"Jon!?"
Damian's uniform was behind a dumpster in the alleyway outside the hospital. The cold wind sent chills down the bare skin of his chest.
He tripped over the leg of his sweatpants as he tried to put them on and run at the same time. He rolled, threw the backpack containing civilian clothes aside, and slipped the sweatshirt on over his bare and dirty, heavily scarred back.
He burst through the hospital entrance and went straight to Clark, angry tears streaming down his face. "Where is he? Where is he!?" The boy didn't care about the eyes that turned to him from all over the waiting room. People died everyday in Gotham. The suicide of a teen was nothing to cry so harshly about at 3 in the morning in their eyes.
Clark put a hand on the boy's shoulder In an attempt to quiet and calm him only to have it shoved off in retaliation.
"I asked you a question!" Damian yelled.
"Come with me." Clark said quietly, seeing Bruce, dressed in civies, appear behind his son.
The bird bit his lip to keep from asking questions. Maybe this wasn't what he thought. Maybe it wasn't his fault.
The elevator ride was silent. Bruce's face was without emotion. Clark was holding back angry tears for after he could talk to Bruce alone. Damian's head was still spinning.
The raven haired boy didn't wait for Clark to show him. He ran to the room with Lois Lane sitting on the bench outside. "Damian?" She asked with a slight sniffle.
He ignored her and ran into the room.
On the bed lay the teen, skin blancher than the sterile bed sheets and hair black as night. Eyelids were closed over once sparkling eyes once known to be filled with hope.
Bitterness spilled over the edge of Damian Wayne and formed into cement that stuck his feet to the ground. He clenched his fists, unable to move. Hot tears dribbled down his cheeks and off his chin to the white tile floor. He felt the presence of Clark behind him, then his father... then a hand on his shoulder. Once again he pushed the hand away, forcing his feet to move to the bed.
Thick alabaster bandages wrapped the entirety of the minor's arms- save for the small area for an IV drip at his elbow. The room was only filled with beeps from the heart monitor and the oxygen machine working to keep Jon alive. Those were the only thing the conscious boy heard, Not the sound of feet shuffling out of the room.
A slight argument from outside the hospital room was muffled by Damian's grief and guilt. A million questions encircled his mind. He'd only get the answer to one.
Damian Wayne stood at Jonathan Kent's bedside for a half hour, in which Superman and Batman argued outside. Damian didn't process the passing of time or the voices he heard any more than Jon did. It was as if the bird was in a coma too.
Finally, the train of people came into the room. Lois- Who came over to Damian, followed by Clark- who went to the window to observe the street below, followed by Bruce- of who stood near the door.
"Damian." Lois's voice cut the substantial silence and brought him out of his unbroken trance. Emerald eyes turned to come in contact with soft blue ones the boy occupying the bed had come to inherit.
"How did Jon manage to get kryptonite?" She asked quietly.
Damian dropped his eyes. Of course Bruce figured it out. He was the greatest detective on Earth. Only the vigilante was mission one thing: the motivation. So it didn't surprise him when Damian answered. But why his son had given is best friend a deadly weapon was still a mystery to him.
Damian sucked in a breath to explain. "He... He said it was for a project- I didn't mean-"
"What?" Clark turned to look at the once confident boy. "You gave it to him!?"
"It was an accident-"
"How do you give someone /that/ on accident!?" Clark was furious.
And Damian swore he saw a flash of red in his eyes before Lois placed her hands on Clark's chest to stop him. The boy wears reduced to silent tears, frozen at his lover's bedside.
"My boy is in a coma and may never wake up, because of you-" Clark was cut off by the sound of Jon flatlining.
From there chaos ensued.
Damian turned to look at his love, eyes widening. His vision was blurry, he could barley see, but he knew that sound. "No no no-"
"Get out! Get away from him!" Clark got between Damian and Jon, using one hand to shove the boy back from the bed and into the wall being them.
Clark's voice sent ripples of echoes bouncing off the walls of Damian skull, an avalanche cascading down his brain. The pain was too much. His hands entangled with his hair as strong fingers latched his shoulders and pulled him out of the room and out of the way of doctors that flooded into the doorway.
"No..." Damian turned and bolted out of Bruce's grip. He ran from Clark. From Lois. From his guilt. He was chasing Jon.
He sprinted down the stairs, but tripped over his own feet and rolled down the last half flight. Yet it only slowed him down a little. He couldn't see a thing except lights, tears blurred his vision. He felt a door and sprinted out the back of the hospital.
He knew he was outside by the steady rain that patted his back and sealed his hair to his forehead. It mixed with his tears and soaked his clothes in seconds.
Damian gasped for breath and fell to his hands and knees. The cold pavement below him was anything but comforting.
He turned his head when he heard the horn. Two bright lights bore down on him.
Damian's only reaction was taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes.
___________________
This was a long one for me. 😪
Don't you love a good cliff hanger? 😈
