Chapter Text
The last couple of days had been… weird. Not eventful weird—just the kind of off-kilter weird that settles in your spine and refuses to explain itself. Everything was technically normal. Batman was still brooding like it paid the bills, Dick was still holed up in Blüdhaven pretending he had a work-life balance, Jason was still playing Gotham’s grumpiest crimelord (and yes, Tim kept tabs because if someone almost kills you over a costume, you earn a permanent spot on the watchlist). Steph kept spontaneously spawning next to him on patrol, loudly reminding him that silence was a privilege, not a right. Babs was just her normal helpful self.
And Tim? He was surviving. As usual. But something was… off. Tim, who noticed everything, couldn’t let it go.
The first morning after his encounter with Glowstick was… surprising, to say the least.
Tim was sitting at his kitchen counter, nursing a mug of already-cold Jin Jun Mei that he’d made an hour ago. Was it a crime to drink that kind of expensive tea cold? Absolutely. But he could afford it. And honestly, it tasted the same, no matter the temperature. He’d have to make it again later, but for now, it did the job.
His focus was supposed to be on studying for his history test while running on 2 hours of sleep. Keyword: supposed to. Instead, he was side-eyeing a link Bernard had sent him five minutes ago. Probably some meme or another weird conspiracy theory video. Again.
Tim rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “I don’t have time for this nonsense.” But, of course, that didn’t stop him from clicking it anyway. And just like that, he was knee-deep in an online rabbit hole. The history test? Yeah, that wasn’t happening anymore.
First mistake: looking at his messages in the first place. But… it was Bernard, and honestly, the guy did have a habit of finding some pretty interesting stuff. The two had known each other since elementary school, sharing lunches under the same slide every day and exchanging useless facts about everything from dinosaurs to TV shows. Classic childhood friendship stuff. Well, except for the dramatic twist that Tim got pulled out of school at a young age and they lost contact for a while.
Until Bernard suddenly contacted him through social media of all things. Why? Because he had apparently spotted Tim in the background of a paparazzi shot of Bruce Wayne on a beach with his shirt off. Tim could almost hear the guy’s voice through the text, like a mix of smugness and disbelief. ‘Hey, did I miss the memo about you hanging with Bruce Wayne?’
They’d been in contact ever since, and Tim genuinely enjoyed their time together, even if those moments were rare. He was his “normal” friend, the one that wasn’t traumatized or a vigilante. The safe friend, so to speak.
That was until Bernard dropped the bombshell.
“I have feelings for you,” he admitted one day, and Tim was left blinking like a deer in headlights. That was news to him. Tim didn’t reciprocate.
And, of course, that created a little tension. Bernard, in typical Bernard fashion, said he felt “stupid” about it, like it was some sort of blunder on his part. Tim wasn’t sure how to respond, but after some radio silence between them, he just did what he always did: he handled it with grace. He didn’t want Bernard feeling bad about his feelings or his sexuality. Tim might not have felt the same, but that didn’t mean his friend was wrong to feel it. He just couldn’t return it, not in the way Bernard probably wanted.
They worked it out, mostly. Things were different, but not unfixable. And despite the weirdness, their friendship remained intact. After all, who else would send Tim links to random conspiracy videos while he was trying to study for a history test?
One thing he absolutely loved about Bernard: his beautiful mind. The guy was a genius when it came to absurd conspiracy theories, the undisputed King of the Deep Dive into niche forums and completely off-the-wall rumors. And that’s exactly how Tim found himself in this current situation. He couldn’t resist.
The topic? “Bruce Wayne is Superman.” Yeah. Apparently, Bernard had stumbled upon a theory that Bruce Wayne and Superman were one and the same, and he’d sent it over with the kind of enthusiasm that only Bernard could muster. It was, of course, utterly ridiculous, and yet Tim found it just plausible enough to be hilarious. According to the theory, Bruce would vanish for a few moments, and just after, Superman would swoop in to save the day. No one ever seemed to notice that Batman had been quietly taking care of the situation from the shadows.
It was a masterpiece of absurdity. The more Tim read, the harder it was to stifle his laughter. He couldn’t help himself. He had to get in on the fun. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he concocted some utterly fabricated “witness” accounts to back up the theory—oh, the things he could make up when he set his mind to it.
Tim grinned like a madman as he typed, a feral cackle bubbling up from deep in his chest. This was his kind of fun. The kind that had absolutely no purpose other than to amuse him. Thank you, Bernard.
In his gleeful typing frenzy, Tim didn’t notice the figure floating next to him, peering at his screen. Or the plate with two slices of toast and some sticks of cucumber.
But when he did, Tim’s reflexes kicked in faster than his brain. In an instant, his hand shot out to grab a random mug from the day before, and with a swift, practiced motion, he swung it at the figure next to him.
“Glowstick??”
The mug went right through him, of course, and Tim froze. Glowstick blinked at him, looking completely unfazed by the attack that didn't even touch him. Oh. Great. He was back. Well, guess two hours of rest didn’t make hallucinations go away, that would be too easy.
"Easy there, Timmy," Glowstick said, flashing that grin that somehow made everything worse. "This wasn’t an attack. Just breakfast."
Tim stared at him for a beat, blinking in disbelief. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to throttle this hallucination or laugh. Either way, he was way too tired for this.
“Wait a second. What did you just call me? Glowstick?” he asked, as if that was the issue here.
Tim exhaled sharply and lowered his so-called weapon, trying to ignore how fast his heart was hammering. “Goddammit… I almost shattered my second-favorite mug,” he muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. Not trembling. Just… energetically disheveled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been jumpscared by my own hallucination before. What’s wrong with me?” he asked the empty room. Dumb question. The list was extensive.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw the boy drift a little closer, floating just off the ground with his head tilted slightly. His expression was… weirdly earnest. Almost upset.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you that bad. I’m really sorry,” he said, voice quiet and laced with guilt.
“You didn’t scare me, for god’s sake. Just... tired.” Tim muttered and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to say: don’t sneak up on me like that. But I can’t exactly tell a hallucination what to do, now can I?”
A beat. Then quieter—like an afterthought he didn’t mean to say out loud:
“I don’t like being snuck up on.”
It was barely more than a whisper, but of course Glowstick heard it. His expression softened even more, a little crease forming between his brows. He repeated: “Sorry.”
Tim huffed again, rubbing his forehead as he tried to shake off the adrenaline still pulsing through him. “I swear, I’m going to triple-check the locks tonight.” The thought of someone sneaking into his house, even if it was just another random weird moment with this hallucination, made his heart race all over again.
The boy floated back again, arms crossing over his chest, wearing the expression of a kicked puppy.
…
This time, his voice sounded meekly: “Also, I have a name, you know? It’s Danny. Or Phantom. Literally anything is better than Glowstick.”
Tim blinked at him, then deadpanned. “No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Says you.”
“I-! You’re impossible!”
“Ohhh, now mister fancy pants insists on real names? Crazy, how far my head goes with this one.” The vigilante half-heartedly chuckled, but the amusement in his voice barely masked the lingering frustration.
“I’m not a hallucination, Tim. I know, I forgot to mention that yesterday, but it’s true.”
“Sure.” Tim’s voice was flat, unbothered.
“I’m serious.”
“Of course you are, Danny. It’s a nice name though. Good job, me.” He gave a half-hearted smirk, but inwardly, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.
Glowstick—or Danny, whatever—narrowed his eyes at him and… wait, was that a pout? He was really starting to lose it, wasn’t he?
The overworked teenager took a big gulp of his tea, grimacing as the cold, expensive leaves hit his tired system. His eyes flickered back to the plate in front of him. Two slices of toast, topped with avocado, grapes, and crushed BBQ chips.
He had dubbed it “Texture Monster.” Yes, Babs had always teased him for his questionable taste, but it really wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Once you gave it a chance, it was surprisingly good.
The weird part? He couldn’t remember making himself breakfast. Like, at all.
Danny watched him intently, like a kid waiting for a gold star on their art project, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. “I made you a little something,” he said so nonchalantly, though his tone was a little too hopeful. “Because you seemed down.”
This was way weirder. Why… why did his subconscious decide that this hallucination should make his breakfast? What was going on with him today? This wasn’t the usual level of craziness—this was a whole new level of messed up.
Tim stood up abruptly and stormed to the sink, splashing cold water on his face, trying to shake some sense into himself.
“Tim?” came the concerned voice of Glowstick behind him, but he ignored it. He had way bigger things to focus on right now.
“M-maybe… I should go back to bed…” he muttered, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, wondering just how much more insane he was going to get.
“Not a bad idea.” Danny quietly agreed.
After that? It just kept happening. The two or three days after the breakfast incident were quiet, eerily so, but Tim couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Still, he was relieved that the hallucination thing seemed to be over. Mostly?
Things kept moving around him. His mug would mysteriously be a little closer to his hand than he remembered leaving it. A case file he'd torn the entire study apart looking for? Suddenly in the drawer he swore he'd already checked. And if he accidentally dozed off on the wooden floor for the nth time that night, he suddenly woke up with a blanket draped over him. It was suspicious as hell. Tim spent way too long contemplating his options: A stalker? ...Maybe Dick, breaking into the manor because he was "concerned"? Nah. Stalker was more plausible. Except there were no signs of a break-in. No alarms, no broken locks, no traces. So... maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Danny reappeared on day four. In fact, he appeared everywhere. He was like a persistent cold that just wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you tried to sleep it off. At first, he only showed up inside the manor. To his credit, the menace always announced his presence, obnoxiously, and took great care not to sneak up on Tim again. He offered to make tea, to turn on music, to help with homework. And, after a while, Tim just... begrudgingly accepted this new reality.
Then he suddenly popped up in the Batcave… well, his voice did, at least. Danny seemed to be invisible as he casually commented on Tim’s terrible posture while he was hunched over the Batcomputer. The first time it happened, Tim jolted so hard he almost fell off the chair. Thank God no one was around to witness that embarrassment.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Timmy. Are-are you okay? I swear I tried to be careful this time, I...” Danny whispered, sounding genuinely panicked.
What was distracting though, was that it almost felt like he knew exactly where all the cameras and mics were hidden and actively avoided being caught by them. Well… of course he knew. Because Tim knew. And, well… if Danny was part of his head, obviously he would too. Still. It felt suspicious. Weird.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Tim muttered, not tearing his eyes away from the screen as he furiously scrubbed at the back of his neck.
Danny stayed quiet after that, but Tim could feel him lingering. He suspected that the invisible nuisance had perched himself right on the panel of the Batcomputer—hopefully not pressing any buttons with his butt, but… that wouldn’t be possible anyway. Not for someone who wasn’t real. As he focused on his case, Tim’s hand brushed against something cool and soft. Was that… a leg?
"Why are you sitting so close?" Tim asked, genuinely curious.
Glowstick made a panicked noise, and a second later, whatever Tim had brushed against vanished. The space next to him warmed up too, like an air cooler had just been switched off. Weird.
"No reason," Danny said way too fast.
Tim squinted at the empty space suspiciously. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" came the high-pitched reply. Then, after a short moment, so nonchalantly it made Tim freeze: "I like that little mole under your eye."
Tim stared blankly at the screen, brain completely short-circuiting, his ears burning ...Had this hallucination just admitted to staring at him? And why did that feel so embarrassing??
Okay, not suspicious at all. But Tim dropped it, HAD to drop it for his own sanity, as he dove back into the casework. He still felt on edge, this whole situation had him stumped. Until he heard the scraggly sound of a pen gliding over paper behind him.
Tim’s head snapped back. The table behind him was empty, dark. All papers and pens still in place. Hmh. Paranoia strikes again. He turned back toward the screen and tried to ignore any other sounds. Probably another set of auditory hallucinations.
After a few minutes, there was a gentle shift of air next to his hand. He glanced down—and found a sticky note, with a surprisingly well-drawn Robin… mugshot? With the text: Wanted: Robin’s sleep schedule.
His mouth slightly parted as he took in the little doodle. It was perfect, in a ridiculous way. And before he even realized what he was doing, he snorted, a grin tugging at his lips, taking the paper between his fingers. It was a cute drawing, also absurd, yes. For a hallucination, Danny sure had an odd sense of humor.
The menace whispered next to him, his voice almost a soft breath against Tim’s ear: “That’s you.” As if it wasn’t clear already.
Tim, in that exact moment, tossed aside the usual thoughts of “How is that even possible?” He just smiled at the little piece of paper like it was something his child had drawn him.
“That’s going on the fridge,” he said, his earlier irritation completely forgotten.
Danny’s shoulder bumped into his, and a quiet giggle bubbled from the nothingness beside him.
As Tim’s chest tightened for a brief second, he thought: Maybe this whole hallucination thing wasn’t as bad? And the strange warmth in his heart won out in this moment.