Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"So.." I thought; bleeding out on the bathroom tile. "I'm really gonna die, this is it." I guess I knew it was gonna end eventually, and I knew it would end like this. Because how else would it end? I certainly wouldn't let anyone else but me end my life. How embarrassing would that be? They can take my spleen, not my life. Only I get to do that. I did do that.

How long had it even been since I started? I was 17 now, the first time I put a blade to my wrist I was 12. 5 years, 5 very long years. It started a few months before I became Robin, a few months before my life crashed. Becoming Robin was the worst thing that ever happened to me, whether I would've admitted it or not. Every bad thing that's ever happened to me could be traced back to when I first put on that cape. Which I guess means, it's all traced back to me. After all, wasn't I the one that wanted it in the first place?

I should've just stuck in my lane, I shouldn't have ever tried tracking down Dick. This was all a huge mistake, I'M a huge mistake. My parents had said it themselves many times, they had never wanted me. They just put up with me so as to not cause any trouble, none for them at least. Every part of my life had been troublesome. You could start at any point in my short, miserable life. Nothing had ever gone right, even before Robin. Being Robin just made things 100 times worse, like the gift that's never done giving I guess.

It wasn't bad on its own though, it was my escapism. Soaring through the night sky was how I let myself forget about my shitty life, if just for a few hours. Being Robin did so much good for me, even if it did end up hurting me too. After all, if I were never Robin I would never have met Kon. Kon changed things for me, he made everything make sense.

I'd spent my entire career wondering who I was when I wasn't Robin, who I was when I didn't have that mask to protect me. But when I met Kon? It just felt like things finally clicked, like I finally understood who I was. I was the one for him, we were meant to be. But it never seemed like the right time. I was with Steph, he was with Cassie; it just never worked out, I really wish it had.

Now that I was bleeding out on the kitchen tile, I realized I needed to make amends; I needed to apologize for all I'd done wrong. First on the list was Kon.

Calling someone while you're dying is a little tough, but I managed. I'd been through much, much worse. My fingers were slippery with my own blood, almost making me drop my phone into the bloody pool surrounding me. "Hey Kon," I sputtered, coughing up more blood. My voice rattled as I tried to stay composed. Kon responded with a yawn, "Tim..? What the hell are you doing up this late? It's 4 A.M." I hadn't even noticed, in all my rage, how late it was. "H-hey Kon, can you come over?"

Wait no, it wasn't supposed to go like this. I was supposed to tell him how I felt over the phone so I could die with no regrets. Why was I doing this? Why was I letting him see me like this? He didn't deserve to see me like that.. No one did. But still, he said yes the moment I suggested he come over. And now he would have to watch me in my last moments.
I just stared at the ceiling, waiting to hear the entrance of the mansion be opened by Alfred. Oh god, Alfred. Would he have to clean all my blood up? Would he have to be there for the death of TWO Robins? I was lost in my thoughts, it was half the reason I had even done this. My thoughts had taken control of me, they had me in a choke hold. Sometimes this felt like the only way to have more control over them than they had on me.

I was so lost in my own pitying thoughts that I didn't notice Kon was standing over me, until I heard a blood curdling scream.

Fuck.

I knew this would happen.

Kon helped me off the blood stained tiles, still trying to collect himself. I don't think I realized how bad it was until I looked in the mirror. A scarily thin, tall boy was staring back at me. He was shirtless, though his skin was coated in his own dried blood. All up and down his arms and legs there were dozens and dozens of deep gashes decorating his skin. Blood trickled out of all of them, creating a smell worse than any other. As Kon made me look at myself, I began to regret it.

"But it's too late…" It was too late for me to fix any of this, the damage had been done and I was dying. The words sprung out, like I had rehearsed them for hours. And maybe if I knew things were going to end like this, then maybe I would have rehearsed.

Kon wrapped his muscular fingers around my waist, coating his hands in my blood. He held on tighter and tighter as minutes passed. He knew I was dying, he wanted a last moment. No words were spoken, just two bodies intertwined; words weren't necessary when we had each other. He was enough, maybe I was enough. Did it really matter though? Did it really matter that the moment I finally find peace with him I was minutes away from death.

I felt blood trickling down my stomach, pooling at my hips. The tighter Kon held me, the more sure I was that this was it. I was going to die in the bathroom down the hall from Jason's room, covered in my own blood and the tears of the man I never confessed to.

Oh shit.

Jason.

I didn't even consider that he could walk in at any moment.

It doesn't matter all too much though, if he finds me I'll be dead anyways. Will I? Or will he find me in the seconds before my death? I didn't know if he would even find me, or what he would do. He could weep and cradle my lifeless body, or he could speed up the process. I had never known if Jason had ever truly hated me. I didn't know if his jabs at my pride were just his way of showing love. I didn't know if he was even capable of loving.

My thoughts seemed to be going faster than they had in days, faster than they had since I started planning all this. But suddenly they stopped. I saw a white flash, then all I saw was black. I knew what happened when you died, I'd seen hundreds of deaths. So when I started hearing voices I knew weren't there I wasn't surprised.

First was Bruce. Had Bruce ever really cared? I'd believed his was alive when no one else did, I didn't even get so much as a "Thank You" from him. He never loved me, did he.

He had greeted each of his sons, even Jason, with a long lasting hug; one that never seemed to end. Except me, of course. I'd spent months and months spiraling just to save him, I'd ruined dozens of friendships because of what his death did to me. But no. Not even a single nod my way. He never cared.

Dick seemed to care at first, after Jason died I was the closest thing he had to a little brother. But I guess he gave up on me after a while, just a little while after Bruce did. I was always too much to handle, I was never just easy.

I didn't ask to be born like this.

At some times it felt like Jason, of all people, cared about me the most. The guy who hated my guts was the only one willing to make sure I ate 3 meals a day. He was the one checking my wrists for cuts. He was the one doing everything that Bruce should've been doing. And I can't say that I don't know why he did it. We were one in the same. I'd seen his shoulders before, he wasn't new to self harming. Neither was I.

He understood me in a way no one else in the family could, which made me hate him a little less. He was still an asshole in public, but when no one was watching we would eat dinner together; we helped each other. What would he do when I was gone? Who would be there for him, because it certainly wouldn't be anyone under the Wayne roof. No one cared about me or Jason, we were always just a little too much to deal with. Though it came in different ways, we were always dangerous. Him, more so to others; and me to myself.

Neither of us belonged.

Which is what we had begun to bond over. No more bonding now though, I guess.

All around me was darkness, the darkness was blinding. The voices of my friends danced around me, shaming me for being so damn selfish. They needed me, how could I leave them at a time like this? But I was always needed, there would never be a right time to end things. So I might as well have ended them sooner than later.

I saw some sort of light, which I assumed was death. It wasn't.

The light seared my eyes, it felt like staring directly at the sun. But then the light was blocked out by a head of messy black hair. Deep blue eyes peered down at me, tears filled them. Oh, Jason. He had found me, he was trying to save me.

NO. I don't want to be saved, I did this to myself for a reason. Being saved would ruin everything. I don't WANT to live, if I did then my skin wouldn't be caked in blood. Why did Jason have to go and mess everything up, why couldn't he just let me die in peace. He wouldn't let that happen. Because he loved me too much, in his own weird way, to let it end like this.

Still, I tried kicking him off, hoping I would pull stitches or something. But when my feet tried making contact with his face he just caught my ankle. "Christ Tim, how did you even do all this?" I suppose it must've looked bad from an outsider perspective, but to me it was just my natural state. My arms ridden with cuts over cuts, they'd been like that for almost as long as I could remember. At times I had single cuts reaching all the way from my fingertips to my shoulders, can't say those were easy ones to hide.

And now, if I lived, I would have even more scars to cover.

I didn't want to live.

I hurt myself on fucking purpose.

How could they do this to me? How could they save me when they knew that was the last thing I wanted? Sure, it was selfish of me, but my brain was rotten anyways; might as well let my body rot too. I knew there were people that needed me, but did they really? It would always be too easy to find someone just like me. I was never anything special.

But still, I was loved in some weird way.

I guess I never really understood how love was supposed to work, my parents never gave me much of it. Of all the riches my dad's wealth could provide, love was not one of them. I knew they were proud of me, sure. But love and pride are so very different.

I loved them.

At least I think I did.

The only time I had ever truly known I had loved someone was when I met Kon. Meeting Kon made me feel things I'd never felt, things even Steph couldn't make me feel. And of course I loved Steph, but Kon was so much more. He was all I ever wanted and more.

And now I was curled up on the floor of the batcave, soaked in blood; and he was cradling my body. I had loved him for so many years, it hurt to make him see me like this. It was all my fault, no doubt about it. I didn't have to slide a blade down my arm, I didn't have to call Kon, I didn't have to do any of this. I was hurting and I was going to make other people pay the consequences, even the ones who didn't fucking deserve it.

How utterly selfish of me.

And now I was being saved, once again. I couldn't even do a good job of dying. What did Bruce ever see in me, what did Kon ever see in me, what did ANYONE ever see in me. What did I bring to the table that Dick and Jason hadn't? They were both just as smart as me, stronger by the mile, better. Jason was better than me and he had always known it. I think that's part of the reason he hated me in my early years as Robin. After all, why should some kid who's nowhere near as talented as him be allowed to steal the mantle of Robin from him? But that's exactly Damian did to me.

When Damian ripped Robin away from me I wasn't dead, or even presumed dead. He just took it and I was just supposed to deal with it. But I couldn't, I really really couldn't. It was okay though, because I was going to die. But it wasn't okay, because what if I didn't die.

I had taken such comfort in the predictable knowledge of my death. But now it was all so uncertain and I didn't know what to do with that. If I didn't die what was the point of all of this? I would be the same broken boy with just a few more cuts carved into his arms. The same boy in love with his best friend, one that he had almost definitely scared away. Seeing your best friend bleeding out on the bathroom floor can do that.

If I didn't die it would ruin everything. And I mean fucking everything.

I needed to die, if I didn't all my plans would be ruined. But now with Jason wrapping my arms up I was losing hope. Of course, I was still bleeding through the bandages. Still, if anyone knew how to treat wounds it was Jason. After all, he had caused all too many.

I was fading and and out of consciousness, I didn't want this. I wanted to know whether or not I was gonna die. I NEEDED to know whether or not I was gonna die. It was so unfair that I couldn't just die.

Why couldn't I just be like Jason? I wanted to die so badly but I was never allowed to. When I had fallen out of the tower that night with Ra al Ghul, Dick had been there to save me. And while I was relieved there was always a little part of me that wished he had never swooped me out of the air. I wished he would let me die. I had wished they would all let me die so many times. But time and time again they saved me, as if just to prove to me that I was fucking pathetic.

It would all be okay if I knew I was gonna die tonight, but now I didn't know anymore, and now I was scared. How was I supposed to be okay with any of this when all my plans were exploding in my face. Everything was fucking ruined. Now I would have to pick up all the broken pieces and fix everything all by myself again. Because I knew I would be alone again when this was all over. After all, I was always by myself, why would things change now that I was on the verge of death. Why would one more near death experience matter all that much. Joker had done much worse than me, "Robin."

And then I blacked out again.

Fucking awesome.

Chapter Text

Y'know, I always hated blacking out. I know, hot take of the century. Every time I black out I remember all the things that happened to me in the dark.. The first few years of being Robin, the dark was my safety net. It was the safety net that Dick never had, because only I had ever found safety in the sheet of darkness that consumed Gotham all times of the day. At some point I guess too much had happened in the dark. All the gunshots, all the thrown knives, all the everything, it all happened in the dark. It was just too much for a 13 year old to handle I guess.

I broke.

Which I didn't think was even possible for me. I was supposed to be strong, I was supposed to be a hero, I was supposed to Robin. What kind of fucking hero was I if I couldn't even keep my emotions in check? I could do so much better, I had to. I couldn't fuck up Robin, it was the only thing I had anymore. But again, none of this would matter if I was gonna die in minutes.

But now I was certain I wouldn't. Because as I opened my eyes after blacking out I squinted at the blinding hospital lights.

Oh shit.

I can NOT be in the hospital right now oh fucking no. That meant it was serious, if Alfred couldn't fix me. But it also meant I would live through this. Because Bruce had the highest grade medical gear in Gotham. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, still slightly dazed and confused.

What day was it? Where was I? What the hell was going on? I had so many questions, luckily the boy I hoped could answer a few of them was in the room. Kon sat in a chair beside me, legs hanging over one of the chair's arms. I didn't mean to scream the questions at him, I swear. I was just so overwhelmed and confused, and my head was spinning and my ears were buzzing. No matter how quiet I tried to make my voice it came out as a shout.

Kon jumped to the sound of my voice, "woah woah boy wonder, calm down. You're gonna be okay, I promise." How could he say that? How could say ANY of this was okay?? He ruined my life by stopping me from ending it. How could he do this to me? But still, he continued trying to comfort me, badly might I add. Eventually he got around to answering my questions, only after minutes of meaningless comfort.

"Okay. One, it's been 2 days since you blacked out. It's Christmas in exactly a week. Two, you're at The Central Gotham Hospital. You got moved from like 3 different hospitals because they couldn't treat you, looks like you did some real damage there Timbo." He laughed at his own joke, but I guess the look I gave him showed him that if he laughed again it would be his last. "Um right yeah, anyways. Three, you tried to kill yourself and malled me and Jason when we tried to help you. Which is why you're handcuffed to a hospital bed right now. Got it?"

I nodded, "got it." I very much did not get it.

When the hell had I attacked Kon and Jason? I would never do that. Would I? I don't know, my memory was so fuzzy, mass blood loss will do that though. I was trying so so hard to understand what was happening, but it help like I was frozen in time and everyone else was moving at 10x speed. It was all too much, I burst into tears.

I didn't know the last time I cried in front of someone, much less my crush. Tears streaked my cheeks and snot covered the bottom of my face. I was sure Kon would walk away, disgusted. But instead he wiggled his way through all the wires attached to me and he hugged me as tight as he could without causing further physical damage to me. It felt like he was never going to let go, and that's exactly how I liked it. My face was drowning in his chest, arms around his waist, I was taking in every inch of him.

Soon I wasn't the only one sobbing, "please Tim, please don't try to leave me again. I can't do any of this without you, you're my world." His tears created a puddle in the center of my hospital gown, though I didn't mind. All I did was hug him tighter, knowing no matter how tight I hugged it wouldn't hurt him. Sure I couldn't hurt him physically, but I knew I had broken him emotionally. After all, most people don't have THE Superboy crying in their arms, the scent of your blood still in his hair no matter how many showers he takes.

I couldn't fucking stand it, it hurt so much to know I did this to him. The smell of my blood would be on him for days, it wouldn't matter if he bleached his whole body, he would still smell like my insides. It would be okay though. How many times had I told myself that during this entire thing? How many times had I lied to myself? I told myself it didn't matter because I would die, but something was telling me that Kon wasn't gonna let that be another 60 years. I was gonna have to tough it out, find more creative ways to get the job done. It was like when Batman put me on a mission but instead of me going against Joker or Scarecrow I was going against myself. Sometimes I felt as bad as them anyways.

I mean, if I can't save everyone I do kinda feel like a villain. I could always do more, always be better. But I didn't, and I'm not. My hero facade was never anything more than that, a facade. I was never really a hero, heroes don't try to kill themselves. Real heroes don't let this happen. Which is exactly why I'm not a hero, I did something no hero would even think of doing.

"Oh." Jason stood in the doorway of my hospital room, watching as clumps of my dried blood joined Kon's tears on the tile floor. "You ready to get outta here little dude?" He said it like we were escaping a crime scene, not a hospital room.

No matter how much of an asshole Jason was, I knew he was the only one in my family that understood me. I mean really, truly, understood me. I'd seen the cuts on his shoulders that he had failed to hide during training. It could be brushed off as a patrol injury, but I knew it was more than that, I always did. And so did he.

So when he saw long curling cuts going from my fingertips to my shoulder blades, Jason knew something was wrong.

Some nights when I would watch the blood pour out of me and onto the floor, I would think of Jason. I would think about how he had almost surely done the same thing in the same exact room I was doing in it then.

The bathroom that me and him had shared, how much blood had been willingly shed in it? How many times had one of us held a razor up to ourselves and watched as it tore through layers and layers of skin.

Hoping one day, to make it to bone.

The real pleasure, for me at least, would be to cut all the way through the bone.

What good were my bones if I was just going to keep breaking them, as I'd done dozens and dozens of times before. My bones were practically made of Jello at this point, all I was made up of was bandages and painkillers.

All of ours were though, that was our "normal." Nothing about any of this was EVER normal, some days I wish I had never gotten into any of this, I wish that Bruce had said no when I begged and pleaded to be the next Robin.

Sometimes I wish that Bruce, for once, was a responsible adult.

But that's never going to happen, I know it won't.

As I watched Jason watch me and Kon I realized that he was the only responsible adult in my life, as crazy as that may sound. Jason was the one to bring me to the hospital, he was the one that made sure I ate, that made sure I got at least a few hours of sleep. Jason, the man that had spent the last few years acting like he wanted me dead, was the only reason I wasn't dead. Who would've guessed.

I had a moment where, after years of telling myself everything was okay, I realized nothing was okay at all. It was the morning that Damian glanced down at my wrists and looked shocked to see no new lines etched across my skin. Even he had subscribed to the new normal of me constantly relapsing, constantly being needed to have reassurance that it would be okay.

But it wouldn't.

I wouldn't.

And I guess it's okay that I'm not okay.

Just as long as I have someone trying to make me feel just a little more okay.