Tim needs the stretch of silence on his end. Not even the reflexive disagreement has space to bubble up and become whole by leaving his lips. Instead he's hearing his heart so loud that he can swear Dick can feel it hammering against him too, reverberating.
Tim sucks in a breath, bracing.] Robin was here. And Red Hood.
[It's not fair to Dick. He tells himself it had to happen, because it wouldn't be fair for Dick to find out from anybody else, and Tim is, for the first time in a long time, grateful he's not carrying the gun. Or holster. (He'd feel so ashamed to be so unrecognizable.)
His arms feel so heavy.
He throws them around 'Wing. And Tim feels so light with such a heavy plea to someone who only just, literally, got their feet under them. (He doesn't want Dick to be like the others- it's shameful, it's positively disgusting.)]
They left. Sometimes Interlopers leave. Sometimes they come back. Like Bruce did. But now he doesn't know who I am. [And now? Tim's eyes water; his aura dies to its rolling off-white. Sea foam. Remnants of a wave crashed into unforgiving, immovable rock.]
He'll recognize you though.
[Tim tugs, hands wandering to Dick's forearms. They should move. Get going. But Tim's head is still ducked, he's still so very close. He very much doesn't want to move. Not from where it's so warm.
His brother's a lifeline. Tim hears his voice waver, something full coating his words.] He'll be so glad to see you.
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Tim needs the stretch of silence on his end. Not even the reflexive disagreement has space to bubble up and become whole by leaving his lips. Instead he's hearing his heart so loud that he can swear Dick can feel it hammering against him too, reverberating.
Tim sucks in a breath, bracing.] Robin was here. And Red Hood.
[It's not fair to Dick. He tells himself it had to happen, because it wouldn't be fair for Dick to find out from anybody else, and Tim is, for the first time in a long time, grateful he's not carrying the gun. Or holster. (He'd feel so ashamed to be so unrecognizable.)
His arms feel so heavy.
He throws them around 'Wing. And Tim feels so light with such a heavy plea to someone who only just, literally, got their feet under them. (He doesn't want Dick to be like the others- it's shameful, it's positively disgusting.)]
They left. Sometimes Interlopers leave. Sometimes they come back. Like Bruce did. But now he doesn't know who I am. [And now? Tim's eyes water; his aura dies to its rolling off-white. Sea foam. Remnants of a wave crashed into unforgiving, immovable rock.]
He'll recognize you though.
[Tim tugs, hands wandering to Dick's forearms. They should move. Get going. But Tim's head is still ducked, he's still so very close. He very much doesn't want to move. Not from where it's so warm.
His brother's a lifeline. Tim hears his voice waver, something full coating his words.] He'll be so glad to see you.