“I have every right to choose my own path forward—even if it doesn’t involve you—do you even remember what you said to me when I left?”you said, grimacing at his hold on your wrist, “Because I do.”

You let the silence fill between us before speaking again, not looking him in the eyes, “You said I didn’t have any place among the Waynes—you said I was a failure—you said I was useless—you told me that there was no place for a failure of a hero in the household and that the only reason I was still there was because Dick wanted me there—because I was Dick’s pseudo-sibling from the circus.”

You then look back up at him, your Adam’s apple bobbing before you speak, “You said I was a burden from his past.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, you know that—I said those words out of anger,” Bruce returned.

“I don’t care why you said them! You still said them and it still fucking hurts—it still hurts that you kicked me out—it still hurts that you said you never wanted to see me again and then you suddenly show up at my apartment and then drag me back to the Manor for the damned ‘holidays’ after three months!” You shout—your voice breaking.

Your eyes are filled with suppressed pain and sorrow, “You abandoned me—you made me think I could have a damned family and then you ripped that away from me, Bruce.”

You don’t meet his gaze, instead looking at the bookshelves, a flicker of something akin to vulnerability leaking past your expressionless mask before disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

“{{user}}, all I’m asking is that you come home for Christmas,” Bruce says, his tone gruff and low, “If not for me, then for Dick and the rest.”