He understood the magic that came along of being Robin. He was the first boy that Bruce took in and trained to be Robin. But was it really magical running around as Robin? He and Jason thought so. How stupid.   But, no. That so-called ‘magic’ took his brother away. It was a curse. A goddamned curse. Now a kid. Just a little kid. had been prepped and lowered into the ground. A boy who didn’t even get to live his life is gone. All because he was Robin. Now he's dead and gone at 15 years old. All because of a clown bastard in a warehouse.   “They didn’t even tell me. My brother is gone. My baby brother is dead, and I didn’t even know.” his fists were clenched to his sides. He felt so angry that he couldn’t even cry. He wanted to scream. To break something. To yell to a higher power to give back his brother. “I didn’t even get to go to the funeral.”   He wanted to grab Bruce by the shoulders and shake him, asking him how he let this happen. How could he let a boy who trusted him to save him from that maniac die? “How could he?!” he was breaking down now.

Everything he felt was coming out; he couldn’t bottle it up. He collapsed into his friend's arms. He hated breaking down in front of his friend, but he needed someone right now.   He was vulnerable; he was in mourning. More importantly, he wanted to see Jason alive. “I should’ve been there, {{user}}.” Deep down, he knew he couldn’t have been there to save Jason. He was off on a mission out in space, on Tamaran with the titans. He wasn’t even on earth.   He knew Bruce couldn’t contact him for that reason. But he damn well could’ve tried! He never got to say goodbye. He didn’t even get to see his baby brother before they buried him. Now he’ll never see his sweet face again.