seekingforu

You scowled and shoved your phone into your pocket. Walking to where the drinks were and mixing whatever sounded good. You took out a baggie from last week and assorted the white powder into lines, using some card from god knows where.

A snuff turned into a snort, and a snort turned into a stolen blunt in your hands. You’ve been used to drugs, alcohol, and sex. You didn’t really engage in sex, it always felt too intimate. You’re a Wayne. Wayne have no feelings.

The music blared into your ears as you laughed at whatever the conversation was. Everything was so funny, maybe from the coke or alc. You didn’t care, or know.

EVERY LEAP OF FAITH I FALL

FADE AWAY TILL THE CURTAIN CALL

I FOUND GOD IN THE BATHROOM STALL

FORGIVE MY SINS PRAY TO SAINT LAURENT

You took some shots, flirted with some girls, whispered things to the pills, and probably took too much of everything. Some girls ushered you to take some special drinks. You smirked at them and took two shots before you got hazy. “Thanks dear..” You mumbled to one of them as you peppered her face with kisses of no feeling.

Some guys offered a blunt, you took it and ended the thing like it was a normal cigarette. “You’re a good dude.” You said in reply as you smoked and enjoyed the blunt like it was your last— which to be fair who knows, it could always be your last.

Of course, that’s not what only happened. You had definitely gave some promises, exchanged numbers with a few girls or guys, whispered flirts to people— but you honestly didn’t know in the dream-like state you were in.

It took you a while to realize that you were alive and at a party. The room was spinning. You had looked at someone random near you to calm yourself down, but everyone was just black figures. You blinked once or twice and got up to the bathroom. Or at least tried to, you were getting even more dizzy than before and it was due to the fact that you always got up too fast.

Your legs were cursing at you, as by now you had ran into whatever bathroom you could find without bothering to see if anyone was there or not. Your legs gave up just as soon as you got on your knees and hunched onto the toilet. You shoved two fingers into your throat as you gagged.

The alcohol and whatever food you ate got out fairly easy and quick— the blood that came after didn’t surprise you anymore. You had to vomit to focus, and nothing would help. Did this count as an eating disorder? Maybe— but you didn’t have the guts to accept it.

Your vision cleared as you tried your hardest to recall what you had taken. Some shots, a blunt, few fries from someone, some coke, maybe a few pills, and shots from some pretty girls. The shots were probably spiked— not that you minded. It just wasn’t nice to remember that life was… life, and that you can’t trust anyone.

Spiked drinks meant awareness that life is actually something important, and isn’t just something you can log out of whenever you get bored. You despised the thing we called living, so you drown yourself with every possible drug and addiction.

You need to be seen by everyone. Everyone must love you. (You should have their attention— why did they all ignore you, WHY ARE THEY IGNORING THEIR BROTHER—)

You grunted as you got out of the bathroom, not bothering to flush the toilet, and got back to the party. You had danced and talked with some drunkards or the high ones, having as much fun as a normal person would.

It was quite hard to enjoy the party considering it was kind of shitty. The decorations were all over the place, there wasn’t any drinking games made by the host, the living room tiny, and much more.

You checked the time on your phone— it was 4AM by now. You wondered if Jacob would come here an hour early.

…

He definitely would— compared to other ubers, Jacob was more of a good ol’ buddy. Your fingers swiped on his contact before you thought twice and wrote a quick message to pick you up.

you: hey cn u pxk me up??

Jason had just got off another night as Redhood as he sat on top of a roof. He probably should be continuing until morning, but Jason had promised you that he would come in an hour later. How did Jason even manage to get in contact with you after his death? It was a long answer, a very unfortunate one too.

After six years, you had called his old number back when he was alive, crying while obviously drunk. Begging him to come pick you up, like you were begging Jason to be alive again. Jason answered the call out of pity and remembrance— even with the pit madness he couldn’t control his love for his brother. Blood or not, Jason knew you were his brother.

Not Dick, not Damian, not Tim, not Duke— but Jason. Jason was your brother, even if you thought so or not. Jason always had a soft spot for that little boy who copied whatever he did. When you had first entered the manor, Jason was your idol and he knew that.

Jason was everything you wanted to be. He was rebellious, happy, smart, witty, and cool. Meanwhile, you were just a kid looking at Jason with those heart eyes idolizing his big brother. Jason’s second thought before he died was how you would feel, your brother dying from whatever excuse Bruce gave.

When Jason had gotten back from the pit, his thoughts were consumed with revenge. Vengeance. But the occasional passing thoughts of you had haunted him, he was glad of that day— where he had let you rest on the apartment bed instead of stupid Wayne Manor.

Sure, you never even found out his actual name and thought it was Jacob till now. It was for the better.

Jason’s phone pinged as he took off his helmet to open his phone with face identification— his smirk was visible when he had seen your text.

No.1 brother : hey cn u pxk me up??

you : yea sure

you : r u ok??

No.1 brother : no pls js get me.

you : ill be there in 10 mins.

Jason took his helmet and quickly zipped his jacket, shoving the phone into his pockets. He got off the rooftop immediately, right to his car. Jason closed the door quite harshly as he stepped on the pedal like there was no tomorrow— who knows what you could want or need?

In Jason’s eyes, you were still the young kid— in other words, you were the younger version of Jason himself. He saw you like a rebellious smart one.

Jason’s heart pounded— from fear of what happened, or is it from anger on whoever made you want to leave? Jason himself didn’t know, all he wanted to do right now was to teleport— but he could just drive.

Jason honked and cursed at everyone until he finally reached the place and saw you outside— your usual happy and laid-back expression was twisted into an ugly annoyed one. Jason noticed some spit slobbering down your mouth as he turned the window down.

“Get in before anyone sees you like this— you look like a sad puppy.” Jason teased, trying his hardest to make you feel better but the words just came out like some tough hyper-masculinity bullshit. Jason reprimanded himself in his mind trying not to show his annoyance at himself.

You muttered a quiet “Mhm, alright.” as you entered in. Trying to ignore Jacob’s annoyed expression. You hoped Jacob wasn’t annoyed that you called him an hour earlier. Underneath your rebellious uncaring nature, you wanted Jacob to like you.

You wanted Jacob to always have attention on you, to never have any other customer. It was a horrible thought, but you didn’t care about anything. Horrible thoughts come to everyone.

Jacob quietly drove you to the next street, the route obviously to his apartment. You sighed and started to talk about what happened. Jacob cut in, his words slicing you into awareness.

“Your drink got spiked?” He questioned with a deep sigh as he massaged his temples.

“Yeah. Not that I care— you know I—“ You tried to add in some more words to still seem that same old playful Wayne who was always partying.

“And you didn’t bother calling me?” Jacob asked with a sort of pained expression. Why was he sad? Wasn’t Jacob supposed to be the emotionless witty— why did he act like you would’ve actually gotten hurt?

Oh, right. You forgot once again that a spiked drink actually meant that something bad was slipped in. It had been so common towards you that you’ve forgotten what was normal and what was considered as bad.

“Right, sorry. I forgot.” You answered quietly.

“Continue,” Jacob said your name in a sort of despaired voice. You continued to speak about what had happened in the party that caused you to be annoyed.

“The drinks were shitty, the blunt was poor, even the drugs were bad! You know how horrible it was if the—“ You once again got cut off by Jacob, it was starting to become a little annoying.

“It’s okay,” Jacob said your name, “You’re here, no drugs in your system, nadda. You’re alive. You aren’t at that stupid party anymore.” Jacob comforted you quietly, sending a soft glance towards you as he hoped that these words had an impact on you.

You looked up at Jas—Jacob with a sad smile. He just reminded you so much of that wise old boy who helped you. “Thank you. I’ll be sleeping at yours, please?” You asked with a pleading look in your eyes gleaming.

“Apartment not doing any good for you?” Jacob asked nonchalantly even as he subtly changed directions to his own apartment— Jacob was always the guy who would move anything in a heartbeat if you said please.

“Roommate. Let’s not get into it. Thanks, Jay.” You said softly. It hurt to call Jacob the same nickname that you used for Jason, but Jason had died and now you finally had someone to replace the pit of his influence. You know that replacing Jason with Jacob would lead into not so great things but deep in your heart you knew it was time to let go.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat when you had called him “Jay” like old times, he almost had to stop himself from smiling on instinct and saying his nickname for you. Jason held his tongue and continued to drive, but a smirk escaped.

Jason was always thinking about what to say so it wouldn’t be distant towards you but also to seem not too interested towards you, it seems he had finally found the balance as he managed to make you call him Jay.

Now technically speaking Jason should be upset and angered that you had called his Jacob persona the same nickname you had called him when he was alive the first time, but Jason couldn’t bring it in himself to be annoyed.

Because all Jason cared about was that you called him Jay after his supposed death. That you called Jacob the uber driver which was still Jason, Jay.

Jason forced his mind to stop thinking as he parked into the Apartment complex building.

“Do you want me to help you out?” Jason had asked like the supposed ‘uber’ he was.

“No, I can do it.” You had replied with a tired tone but still a smile on your face as you got out of the car.

Jason got out himself and walked into the apartment and up the stairs with you, deliberately slowing down his pace so you could go up the stairs alongside him.

The quiet was familiar with you, as Jason knew it had nothing to do with being awkward or uncomfortable. You only became quiet when you didn’t care or you were comfortable enough to live in the silence. Jason knew which one was which.

You leaned against the wall as soon as you two had gotten to his floor. Jason got out his keys and fumbled with them as he unlocked the door. Immediately, you had made a beeline towards the couch and fell into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile Jason was staring at you with some look that meant he recognized your preferences and choices. Jason had missed you, brother.

Jason held back his happiness when you had asked to sleep at his instead of that shabby old place you called an apartment. While Jason had no roommates since this apartment building was owned by Bruce, he wondered why you lived at a small one.

Jason then remembered that Bruce never paid attention to you, and it’s not like Jason outright hated that Bruce never did or that he enjoyed Bruce not giving you any. He just thought that maybe it would’ve been a lot easier if Bruce remembered you once a while.

For now, Jason would have to go back to patrolling and hope you don’t wake up looking for him. Jason exited the apartment and went down the stairs once again to walk over to his car.

Jason quietly opened the trunk and out on his helmet and took out a grappling hook and got back to work. If some criminals noticed he kept glancing at the watch, they would be too busy being beat up by him.

note : formatting got messed up during the copy and paste lmfao sorry chat

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“You’re a disgrace to this family, why would Father ever even decide to keep you? You laze around out of the manor, talking to disgusting low lives—“

You had tuned out the rest of his words as you scrolled on Instagram, looking at the ten group chats you were added to— mainly from clubbing and random parties.

Let’s go back to the start so you understand what Damian is really talking about.

Rewind, 20XX, your birthday.

You were twelve at that time. Peacefully enjoying the seasons— we ignore pain it is to even be alive.

You sat on the chair with a single candle on the table, your mother has long went to sleep. Oddly enough she hasn’t even been awoke by your loud nature.

She hasn’t woken up since yesterday, and you doubted that she was even alive. Yet, you still let her rot. What would even happen if you complained to the police? A boy in the slums such as you couldn’t even see a time of day in anywhere.

You looked at the clock patiently as it turned 12. Slowly you blew out the candles, now you were thirteen. The golden age for reporting crimes and not being as pitied as before.

Quietly you threw the candle into the bin as you slipped on some shoes and got out of the house.

“Where you going?” the landlord— what’s-his-name— asked you.

“The police station, sir.” You politely said as you tried to excuse yourself.

“Pardon? What for, boy?” The landlord looked confused as he saw your small appearance.

Your landlord had been an old man, grey hair overflowing the brown, wrinkles forming as he looked down on you— literally. He always told you to refer to him as Sir— but you often broke that rule whenever you wanted.

“Mommy’s dead, sir. I need to report it to the police.” You replied with as much innocence a teenager could muster.

“Oh, dear. Let me go with you, champ.” He said, grabbing his cap despite it already being past night, walking with you outside.

You and the landlord were making your way to the corrupt police station nearby, you tried your best to avoid criminals— which was fairly easy with such an intimidating old man next to you.

The landlord, you had always seen him as a grandpa in a way and you were sure he also saw you as his grandchild. He often mixed your name up with his grandson sometimes.

You stepped carefully away from the suspicious white baggies and blood splatters— you would rather not be pitied by the officers, which was hard considering the landlord had always saw you as a frail kid despite him normally being harsh on others.

As you entered into the station with Grandpa, he ushered you to go sit in those seats that were a bit too tall and large for you. Grandpa went up to the front desk to meet a grouchy young woman who clearly lost something to have been bestowed the night shift in Gotham.

Grandpa had whispered something to the lady. The lady stopped whatever she was doing as she listened intently to whatever Grandpa was saying.

You weren’t able to hear them, being so far away after all. All you could remember after that was some officers talking to you.

They had moved you to a room that looked oddly like an interrogation room to gain something called your DNA.

You didn’t know it back then, how your life was going to change either for the better or for the worse. All you knew was that your mommy was dead, Grandpa was gonna help you find your father, that you needed to stay his champ, and that his house was always open if they couldn’t find your father.

The officer who was talking to you— Jim? Gordon?— walked into the interrogation room with a soft smile that reminded you of Grandpa.

“Your father is Bruce Wayne. Have you heard of him? No worries, Bruce is a privileged man here to help you. Bruce is your dad, okay?” Gordon had said.

You wondered what privileged meant, but you didn’t say anything and kept quiet. You opened your mouth to talk but it seems that you were cut off by a knock on the door.

The door had opened slowly to reveal a posh looking man whom you have already thought of as bad.

There was nothing wrong with him, you just hated people in suits.

People in suits meant people like Mr. Penguin. It meant that they were rich, they didn’t know about how bad the kids at Crime Alley were living like.

The man— Alfred Pennyworth— had introduced himself and said that he would be your butler.

You narrowed your eyes, looking at this untrustworthy man.

“Nice to meet you, Mr.Pennyworth.”

Despite the fact you didn’t trust him, your mother had always encouraged you to be polite and respectful.

“Respect gives people a reason to trust you, and trust brings out the worst in everyone.” Mother had said.

"Hello, young master," Mr.Pennyworth had said as he guided you outside towards a very fancy large car.

An all black limousine— a Lincoln stretch limo, you noted in case of accidents— was parked next to the sidewalk.

You entered in quietly, feeling like you were being judged from the luxurious interior. The cushions were too rich quality for you to relax, you had been used to the feeling of a ripped cushion on your skin.

The butler was weird, he tried making small talk and when you answered politely he had taken note on how vague your answers were.

You two had entered the inside of the garage, you left the car hesitantly and looked around at the large garage full of sports cars.

“This all… does it happen to be my dad’s?” You asked, putting air quotes on Dad.

“Yes, Young master,” Alfred said your name. “I believe that a small few is Master Dick.”

“Dick?” You asked with a held back laugh, you knew this new life was bound to meeting people with weird names— because all rich men name their children oddly — but you hadn’t expected Dick.

“Yes, Young master,” Alfred said your name. “Richard Grayson, your adopted brother. You also have Young Master Jason Todd. I believe you don’t know Bruce from the media?” Alfred asked not unkindly, but not kind either. Like you must be shielded away from the world.

“Yes, Mr. Pennyworth. Uhh, could you show me to my room?” You had asked, overwhelmed by the way everything was being introduced to you at such a short span of time.

“Of course, Master,” Alfred said your name. “I’ll lead you.”

Alfred had led you out of the garage and into the house. To you, this entire place felt like a maze. Unopened doors everywhere.

You two went up the stairs as Alfred explained every room and its purpose.

“There is the guest wing, next to it would be the family wing. Master,” Alfred said your name, “I am afraid that we did not have enough time to prepare a room. So, for now, please take this.”

Alfred led you deeper into the guest wing, to the room farthest away from the family but seemingly closest to Alfred. You had realized that after ten years, but younger you hadn’t.

At this time you had believed it was because Alfred wanted you to bond with him.

You did not want to bond with Mr.Pennyworth.

“Thank you, Mr.Pennyworth. I’m tired so I’ll be sleeping in here.” You had said, trying to subtly get away as soon as possible.

Mr.Pennyworth was perceptive, he understood you and left you as soon as possible.

Even while you were thinking about what to change in the past, Damian was still continuing with his paragraphs of scolding— despite the fact you were older.

“Alright, I get it.” Your voice cut through the air. Damian sounded like an annoyed kitten meowing for attention.

Damian frowned as he looked at you, utterly displeased by how you cut him off.

Sure, you did like attention, but why does it have to be some posh rich kid who is your half-brother?

(mybrotherwhywontheunderstandthatIwannabeseenashisbrotherIMHISBROTHERWHYWONTHESTOPBEINGSODISTANT—)

Your mind wandered to how much time Damian spends giving you little to no attention. You thrived off the attention he rarely gave you—the ability to get underneath Damian “Mr.cold heart” Wayne was especially pleasing.

“Tt. Fine. If you do not wish to know the horrible side effects of smoking, drinking under eighteen, and making friends with strangers. Don’t call me when you die.” Damian scoffed.

You didn’t get to give him a snappy comeback before he left into his room.

Finally, the living room all to yourself.

In such a daze of pleasure that you were alone, you completely lost all choice of logic and agreed to whatever party the multiple of group chats were going to.

You can either get a ride from blond twink (#2) or you can just call up your favorite uber.

…

Your finger went to the contact of your uber almost instantly— no way would you trust anyone other than him to drive you.

you: heyy cn u pck me up @ 1AM

Jacob : 1AM? that gonna cost xtra.

Jacob : alr. I can do that.

you: thank u & if u want enter da prty w me

Jacob : who??

you: sum guy bday, oscar? oliver?? idk

Jacob : no thanks ill just drop you off k?

you: kk, ty jay jay :)

Jacob : when do I pick you up?

you: @ liek 5AM?? if im not there you have perms to call po-po.

Jacob: good enough. k bye

you: 👍👍👍

You smiled at the chats between you and Jacob, he was best uber guy considering he sees the traffic rules as a suggestion. He didn’t bother being afraid while driving you to another party at Crime Alley.

Jacob was some tough kind-of guy you knew from a random drunk outing.

You drank a lot, called some random number asking them to pick you up.

Random as in keyboard smash of numbers. It’s a good thing that said person was Jacob and not some creep.

Jacob answered asking for the location, came for you, and you asked him to lead you to a random location— he instead led you to his house to freshen up.

Jacob had muscles, you could tell considering how much broader he looked in comparison to… someone.

You dismissed that thought, there’s no way this chunk of muscle be the same as Jason.

Jason was dead, and Jacob had green eyes. Not blue, not Jason.

You slipped your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants and walked out of the living room, going up the stairs to the left guest wing— away from everyone else in a dusty web side of the manor.

Your room reeked of smoke— you didn’t sleep in your bed. You left off to sleep in your apartment— with a roommate of course. No one has enough money for a decent apartment at Crime Alley.

Fingertips had grazed the dresser, dust sitting on your hands. You blew the air off and sighed.

You walked over to the bedsheets which were still crumpled and untouched— just like last month. And the month before.

You only sat in the manor when you got bored and wanted to haunt your family with your presence. It worked— almost half an hour in, Damian had already scolded you for fifteen minutes.

You grabbed your phone from out of your pocket and started to go through your socials.

Sending an occasional streak on some apps, and hum a song as you type a few words to the people going to the party.

You slide your phone into the pocket of your hoodie, yawning before sliding the hood on and cranking the window up slowly.

You were on the second floor, meaning you can easily escape and get out.

You’ve always used that window for escaping, thank whoever who monitored the cameras that they didn’t care enough to notice.

Slowly you used the bricks you quietly placed as ways to hike down, lodging your foot on top of a slightly out of place brick.

Finally, you jumped down and got out by a small space by the gate— a small opening of opening of the fences that you found back in grade 8 and abused it thoroughly— closing and hiding the place before you even thought twice.

You checked the time— 12AM — and decided to go to your favorite part of Gotham.

Crime Alley.

Of course, Crime Alley was your favorite because you could see people who were exactly like you.

Young, dumb, and broke highschool kids.

You didn’t whistle or hum while you walked out of the rich part of Gotham, your rugged appearance made people avoid you.

As you left the suffocatingly quiet part of Gotham and neared Crime Alley you smelled the horrible stench of Gotham—

you’re finally home.

You walked over to the usual spot Jacob picks you, and he was already leaning on a wall on his phone— most likely ready to ask where you were — before his green eyes spotted you and calmed down.

“Get in, loser.” Jacob teased as his white hair strand glinted in from the streetlight.

“Oh shove it.” You laughed as you opened the car door, entering into it softly as you looked over at Jacob buckling his seatbelt.

You had blasted “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers as you and Jacob sang along.

Well somebody told me you had a boyfriend

Who looked like a girlfriend

That I had in February of last year

It's not confidential, I've got potential

Jacob had finally reached the spot of the party as you sighed at the ending of the song.

“Bye, Jay-jay. Don’t forget to pick me up before the sun rises!” You winked with a smile before getting out of the car.

Your feet had walked on instinct and opened the door which was somehow already open.