#but breakups count

[theshadowrealmitself]

I just need Vulcans to hear about bunnies dying from loneliness and looking it up to see if anything similar like that happens to Humans just to find out we can die from heartbreak

[p4nishers]

ed trying to get over a guy he only kissed once while sobbing on the floor every night about him is literally queer culture thank u for the accurate rep david jenkins

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 

If anything, Eddie has more questions. 

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  

And Wayne would never hurt him. 

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!" 

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 

"Dustin?" 

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

[chrliekclly]

[frostedpuffs]

* If you want them to break up but get back together/get together as a different side of the love square, that still counts as a "Yes"

[tequiilasunriise]

“In another life, I loved you right.”

“In another life, you loved me at all.”

Tag your ship(s).

[rennarita]

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i don't like that people praise catra for "standing up to her abusers" (even though her confrontation with shadow weaver didn't really hold any value because catra never realized that she had turned into shadow weaver by that point; and hordak wasn't her abuser, he was her boss and she was just using his disability against him) but they never praise adora for standing up to shadow weaver in s1 or to catra in s3.

[hamartia-grander]

Wyll breaking up with the player character if Ulder dies so Wyll must become the Duke makes me wanna throw up sobbing because he actually thinks that just because his father's first duty being to Baldur's Gate made him a Bad Father that Wyll himself will inevitably be a Bad Lover because surely no one could match love with duty if his father couldn't, unknowing he has more love in one hand than his father had in his entire body. fuck

[gayofthefae]

Mike and El aren't "100% secure never gonna break up" because I'm only pretty sure that Nancy and Jonathan are gonna stay together and in season 4, I was only pretty sure Lucas and Max would get back together but I acknowledged a possibility that they would remain just friends but very close and still be the main pairing for each other onscreen. Nothing is certain. Because you haven't seen the ending. And with that Lucas and Max example, I was unsure of Lucas and Max and MIKE was the one that couldn't tell El he loved her. I was unsure of even the one couple that didn't have any (relationship) threat. No one is 100% safe because we don't know what's gonna happen. The only couple I was sure of in season 4 was Joyce and Hopper because they had very clear and consistent romantic buildup and references and hadn't been together yet. My closest comparison to that is Byler.

Honestly, I'm also realizing as I type this that the main lack of knowing stemmed from me knowing that plots have to invoke change and an established couple breaking up is a change, and being a change trumps being illogical. Joyce and Hopper or Mike and Will not getting together would be a complete lack of change.

Joyce and Hopper changed to dating. Jonathan and Nancy are shifting into their future and away from Hawkins. Lucas and Max changed into maturity that they didn't have before. Mike and El didn't change before, in fact, they reused(/extended with a tone shift to more seriousness) a PREVIOUS CONFLICT. Mike and Will haven't changed and won't if they do anything but get together that ends on good platonic terms.

Couples have to change. Getting together is a change. Breaking up is a change. Maturing is a changer. Elmike was already treated pretty seriously and that's used as reason for them to not break up but it's actually the opposite because they have nowhere to go but to break up now, as it is a story and further events are required to get to an end point. Byler were already on good platonic terms and and learning something that doesn't change anything is inherently NOT a change.

Realizing, even Will coming out to Jonathan was important because it was a CHANGE! They had been distant for a while and that was included in order to set up that moment as something that had needed to happen, a vulnerable conversation they hadn't had in a while.

Honestly the only established couple I'm 100% sure of is Dustin and Suzie because they have no plots and therefore no reason for change. Sidelined couples are endgame couples. Shoutout Mr. and Mrs. Finch on Bridgerton you're the cutest thing I've ever seen I'm so happy you both love cheese.

Jopp3r and J@ncy have available changes while staying together in committing further as they are adults or becoming adults who are capable of independent decisions like going to college together, moving in together, marriage, etc. All child couples, aka everyone else, do not have that change as an option (although some people have tried reaching for it under the idea of a larger time jump, even legality does not equal narrative plausibility) so their only possibilities are to commit to fight to reunite: Lum@x(just realized! parallel to when Elmike was romantic!), or break up (M!leven). Other options for any two people not together or engaged with another in-relationship change include as follows: getting together. That's it.

All couples but Mike and El have other options of change to build up to achieving other than breaking up. If they didn't, breaking up would be their only option, but they have alternates. For Mike and El, that is not the case. Lucas and Max are only even safe because she's in a coma, or if they decide to extend their get-back-together arc. The kids' only options are have an existing possible change or breakup. Lucas and Max have an existing possible change.

[charmwasjess]

Never going to forgive the Yoda comic (and Tales of the Jedi) for drawing Dooku with fully-operational Christopher Lee melty brown puppy eyes they are too powerful

[hairmetal666]

Bing Crosby's voice warbles from a portable stereo propped up near the sink, singing about a white Christmas; red-ribboned garland lines the windows and door frame; small wreathes bedeck the cabinet doors; and Steve Harrington stands at the kitchen island.

He turns when he hears the slip of Eddie's socks on the tile, grin already blossoming across his face, and they're hugging before he really processes it happening. Steve mumbles, "it's good to see you, Ed," in his ear.

The hug is too tight and too long for what they are to each other now.

They break apart, Steve immediately turning back to the baked sugar cookies spread out on the island.

"Wanna help?" He asks.

Eddie sticks his hands in his back pocket, walks to stand next to his ex, his best friend, his--everything in the world that matters. "What are we making, Stevie?"

"Frosting sugar cookies. Think you can handle it?" He wiggles a pipping bag in Eddie's face.

"No way," Eddie says.

"Yeah, c'mon, you're a good artist."

"With like, pencils and shit. Not icing."

"You'll do great."

"You sure about that? Remember when--"

Steve snorts. "Oh, you mean the last time you tried to bake, and I had to mop chocolate batter off my ceiling? And I found dried splatters of it for months? Yeah. I remember."

Eddie hides his laugh in a cough. "Sorry?"

He wanted to bake a cake for Steve's birthday, back when they were together, made a mess instead. Steve had just laughed and kissed him, started cleaning.

Their relationship started out hot and heavy in the months after Vecna. They got caught up in it, threw themselves headfirst into the kind of love that sucks you under, turns you inside out, leaves you with nothing. It ended, like it was always going to, when Eddie couldn't get out from under the shadow of his own self-loathing. Terrified he was fucking everything up, he packed his bags and left in the dead of night.

They're older now, though. More settled. The trauma softened by time.

"Coffee?" Steve asks.

"Please."

Steve gets it brewing, pours a couple mugs, adds the cream and sugar just like Eddie likes. Of course.

They ice cookies--and okay, Eddie's not so bad at it--and they chat and it's good. Nice. Two old friends catching up.

"Hey," Steve says.

Eddie looks over, would never not when it's Steve asking. The man in questions smiles at him, big and guileless, which is all the warning Eddie needs. He doesn't quite manage to duck in time, and Steve swipes frosting covered fingers across his face. He makes a pained noise, an injured little squeak, that has Steve in hysterics.

"Steve!" He shrieks.

The culprit is doubled-over, clinging to the countertop to stay on his feet, shaking with laughter.

"You--you," Steve half-sobs. "The look on your face!"

Eddie grabs a mostly fully piping bag. "You're gonna get it, Harrington."

"No--no," Steve darts sideways. "This sweater is dry clean only!"

"Should have thought of that." Eddie manages to smear frosting across Steve's wrist. "No one actually uses the dry cleaner, anyway."

They tussle around the island, giggling and shouting. He finally manages to catch Steve, drawing lines of icing over his face to the sounds of spasming giggles.

"Okay, okay," Steve says. His chest visibly heaves from exertion. "We should clean up."

Eddie shrugs. "You brought it on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Here." Steve hands him a wet towel and they spend the next few minutes smearing frosting off their faces.

He tosses his red and green smeared towel into the sink. "Happy with yourself?"

"Uh-huh, yeah--Oh, you've got a little--" Steve points towards Eddie's chin.

"Here?" Eddie wipes haphazardly at his face.

"No, it's--Can I?"

Eddie nods and then Steve is pressing his index finger to the corner of Eddie's bottom lip, gently swiping. Their eyes lock and there's nothing else in the room.

"Got it," Steve whispers. He doesn't pull his finger away.

"Thank you." Eddie's not sure anything but air comes out.

Steve's eyes dip down, fixing on Eddie's mouth and the spot his own fingers rest.

Eddie thinks he might die.

On the other side of the house, there's the sound of a door closing, the thud of approaching feet.

Steve pushes away, grabs a cookie and a piping bag.

Eddie has a few seconds to settle himself, figure out how to breathe. He's barely calm when Mark's deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, "Hey, babe. How's the baking?"

"Good," Steve says. "Work okay?"

He can't be rude, has toacknowledge that Mark is here, in the room, co-owner of the house.

"The usual." Steve and Mark smile at each other, soft and intimate.

When they kiss, Eddie drops his eyes.

"Eddie! Good to see you, my man!" Mark says, wrapping him in a loose hug.

Eddie pats his back, says, "Been awhile."

"Yeah, you should come around more often. Know Steve here would love to see you. Guess LA is keeping you busy."

"Guess so," Eddie agrees.

He's desperate to get out of here, dying for a break, to blot their easy intimacy out of his brain. "I--uh, think I need a cigarette break. I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't take too long," Steve says. He doesn't look away from Mark, so Eddie doesn't bother answering.

He steps out the back, cigarette and Bic already in his hands, lights it before the door is back in the frame.

--

Hours later, he slips out to the front porch, this time for a second to breathe. Even outside, he can hear Mike and Dustin yelling, the girls chiming in, Joyce and Hopper and Wayne laughing, "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" blasting.

He walks to the side of the house, steps stuttering in the snow when he sees the glowing ember of a lit cigarette.

"Eddie?" Steve asks. "Need a smoke?"

"Nope, just wanted to clear my head." His heart thuds loud enough he's sure Steve can hear.

There's a beat, only a second or two, before the cigarette falls to the snow with a soft sizzle and Steve's hands are bunched in his shirt.

The kiss is hot, hard, desperate. His fingers dig into Steve's hair, pulling tight.

"Baby, baby," Steve murmurs, their mouths not even parted. "I missed you so much."

Eddie whimpers, clings tighter. "I know, sweetheart. I know, but we promised--"

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I just--"

"Stevie." His thumbs caress the planes of Steve's face. "I can't do this anymore. We said--"

"I know, I know. But I can't stop thinking about you. It's all the time. I miss you so bad that it hurts. Right here in my chest. And fuck--I lo--"

"You don't," Eddie says. Vision obscured with tears.

"I do," Steve's fingers grip around him tighter. "I always have. I never stopped. I thought you--I thought--"

"Steve?" Robin's voice calls into the night.

They let their hands drop away from each other, step apart so they're no longer entwined.

"Be right there, Rob," Steve says.

Eddie lights another cigarette. "You should go in," he says.

"Yeah." Steve nods, won't look in Eddie's direction. "Merry Christmas," he says, walks back toward the house.

He thunks his head against the red-brick of the house, staring up at the gleaming white lights lining the edge of the roof, finally letting the tears fall.

"Merry-fucking-Christmas," he echoes.

[cottoncandysprite]

New mitski single the day before good omens and wwdits permieres AND while I'm at the height of my seasonal depression what a time to be alive

[pinkflames]

My nerdass can't handle this

[puppiesandnightlock]

Link: Two Birds On a Wire

Summary:

Damian and Jon, and their views on the moment that the Super Sons - and their friendship - cracked. the supersons broke up yall im sry-

for prompt six: Friendship

Two birds on a wire…

They watched each other, Damian sitting on their old Gotham rooftop as Jon seemingly descended from the stars. It was almost a remake of a few months before, except for a few rather striking differences. The wind swept Jon’s curls to the side, tearful pools of sapphire blue desperately searching for the boy’s gaze.

His domino was off, and for his credit, Damian’s gaze stayed steely, looking straight ahead. The black cape he wore whipped around him in the Gotham chill, the reds of his kevlar suit bringing out his caramel complexion. 

Touching down onto the rooftop, Jon inched closer to him until Damian stood straight up, fiddling with the mask in his hand, seemingly a nervous tactic.

One tries to fly away…

“Stop.” 

Damian looked up, piercing the indestructible Kryptonian with his gaze. He twirled the mask in his hand, debating whether or not to put it back on. Jon stood in front of him, having recoiled at his words.

This boy, someone he had once treasured and still did, someone he would have once killed for, had gone as Damian's best friend, and had come back as someone completely different.

If it had just been the trauma, he would have understood, who else but him understood how deep a scarred childhood could go. 

He had never treated Jon as anything less than an equal. He, yes, had looked down on him, had once considered him a danger to society as we know it, but he had never treated him as an incapable small child, someone who could have gone off the rails at any given moment, destroying everything. 

Sure, that was a little hypocritical, and perhaps he was justifying himself a bit too much because he probably has done exactly that,, but that wasn't the point.

The point was it had always been them two, Jon and Damian against the world. 

And then Jon came back older. bigger , stronger, with a stupid boyfriend.

Romance was stupid. Feelings were stupid. 

And so, he closed himself off. If everything was going to change, if his oldest, only friend, was going to change and leave him alone with all these incompetent people who called themselves heroes, then he sure as hell was going to make sure he left first.

And the other stays…

“Dami…I-”

Jon reached out again for him, watching the pain fill the green eyes he’d so desperately missed. 

He’d come back, and sure, he didn't say bye, but they were still the Super Sons, right? Robin and Superboy, although now he was technically the oldest AND tallest of the two, but he could muster up some big brother energy and let his name go first.

He knew he would have o take more charge now, be a bit more assertive here, and that was in. He couldn't understand how or why Damian was so appalled about this. It hurt that they wouldn't go to school together again or grow up together, but that would pass, and Jon had already gotten much more used to being practically an adult, so why hasn't damian?

They were still best friends. They would always be best friends. 

He knew he was all Damian had, so why was the younger trying to pull away so much?

Two birds of a feather….

They stood there, on the rooftop, these conflicting thoughts running through their heads.

“You’re so much taller then me now.” Damian spoke suddenly.

Jon took a step closer and tried to joke. “Yeah, shorty-pants.”

“You're bigger, broader. Your hair got longer. A part of me swore it was you, when i saw you coming towards me. But everything else didn't know who you were.”

Damian made a motion as if he were hugging himself, and as he looked down, Jon could feel the hurt coming off in waves. 

“The only thing that could vaguely clue me in was your eyes. Same beautiful, haunting shade of blue. But they held ghosts. They were so deeply pained, heavy with trauma. Not my Jon’s eyes.”

The Super’s throat went dry, and while his heart broke at the description and his eyes welled with tears, anger bubbled up instead.

“So what, you’re blaming my six year space trauma for whatever the hell is goinng on between us right now? Because if thats the case, then kid, you’re just as spoiled and entitled as-”

A broken laugh was barked out, as Damian pointed at him with his mask. 

“That, that right there is another reason. I don’t even know if you relized it. You  wanna know the top reasonon this list? It’s because i lost my best friend.”

“Damian. I am right here.” Jon spat out each word as if they caused a vile taste in his mouth.

“Everyone mourns the loss the little boy, but i couldnt fucking care less. I lost the only person who would ever consider me an equal. One who wouldnt judge me for who i was, who i’ve become. Someone who would stick through with me. Not one who would call me ‘kid’ and force me out of missions. I don’t need another goddamn big brother, Jon, I have six older siblings. i have never seen you as kin, i never will.”

Say that they’re always gonna stay together….

Domino was plastered back on, completing the walls being built back up. They had seen each other at their most vulnrable, and Damian was never letting anyne past his barriers ever again.

He told himself that he didn't care about the tears in Jon’s eyes, the soft little cries. He forced himself to keep the water pouring from his own eyes concealed in his mask

“Is that just it then?” Jon scrubbed his eyes. “Are we done?”

Damian paused, willing himse;f to keep his voice steady. “If that is how you wish to call it.”

“What about younger us? What about the Super Sons?”

The bat swiveled around. “Keep their name and their legacy out of your mouth, Superman. We are not them. We can never be them again.”

His mask slipped, just slightly, but enough for Jon to see the tearful emerald eyes. 

He stood on the edge of the roof, cape flowing behind him. 

“Goodbye, Jonathan Kent.”

His hearing caught the pained sobs as the younger boy collapsed on a nearby rooftop, his heartbeat thumping erratically. 

Jon had the urge to chase after him, to help him and comfort him, but he knew that nothing would help him break through those walls again. Still, he stuck for a bit, crying himself until he heard Damian’s broken voice sniffle into his comms. 

“Please, Oracle, can you send for one of my siblings to come, I am at (coordinates). Thank you. No. I’m not injured. But not okay, either.”

He flew up into the air, leaving Gotham behind him. 

Still, despite that night, a part of his heart would always, always belong to Damian, to Gotham. Therefore,  he couldn't stop himself from uttering what he was sure would be his last words to his old best friend, knowing he would never hear it himself.

“Goodbye, Damian Wayne.”

I

Love

You

@super-sons-week-2023

[bralette-kisses]

i’ve been crying for five hours and i can’t stop