Jonathan Kent

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(Trigger Warning: self harm, suicidal thoughts)

"Mrs. Kent?"

"Yes Damian?"

Hesitation. "Is this a bad time?"

"Of course not, I need to be away from the computer screen for a minute anyway. What it is?"

Hesitation once more. "...I'm worried about Jon."

"Why? What's wrong?" Worry laced the mother's tone.

"Just... he's- Just keep an eye on him please." Bruce's voice could be heard in the background. "I have to go, father is calling."

"Wait, Damian wha-" The call had ended.

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Soon after Damian left the park, Jon climbed down from the tree. He'd always fantasized of his first kiss being in that tree, with Damian leaning down and caressing his cheek before pressing his perfect lips to his own.

Or maybe getting the courage to lean up and kiss the vigilante himself.

That dream was now shattered in the dirt at the roots of the tree.

Cowardice would always take over.

Jon shoved his hands deep into his sweatshirt pocket as he walked out of the park. Metropolis. The bright beacon city, home to a hero of hope. No, Superman's home wasn't here. It was in a little town in Kansas where the caped Kryptonian was currently staying.

Metropolis was no better than Gotham. People stole, the government was corrupt, people in capes ran around attracting criminals like a new challenge. It was just a little brighter here. A little more electricity to get through the smog.

But was it really any better anywhere else?

Was any city better than the crime ridden one he lived in? Than Gotham?

The snap of the door closing pulled him out of his thoughts as Jon walked into his apartment without care. Lately Lois had been working late to make up for Clark's lack of work at the Daily Planet.

And as of recent, instead of barks inviting him into the cramped apartment, it was silence. The cape that had been under his bed was now hanging in the Justice Hall in a frame. A proper monument to the white furred hero.

He couldn't even save his own dog. Right when his father was counting on him. The boy's hands clenched into fists before they relaxed.

"Mom?" Sure enough, the boy got no answer. A long sigh left his mouth as he shut the door behind him and climbed the stairs. She wouldn't be home for hours.

As he entered his room, he flopped down on his bed. His eyes traveled to the drawer that held the kryptonite.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and pulled the drawer open. He stared at the drawer for a few seconds, Crystal blue hues brushing over the black box.

He looked away and then to his phone. Slowly, he grasped the device, hesitating before pressing the caller ID.

"You've reached  the voice mail of Damian Wayne. Leave a message after the tone."

"Hey Damian. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry I'm clumsy and a pain in your ass. You won't have to deal with me anymore... Bye." Raven tresses fell into the teen's eyes as he ended the call and set the phone aside.

A deep, shuddered breath echoed through the room as his attention shifted back to the black leather in the drawer.

His pale fingers reached out and grasped the box, pulling it to him. Shakily, he opened it.

"Why are you crying you idiot?" Hot tears streamed down his face. He was such a cry baby. He was almost startled by his own voice.

"Crybaby. Look at his little nose twitch. Faggot's gonna cry." The taunting voices in his head seemed to echo through the room.

Quickly, he picked up the blade and held it to his skin.

"I want it to be over..."

He pressed down on the blade hard, raking it across his skin. The thick crimson leaked out of the freshly slit wound and dripped to the bed sheets. The voices seemed to fade as the pain grew more intense.

He brought it across his upper forearm again and again, until he was dizzy with pain and blood loss and his hands were stained red with his own blood. Now, for the first time he could think without hearing the nagging of his classmates or his own damn voice telling him he's never be good enough.

The tears began to fade.

He barley heard the door downstairs open as he stabbed the sharp lethal rock into his other arm, hitting the large artery that ran there. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, the world before him starting to spin. Black started to take over his vision.

By the time his mom called his name, he was out cold, bleeding out onto the bed.

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Super long chapter, glad to get that off my chest.

So what do you guys think so far?

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