The movie isn't particularly good. Of course, he hadn't expected much from something titled The Horrific Brain Eaters From Planet Death. It didn't really matter, anyway; Wally wasn't paying it much attention. Trying to fit too many mouthfuls of popcorn into his mouth at once, the snacks were gone and refilled every other minute. Normally Alfred would have been annoyed, he always preferred it if Dick told him far, far in advance when the West boy stayed over so that he could stock up on food, lest Wally eat them out of the house before the first hour. But today he didn't mind and, like any good butler, served the boys in silence.

It had been a bit tense between the older man and Dick the morning after his attack in the kitchen, but Alfred said nothing of it and eventually Dick could look him in the eyes again. Because Alfred knew when not to prod, and Dick would always be thankful for that. Just like tonight when he kept to himself and even took the time to make them pizza - because homemade pizza was better than the 'nutritionless, unhealthy garbage' they had originally wanted to order - and for the most of the evening, the boys were left alone.

Dick was more immersed in the movie than his friend, though it was clear that he wasn't entirely focused. Dick's mind kept slipping in and out of his surroundings and though the movie was mind-numbingly bad in its own right, there were thoughts that, as always, were reluctant to leave him in peace. Wally snuck a glance at the other every now and then; the boy had his back pressed deep into the backrest and was near buried in blankets, but every time his eyes seemed to get that distant, far off haze Wally would glance from out of the corner of his eye.

''Dude. Creepy much?''

Of course, nothing seemed to ever escape the Boy Wonder. Wally looked away and something that felt too much like a blush burned his face.

''Sorry.''

Dick gave him a suspicious glance but soon returned his eyes to the screen.

They watched the rest of it in silence, but it was a comfortable one and for the first time in weeks Wally felt at ease. He wasn't fidgeting much more than he always did - the movie was bad, but it was extra terrible for him as it seemed more than just one hour and twenty minutes long - and though they weren't critisizing and making fun of everything the actors did like they usually would, he felt close to something that almost looked like normalcy.

Wally doesn't mind that he has to sleep on a cot, it's what he always does, anyway. He's just glad he's out of the guest room; in the beginning Bruce would force him in there every time he actually got the man's permission to sleep over. Normally he would have, well, maybe been a little bit annoyed. There was never much sleeping done whenever he was there - Robin would eventually doze off and Wally would lay quietly contemplating. He'd watch the back of his friend as it rose and fell, listen to the calm breathing and wonder what Dick was dreaming about. Yeah, it made him feel like a creep but... who would know, anyway?

Except this time Dick doesn't turn his back to him. Though he isn't staring at him like a ghost through the dark either, like Wally first thought he would. He is staring, but at the ceiling, still on his back with his arms tightly held across his chest - hugging the covers close to him with a gaze so intense it looks like he's trying to develop heat vision. The breathing is even but not the one of a sleeping person and instead it's Wally who turns his back and gives him privacy, lets him know that it's alright. He turns a vulnerable part of his body towards the other boy so as to let him know he's in control and he has the power.

Normally he'd fantasize about crawling into the bed. Not doing anything in particular, he just liked to imagine the two sleeping next to each other. Imagine the smell of his hair and the warmth of him, imagine the movements in the mattress as Dick fidgets around in his sleep. Usually it hurts, in a strange way that Wally had a hard time - still does, sometimes - accepting. The amount of fear and panic that had hit him when he first realized what those feelings meant... Wally had almost fled the country. He had been unable to meet the boy's eyes for days and days until Dick finally took him aside and asked why he was so angry with him.

Wally had just laughed weirdly. Angry? Wally had been anything but angry. Well, maybe at himself, for having these stupid feelings, for acting like a little fanboy gushing over his latest crush - for having these feelings for his best friend of all people. And a boy, to boot. The whole thing was just so absurd to him, Wally had been so ashamed at first because what if Robin knew? What if he could see it in his face? What if he could hear the things Wally thought sometimes?

In hindsight he could laugh at himself and his stupid behaviour, but at the time his fears had seemed rational. What if Robin found out and never wanted to be around him again? Stupid - Robin wouldn't mind if he was gay - not that Wally knew if he even was, he hadn't reached a satisfying conclusion about that, really. Bi, maybe. He liked girls. Or, well, he really, really, really liked girls and it was so strange that something that had taken up the majority of his thinking was suddenly replaced by a scrawny little midget acrobat. Wally didn't know and now it all seemed too pointless to think about.

He would lie if he said that he wasn't disappointed - that he wasn't sad that Robin probably would want less to do with him now. If the boy couldn't even shake hands with him, how would they ever get to doing anything else? Forget about kissing and all that fun stuff; Wally would be content just sleeping next to him. They didn't even need to touch each other, just... Wally just wanted to be close to him.

But tonight he isn't angry or sad or disappointed about sleeping on the cot. Tonight he's happy he's even let into the room.

He listens intently for a long, long while. For sounds of nightmares, signs of turmoil but the more he concentrates the more tired he gets and Wally doesn't want to fall asleep because what if something happens - what if the bad guys escape from jail, what if they come to seek revenge, what if they come in and take him again and Wally isn't awake , Wally doesn't notice - what if something happens? He knows the mansion is very secure, knows they have to get through Alfred, knows Batman wouldn't let it happen again but, despite knowing in his gut that he's being irrational Wally can't stop the feeling of dread crawling down his spine.

''Dick?'' he whispers through the room as he can't stop his mind from shouting. He just needs to make sure, needs to know the boy is still there before he can get any semblance of peace in his mind.

''Wally?'' a quiet voice says tiredly, almost a little bit annoyed.

''Were you sleeping?''

There is a pause before he answers.

''No.''

''Alright. Just checking.''

Dick doesn't answer, but Wally can feel the strange look he's getting. He decides to ignore it and instead close his eyes, trying to will his mind into silence and sleep, even though he doesn't feel any calmer than he did mere moments ago.

''Hey, Wally?'' Dick says after a while and the other boy turns around.

''Huh?''

Dick hesitates a second, then sighs heavily.

''Thanks.''

''No problemo!'' Wally frowns. ''Uhm, for what, exactly?''

''Just...'' Dick doesn't even really know. He just feels like he needs to thank him, needs him to know that he appreciates him and how much he really means to him, but Dick doesn't have any idea of how to express it. ''You know.''

''Not really, no. But uh... you're welcome?''

Dick turns around to look at him now. His face is barely visible in the dark and even with the slight crack in the curtains, the light is too dim for Wally to see what his face looks like. Just one blue eye is visible to him and it's looking tired. Too tired.

''I just... I know it's not... easy. And uh...'' Dick scratches his nose, his hand slim and ghostly in the blue light from outside. ''I had fun tonight.''

Wally smiles at him, even if the boy can't really see it in the dark.

''Me too. Though it was a terrible movie.''

''You're welcome to choose next time.''

''Next time?'' Wally can't really help the high-pitched tone of his voice and immediately he wants to slide under his covers because he can't believe how embarrassingly excited he joust sounded.

''Well, duh. You thought I wasn't -'' then Dick goes very, very quiet.

Wally waits for him to continue speaking but Dick doesn't say a word and after a moment he thinks he hears the boy turn to his back again. And then Wally realizes what a stupid idiot he is because Dick probably took it the wrong way; probably thought it meant he never wanted to come over again and Wally just wants to slap himself. He wants to say something but isn't sure what because it all sounds so stupid in his head, he can't imagine it being any better out loud.

''You don't laugh anymore.'' Wally says the first thing that comes to mind and, as usual, it proves to be a bad idea.

Dick shifts slightly, tensing maybe, and Wally doesn't want to just slap himself anymore - he wants to go out into the backyard and shoot himself.

''You really don't know, do you?'' Dick's voice is hushed, and it takes a while for the redhead to even register it.

''Know what?''

Silence.

''Nothing.''

''No, dude, know what?''

''Nothing, Wally. Just -'' the boy sighs, shakily. ''Nothing.''

And Wally is hurt and Wally is angry because Dick is still doing it, he's still shutting him out and he knows he needs to be patient, needs to be understanding but Wally can't help but feel insulted because of everything they've ever gone through, everything Dick's ever confided in him - the one time when it seems so immensely important he's being left out. The time that Wally really needs to help him, Dick won't let him. Of course, he never lets him, never lets anyone as if he has to prove himself to - no one, everyone, and it makes him want to punch him sometimes because no one's ever asked him to. No one's ever needed him to because there's no doubt he is every bit as capable as them, sometimes even more so.

''Dick. You can trust me.''

''I know that.''

''So why aren't you?''

Dick sits up hastily, gripping the covers hard and almost angrily.

''It's not that easy!'' Dick hisses quietly, though Wally doesn't understand why because the mansion is huge and Alfred isn't even anywhere near their room. ''I - I can't just-''

''What? Talk to me? Dude, you always... You've always talked to me, Dick. Why is now any differently?''

''Because it just is, Wally! It's different and I can't talk to you right now because -'' Robin rubs his hand across his face and groans in frustration.

''Becaaaause..?''

Because Dick doesn't want him to know, because he's afraid of what he will think if he ever does, because Dick isn't ready for anyone to know. It's bad enough that Bruce does, and probably the rest of the League or, at least the ones who were there and he has no idea how much they saw, how much they learned, how much of the turmoil in their eyes is pity and how much is disgust and - Dick doesn't want Wally to look at him like they do.

''It doesn't matter'' he says and the strain in his voice is rough against Wally's ears. ''Forget it.''

Wally wants to protest, wants to tell him that he can't forget, that he knows there's something he isn't being told, something he isn't being trusted with but he doesn't even have the time because Dick is up and out of the room before he even opens his mouth. Wally sits in shame, in guilt, for many long minutes after the door is shut. He wants to go after him but, it feels wrong to chase him when he's already upset and Wally is so stupid because they were having a good time, everything was good and familiar and then he had to open his idiot mouth and ruin it.

Wally lies down and tries to sleep, tries not to think about if Dick just changed rooms or never wants to talk to him or wherever he could be. Tries not to think of him heading to the gym to work off some stress or if he's in the kitchen - with a grumble Wally's stomach reminds him of how hungry he is and it's been at least two hours since he ate - or pacing around the corridors. But of course he can't sleep because his mind is relentless and the tiredness is evaporated, gone without a trace and it's driving Wally insane to have to lie there and listen to his own frantic thoughts.

Eventually he has enough and gets up to go look for him. The floor is cold but Wally doesn't take the time to put his socks on, just gets out of the bed and walks out. He would prefer to use his speed because Dick could be anywhere in the building and it's going to take forever to locate him and Wally will probably get lost and starve to death before morning but, it is dark and running into walls hurts. So he tries his best to be calm and walk like a normal person, though he can't help but be just a tad too fast.

The mansion is silent and expecting, the many portraits watching him from the walls, it almost feels like they're judging him. Some of the corridors are lit up by giant windows, but most of the mansion is dark and looming. He listens intently for sounds, for movements but after the twentieth room he still hasn't found anything. There is nothing coming from the kitchen and it seems even Alfred is asleep. Wally has no idea what time it is but he's pretty sure it's too early for him to have gotten up.

After what feels like hours but has only been twenty minutes he passes one of many bathroom doors and he almost walks right by it when he hears it. Wally's heart stops in his chest and for a second he forgets to breathe. He looks at the door in what can only be described as fear and suddenly he regrets ever leaving the bedroom at all.

Wally doesn't know if he should even knock anymore, doesn't know if he should bother the boy because suddenly it feels so very private and like he doesn't belong there. Like he should just go back to bed and pretend he never noticed anything because this is the first time Wally's ever heard Dick cry.

The water is hot against his skin and though it's drying it out, despite that his face has started flaking from the excessive usage he can't stop it. The filth is thick and heavy and Dick just wants to crawl out of his skin, wants to tear it off and step out. The dirt in his pores and in his very marrow is heavy, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe and Dick twists the shower handle but the water isn't hot enough. He wants it to boil, wants it to burn right through him but it won't go any higher - never goes any higher but every inch of his body is itching and he just wants it to stop.

He grabs the loafa which is course and rough and presses hard against his arm. It burns where the skin rips and the water isn't helping - but it takes his mind off it, takes his mind off the images and he presses harder and harder even though he's close to bleeding. It just won't clean, it won't clean him like he needs it to but he doesn't know what else to do, he -

can feel the steel wool against his skin as if it was happening that very moment, can feel the hands squeezing at his wounds, digging in the flesh and he can feel it all and it's so real, it's so close to him he can smell the lye. So he scrubs harder and harder still, despite the water around his feet blending with red until it becomes an ugly, brown-tinted orange. He won't stop scrubbing until his entire arm is burning.

He pours the soap into his hands and only hesitates for a moment before he smears it on his arm. It stings so much he can't stand straight, has to steady himself against the wall and the rock in his chest is choking him. Dick can't breathe, can't see but at least he can't think and it's all that matters right now. He can feel the sting in his eyes and supposes he is crying - but just like all the other nights he can't tell the emotions apart anymore. Everything is just a mess of anger and shame and regret and fear - so much fear he doesn't know where to go or what to even do with himself, anymore - and then the water turns ice cold.

Dick curls into a ball on the floor, hugging himself tightly as he tries hard not to scream but it's so difficult because the water is cold and it hurts and it never get this cold - he can't remember if he showered earlier today, there should be warm water left but Dick can't focus - his vision is spotted in black and everything is spinning. He only barely stops himself from vomiting for what feels like the mllionth time and his throat has been sore for days, his breath has been awful but the bile keeps pushing and pushing like it's angry with him and the sudden wave of nausea leaves him too numb to move.

Dick let's a quiet sob out and buries his head in his knees. And he's disappointed. He's so angry with himself because Wally is over and he probably thinks Dick is angry with him but Dick isn't angry with anyone, just himself because he's so weak and small and pathetic. Because he's still afraid, he's terrified even though he's supposedly safe now. Dick can't relax - can't calm down, he needs to constantly be on edge because there's the looming threat of danger hovering above him every second of every minute of every day.

He knows they're in jail, knows Alfred wouldn't hurt him, the team would never hurt him and he doesn't understand - he hasn't been to school yet because the mere thought of being locked in a room with so many people he doesn't trust and they're going to be behind and in front and around him - Dick would be surrounded and just thinking about it makes his throat shut close.

His head and feet start hurting from the cold and his joints are stiff when he finally stands up; as he turns the knob his hand is trembling so hard he can't even begin to try and keep it still. On shaking legs he steps out of the shower and his muscles ache when he dries himself off and slips into his clothes. Dick's chest is still cluttered with what feels like sand and earth and grains while the tears run hot against his cheeks. He leans against the basin for support, stares into the drain and watches the water drip from his hair and through the tiny little holes.

Slowly Dick lifts his head to meet his reflection, not really wanting to but feeling like he needs to see himself - feels like he needs to punish himself for reasons he does not even know. The bile that had been retreating returns full force at the sigh of his face and it takes everything he has not to heave up the popcorn he ate earlier.

He only faintly, dimly hears the knock on the door and the panic is rising - but he bites down his teeth, tries to calm his breathing because he knows he's home, he's home and he's safe and it can't be anything dangerous but his heart won't slow down, only go faster and faster until he fears it may break through his ribcage.

''Dick?''

The voice is familiar but he doesn't know if it's of the good or the bad kind, can't tell if it's someone who wants to hurt him so Dick doesn't answer, just tries to turn away from the it; tries to push himself as closely against the faucet cabinet as he can and disappear.

''Dick, are you... are you alright?'' but Dick keeps on ignoring him. ''Can... can I come in?''

''Go away!'' Dick shouts and he doesn't even care that he can't keep his voice steady, he doesn't want anyone to be there because it's a tiny little room and it would be so easy for someone to just push him against the wall and - nononononononnonono.

''Come on, it's... it's just me, Dick. It's just... just me.''

Dick takes three deep breaths, then two and five and a thousand more until the room stops spinning. There are no sounds of footsteps and Wally is probably still there. Dick is starting to feel tired - his knees shake and tremble under the weight of his body and for a moment he just wants to collapse.

The door is slightly ajar and for a moment he's near panic again but then he feels Wally's smell, hears the familiar sound of his steps - that special, impatient, hurried Wally-walking-rhythm which seems... hesitant, this time - and tries his hardest to calm down. He tries to remind himself that Wally wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't harm him; the boy has tried so hard not to touch him, not even brush by or be close to him and it's so unfair of him to keep him at a distance and Dick tries so hard, so hard to trust him.

''Dude, are you..?''

Dick turns his face away, not because of the tears, he doesn't even care about the stupid tears right now, he just can't let Wally see him like this.

''C'mon, man, look at me. I won't make fun of you, I swear.''

Dick takes a deep, shaky breath but still doesn't move.

''Please, Wally, just go'' he croaks and it sounds so pathetic he can't believe Wally's still standing there. ''Just... just need to...''

''Let me help you, man.'' Wally looks at him all sad and worried and desperate, looks at him almost pleadingly. ''Just - just trust me, Dick.''

Dick doesn't reply, doesn't look at him but instead turns his eyes to the mirror. In the corner of his eye he registers the bright colour of Wally's pajamas. He doesn't say anything for several minutes and Wally is suddenly fidgeting again. Wally knows how much it takes for Dick to even still be in the room with him - the kid's been jumpy in bigger spaces than this one, though enormous - and Wally can see him clutching the t-shirt tightly around his body as if he feared Wally would - Wally doesn't even know. He just knows he's too close to the edge, getting too close to the line of what's acceptible but he can't go, he can't back out because his friend needs him.

''Look, I'll stand here by the doorway, okay? My hands up where you can see them. Now please'' Wally says ''please, just look at me, Dick.''

Dick stares at the mirror as if in a trance. Reaches an unsteady hand tentatively to his face and touches it, barely, like he doesn't really want to feel the skin under his fingertips but can't stop himself entirely. Wally watches him in silence and, though the tears have stopped, Dick's eyes are cold and frantic like he's not even seeing anything - like he's off somwehre in a land far away that Wally can't access.

''I can't go back'' Dick's quiet voice startles the speedster who tries to look unaffected.

''Can't go back where?''

Dick presses his fingers harder now, to really feel the texture of his face as he sweeps his hand across it.

''Not like... not like this.''

Wally's getting anxious and frightened because there is a detached coldness about his voice which has him on edge; Wally doesn't recognize his friend at all.

Dick slowly takes his hand down and lets it travel under the t-shirt, and as he draws the fingers briefly across his stomach he loses all strength in his legs. Wally's first reaction is to run over to him, but in the last second he stops himself. Dick keeps his hand on his belly, keeps feeling and poking at the skin and the panic is high and loud as it rises within him.

''Talk to me, man'' Wally says and crouches down to reach his eye level. ''What's going on? What's wrong?''

Dick just shakes his head.

''Don't be like that'' he says and he sounds angry, it confuses Wally because he doesn't know what he could have possibly done.

''Like what?''

Dick snaps his head to face him suddenly and violently, his eyes hard and cold and rough and hurtful.

''Look at my face, Wally! Look at my face!''

''Dick, there's nothing -''

''I can't go back to being Robin because look at me! Don't you think they'll see Dick Grayson and immediately recognize something like this?''

''I don't - Dick, what are you talking about? There's nothing with your face, you're - ''

''I can feel it , Wally, I can feel the marks on my skin!'' Dick pulls his hand out from the shirt so fast only Wally would notice and buries his face in his hands. ''I can't go back, can't go back like this, they'll see and they'll know and -'' he doesn't ever want to go near a scalpel ever again so he can't even get reconstructive surgery, he's trapped as Dick Grayson forever and he is the last person he ever wants to be.

''It's over'' Dick lets out a tiny little sob. Wally just wants to hug him. ''It's over, I'm over. Robin's over.''

''Dick... Dick I -'' Wally wants to pull his hands away from his face but he has learned the hard way not to listen to his urges. ''Look at me, man. There are no scars.''

''Shut up, shut up, Wally -''

''Dick, you're freaking me out.''

The younger boy looks at him then, through his fingers he glances with his eyes riddled in shame.

''But I can feel them'' he says and it's so narrow, so shallow and thin it barely passes as a voice. ''I can feel them, Wally.''

And Wally just sighs.

''You're stressed, you're... traumatized, Dick, it's just... you're just imagining it. You know they said - they said you wouldn't scar, right?''

Dick leans his head back against the cabinet and sighs.

''Not a mark'' he says.

''Exactly'' Wally nods. ''You - there is nothing on your face, okay? You... I mean, you see it, right? Tell me you see it.''

Dick doesn't answer, just lets his fingers trace along his stomach again. Wally doesn't know what to think or to believe; doesn't know what to do because everything is just so wrong. And it scares him because Dick looks so normal, so carefree every day he sees him, like nothing ever happened and it terrifies him to know what lurks beneath his calm exterior.

The two don't speak, because there's really nothing left to say. Wally just sits and waits, lets him know he's there for him but keeping his distance, and Dick keeps staring at the wall; his fingers brushing over the stinging skin, each time leaving him more nauseous than the last - but he can't let go. Because he can still feel it, raised high above the rest of his skin, rough yet soft under his fingers. He can't stop touching it because he can't ignore the truth - Dick can't forget, can't deny because he can't ignore what he knows deep, deep down. Dick carresses his stomach slowly and -

The word WHORE is stark against his touch.