Roy was so tired. Though he kept his hands pocketed as he walked toward the door of the roof, he wanted nothing more than to grind the heels of his palms into his eyes. His skin itched, and for the first time in a while, he had to chide himself for the thoughts that accompanied such a feeling. He hoped this fall out didn’t mean he’d have to stop spending time with the kid. Dick had seemed happy to see him at least, and if their movie night turned slumber party was anything to go by, he just couldn’t leave the boy twice.
At the sound of his name, the red head’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t really know what he was expecting Jason to say, but he honestly hadn’t expected his name to be said at all. Turning on his heel, though not all the way around, Roy watched his old friend continue to deal with him. Sometimes, when things got complicated, when feelings got hurt and he was tired (but he was always tired lately), the militant wished he had picked normal people to spend his time with.
Normal. As if he was some golden standard. No, not normal— but easy to talk to. People who said what they felt, and felt exactly what they said. It’s not as if Roy didn’t know how to interpret his friends’ words by now, their actions, but sometimes he wished he didn’t have to do the extra work just to understand; to feel better. He wished his friends were open books, more like him, but, on second thought, Roy didn’t want that at all.
Heaving a heavy sigh, the red head watched, listened to his rap sheet, to the debts he could never repay, and tried not to start walking away again. Tired, yeah. Tired made you sad. But, this. This was guilt, burden— this was all his failures— and that, that destroyed you.
And he was welcome to be Arsenal again? What is that? Some shitty party favor?
Roy didn’t want Jason’s goddamn blessing to be. He didn’t want the man to tell him he could have some shitty fucking name back. Welcome to be Arsenal again— as if he needed permission. The red head didn’t care about the fucking name. He wanted… Jason knew what he wanted. He wanted to be a part of the Outlaws, to be welcomed back into their weird, pseudo family, even at an arm’s length, even with a grudge. He didn’t fucking care about a name he—
And of course he saw it coming, with everything he’s known in life, how could he have not? But Roy had come into this expecting it, knowing he wouldn’t fight back, so he didn’t. He didn’t even roll with it, letting Jason connect with a sharp sound. The red head caught himself as the force sent him down, balancing on one knee, one palm supporting his weight, the other cradling his jaw. Slowly, he pushed himself back to his feet, stood straight as he worked his jaw a few times before dropping both hands back to his side. Gritting his teeth at the sting, knowing the hit had broken skin without having to feel the warm liquid oozing to the surface, Roy looked back at Jason with no real feeling. There was no other way to do it, because he didn’t know how to feel anymore. He could feel some type of anger rising in his gut, but he didn’t know who he was angrier at anymore, who he felt worse for, didn’t know what to do. So, instead, he stood there, as if waiting for Jason to hit him again, and right now, he half expected him to.
Hundreds of thoughts ran through his head as he watched the SEAL stumble, then stand without reacting. The broken man he’d pulled out of a burning hut in Africa. The vomiting mess as he’d come down off his morphine hangover, holed up in a hostel in Austria. Swapping conquests and stories of exotic locations and local women, ignoring Kory’s looks of annoyance. Clogging the comms with karaoke as she attempted to zap them as they danced just out of reach of her bolts. Even the nights when they’d black out, waking up safe in bed somehow, rum and whiskey still on their breath.
Numbness was plastered on Roy’s face, and with his pain came a release of emotions that Jason had managed to keep repressed for years. Stepping forward, he pulled Roy tight, clapping him on the back in a rare show of brotherly love.
“I missed the fuck out of you, Harper.”
The smallest hint of a tear squeezed itself out of his eyes, and he released the shorter man and took a step back.
“There’s lots to catch you up on, okay? Let’s grab a drink-assuming you still partake-and catch up before we go see Kory."
and all of this will never be the same again 