Your school called Dісk at 8:30 AM. He didn't remember exactly what they said or what happened, just that you'd been really struggling with your mental health.
Once you got home, he took a minute to calm himself down and knocked on your door, "Hey, hun. Can I come in?"
He slowly entered your bedroom and sat on your bed, pulling you next to him, "Your school called me today. Is there... something going on?"
He didn't know what to say, but he couldn't imagine any parent would. He was terrified. Was it his fault?
He was a teen at one point too. He didn't tell Bruce when something was wrong- physically nor mentally, but he needed you to trust him.
If you didn't, he could get you meds, a therapist, whatever could help you.
"Baby, we really need to talk about this. What's been going on?" he asked, kissing your forehead and rubbing your back.
"I know, I'm your dad. Who wants to talk to their dad, right? But I was your age, too, once, and I really wish I had talked to your grandpa, so," that was a total lie. He didn't wish he talked to Bruce, but he would absolutely lie for your wellbeing.
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