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Kon looks at him, then looks back at the horizon. “Do you ever see all these windows and just start wondering about other people’s lives?”
Not really. “Not sure I get what you mean there, Superboy.”
Kon points. “That building right there. All lit up. With the offices.” Tim sees it. “I think about who is inside it sometimes. I wish I could trade places. Just to know what it’s like.”
“Know what it’s like?”
Kon isn’t looking at Tim. “To be someone else.”
“I don’t want to be someone else,” Tim replies. “I just don’t think I want to be me.”
“Me too.”
“You too?”
“All the time,” Kon says.
Tim Drake turns 21. His relationship with his boyfriend is falling apart. His brother is dying. His future is unclear. Jello shots are disgusting. He’s Robin and he’s teetering on the precipice of the rest of his life. He’s in love with his best friend. His brother is dying. His parents are dead. Bruce is his partner and he is Robin. He’s not in love with his boyfriend. He is finally 21.
Or how to come of age with grief.
Series
- Part 1 of through the looking glass
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Bookmark Notes:
ouch
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Bookmark Notes:
lovely work
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Bookmark Notes:
stories that kept me awake
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Bookmark Notes:
Made a pit in my stomach in the best way
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Bookmark Notes:
That’s the thing about Dick Grayson. He goes for the jugular.
Dick’s face is now frozen in a parody of a smile. “Why are you Robin right now, Tim? No one asked for you to be. No one wanted you. I certainly never wanted the worst tragedy of my life to become inspiration porn for some lonely little rich boy who was bored because mommy and daddy never gave him enough attention.”
“You don’t mean that.” Tim’s eyes are streaming. He’s openly crying now. “I know you don’t mean that.”
Dick clearly doesn’t think Tim’s been wounded enough in retaliation. “I do mean that! I absolutely mean that! Because that’s what you do! That’s what you’ve always done! Every aspect of my life is always about you! I can’t even have my death to myself!” Dick’s voice is hysterical. “I’m like a doll you and Bruce won’t let go of.” Dick grips his heart as he bends over, body slumping more and more towards his knees. “I can feel your hands getting tighter and tighter and tighter. You have got to let me go.”
“I can’t let you go.” He manages to get the words out around his closing throat. He can’t breathe properly. It burns, every part of him burns. How is he still standing? His own brother just shot him in the chest.
“I know that.” Dick makes no move to comfort Tim or soften his words. “You’re dragging around a corpse right now. You’re going to shuffle me from place to place until I wither away and there’s nothing left.” Dick heaves a huge, ragged breath. His eyes are red. Is Dick crying too? Dick doesn’t cry.