If You Were Worse

“I wish you were a worse father to me back then,” he says. Jason has never been good at approaching difficult conversations gently, especially not with Bruce. He knows he’s meant to do it delicately, like the way you’re meant to cut through slabs of meat almost mercifully to get the least resistance, but he’s always been one to take a meat cleaver and slash and maim until everything’s ruined and inedible. He prepares his knife. “It would’ve made things easier.”Bruce won’t show any more effect Jason’s words have on him, not as Batman, but not as Bruce either. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice steady, even, and Jason wishes it were breaking just the littlest bit, and he feels guilt start to swirl in his chest. Jason’s already having expectations of this conversation and he told himself he wouldn’t. The guilt swirls in his chest regardless.