( of course damian does. for all his bravado, damian is still just a thirteen year old boy. jon wants to answer, to give him something to hold on to, but it’s a little hard when he’s busy still trying to catch his breath in between sobs. he gives a choked sound against damian’s collar, pauses to take in a deep breath—just to start keening again. it’s—it’s one thing, to hold back tears when you’re in front of someone you really don’t want to cry in front of. to hold them back and keep silent. but it’s a lot harder not to cry when you’re trying to talk--especially about feelings.

especially with damian’s hand pressed gently into his hair, when he’s just—letting jon cry on him like this. ) I—I’m f-fine, on my o-own, I d-d-don’t need them to. . w-watch over me, I don’t. ( he shakes his head, wiping tears off against the fabric of damian’s hoodie. clothes are easily replaced here, right? ) ‘m. . I can t-take care of myself. ‘m strong. ( a little too arrogant with that strength, maybe, but-- ) ‘s. . k-kinda easier here without them, haha-- I don’t have to h-hide. I hate hiding. I—just wanna be me.

( another deep, deep breath in, rubbing his face into damian’s shoulder once more. ) I bet your d-dad’s looking for you. He loves you—a l-lot.