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I take your language to polish my wound

Summary:

Look how your hand revises
my form. Extraordinary ability. Prodigal child. You leave
and take your weather with you. I take your language
to polish my wound, but rarely do I dare
to mean anything at all.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Dirk stood, trembling on the front steps of the Ridgely, unable to calm himself down, for what felt like a long moment before he could walk away.

Once inside the safety of his car, he shook so violently that he couldn’t stop the tears, already formed, from falling, and he brushed angrily at them even as new ones continued to form.

He was a detective.

And Farah and Amanda were his friends.

And Todd.

Todd was his assistant and his friend.

Todd wanted to help him.

He didn’t need Blackwing or the CIA to bail him out.

He wasn’t a scared and lonely kid clinging desperately to any act of kindness anymore.

He wasn’t their experiment.

He was Dirk.

Just Dirk.

And he didn’t need Riggins telling him what was in his best interest, with all his warped niceness.

Riggins, who used to stand there, behind the mirror, watching him fail again and again and again.

Until everything hurt too much.

Until he was crying, begging to stop.

Until they brought him back to his room and Riggins would be sitting there with a box of crayons and a smile that seemed so genuine and promises that never meant anything.

Notes:

I'm so sorry this is sad. I promise I will eventually write fluff and softness for Dirk but his line "I don't need you. Go back to hiding in the shadows. It was the only thing you were ever good at." to Riggins was too Heavy for me to leave alone.

Title and summery from Where I Eat by Claire Schwartz