
---------------
"Every thought is a battle and every breath is a war and I don't think I'm winning anymore"
Jason's breaths became rigid, trying to compose himself. He was a mess on the floor, breaths uneven and sweat enveloping his body. He felt his lungs closing up, like a hand was squeezing on them.
The events of the past couple of days were severe, painful, but Jason couldn't show emotions. Vulnerability. Weakness.
It wasn't until a week after Bruce's death did Jason allow himself to finally break down on the floor of his apartment, no one watching.
Every pained breath was a weakness shown, but Jason didn't care. Every thought of Bruce's death, of all the traumatising events Jason has been through sent a searing pain throughout is body.
But it's okay. Because Jason was used to it. His body was a broken, battered war-zone.
---------------
My heart can't be helped and it's gathered pain and regrets.
Damian's chest felt weird. He didn't know why. Ever since his Father's death, it felt hard to breathe, like every gasp for breath was his last.
He was okay. (no, he wasn't)
He wasn't affected by his Father's passing. (yes, he was)
He couldn't show weakness. (it doesn't matter! Father is dead! You're alone!)
He didn't need help. (don't leave me alone- help- please)
The pain in his heart increased because Damian couldn't run from his thoughts. His Father was dead. And Damian had never felt more alone.
