Chapter Text
Hooting up from his bed, already feeling his eyes glassy. A good way to start his day is already reliving the worst days of his life. It had been almost 6 years since the death of his parents, but the day still repeated in his dreams at least a few times a week.
He has to get up; he has to get over it. He has things that need to be done; he can't just sit around and wish his parents were still around, or that things hadn't happened the way they did.
He stood up, threw on the first clean pants and a jacket from the closet, and went into the bathroom to clean up enough to go out. Taking one last look in the mirror, he runs his hands through his slightly greasy hair. Pushing it out of his face before turning to the door and making his way down the stairs and down to the kitchen to see Alfred setting out breakfast.
Alfred turned to him, gesturing to the plate set out for him, and said, “Good morning, sir, there's breakfast set out on the table. Imad you-”
Bruce looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. I'm not really hungry, sorry, think I'm just going to go to school.”
Bruce was acting like this wasn't too out of the norm for him these days. He was disinterested, and no matter how often Alfred tried to talk to him or get him into counseling, he would just say he was fine, but Alfred knew better. He knew the boy had nightmares; he knew the boy never stopped thinking of his parents, no matter how many years it had been. Some days were better than others, but today just wasn't one of those.
“Ok, sir, I'll go get the car ready,” Alfredd said, putting the utensils he was holding away, turning to go get the car, and pulling it around.
Bruce looked up to see the old man walking in the opposite direction. Bruce grabbed his bag, slinging it lazily over his shoulders, and followed Alfred out to the car, getting into the car. Alfred knew that Bruce really wasn't a big talker, especially after an especially hard night, so he just let Bruce look out the window at the passing houses.
About twenty minutes later, he arrived at his school. He went to a prestigious private school, the kind you would only see in movies. His grades were mediocre, making Cs and D’s mostly, and he didn't really talk to anyone. Nobody wanted to talk to the kid who would just looked at you like you were stupid if you tried to talk to him, it's not like he didn't want to talk to the kid he went to school with be he didn't want to talk to any one, that how treated most people, teachers, the staff, really anybody that had any amount of authority over him that wasn't Alfred, got the same treatment.
Walking into his class, it was the last day of his tenth great year, so most of the classes didn't do much. Also, it was a social time to say goodbye for the summer, and kids acted like they wouldn't be back with the same people in two months. By the end of the day, people came up to Bruce at least fifteen times, wishing him a good summer. They had been friends for years. It always upset him the way that people treated the last day like the end of the world, making plans that won't ever be followed through on. It all always seems so fake to the force.
Interruption, Bruce's train thought. Ah, a voice came over the announcement, “Good afternoon, students, and congratulations on another amazing year. We will be glad to see you next year. Please make sure to clear your lockers before leaving today and have a wonderful summer- oh, and can Bruce Wayne please report to guidance after the first bell”?
He put his head down on the desk. Bruce hated having to go to the guidance office. They always tried to make him talk to someone about his feelings and tell him to work harder in school or even go out and try to make more friends. None of which he wanted to do but he wasn't sure want they could have wanted from him on the last day there wasn't anything he could do about his grades or lack of friends right now but a few minutes later with the first bell rang he walked to guidance anyway assuming that they probably told alfred that he was getting held after but either way he texted him even though he probably wouldn't get a response by the time he got to to the office. He didn't get the reply, but he really didn't think that he would already be sitting in the chair posture perfectly straight like normal and looking at the counselor.
Taking a seat next to Alfred, watching the counselor grab a thick folder out of his filing cabinet and set it on his desk with Bruce's name on it.
“Mr Pennysworth Bruce's behavior over this year and last has been cause for some concerns,” the council said seriously as Alfred finally looked at Bruce. “I think that Bruce would really benefit from some time away from the city or some of the people. I know he has a lot of problems with the press. Getting away from it all might help him with grades and his mental health," the counselor continued.
Bruce hated that they were talking about him like he wasn't there, like he was a child that couldn't handle his feelings. he didn't want to get away from the city. That wasn't what he needed; he liked being in Gotham. He just needed for people to leave him alone, he can do that and stay in Gotham.
Alfred looked between Bruce and the counselor as he started, “What are you recommending? Should I send him to a boarding school? I really do appreciate your concern, but I don't think shipping him away to another school will really won't help.” Bruce looked up at Alfred, just happy the man was sticking up for him.
The counselor shook his head silently, looking at Ruce and them Alfred before starting again, Sir, that's not what I'm trying to say, just that getting away from the city for just a few months over this summer and coming back for the next school year might be good for the kid.”
Alfred looked at Brucee one more time with a contemplative expression on his face while saying, “Thank you for your concern again, and we will talk in the car about our options.” Standing up, shaking the hand of the counselor, and signaling Bruce to follow him.m