[Just a disclaimer right quick: this chapter mentions self harm and suicidal thoughts/ actions. If you are easily triggered by it please skip this chapter. I'll put Trigger warnings before every chapter that mentions these things. Thank you in advance.]
"Jon sweetie how was your day? You've hardly said a word since you got inside." Lois asked softly. Something was up and she knew it.
"Ok." Jon answered. "Just a little sick to my stomach." The boy mumbled.
"It's your favorite, sport. I'd hate for you to miss out. Your mom baked a pie too." Clark stated.
"May I be excused? I wanna go shower." Jon asked. He could feel the bile rising in his stomach already.
"Yes. You may." Lois answered quietly.
Almost silently, Jon got up from the table. He crept up the stairs to his bedroom. He grabbed his long sleeved pjs and carefully pulled the sleek led lined case from his backpack and concealed it in his fresh boxers.
Then he went to the bathroom and stripped. Observing his thin, pale body in the mirror, he balled his slightly bruised hands into fists.
Just hours ago Damian had been injured and a woman had died. All because of him. And his 'incompetence.' Because he couldn't make a decision.
"There's a suicide jumper on 6th. I won't be able to make it in time. Superboy, I need you to go catch her!"
"I'm not leaving you alone to fight him!"
"Go! Now! The authorities won't make it in time! I can hold him off!"
"No! I'm coming to help you!"
"You won't be fast enough! Turn around Superboy!"
"...Fine. I'll be back to help!"
"I don't need your help."
The sound of 23 bones breaking as they hit the concrete had been what made the boy stop. He'd been to late to save the jumper. Another bone snapping behind him told him Damian was now in trouble too, along with a pained grunt. But he was frozen still.
It had taken Damian crying out in pain to pull him from his trance. And even then he wasn't fast enough to save his partner from a dislocated shoulder and a snapped humerus.
He pulled back the curtain harshly and got into the freezing water. It was so cold it stung his skin.
He deserved the pain. He failed. He would never be like his father and he'd never be enough.
And Damian. He was a fool for thinking Damian ever liked him. 'All he ever does is push him around...' The words haunted him because deep down he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Damian. But those caring sides he saw sometimes... were they just him imagining things. Caring questions mixed with insults? Or were they just insults.
The questions buzzing around in his brain, along with the usual voices telling him he'd never be good enough, and that Damian would have to settle to ever be with him, caused the boy to break down in tears.
He placed a thin strip of towel in between his teeth and bit down hard to keep himself silent. He'd figured out the hard way that he could bite though the skin on the inside of his bottom lip.
Silent sobs left him as his body shook. He always cried silently. He was too old to cry. His parents had better things to do than to worry about their teenage son crying in the shower.
Reaching out past the curtain to the counter, his pale fingers wrapped around the led lined case he'd brought with him. He pulled out the sharp piece of kryptonite, his energy levels dropping by just being exposed to the rock.
He brought it down along his wrist gently. In a desperate attempt to force himself to be better, he dug the kryptonite into his wrist.
He almost cried out at the stinging and throbbing. He held his stinging wrist under the water and washed the crimson stain down the drain, keeping the element close so the wound wouldn't heal quickly.
A beautiful red line was now carved into his porcelain skin, once thought to be unbreakable.
He hesitated before washing off the green batarang carefully and placing it back in its case. Without any more tears, he finished showering and got out. To continue on as if nothing happened.
