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Jason loved being Robin. Robin was smart, strong, funny, and brave. Robin was fun. Robin was a way for Jason to feel strong; to feel needed. He was Batman’s side kick! Jason loved how Robin was invincible. Robin is pure. Robin is fearless. Robin was different from Jason in so many ways. Where Jason has nightmares, ghost pains of hunger, and memories that stalk him from darkened shadows. Robin has the freedom to be the saviour he never had. When people think of Robin, they think of a hero, a small hero clad in green, red, and yellow. For Jason, Robin was magic.
Jason loves training to be Robin almost as much as he enjoys being Robin. He lives for the hidden light that twinkles in B’s eyes when he’s finally perfected a set; the heavy hand that proudly rests on his shoulder. But Jason hates the bright hours of the day when he must be himself. How he’s only a charity case for Bruce Wayne. How he must survive a week of being Jason for a magical weekend spent flying over the roof tops of Gotham. Jason doesn’t belong in Wayne manor; not like Dick did. He’s too rough, too jagged to fit in with the highest of society. The only times Jason likes being himself are when the lines between Robin and Jason are blurred. He loves the impromptu movie nights with B and Alfred, sometimes even Dick. He loves going out with B for ice-cream or burgers after a particularly hard patrol. He even likes the sick days where they stay in to eat Alfred’s amazing chicken soup and Bruce reads his favourite books to him.
Jason hates being Jason.
Reality crashes into Jason like a bus as harsh tones of fighting echo strangely through the hollow manor. Anxiety writhes like a worm in Jason’s gut as he leaves his school shoes at the shoe rack next to the coat closet. Phantom pains of harsh hands and cruel words pick apart his already frazzled mind. The small boy tentatively makes his way to the kitchen in hopes of finding Alfred as the deep baritones of rage and unjust anger filled the place he has come to see as home. Jason’s small hands picked absently through his gelled hair until it was a mess of raven locks. Shaking hands tucked into the pockets of his grey blazer while the anxious boy fervently searched the large kitchen for the family butler. A small note pinned to the fridge written in the fanciest cursive dashed any hopes of Alfred being home.
The volume of the fight rose as the soft patter of socked feet drew around the corner. Jason’s heart jumped into his mouth as panic prickled at his skin. He remembered when Willis would yell at his Mom. Would remember how she would sit there glassy eyed and lost to the world as the man would paint purple pictures on his skin. The pain of such memories caused his eyes to prickle as the two men came into view. Like a deer caught in the headlights Jason stood in the middle of the kitchen. As one of the two trained vigilantes looked up to meet his wide stare. Whatever scathing remark that was about to be made died as the two grown men surveyed the boy in the kitchen. With horror Jason saw pity and something like guilt swirl into their matching pairs of cobalt blue eyes.
Slowly, as not to startle the boy, Bruce moved to kneel in front of the shaking child. “Jaylad,” He paused to rest his warm hands on Jason’s shoulders. The slight flinch was something he hadn’t done for a while. “What’s wrong?” The small boy worried at his lip as he fought to face the man before him. “N-nothing.” Was his wobbly reply as he fought harder to suppress the tears that threatened to show just how weak Jason truly is. Fear jabbed his ribs at the thought that B wouldn’t want him if he knew just how weak Jason truly was.
“Jaylad.” The soft voice rumbled again. “What’s wrong?” Tentative aquamarine met warm cobalt. Jason noticed that B wasn’t wearing his stoic Batman face or his cocky Bruce Wayne attitude. He notices the pitch in his brow, the soft frown that tugged at his slightly chapped lips. Jason felt his walls breaking down as the flood of emotions threated to burst through the dam. “You’re alright Jaylad.” A soft voice murmured in his ear as strong arms engulfed him. Like the building of rain soft warm tears dripped down the boy’s pale face to pool in the expensive dark fabric of the man’s coat. The cold crisp air in the manor turned soggy as Jason’s stifled cries echoed loudly through the kitchen. The feeling of weakness, guilt and fear slowly ebbing into confusion as B whispered encouraging words Jason felt he didn’t deserve. The tense atmosphere dissolved around them like melting sugar as Dick slowly made his way toward the pair. Mirroring B he knelt behind Jason to engulf the shaking boy in another pair of warm, loving arms. Jason’s last wall of emotional defence broke when the young man behind him gently whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Jason felt the final string of control break as all his supressed memories flooded into the forefront of his mind. Bile burned his throat as hot tears burned his cheeks. The heavy throb of purpling hands prints on his face, neck, back… everywhere. The shame when he went to the run-down elementary school in the Narrows. How he would wear hoodies three sizes too big to try and cover the ugly purples and yellows that marred his skin. As he melted like rubber in the hot Gotham sun, he felt the long-gone pain of blossoming memories, the hollowing hunger, the burning infections that used to be his rinse, wash, repeat.
A cold hand clenched his heart due for the unspeakable things he never wanted to say, could never say tore him apart inside out. For once said there is no more pretending they don’t exist. He didn’t want for anyone, even B or Alfred, to find another exploitable weakness. He is meant to be Robin, when really, he’s just Jason. Weak street rat Jason. How could anyone love him for how weak he truly was? How could B and Dick sit there and hold his withering body between them? How could they still love him after they saw how broken he really was?
“W-why?” Jason’s voice rasped as he buried his head further into B’s shoulder.
“Why what son?” The man asked back.
“Why d-do you still want me?” Jason sobbed as more salty tears trickled down his pale face. Both sets of arms tightened around him, holding him close like he was important.
“Because you are so strong, so brave, so fierce.” Bruce stiffened for a moment before his own shoulders relaxed. “Because I love you Jason.” He sighed as he pressed a gentle kiss to Jason’s temple. “And I don’t tell you, either of you enough.” He lifted his head to meet Dick’s eyes. “I have a bad habit of not telling my family how much I love them.”
A warm weight settled in Jason’s gut as he let himself become fully engulfed by two thirds of his family. Slowly the wrenching sobs quelled to gross sniffles.
“What would you guys say to a movie night?”