Chapter Text
Take out the trash, write your book report, dinner. Take out the trash, write your book report, dinner. Take out the trash, write your book report, dinner.
“Hey Walls- what is that on your shoulder?”
Wally was pulling on a long sleeve t-shirt, changing after a training session with the Titans, repeating his to do list in his head like a mantra and not quite paying attention, “Huh?”
He turned around to see Roy looking like at Wally like a confusing math problem.
“What? Something on my face?”
Roy was instantly at his side and trying to roll up his sleeve, “Your shoulder dumbass! Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt! Was it during sparring? I know I saw you favoring that side. When was the last time you dressed it?”
Roy looked at him expectantly, but Wally, for all his speed, could not keep up with him.
Because what?!?
“Dude stop pulling at my arm, then you’ll really hurt me. It’s just an old scar, quit it!”
“Old scar my ass! That thing is red and swollen, now sit the fuck down and let me see it!” Roy was now manhandling him towards a bench.
“Seriously Roy, I got it when I was like ten riding my bike. I went face over bars on some grass and scratched it on a stick,” Wally tried to argue, but he sat down nonetheless.
Roy was now grabbing a first aid kit off the wall, “Right, and I’m the tooth fairy. Now take off your shirt so I can see it, Kid Idiot.”
Rolling his eyes, Wally obliged. Might as well let Roy fuss. It’s an old scar, it’s not like it was going anywhere. The scar in question was about three inches long and half an inch wide, slightly raised and a bright pink color. Same as it had been for years.
“Dude...”
“What?” It’s just a scar. Wally had dozens like them from just existing. That’s not even counting the ones he got from being Kid Flash.
“Scars are supposed to turn white, Wally. Those look irritated.”
“Look, Roy, a lot of my scars look like that. They itch a little but that’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah,” Wally guided his friend to sit next to him, “here you can feel it. It’s kind of bumpy and hard, but like no heat. Just an oddly shaped scar.”
“You have lots of ‘oddly shaped scars’.” Roy stood up and made his way to put back the first aid kit. Wally could practically hear the air quotes.
“Thanks I know.” Wally stuck out his tongue in a cheeky grin before pulling on his shirt.
Wally had always been prone to weirdness as a child. His feet always seemed to have a mind of their own. Constantly bumping into things around him. Balance? What’s that? Who’s she? He didn’t even notice half the time when he got a new one.
He was, as his friends dubbed him, Kid Klutz. Uncle Barry struggled with that too when he was a kid because of his ADHD, something the two shared. So it was probably that.
“Google says those are called keloids,” Roy was now looking at his phone, “they aren’t dangerous.”
”Huh, that’s interesting.”
Take out the trash, something, dinner.
What was he supposed to do again?