#emocel's

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Words: 10K

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Tags: Sad bittersweet ending. Non-Pairing. Jason-centric story from Tim's POV.

Summary:

Tim finds a letter from Jason a year after he beats Tim half to death and dipped from the radar. Tim opens the letter six years later, it contains Jason's heartfelt apology and an offer to meet if Tim so needs it. At this point, Red Hood had never resurfaced after the explosion he set off with Joker and Batman.

Tim takes up Jason's offer to meet. Jason had become a completely changed man. Jason's eyes are blue instead of teal, he has a peaceful smile that he gives freely. Jason Todd seems happy at the Red Poppy Orphanage that he built.

After further research so that Tim can slide in an 'anonymous donation', things unravel, casting doubts at everything Tim saw.

This is Jason's story, told from Tim's perspective.

+++++

+++++

 Tim found a letter from Jason a year after he beats Tim half to death and dipped from the radar. Tim isn’t in a habit of going through his mails, who even still sends physical mail nowadays anyway?

The letter comes in a commercial white envelope, the address is to Tim’s old house, the Drake household. Tim goes there once a year to clean it up and get the mail. That’s when Tim finds the white unassuming envelope. It’s completely blank aside from the writing that says,

“To: Tim

From: Jason”

Simple and neat. It doesn’t have a send date, nor any other details written on the plain white paper envelope, just those four words.

From the looks of it, the letter couldn’t have been sent via postal service. So, Jason must’ve hand delivered this himself or had someone do it. Tim scans the dates of the mails that came before and after it. After doing simple calculations and predictions, the letter must’ve been placed after Jason had almost killed him. Huh.

Tim doesn’t open it right away, but he keeps it.

The letter is kept in a box where Tim stores his lowest-priority documents. At some point, Tim ran out of space in his room and then declutter his room where he puts even more stuff in his low priority. That box had become a junk box where he puts away things that he doesn’t know what to do with yet doesn’t want to throw away… just in case.

The box follows him when Tim moves out of the manor into the newly renovated Drake household. By accident, the letter slips between the pages of a book. It’s a book that Tim had been wanting to read but never ended up reading. The book ended up at the bottom of the moving box and never got unpacked. Alas, the letter is no longer in plain sight and Tim completely forgot about it.

Until 5 years later, he finds it as he was rummaging his attic for an old phone he had for the parts he needed for a prototype UV gun. His old phone is right on top of a book he had wanted to read years ago. It has a slight tilt upwards as if there’s something inside that prevents it from closing all the way flat. It couldn’t be anything important, but Tim checks it just to be thorough. It’s an envelope. Tim didn’t even connect the dots yet by then, not until he flipped the envelop and read what’s written on the cover of it,

“To: Tim

From: Jason”

It’s been years since then. Whatever Tim felt that made him put it away had long gone, not even remembered. Tim opens the envelope without hesitation or lingering feeling to see a short letter.

“For all my words are worth, I’m sorry. For hurting you, for almost killing you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry that I’m doing this by letter. I figured my face would be the least of things you wanted to see right now. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but you deserve closure as much as you need to. To heal from what I had inflicted on you. I know what dying felt like. I regret ever making you feel closely that way, especially when you didn’t deserve it, closely aged as I had died. You’re not a replacement, you’re the successor of the Robin mantle, and you’re so much better than me that I couldn’t handle it. So, I took it out on you. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve to be treated that way. If you need anything from me, my number is at the back of the page.”

Tim turns the paper that seems to be torn from a ring-bound book, and there it is, a series of numbers.

Sighing, Tim is at loss for what he reads. Jason’s words are short, but so sincere that Tim was dumbfounded. These are not the words of the man that had him on the floor half-dead, screaming bloody murder at him, trying to kill Tim in earnest as if Tim is the devil on earth, the mastermind of all Jason’s misfortune. To think, that this letter is sent so quickly after that moment too…

Tim doesn’t need any closure, but he is so awfully curious.

The last time Jason was spotted by accountable eyes was in that apartment where he withheld Joker and lured Batman into a room full of explosives for an ‘intervention’ or three-way murder-suicide explosion, no one could decide what Jason had truly wanted back then. When Bruce came back barely scratched dragging an unconscious Joker, they all expected Jason had also gotten away from it. For the first year after that explosion, they’re all too busy with the following explosion in Bludhaven, but they’ve been gearing up for Jason to come back guns blazing with revenge.

Then a couple of years go by and Jason doesn’t show up. Not even a glimpse of his face pinged on the satellites. No shiny red helmet nor a six foot 225 lbs of a blue-eyed black-haired man in sight.

They had a lot of theories regarding it.

Jason could’ve been stewing for an ever bigger and worse plan. The anger he showed was proof enough that Jason could go that far. Perhaps Jason got the bad end of the explosion and is still healing from an injury. A wishful hope from them all is that he’s laying low to live a normal life, whatever that normal life is.

They don’t talk about Jason out in the open, not in Bruce's presence who growingly goes tense at the mention of the name. Whenever they talk about it, they say ‘him’ in a certain way, and ‘he’ is talked far away from Bruce and always in vague sentences. Tim is rarely part of this conversation. The other bats use what little sensitivities they have for each other to have the sense not to talk about Tim’s abuser right in his face.

Not that Tim is bothered by talking about Jason, it’s just that Tim doesn’t have any opinion of Jason for him to talk about. The man almost killed him in a blind rage, then never talked to him again, that’s hardly the making of an opinion. Tim’s busy schedule also prevents Tim from reading the letter. Tim was reminded about the letter from time to time, but when the whispers about Jason stopped, Tim also stopped being reminded.

Years ticked by and the bats are focused on other more pressing things. Not even Alfred talked about Jason anymore, it’s why it’s so easy to forget Jason.

Until now, finding the letter by pure accident. Tim stares at the number, contemplating whether to call him. It’s been years since it happened, and it’s not like the first time Tim is beaten till his life hangs on a thread. Tim had let it go a long time ago.

Playing with the piece of paper, Tim rereads the yellowing letter.

Curiosity wins.

He dials the phone.

It rings and it rings.

Then it fell to voicemail.

“This is Jason Todd, leave a message.” beep

Tim stares and stills because what the fuck. Why did Jason from six years ago sent him a number with a voicemail that says his legal name? Coming from a vigilante that’s laying low, it doesn’t make sense. Unless this number is given for Jason’s closest contacts, the closest kept people that know Jason Todd isn’t really dead, trusted people. Tim doesn’t know what to think of that either, it makes him even more curious.

The curiosity bumps into his wariness though. It’s weird, Tim can feel it. There’s just something not normal about the whole thing with Jason’s letter and the phone and everything.

With that, Tim decides to follow through with it.

Tim leaves a message, “Hi, Jason? It’s Tim. Tim Drake. I just opened your letter…” Tim pauses, blanked. He should’ve thought more about what he was going to say. “Sorry it took so long? I didn’t see it for a while and…” Tim sighs, he knows he’s pathetically rambling. “Anyway, I’m open if you want to meet. I haven’t seen you around lately.” Tim curses himself, he didn’t need to say that. “Alright, hit me up when you’re free!” and he finally hangs up.

Well, that was awkward. Nothing to be done about it now.

All Tim can do is wait.

 ++++

 Tim waited for a week without any correspondence. No callback, no text, not even a virus or any attempt at hacking his phone.

For the bats, a week is nothing. Jason could’ve been on a mission, deep in a no-signal zone. Hell, he could’ve been in space or between reality. Tim knows for a fact that this side gig can go crazy and beyond.

But Tim still has this unshakable feeling that something is wrong. Because though a week is nothing, the bats have each other to hold them accountable, to ping each other that they existed. Jason has no one. None that Tim knows.

Look, Tim had been Red Robin for years with a super-computer at the reach of his hands and hacking is just a casual Thursday activity. He didn’t even think of the morality of it all nor the outrageousness of tracking Jason’s phone.

The mystery continues when Tim finds the location of Jason’s phone in an orphanage… in Gotham.

Sure, it’s at the edge of the city of Gotham. If the slums in the middle of Gotham housed criminals and minorities, the edge of the city housed rejects and the weak, people that want to lay low. Ex-prisoners, criminals, older generations, mutants, the homeless, and other people that can’t assimilate into the harshness at the Heart of Gotham. It’s a dead land, barely safe, but only a tad better than the slums.

There’s no hustle and bustle there since most of the roads are ruined. A lot of abandoned buildings and half-done projects. There are some parts of the building that doesn’t even have electricity or running water. It had become that way because it was the area that got affected by an explosion from Bludhaven that happened the same night that Jason blipped out of the radar.

Since then, Gotham hadn’t rebuilt that part of the city. It’s no longer covered in soot and some of the destruction is fixed by desperate people needing a roof above their heads. It’s a total ghost town.

Tim tries to look up the orphanage, but there’s nothing about it. Not a website nor any contact information. Using google maps to look up the coordinates, the orphanage is standing in a decent area, though the photos taken in the area are way outdated.

Tim had thought that maybe it was Jason’s safe house, which coincidentally, Tim has one too around 600 meters from there, though it’s been years since Tim is there too, and he never bumped into Jason. Maybe Jason hadn’t been there in years too, but if he hadn’t, then why did Tim’s call connect to the phone in that area?

So here is Tim, disguised as a civilian so he can go strut the street unrecognized. Though he’s beginning to think that it’s not needed.

The edge of Gotham is a desolate land. It’s a shocking contrast to the bustling city. It’s so severely cut too. Because the forty-fifth avenue is packed with full apartments and the buildings across the street are abandoned, cracked, and empty. Thankfully Tim arrived at noon, there’s no doubt it’ll be way too dark to navigate at night.

He follows the direction on google maps to where the coordinates lead him.

There are a few people still living in this area. They had open doors with a fire pit in the middle of the building. People wash clothes in basins. Children running around and playing soccer with a crumpled-up plastic bottle. There are surprisingly a lot of gardens made at the front yards of the buildings. One of the parks in the area is repurposed as what seems to be a vegetable garden.

Tim is beyond surprised when he got to the coordinates because he had thought it would lead him to Jason’s safe house since the area is desolate. And yet, here it stands, the Red Poppy Orphanage, barely different than the picture. It’s a little cracked here and there with its paint chipping, but it’s a bright dot among ruins of grey. A metal plate engraved at the picket fence, the name of the orphanage in bright yellow adorned with red poppies.

The door is open but no one is inside. From the outside, the building is cracked and dusty like everything else despite its better state, but the insides are painted in cheerful pastel colors and are livable. There are some children’s drawings on the walls, crayons, and colorful papers on plastic low tables for children. Tim knocks on the open door. Yet, before he can say anything else, someone beats him to it.

“Who you’re looking for?” Says a teenager that suddenly materializes beside Tim.

Tim almost jumps, he didn’t hear the kid coming. It makes him more suspicious than necessary, though he shouldn’t, Tim’s head is just too preoccupied with something else. The teenager is dressed in all-black jeans and a hoodie, black bangs cover half his face.

“I’m looking for Jason.”

The teenager looks at him amusedly, though the expression is barely there. “He’s in there, at the room furthest in the building.”

“Okay, uh, thanks.”

Tim walks in and looks around. The building feels lived in, but Tim has yet to see anyone other than the teenager. Perhaps they’re all playing outside.

It’s not until he finally peeks into the furthest room in the building that he finally finds someone. A tall and lanky man in loose slacks, a white shirt, and a muted brick jumper rolled to his elbows to show slender forearms. The man is reading something in his hand, three-quarters of his back facing Tim. From the plaque on the door, the man must’ve been the warden of the orphanage.

“Excuse me,” Tim knocks on the door.

The man inside turns around, and Tim is frozen stiff on his feet as he recognizes the warden’s face.

The willowy man in civilian clothes is Jason fucking Todd. He lost a surmountable weight and muscles. His hair is completely black, and his eyes are fully blue instead of blue-green. His face is leaner and had lost its viciousness. The man is almost a different person entirely, but Tim knows this is Jason, there’s no fooling anybody.

“Tim…” and Jason’s voice is all the same. Only that he doesn’t scream or spat at Tim’s name this time.

“Hi, Jason.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” Jason sounded constricted like he didn’t breathe.

“I called the number from your envelope.” Tim scratches the back of his head, “But you didn’t pick up.”

“Oh… Oh shit, yeah, that phone is- I put it in safekeeping and I hadn’t checked it in… Fuck I’m so sorry-”

“No no! It’s okay, I’m sorry I took so long. I, uh, forgot about the letter.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry, Tim- fuck- I-” Jason bites his lips, hands perched on the table, shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I did to you, and everything I’ve said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it.” Jason’s honest words tumble out all too fast and too suddenly for Tim.

“I know,” Tim shrugs, like it’s nothing, because it’s nothing, truly. Also, Tim just didn’t know how to respond to Jason’s sudden heartfelt apology, Tim doesn’t have a lot of experience with that. Jason seems stupefied by Tim’s nonchalant behavior, wordless for a few seconds before he gathers himself.

“Please, sit down. Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee, if you have ‘em.”

“Yeah, I’ll be just a minute.”

Jason left the room and Tim immediately snoop around. What? He’s still vigilante/detective and Jason is an enigma, he can’t not.

The room has a couple of pictures around, mostly the kids and Jason. The pictures go back far enough that there’s Jason when he’s still big, tall, and menacing that the kids around him look like dwarves. The most recent picture has Jason with drastically less muscle mass, but he smiles brighter and happier. Another thing Tim noticed is that the kids are all the same with more added as they go. All of the kids grow up here, including the emo teen that talked to Tim.

“Learned a thing or two about me?”

Tim’s reflex doesn’t deign Jason with a jolt, but it does surprise him. Jason moves like a ghost. Seems that Jason’s skills hadn’t left him completely. And if Jason is in any way disturbed by Tim’s snooping, he didn’t show it.

“Just that you haven’t been Red Hood for years.”

“That’s true.”

“Why?”

A pair of mugs placed on top of the table with a deafening clink in total silence. Tim can’t even hear Jason breathe.

“Why should I?” Jason finally says, looking out the window.

The question throws Tim for a loop, “The same reason we all fight, isn’t it? Justice.”

Jason ducks, his hand going up to his neck where a calloused scar runs across it, touching it absently.

“No,” Jason says, lost in thought.

“No? Then what? Revenge?”

Jason shakes his head, “It was never about revenge…” Jason gulped, rubbing his hands, “I was angry, sure, but it was never about revenge, not even against Joker. I just wanted answers from my-… from Bruce. I wanted to know if I was ever his son instead of… a sidekick he pities.” Jason’s voice breaks in the end, the tall man looks away. “I got Joker in my arm, gun pointed to his head. I gave Bruce an ultimatum. Me or Joker. Well, he walked away with the clown, didn’t he? Even though I set up the explosion to take the Joker with me, both of them still walked out free. I watched them go, I let them go.”

Tim can’t see Jason’s face, the man looking out the window, to the bright light outside. Partially, Tim is glad, he doesn’t think he can handle looking at Jason with so much vulnerability. Tim wouldn’t know what to do, but he still wants to know… “Why didn’t you come back? Try again?”

“What’s the point? I got what I wanted,” Jason says weakly. Once again, Jason is rubbing his neck. “Bruce made his choice right in front of me and I… I’m tired.”

Tim stood there, shocked and paralyzed by Jason’s grief. Tim can’t believe that he feels pity for Jason. Tim had long forgiven Jason, but Tim had done it for himself. To move on and let go of the distracting anger and pain. He had never thought of Jason’s reasons nor his fate at all, Tim never thought to sympathize. Tim never thought to reflect. Bruce is a man with trauma piled as high as the Empire State building and handling it in the worst way possible, but Tim knows the man is kind in his own way.

Bruce cares about other people more than he did himself, compassionate in his own broken way. Tim believes that Bruce must’ve loved Jason as he did Tim and all the others. Tim understands why Bruce reacted the way he did when Jason’s deep sorrow is acted with genocidal anger. In one way you love your son, in another, that son is wreaking havoc on what you stand for, and Bruce is nothing if not a man that holds his morals like he’s Atlas holding the world on his back. Jason fell short of Bruce’s ideals because he was lashing out. Bruce didn’t see a poor sad boy, he saw a killer that needed to be stopped.

Tim held his tongue. What happened has happened, no turning things back.

And Tim is not here to bridge what’s between Jason and Bruce.

“That’s the truth of it all,” Jason said weakly, turning to face Tim with devastatingly sad glassy blue eyes. “Back then in my angry haze, I had felt that you replaced me. That you’re a better version of me, smarter, stronger, less damaged, morally better, better in everything…”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward at the confession, “You know… I was scared of you for a while, but I never got really angry at you.”

Jason stiffens, “How?” he says quietly.

Tim shrugs, “Because I had an inkling you weren’t angry at me. You were lashing out, and I was the unlucky punching bag. Turns out I was right.”

Jason breaths for a few beats, lips parted, eyes unblinking, “…huh.”

“I do have a question though.”

“Yes?” Jason goes rigid, but he seems eager at the same time.

“The letter, when did you send it to me?”

Jason’s expression flinched, “Why does it matter?” Tim only stares at him and eventually, Jason gives in with a sigh, “A few days after I almost killed you.”

“That’s a rather quick discovery.”

“Hard not to, when I got back to hunting Joker, I was quickly reminded why I did in the first place. The thought that I did the same thing to you that he did to me… When I realized that I just… I almost became the monster I swore to slay. If you died, then it would’ve meant I stooped as low as Joker.”

A moment of awkward silence hung between them. Jason curled up on himself and seems to be deep in thought while Tim stands stiffly. He’s not equipped to handle Jason’s guilt. Tim would love to just get this all over with.

“Well, you didn’t kill me. So, water under the bridge?”

Jason’s eyes widen and chuckle mirthlessly, “If you’re sure…” Jason says awkwardly, though Tim doesn’t miss the relief in his expression, “Thank you.” Jason smiles, and the tenseness in his shoulders bleeds away.

The question is at the tip of his tongue, and Tim reconsiders how wise it will be to voice it. Jason seems at peace here, at peace without the Red Hood. Tim wants to get to know this Jason.

“So…” Tim says, sitting down and grabbing his mug of hot coffee. “What inspires you to open an orphanage?”

Tim doesn’t miss Jason’s surprise at his casualness, but Jason leans into it.

“I’ve always thought about it, actually,” Jason shrugs, sitting across the desk at the Warden's chair. “I was sent to one when my mom died and my dad bailed. I ended up running away because it was so horrible,” From that dark confession, Jason chuckles. “Since then, it’s always been my dream to build one.”

“And you did, this is a beautiful place by the way. Though a little hard to find.”

“I had to, the kids here are runaways.” Like Jason was. “They don’t come from a safe place.”

Tim has a lot of debating points. That it isn’t healthy for the kids, that the system could’ve found them proper parents, and that the government can easily tear down the orphanage if they knew how it works. Tim doubts that Jason has real legalized papers for the orphanage.

However, even though Tim had never been poor or lacking in parental figure, Tim isn’t that naïve. In the general case, the system is untrustworthy, and runaway kids are never the first pick of eligible decent parents.

“How about you?”

“Huh?”

“Ah, sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything classified,” Jason said, a little flustered.

“No, it’s okay! I was just thinking of something. I took over Drake Industries now. Been CEO since I was of legal age.”

Jason is giving him rapt attention of genuine interest, something Tim isn’t used to unless he’s in a suit or in a board room. “I know you’re a genius and all, but the company on top of doing your nightly job can’t be healthy.”

“Yeah,” Tim rubs the back of his head, he can’t believe he’s going to admit it to Jason. “To be honest, I’ve been doing more CEO rather than going out in the field. I find it actually more helpful to just donate a bunch of money and go hack people’s backgrounds to watch them for corruption, then play whistleblower if they do. I go down to the field only when all of the above failed, but it rarely does. It’s way easier to solve things with money and a little hacking.”

“Oh, just finding that out now, rich boy?” Jason smirks playfully, and Tim chuckles.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. I admit, I was very sheltered. The vigilante works opened my eyes a ton.”

“Good then,” Jason softly smiles, “You’re doing good things.”

Tim –though touched– feels instantly awkward at the genuine praise, “Yeah, and the sleep is good too.”

Jason laughed, “I know right? I took a long sleep after I put down the helmet too.”

Then they talk. After they’ve passed the awkwardness of past wounds and scars, Jason finally eased up and shows his true self, a compassionate person with a sass and dark humor. It shows in how Jason’s eyes light up whenever he talks about his children, saddened at times whenever he talks about how they get there. There’s lingering sadness in his voice, yet he seems to be at peace with what he has now. “It works for us,” he says. “The children stay safe and I homeschool them myself. This is exactly how I always picture it.”

It's endearing how much Jason had changed. Beneath all that anger and bloody murder is this sweet gentle-hearted person, and Tim likes this person very much. Tim finds that he has a lot in common with Jason. Tim is surprised himself that he’s having fun talking to Jason. That’s why when Tim’s phone rang from a reminder, Tim cursed.

“What? What is it?” Jason asked worriedly.

“Nothing, just a meeting which I’m going to be late to.” It's an important meeting, one that Tam will nag him for if he’s late, but he doesn’t know why it’s so heavy to move, “I gotta go.”

Jason smiles and nods, “Yeah, you do. Thank you for coming, really,” he says earnestly, eyes so honest and intense that Tim paused for a while.

“Sure, uh- sorry for getting back at you so late.”

Jason shakes his head, “It was never too late, I’m just glad you came.”

Tim smiles, “I’m glad too, it’s good to see you. I’ll catch you around!” he waves and runs out of the building, rushing to the nearest main road for a taxi.

   Jason watches Tim walks away from the window.

“Was it him that you’ve been waiting for?” says a voice behind him.

“No.”

A pause. “Your mind’s been made, then. Are you sure about this, Jason?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Someone needs to be there for the kids.” Jason turns around to face the voice. “Thank you, Osra.”

The teenager in all black looks at Jason with one eye, “Once they leave, what will you do then?”

Jason doesn’t reply.

“You can always change your mind,” Osra says and Jason only smiles at them.

The sound of children breaks his reverie. He returns to them.

  ++++

  It takes Tim a full day until he realizes that he didn’t get any contact information on Jason’s orphanage. He was too absorbed in talking to him that he didn’t even snoop around the rest of Jason’s orphanage, not even on his way out! Not to mention that Tim only figured this out when he wanted to slide in some ‘anonymous donation’ to Jason’s orphanage.

Naturally, Tim digs deeper, only to hit a stump yet again. They did have a donation account, way back before the invention of credit cards. When Tim was meeting up with Jason thinking he was meeting him in a safe house, Tim didn’t bother to research the Red Poppy Orphanage. He should’ve. Damn.

Brushing away self-lament, Tim gets into it and found the previous warden of Red Poppy Orphanage. He built another orphanage in a better part of Gotham called The St. Nicholas Orphanage a year after the explosion. It’s a generational occupation. Currently, the warden of St. Nicholas Orphanage is the daughter of the first warden. Tim checks her background and finds that she has a few bank accounts, but none are wired nor connected to the Red Poppy Orphanage on the edge of Gotham.

This can only mean two things. Jason took over the Red Poppy Orphanage, or he was running it illegally once it was closed. The latter seems to be the most logical, Jason had been offline as Red Hood since facing off with Batman while withholding the Joker. Right after then, Bludhaven exploded, along with the edge of Gotham where The Red Poppy Orphanage was. Unless…

Tim raises up from his work desk and walks down to the basement of his house where he disguised his supercomputer behind a pretentious man cave. He goes through aerial scans of Gotham on the day of the explosions. They’re images from Watchtower’s satellite, it was old footage that only took a picture every five seconds.

Tim started to narrow his eyebrows when he puts up the aerial footage of the Red Poppy Orphanage before the explosion because it’s already abandoned even then.

Or it could be nothing, he just assumed that it was in ruins because of the explosion. The information hadn’t been relevant by then.

Tim goes through the frames, then lo and behold, Red Hood among the ruins, noticeably slow and limping towards the building that had used to be an orphanage. It’s a few hours after Jason’s explosion. Tim’s initial assumption was right, it was already Jason’s safe house. Tim continues to watch the building to spot Jason walking out of there. He watches until a year forward, but nothing. He even put the map up and try to see if there was any possible underground exit, but there was none. He could’ve built it, but the time frame doesn’t add up unless he has powered friends and meta-technology. Tim can’t find any of Red Hood’s associates that can build him an underground tunnel in a short time frame. The fact is solidified, that Jason didn’t go out for a year.

He could be laying low, or recovering from his injury… but a year?

Tim keeps going forward in time, trying to spot Jason ever going out of the building. He knows Jason must’ve been out at one point, but Tim had this sinking feeling…as he keeps going forward.

Two years.

Three years.

Four years.

Five years.

Six years.

Then finally to the recent time, just yesterday, Tim spots himself… leaving an abandoned building.

Tim pushed himself up so fast that his chair tipped backward. He touches his temple, massaging a pulse that’s gaining pain. Tim blinks, hoping he’s just hallucinating from the irresponsible caffeine intake. He blinks, looks away, paces, and takes deep breaths. Tim watches the footage again, it’s still the same.

It’s still Tim, coming in, then rushing out, out of a building that’s cracked and almost falling apart.

Tim whips out his phone and called Jason’s number. It rings and rings and once again, fell to voice mail.

“This is Jason Todd, leave a message.” beep

Tim can’t take this. There’s no way… No way!

In a rush and blind panic, Tim rushed out only with a jacket on top of his pajamas and his car key. He hissed and flinched as he stepped out of his room, a painful reminder that it’s day time as the sun shined right on his eyes. Blinking the white spots away, he goes to the parking lot with his exclusive lift access.

He speeds through the busy street and got a few curses but Tim didn’t care. Eventually, the road gets less busy the closer he got to the edge of Gotham, only to be met with a roadblock. Tim cursed at himself for forgetting why he had come in a taxi the previous time. He parked his car, towed be damned, and ran.

Tim heaves and gasps, standing there in front of an orphanage that had never been. The Red Poppy Orphanage, the metal plate said, right there on the barren land, bent and rusted.

“What… the actual fuck…” Tim gasped, looking at the half-destroyed building, no color left on its cracked wall. He walks inside, hesitant and in disbelieve at what he’s seeing.

He was here yesterday where it was brightly colored, filled with children’s drawings, and lots of small desks and chairs. Nothing now. The door is completely gone, broken at the hinge. The paints had chipped and scattered all over the floor. There are rotten papers on the corners and no sign of the desk and chairs that he had seen. Tim feels crazy when he enters the warden’s room and only sees a rotten office desk, and a single coffee mug.

Tim calls Jason’s number again. It rings in his ears.

Then faintly, a ringtone joins the dial.

Tim felt his heart skip a beat as he distances himself from his phone and hears the faint digital ringtone familiar of a burner phone’s. Tim follows it with all the keen sense he had honed as Red Robin.

The ringtone sounds muffled, but it couldn’t be far. Tim steps out of the warden's room and feels a loose plank right outside it. Tim pulls out a few planks that reveal a hinged door under them. There’s a ladder heading down, and the ringtone echoes from below. Wary, Tim descends.

The moment Tim sets foot on the floor, the corridor is lit up all the way to the parted door at the end. Sensors. As he suspected from the very beginning, it’s Jason’s safe house. The power reserve is not empty yet, meaning that Jason rarely stays here. He must have… what other explanation could it be?

The closer Tim walks towards the parted iron door, the louder the ringtone. Tim opens the door, the sensors automatically turn the light on.

“This is Jason Todd, leave a message.” beep

Tim’s phone slips from his hand, landing with a crisp crack on the concrete floor.

His eyes won’t leave the brown shirt under the leather jacket, the gun holster around the thigh, worn by a skeleton of what’s left of a human body, slumped on the floor by the cupboard. A red domino mask on its lap.

Tim looks away, trying to think… of something else, that it isn’t Jason, it can’t be. Even though at the furthest room there’s a board full of newspaper clippings of Batman and Joker, a red target circled at Tim in a Robin costume. Even though there are spare Red Hood helmets hung on the walls along with guns and ammo. Even though within the newspaper clipping, there’s a shot of Red Hood, wearing exactly what the skeleton is. No, it’s not Jason, Tim just saw Jason yesterday. Perhaps this is all a dream. Tim is having a very bad dream. Tim unclenches the fist that he didn’t realize had tightened so bad his nails dug into his palm, bloody and hurts, but he doesn’t wake up.

Tim picks up his cracked phone with numb hands and dials Jason’s phone again. Tim jolts when the ringtone sounds closer than he thought. There’s a glow and vibration in one of the corpse’s pockets.

The pocket stops glowing. “This is Jason Todd, leave a message.” beep

As if it’s not enough, Tim investigates further onto the desk. There’s an open notebook full of scribbles, numbers, plans, gut-wrenching confessions. Drafts to Tim’s letter.

I didn’t mean it I swear! I never wanted to be this-

This is not me. This is not me. This is not me anymore. Jason Todd had stayed dead I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what the Lazarus pit brought back to Jason Todd’s body-

Tim, I’m sorry. Please, live. God please-

You were barely older than I was when I almost fucking kill you. I had become the monster that killed me. I was so blind Tim, I couldn’t see past my rage. Even now-

He needs to pay, even if I’m going down with him- He needs to pay.

I’m sorry for dragging your dad to the crossfire but he was my dad too, and I need answers before I drag the monster down with me.

I’m sorry Tim, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it. I don’t know how to make it up to you, to all the pain I inflicted on you.

I wish I could-

Then on the last page, a few pieces of paper are left by the ring of the book. The torn page that was sent to Tim.

“You came back.”

Tim swiftly turns, flicking the switchblade disguised as the keychain of his car key. An unimpressed dark eye stares back at him.

“You!” Tim points at the emo teen standing by the doorframe. Tim chokes on his breath, overwhelmed by the letters, by the bones wrapped in thin dried flesh tissues, and the apparent hallucinations. “You’re not real either!” Because he didn’t see this person in the aerial footage too.

The person says nothing, and Tim is shaking with rage, “Who are you? What did you do to me?!”

“Ever heard of limbo?”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows, and Tim breaks it with a loud “WHAT?”

“Limbo, a place between-”

“I know what Limbo fucking is! It’s not real!”

“Is it?”

The teen lifts their hand, and in an instant, the place changes: cleaner, and the body is gone.

“What-”

The door slams open, Jason walks through the door, walks through the teen like they’re a ghost. Jason is walking towards Tim. Frozen in shock, Tim doesn’t move away, and Jason walks through him too. Jason, whose holding his bleeding neck, he's covered in soot. The explosion must’ve propelled a shrapnel to his neck. Jason is breathing hard, barely does, it sounds wet. Blood had gotten to his lungs. Tim watches horrifiedly as Jason scrambles to get a box under the bed, only to pause. Jason stared at the open med kit, hands trembling yet unmoving by the sides of the box, all while the deep cut in his neck is bleeding profusely.

“Jason?” Tim says, forgetting that Jason can’t hear him.

With one small gesture, Jason closed the med kit box with a deafening click.

Tim felt his heartbeat on his neck when Jason weakly pushed the box back under his bed.

“What are you doing… what is he doing!” Tim says to the other person in the room, who said nothing back.

Jason laid back against the cupboard, head lolled to the side as he lifts his hand to brush against the gash at his neck. Tim got a full view of it, it was deeper than he thought, and there are no shrapnel lodged in his throat. So Jason is either stupid enough to take out the shrapnel or he was attacked. Tim faintly remembers that Red Hood’s body armor under the leather jacket is white, not completely red nor glossy.

Jason did nothing. Just sitting there as his breathing becomes shallower by the second. His hand drops like a dead weight on his side. His gritted teeth loosened to parted lips, trying to breathe. Slowly, the domino mask peeled from his face, revealing teal eyes drenched in tears, turning blue and vacant.

“Wait… wait no!” Tim hurriedly grabs Jason’s shoulder. The image of Jason disperse, and the skull lolled toward Tim instead. Tim gasps, jerking away from Jason’s remains. This close, Tim can see faint traces of human tissue keeping the bones together.

Tim gulps, he’s stepping away, shellshocked. He met Jason yesterday, it had felt real. The memories in Tim’s head feel as real as any other day. Tim can still remember Jason telling him that the orphanage is his whole life’s dream.

When Tim spun around, the person that brought him to the past is still there, standing with one eye on Tim.

“Why… Why did you show me this?”

The teen darkens, becoming one shadow and one eye, “Because you’re the only one who came for him.”

Tim doesn’t understand what he’s seeing or who he’s seeing, but peculiarly, he doesn’t feel in danger, “Why did he do it?”

“I don’t know, maybe you can ask him yourself.”

All too sudden, in a blink, Tim is no longer in the bunker. The instant transition from the dusty dark and gloomy safe house to the brightly colored room and sunny light makes Tim feel dizzy. They’re at the back door of the orphanage. Lots of drawings on the walls, small tables and chairs placed around the room, and books and toys scattered everywhere. A couple of kids run toward them, they stop and stare at Tim.

“Hey! Are you a new soul?”

“How did you die?”

“How old are you?”

“Do you wanna go play hopscotch?”

Tim goes catatonically still, staring at them, processing their questions on top of everything.

“Osra, is he okay?” Says one of the children. Tim looks back to see the shadow is once again in their casual all-black get-up.

“He’s not a new soul, just someone to visit Jason,” Osra says.

“Oh! Finally! I’ve never seen a visitor before!”

“Come on! Jason is back here!”

They pull Tim’s hand to the field at the back of their orphanage, too luscious and green for anything from Gotham. Tim doesn’t know how the children (souls?) are able to touch him. Now that he thought of it, he never touched Jason. The moment the children see their friends running around in the fields, they let him go. Jason was in the middle of chaotic children, setting up a picnic. There’s a peaceful smile on Jason’s face, the same that Tim saw yesterday. The man looks happy, content. He’s looking at the dozens of children like they’re his own. He’s hugging a small toddler that he tried to put shoes on.

“What is this place?”

“I told you before,” Osra says from behind him.

Tim watches the children, “Then why are there kids here?”

“Restless souls know no age. Once upon a time, these kids were scared, angry, hungry, longing, hateful, sad. Their feelings are so strong that once they died all too sudden, they ended up in my domain.” Osra looks around, “Just an eternal place, alike the living but not quite.”

Before Tim can ask for more, Jason looks up from the toddler in his arms toward Tim. Jason seems as if he had seen a ghost. Jason approaches him, or maybe Tim does, but as soon as they're within talking distance, Tim blurts out:

“Why?”

Instinctually, Jason reached up to his neck while his eyes cast down as if remembering. Then he looks up at Tim, smiling somberly, “There’s no one else left to live for.”

It felt like someone sunk a knife into Tim’s chest and twists it, “What about your dream then? All this could’ve been a reality!” Tim shouts, he doesn’t know why his heart is pounding. “You could’ve lived for yourself!”

Jason shakes his head slightly, still with a smile, “That part of me never came back.”

This is not me anymore. Jason Todd had stayed dead I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what the Lazarus pit brought back to Jason Todd’s body-

“No… Jason, that’s not true. Do you hear me? That’s not true!”

“Your time is up, Timothy Jackson Drake,” Osra’s voice surrounds all.

The feeling of being pulled backward is all too sudden, but Jason is fading away, further, slowly.

“Wait! Wait, Jason! Why are you here?!” Tim clawed into the air, to the image of Jason far away, still holding his neck. Tim came to a realization too late, “Jason! Who did this to you?!”

Tim zoomed back, Jason is swallowed by a bright light and Tim fell hard on his back. Groaning, Tim raises by the elbows, and the white light slowly dissipates into the real world. A concrete broken building that once was the Red Poppy Orphanage. His feelings are disconnected, and Tim goes down the same corridor he had found out. It’s the same sensor automated lights, the same corridor, the same bunker, and the same corpse of who once was Jason Todd. Tim looks hard into the face that is no longer there. Eyes hollowed, teeth exposed, nose gone, only dried tissues sticking to bones.

With the professionalism of a vigilante that had seen too much, Tim picks up Jason’s body and lay him down on his bed. Tim rummages Jason’s notes for clues, finding only one hint inside the med kit box under Jason’s bed. As he slides out of the box, Tim notices a seam on the floor, it’s another hinged door that opens to a small and dead cooler. There are expired blood bags inside a pool of what once was ice. Jason could’ve lived, he could’ve saved himself.

Tim stops that train of thought –nothing to be done about it now, and he needs to move. Inside the medkit box –in between medicine and tools– is a photo of Jason as a child, smiling with a gap tooth in the arms of his mother, Catherine. On the back of the photo, there are words in two different handwriting.

‘My precious son, the light of my life. Remember that I will always love you, even when I can’t say it to you. I’m so sorry.’

‘I miss you every day that I’m awake. The only solace I have now is that I’ll finally meet you again, once I’m done.’

Right under is a name, Mnemosyne Cemetery.

Tim’s heart clenched, and his hands shake as he puts the picture in his pocket for safekeeping.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Jason.

His car is towed, but that didn’t matter. Tim calls a funeral director he trusts with his secret life, and his voice sounds robotic. Tim waits by the street until she came. He lets her wait outside the building for Tim to come out with Jason’s body in his arms. The funeral director is a friend of Tim Drake and Red Robin. Tasya says nothing as she opened the casket.

The walk back to the car is silent, yet it’s heavy with the weight of Jason’s remains in a casket atop a gurney.

“Who is this person, Tim?” She asked.

Tim has no hesitation, “Family.”

He trusts Jason with Tasya as she hauls the casket containing Jason’s corpse into the van. Tim is staring ahead emptily while sitting in the passenger seat, still in his pajamas from the day before. Tim feels nothing, numb to his core, barely processing what he heard and saw. Whether he truly did.

Tasya slams the door of the driver’s seat, even then, Tim doesn’t flinch. She starts to drive “I found Catherine Todd in Mnemosyne Cemetery. I manage to reserve the spot beside her, it’s tight, but I keep it off the record as per your request. I’m afraid we’ll have to dig the earth ourselves.”

“I’ll help you.”

Since Tim is a special customer to a special request, things get hands-on. Tasya uses her inhuman strenght to carry Jason’s casket to the far part of the cemetery. Tim remembers that Bruce had arranged Catherine’s funeral himself, and now Tim is arranging their son’s funeral.

Tim and Tasya dug. Between the two of them, they got deep enough in less than an hour.

“Wait,” Tim says as she’s about to lower… to lower Jason to the ground. “Can you open the casket a moment?”

Tasya nods and does as he requests. Tim takes out the picture and put it on top of his chest, under the leather jacket. He can’t even put Jason in a funeral suit nor embalm him properly, not if he wants things off the record. Jason deserves so much better.

Tasya and Tim both lower Jason to the ground.

“Can I do this part by myself?” Tim says, his voice starting to break.

“Anything you need, Tim.” She paused for only a moment. “What is his name? For the tombstone.”

“Jason Todd. 1997 to 2016.” Tim gulps, his eyes stung. He’s older than Jason ever will be.

“What words do you want to engrave it with?”

It’s the first crack to his icy numbness, “I don’t know… I-I don’t know.”

“At peace, Tim. You can change your mind later. I’ll leave you alone now.”

He doesn’t hear her steps, but Tim starts to cover Jason as soon as he feels alone. His chest starts to hurt, and his head spins. His eyes blur more when Jason’s casket starts to disappear behind the dirt. Tim is fully crying when he finally put back all the ground that was dug out.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Tim whispered, weakened by the lump in his throat. The reality of what just happened finally dawned on Tim. How fucked up everything is, how fucking real the souls he just met. Jason’s soul is stuck forever in there, living in a constant dream that will never be real.

“You hear me, Jason!!?” Tim screamed, “You didn’t deserve this! You didn’t deserve to die alone in a bunker! I don’t fucking know what or who you think you are but you’re a real person. You’re Jason Todd and you’re alive!... You were alive.” Tim’s sobs break his screaming streak, “You deserve to live out that dream. You didn’t deserve to die like this.” Tim wipes his face from his tears, “I’m glad that I get to know you. I hope you find peace.

After Tim drained all his tears and mourned his share of grief, he walks away with heavy steps. Tim wonders if Tim hadn’t known Jason’s soul at all, would it still be this painful?

Tim doesn’t linger much at the thought, because no matter what, he doesn’t regret ever knowing Jason.

 +++++

 The rest of the family figured it out on their own without ever asking Tim firsthand. Not that Tim hid it anyway. Tim had Jason’s letter on his desk in his home office, his computer is partially sharing a server with Batcomputer and Oracle’s computer. Despite the breach of privacy, Tim is glad he didn’t need to say a thing to tell them. Even though half of a dozen people snuck into his home, they leave no trace so it’s easier to pretend that they didn’t. At some point, Jason’s grave is re-dug and reburied. Whoever one of them did it must’ve done it for confirmation, because there’s new DNA data logged into the shared server.

Confirmed Match: Jason Todd.

Tim doesn’t want to waste any energy to figure out who. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway, and perhaps, they needed the confirmation. A group of skeptics that they are.

Things did change though. The Wayne family of vigilantes isn’t known for healthy coping mechanisms. None of them talk about the elephant in the room, but it shows.

Alfred is quieter, but he never leaves any of them out of his sight for too long if they ever visit. Alfred will insist on having family dinners even more frequently, leaving one chair empty. Barbara seeks out Alfred to talk to him, but Tim never asked what they talked about. Dick is MIA from work and from being Nightwing for two weeks. When he re-emerges looking a little haunted when he smiles, with gaunter cheeks, and sunken eyes, no one asks where he has been nor what he’s been doing.

Bruce retracts, he doesn’t talk, and he takes solo missions without telling any of them except for Alfred. Little do they know, that they won’t see Bruce for months. Tim doesn’t come to the manor anymore, not until Alfred insists he comes for dinner, but Tim doesn't linger any longer than he should.

For those who never get to know Jason – Damian, Cassandra, Kate, Duke, and Stephanie– they gave the rest some space with silent support. Stephanie came to Tim’s house for a week straight just to hang out. Cassandra gives them all a hug out of nowhere, sometimes she lingers around one of them. Duke awkwardly hangs around them just to be around them. Kate caves to Alfred’s insistence on her joining dinner when she had never bothered to before. Damian is notably less prickly, and he adds Jason to the family painting, an adult Jason when he was last seen at 19.

One coping mechanism they all have in common is overworking themselves. Had it not for the family dinners insisted on them by Alfred, none of them would’ve seen each other for a long time.

No one asks Tim about Jason, despite all of them knowing that Tim is the one that discovered the body. The clues explained themselves. Jason’s old letter is newly opened. Tim tracks the number behind the letter and finds nothing the first time he checked the area. Then he finds him the second time after researching the place with better equipment. Though can't explain the panic of the second day, the ease of the first day, or why he doesn’t call any of them when he found Jason’s body. Despite so, no one asks. Tim never tells them what he saw, never told them that he had spoken to Jason. It's no use anyway, they'll either not believe him or they'll be even sadder than they already are and Jason stays dead. Tim also didn't tell them about his suspicion about the severe wound on Jason's neck, the one that kills him. Or, the wound that Jason let kill him. Though, from the way Bruce is behaving, at least he knows.

A few days after Tim buried Jason, he came back to Jason’s bunker to tidy up his stuff. There are a lot of Jason’s personal belongings there. Letters, diaries, books, murder plans, and a scarce collection of family photos. Including one with Bruce when Jason won a spelling bee contest. Stephanie helped him with Jason’s stuff even when Tim didn’t ask. Tim doesn’t know where to put them, but once he arrived at the manor, Alfred took them over and put them in Jason’s old room which is still untouched but kept clean. When Alfred broke down crying at the spelling bee picture he took, Stephanie and Tim stayed with him.

Jason’s grave is never lacking flowers, and no wild grass ever runs rampant. His and his mother’s.

A few weeks later, Tim noticed a different engraving on the plaque of Jason’s tombstone.

‘Beloved Son. Forever our Family.’

The words make Tim feel bittersweet about the whole thing, a little bit of anger too, things he has no right to have an opinion on. Tim only bitterly thought: Where was their love when Jason lived again? Sure, Jason got back screaming bloody murder, couldn’t there be any other way to talk him down? Use all of their skills combined to contain him and talk… just talk. Jason is nice and funny once you sit down and talk to him. Jason was. 

Now Jason is in a plane of realm that none of them can reach. Jason who died alone and so unloved that his soul told Tim that he still believed that. Jason is going to believe he’s alone and unloved in a forever limbo.

Tim hopes –he even prays– that Jason knows now.

Tim hopes Jason is reunited with his mom, somehow.

Tim hopes that Jason finds the peace that was owed to him.

 ++++

 Osra feels their world shift, as thus the peculiar world of lingering souls. All the souls feel it, but none of them know what it means, including Osra, the Guardian of the souls in the realm between worlds, or most souls taught them that it was called limbo. There are too many souls in limbo, Osra knows the story of every single one of them. A soul named Jason Todd of Gotham takes his interest the most.

Jason’s soul is unlike they’ve ever seen in all their existence. Jason’s death had been final, his resurrection had been an anomaly in the laws of the realms. Osra found Jason lingered around when he died at fifteen, the saddest little thing that was looking for his dad before Osra coax him to let go and pass to the afterlife where he’ll meet his mom instead. Some time passes before Jason lingered in limbo yet again, still Jason of Gotham but with a wreck of a soul.

Jason the restless soul, always moving, never resting, and broken apart to pieces that hover closely to each other. Not quite a whole soul, not truly scattered that he had lost himself. As if Jason is holding onto himself. Too scattered apart and restless to move further into the afterlife, nothing Osra does can fix Jason’s soul.

Osra watches as Jason tried to keep himself together, adopting a bunch of other restless souls of Gotham to live in this self-created fantasy. Jason’s illusion is so strong that it alters limbo. Alas, Osra lets him be, it is not their predicament whether limbo stays the same or not. Osra merely keeps an eye on the souls, that’s why when another new soul enters Jason’s pocket illusion of limbo, Osra knows.

The first one had been Tim. Tim’s desire to meet Jason and Jason’s restless soul calling for any closure pulls them together. It is not new for the soul of the living and the dead to meet in limbo, but Osra had been surprised. Those two never had a connection in the living world but they manage to reach each other and meet.

The second soul visiting Jason is less of a surprise, they came from the afterlife.

“Jason?” the new soul calls, stepping closer to where Jason is teaching the young souls about an education they’ll never need.

Jason crumbles when he looks at the source of the voice, “…mom?”

Catherine Todd of Gotham, whose soul had lingered in limbo before finally passing on after knowing her son had died at 15.

“Jason, my baby,” She sobbed, running towards her son with open arms as Jason met her in the middle. She cradles her son in her arms as Jason falls apart. She holds him tightly, preciously, kissing his temple, things that she wished she had done but was unable to because of her weakness. “My son, Jason…”

“Why did you leave me?” Jason sobbed. His soul becomes dimmer, “Was it because I’m not your blood son?”

“No!” Catherine pushes him, cradling her son’s face in her hands. “You’ve always been my son. I love you like my own. I’m sorry that I failed you,” Catherine breaks apart. “I’m sorry, my baby. Please forgive me.”

Slowly, as if moving in honey, Jason’s soul comes together and heals, once again becoming whole. For a long moment, the mother and child hold each other. Mending, intertwining.

“Come with me, Jason,” Catherine says to the top of her son’s head, kissing his temple. “You don’t need to stay here.”

“But…” Jason looks back to the lingering soul he had collected and found. The souls that he nurtured and soothed as much as he can.

“They can come too,” Catherine says with a smile, a proud look in her eyes.

Jason’s eyes find Osra’s being, trying to find confirmation. Osra – who in Jason’s eyes is a dark-haired teenager that had been the only one kind to him when he was in an orphanage – nods and smiles. Jason’s pursed lips frown and tremble, holding back feelings of relief and joy. He opens his arms to the young souls that ran to his embrace. Osra rarely hears laughter in their realm, but they cherish it each time. Jason’s soul had intertwined with the young souls, wherever he goes, they go.

“Thank you,” Catherine said to Osra, as Jason does as well, the young souls say goodbye to them as they all go to the light.

Osra knows that their gratitude is misplaced, but they’ll make sure to pass them on to the right person.

  ++++++

  Despite the heavy mourning period, life goes on in the Wayne family household. The talking grievers leave the silent grievers alone. As the latter, Tim feels grateful for not being prodded.

Tim is cleaning his penthouse one day and finds the old phone that he had wanted to take apart for a prototype UV gun which he had abandoned when he found it on top of a book containing Jason’s letter. So much for that project. The phone could’ve still been useful though, you never know.

So, Tim goes to his attic to put back his old phone. Goes to the same box he picked it from where he also put back Jason’s letter.

Tim opened the box and froze. Red poppies in full bloom greet him, growing out of Jason’s letter. As impossible as it is, Tim knows what happened with a surprising certainty that Jason is finally at peace.

The tears in Tim’s eyes are from relief. This is the closest to justice that Jason can have.

Jason is finally at peace.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

i don't write messy fics, but dang this would be good. (warning, long)

Shouto being best friends with Izuku but has been pining on Katsuki for years until they finally break up after such a long time fighting with each other and Shouto is torn between being sad for Izuku who is still in the process of moving on and being happy for having a chance to go for Katsuki but then there's guilt and loyalty to Izuku from holding him back but Katsuki is still hung up on Izuku and Katsuki is Shouto's friend too so ofc he wants to want to soothe him too but then they ended up sleeping together and Shouto had to keep it a secret while Izuku kept telling him how he kind of still miss Katsuki and his heart breaks even further when Katsuki told him to his face that he's just waiting for Izuku to miss him so badly that they'll get back together bcs apparently they often fight so bad they'll 'break up' but essentially they're just having a break and they'll always get back together and Shouto spirals with more guilt the more he meets up with Izuku and the more he wants Katsuki and 'soothe' him while pretending that they'll never get back together and Shouto is too scared to ask Izuku whether they're splitting or eventually getting back together as he kept pining for Katsuki and stopping by his apartment for food and beer until they ended up having sex every time and ever moment with Katsuki had been the happiest he's ever been until the morning after he had to face the world outside of Katsuki apartment when he had to work with his best friend Izuku meanwhile SHouto is so convinced that Katsuki is starting to love him back because he stopped mentioning Izuku everytime they're together and the sex starts to feel like making love and SHouto just knows that one of these days that Katsuki will fall for him but he didn't and turns out he's been texting Izuku and begging that they'll get back together and SHouto fights with Katsuki about it like why would you want to get back together with Izuku like "What about us?" and Katsuki just scoffs and say "there's no us" Shouto can't say anything and kept pretending that maybe he just haven't succeed in making Katsuki falls in love with him instead of facing the reality that is that Katsuki is using him as a place holder which doesn't last long because in the end Izuku found out bcs Katsuki sent Izuku a pic of them together in bed and Izuku marches over to Shouto's place all angry like "How could you! You're my friend. Friends don't do this!" all teared up and SHouto basically screamed "You said you broke up! You didn't say you're taking a break or all this bullshit!" "Even so! You don't fuck with your best friend's ex!" "NO! No! Fuck you Izuku. I've been watching from the sidelines long enough. I love him! I love him more than you could ever do because I loved him even before you started LOOking at him like that and he's supposed to be with me! He's supposed to be mine! but I shut my mouth for you because you're my fucking best friend but I had enough. You two always fight and you know both of you are bad for each other because he's supposed to be mine! And yes we've been fucking for a month but you fucking broke up and I didn't betray you so stop accusing me and face it! Both of you had been miserable for years while in the last month I've been with him I have never ever been happier!!!" and Izuku slaps him and tell him to wake up and told him that Katsuki is just playing with him just like how he played with Izuku but Shouto doesn't give up until Katsuki finally stops all contact with Shouto and Katsuki changed the code to his apartment and they fought in Izuku's apartment when Izuku isn't even there bcs Shouto knows Izuku's code to his apartment as do Katsuki and Katsuki is suspicious as why Shouto is there and Shouto lied that he also slept with Izuku because he loves Izuku and that's the reason why Izuku wont get back together with Katsuki hoping that Katsuki would get jealous and choose Shouto but Katsuki got angry instead that Izuku is sleeping with Shouto and they fought so hard they bleed until Izuku comes back home and split them apart.

in the end the three of them are nursing their bruises and bleeding noses. Izuku only got a jab on the face once instead of the black and blues Shouto and Katsuki is. This is when they finally talk.

Izuku: "Kacchan. I do love you, and you're always be my best friend. But we're not great as boyfriends. I've fallen in love with someone, not SHOUTO, gosh calm down. They showed me what love truly felt like. I understand that you're not perfect, Kacchan, and it's not your fault, but I'm done trying to fix you when you never even wanted to do it yourself."

Shouto didn't even know what they're talking about. SHouto is always jealous about their closeness, but not anymore.

Shouto: "I love you Katsuki. I've loved you even before both of you started having crushes. I thought both of you are perfect together but you're not, so I thought you belonged with me, but you'll never love me, I know that now.... I don't think I want to love you anymore."

Katsuki said nothing but stormed out of the apartment. Izuku can't look at Shouto and Shouto eventually leaves while saying "I'm so sorry, Izuku. I truly am."

And if I wanna stay messy, I'll end it like that. I don't watch Euphoria so idk

*Saves Draft until Twitter character limit increases*

[ao3feed-jaydick]

Ferris Wheel

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/36kvRmC

by emotionalcello

Dick spotted bloodstains by the Ferris wheel that trails from the bottom cabin to the very top one. What he found inside is a boy can't be older than 15, bleeding down from the stomach, and even so, he refuses to come down from the Cabin.

“I want to see the stars, one last time, just... one last time.” The boy still muses upon the sky, mesmerized. Dick looks up, and the starless sky that’s tinted red from light pollution. Then, with great sorrow and resignation, the boy whimpers, “You ruin that from me.”

Words: 2099, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Emocel's Fictober 2019

Fandoms: Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Fictober 2019, Fictober, Angst, Mystery, Magic, but like not realy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - No Powers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/36kvRmC

[kissy0urdemons]

Have sex emocel

Sorry, a what?

[ao3jaydickfeed]

by emotionalcello

Dick spotted bloodstains by the Ferris wheel that trails from the bottom cabin to the very top one. What he found inside is a boy can't be older than 15, bleeding down from the stomach, and even so, he refuses to come down from the Cabin.

“I want to see the stars, one last time, just... one last time.” The boy still muses upon the sky, mesmerized. Dick looks up, and the starless sky that’s tinted red from light pollution. Then, with great sorrow and resignation, the boy whimpers, “You ruin that from me.”

Words: 2099, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Emocel's Fictober 2019

Fandoms: Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Fictober 2019, Fictober, Angst, Mystery, Magic, but like not realy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - No Powers

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Note to self: (boy we're getting angsty tonight babes!)

Saw this on insta, got an idea. Good god I never wanted to delve into kakairu because I KNOW i'd obsess over them, I've went through like dozens of this pair's fic and it was devastating the time I burned reading them. Anyway, the fanfic idea is:

KakaIru broken link soulmates au. One of those "if you touch the string will show". It's also so cute that it's on their wrist instead like a lil friendship bracelet AW~!

They met and touched at childhood when Iruka was out late at night stealing food because he's hungry and the orphanage is packed and lack budget because of the Nine tail attack. Iruka got injured, Anbu 'Hound' helped. They touch when they're holding hands when Hound picking Iruka up from the ground and the wee smol red string pops out.

PLOT Anbus are obligated to severe the link because it'd be dangeroustm, Because they can feel what their soulmate feels. Not wanting to leave without a goodbye, Hound approach Iruka that he has to do it and that it's not what he wants. Not really but kinda too, because he doesn't want Iruka to feel the pain of what Anbu on a dangeroustm mission would feel. Iruka begged him not to because he had lost his parents and not his soulmate too. There's nothing they could do. Iruka saying "If you wanna leave then fine! If you're only gonna hurt me and leave me then i wished I never met you in the first place! I wished I don't have someone like you as a soulmate!" (i'm crying rn).

Both of them are sad about it. Iruka regrets saying it, Kakashi makes it the reason he stays away from Iruka cuz he thinks he's right.

Iruka never knew what happened to Hound, he never visit again. Iruka deeply regrets it, and he wears his severed link proudly. (It turns brown like dried blood when severed). He's hella sad that Hound might hate him, worse, if he's dead.

Iruka tries to move on, then out of the crack of nowhere, Naruto's new genin team teacher, THE last Hatake seems to be making excuses to approach him??? (idk how it'll end, depends on whether or not i'm making a full fic of this one.)

Soulmates 🌸

[ao3feed-timdrake]

Away From Here

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2WegdEn

by emotionalcello

For Fictober event. Prompt 2. “Just follow me, I know the area.”

Words: 4981, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Emocel's Fictober 2019

Fandoms: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Additional Tags: Fictober 2019, Fictober, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Canon Compliant, but not really yaknow, angel of death - Freeform

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2WegdEn

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 1/5 Rating: Explicit (for graphic violence) Warnings: MCD and Temporary MCD. Graphic violence. Murder. Suicidal Thoughts. Suicidal Ideation. Implied Alcohol Abuse. Graphic description of Death.

Summary: Todoroki Shouto dies at the age of 27 under a rubble. Last year, Shouto lost everything he had to a massacre, including the two loves of his life. Shouto welcomes his death with peace, but instead of joining Izuku and Katsuki in the afterlife, Shouto travels back ten years earlier in his 17-year-old body.

Blessed with a second chance, Shouto is determined to change the future and keep his loved ones safe.

Shouto will do whatever it takes.

Chapter 1 (4.3k words)

No matter how strong Shouto has become, he never fools himself that he’ll dodge death forever after so many close calls in the nine years of his career as a Pro-Hero. Shouto can already hear what they’ll say: ‘he’s too young to die’ and ‘he has so much potential’. He can already hear Natsu and Yumi wailing over him.

 In these last seconds of his life, Shouto can finally be honest with himself that he has been waiting for this day to come. Half of the people he knew were killed last year because of the massacre, including the two loves of his life.

 He had been pretending too well, thanks to his stoic and inexpressive face. No one found out that he’d been drinking every night and drank an expensive hangover medicine to cover it all. His heart has been through the ringer, it hurts to just breathe. All they knew was that Shouto had toughened up, and had been the first person in line to avenge them. As much as it’s true, vengeance can only go so far, and it gets old so fast the moment you realize that vengeance doesn’t bring your loved ones back.

 Well, not that any of it matters anymore. He’s already 27 years old, both his legs are pinned under the rubble, and he’s tired. He’s looking up at the piles of concrete pieces that are barely leaning onto themselves, forming a dome-shaped deathtrap over Shouto’s body. It’s dark except for the small opening right at the top, just perfectly wide enough to cater to the full moon. If the moon is out, then he's been here for two hours.

 Shouto had been feeling and hearing a lot of rumbling around him. The last contact he made was with Detective Tsukauchi –officer turned emergency Hero in these tough times– but that was two hours ago and he hadn’t heard from him since. Perhaps he died already, joining his husband in the afterlife, how enviable. Maybe Shouto can finally join Izuku and Katsuki too.

 If the tremors didn’t put Shouto under the rubble, then blood loss would be the one to off him. Shouto doesn’t want to care about his life, but things are never straightforward like that.

 It’s bittersweet whenever Shouto thinks about his life and thinks about giving up on it. He’s glad that the pain is over, but deep inside he immensely regrets not spending more time with his loved ones. He was so idealistic when he was young, back when he believed that they were invincible, and when he believed that he’d have more time with Izuku and Katsuki.

He regrets not spending more time to love them and more time with his family.

Most of all, he regrets not spending more time just doing things that would make him happy.

 Another tremor, distant screams. The war is still ongoing outside. The rubble finally closed in on him. He’ll be lying if death doesn’t scare him just a tiny bit, but once his consciousness is gone, all he can think of is: Finally, peace.

 ---

---

 Shouto doesn’t believe in the afterlife. He wishes it exists, but believing in it isn’t the same thing. Hence, when he wakes up to a familiar ceiling after remembering the dark rubble over him, he begins to feel hopeful.

 He rises from his futon. It’s dark, but the curtain is drawn from the windows. He always closes the curtains at night, preferring complete darkness when he sleeps. One thing he realized immediately was the lack of pain in his right knee, he tore his ligament on the day he lost everything, and it never healed right because he kept working.

 He walked to the window and eerily found the same full moon shining brightly in the sky. The second thing that takes him by surprise is the view. This is Yuuei.

 After withholding a wave of shock and nausea, he finds strenght in his body and mind to find a mirror which he remembers is located inside the door of his cupboard.

 The person looking back is himself, –still Shouto Todoroki– back when he was still seventeen. He inspects his uniform, the one that has a dot of stain on the shirt, it means he’s still in his second grade. It’s a stain that Katsuki made after exploding teriyaki sauce everywhere when they were cooking in the celebration of their first year’s final exams.

 Shouto wastes no time to do what his heart has been yearning to. He marches towards Izuku’s room and knocks haphazardly, his hands shaking and his heart racing.

 “I’m up I’m up, hold on…” Izuku says. It’s his voice, languid and dragged with sleep.

 The door opens and Shouto almost dropped to his knees. It’s Izuku, alive and young, adorably wiping his eyes from sleep. Both his eyes are open, still that lively forest green that took his breath away.

 “Shouto, what’s wrong?” Izuku says after taking in Shouto fully. He will misunderstand the reason Shouto’s hands are shaking, but Shouto uses it to his advantage, “I had a nightmare… May I…” it’s odd that Shouto still finds it difficult to ask, but he will not let it stop him anymore. “Can I have a hug?”

 Izuku flushes slightly and smiles acceptingly, he always does, now and far in the future. So kind and giving, Shouto always feels grounded with the weight of Izuku’s gentleness, “Of course, do you want to- Oh.”

 Shouto engulfs him in a hug and Izuku quickly puts his arms around Shouto, his wide hands rubbing his back languidly. Shouto can’t believe that Izuku is living and breathing in his arms again. The last time he ever held Izuku was when he brought his mangled dead body to the rows of others.

 “Was it really bad?” Izuku asks, noticing how Shouto’s breath starts to quicken. Shouto only nods, not trusting his voice. “Alright, I think we need to bring out the big guns.”

 Shouto’s heart jumped again, his stupid mouth almost said not to bother on instinct. No more waiting, no more pushing away.

 The big guns are of course Katsuki –or more accurately, his teas. Shouto remembers clear as day how angry Katsuki was when their classmates kept stealing Katsuki’s teas off the pantry, but Katsuki is softer hearted than he lets on, telling class 1-A to get it from him in his room if any of them wants on. Depending on the reason, Katsuki would accompany the person as he begrudgingly insists on brewing the tea the right way. Shouto is one of the people who seeks excuses to have Katsuki’s company as he asks for oolong tea until Shouto feels bad about waking Katsuki and stops.

 Shouto won't stop this time, that’s why he lets Izuku knock on Katsuki’s door, baring themselves to Katsuki’s epic scowl. Katsuki looks like he wants to bite their heads off, Shouto wants nothing more than to kiss him, yet this is the one desire he holds back. Perhaps that’s why Katsuki has yet to explode him, Shouto is visibly shaking from holding himself back.

“Tea alone can’t fix this,” Katsuki grumbles, “Get to the sofa.”

 Before he knows it, he’s standing idly like a loon as Izuku sets up the blankets on the sofa and looking for a movie to watch and Katsuki is preparing a bowl of chips and salsa while boiling water in a pot for three mugs of chamomile tea.

 “Anything I can help you with?” Shouto asks.

 “Sit your ass down and don’t get in my way, icy hot!” Katsuki glares at him, and though Shouto knows that his expression is stoic as always, these two can always tell. It’s both hell and heaven, something he misses like a dying fish misses the water. Katsuki’s glare softens and Shouto hates how he’s instead reminded of the last time he saw Katsuki, two cloudy eyes on a charred face.

 “Which dream is it?” Katsuki asks, knowing that Shouto has few consistent bad dreams.

 Shouto finds it hard to lie, “A new one this time… something from the future.”

 “How far?” Izuku asks, joining them.

 “Ten years… I lost everyone and everything. I lost both of you.”

 Shouto used to be such a crybaby after his mom left, but somewhere along his childhood he had stopped crying, yet that urge to cry is still there. Shouto wants nothing more than to break down in tears wailing, screaming, and holding onto the two people who eased the pain he can never express, but he can’t. Instead, the two of them held him. Izuku on his left, Katsuki on his right. Both of them are not yet dating this year, but they’ve been getting closer. So close that Katsuki also holds on to Izuku as he does Shouto and Izuku lets himself melt into Katsuki’s touch as he hangs onto Shouto.

 Shouto still wants to cry –though for a different reason– yet his eyes never stung. So, he holds them instead. Being the tallest of the two, Shouto tucks their heads into the curve of his neck.

 They sit on the sofa with Shouto in the middle. The movie is Frozen, which hadn’t been his comfort movie for a year, but he can’t tell Izuku that watching Frozen had morphed from comfort to a crowbar that pry open bad memories of them. Shouto doesn’t touch the snack, both his hands find theirs under the blanket. Both of them are tightening their hold on Shouto’s hands at the same time and Shouto wants to cry again, but nothing comes out.

 Just like that, watching Frozen is rewritten yet again, as easy as that, as long as he has them.

 The window is open, and the moon is there again as if it’s following him, watching and judging how he reacts.

 Shouto doesn’t know if this is the afterlife or whether he just traveled back in time to his old body. But if it’s truly the latter, if he’s truly being gifted a miracle of a second chance, Shouto will not waste it.

 Shouto will do what’s right.

  ++++

  “Aren’t you worried about him?”

 “Half’n’half? Nah.” Katsuki continues reading his textbook on Izuku’s desk while Izuku is lounging on his bed.

 Both of them are studying instead of going home for the weekend. A few weeks ago, Shouto had said that he wouldn't go home for a few months until he changed his mind a few days ago.

 “Last time Shouto’s home, he fought with his dad again and he didn’t look like he was ready to forgive him anytime soon.”

 “That was weeks ago, chill the fuck out you’re ruining my study vibes.”

 “You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you!”

 “Of course it fucking does, I’m not that dense, but it’s none of our business what the poker-faced koala is up to!”

 Izuku’s eyes widen and then he frowns, that frown that shows how disappointed he is. Katsuki hates how it affects him. “Shouto is our best friend.”

 Katsuki tightens his fists holding back the tiny explosive just at the tip of his fingers, “Does he think the same of us?” It’s a loaded question for the two. Something has been brewing between them though they had never pointed it out before. There’s been nothing but the back of their hands brushing and small glances that end up with an embarrassing blush.

 Then there’s Shouto who always seems indifferent.

 Izuku flushes a shade of pretty pink, damn him, “I don’t know! Does it matter at all? I have a bad feeling about this.”

 “Don’t fucking say it, Deku! Every time you said that there’s always crazy shit that actually happened,” Katsuki hisses.

 “That’s not my fault,” Izuku waves at him, one of the downsides of them getting closer is that Izuku does not mind Katsuki’s temper anymore. It’s both a relief and an annoyance. “We should call him, just in case.”

 “Do whatever you want,” Katsuki throws his hands up, not seeming to care, but he’s leaning onto Izuku’s phone when he speed-dials Shouto and says, “Put it on speaker phone.”

 Izuku does and they wait. Each second passes their tension grows.

 Shouto didn’t pick up, and Izuku looked panicked.

 Katsuki curses, “You fucking idiot, it’s 12 AM! I missed my bedtime because of you!”

 “But Kacchan! You’re the one who barged inside my room to do our homework!”

 “Shut the fuck up!”

 Izuku stares at him, “You’re worried too.”

 “I told you to-!” Katsuki scratches his head, sighing, “Something was wrong last week.”

 “When he called us after a nightmare? I think so too.”

 “Did you ever realize that he never cried?” Katsuki said, “Damn, every single one of us had cried at least once thanks to all the shit happening in first year, but I never once see him cry, not even on the brink of one.”

 “I don’t think he can,” Izuku adds. “Shouto has a unique response to his childhood trauma which was an ongoing occurrence even after he got into Yuuei until Endeavor had a change of heart after Dabi’s revelation. From the surface, Shouto seems like he isn’t too affected by Enji’s abuse, but that isn’t telling what’s going on in Shouto’s psyche. I think the amount of things SHouto had to go through made him unable to respond to pain by crying like most kids would. Though that doesn’t mean Shouto never feels pain, on the contrary, without proper emotional response, I think Shouto must’ve been feeling pain more intensely… but that’s just my theory.”

 Katsuki blinks, “Right, thanks for the unsolicited armchair psychology, but how the fuck would any of your ramblings could help us help him.”

 Izuku grins, and Katsuki looks away with gritted teeth,  yet he doesn’t take back his words, “I knew you’re a softy inside,” Izuku lightly punches Katsuki’s shoulder.

 “All of our insides are soft, technically.” Katsuki is scowling at the floor, folded arms tighten, “I think we just need to go to his house, right now.”

 Izuku startles, “Well, who panicked now!”

 “Shut up! It’s because you said you had a bad feeling and now I can’t get it out of my head!”

 “Aw, you trust my instinct.”

 Katsuki watches him for a second too long. His hand is ruffling and pushing Izuku’s head, “Yeah, I fucking do. I’m gonna go get my jacket.”

 Izuku is holding his head where Katsuki’s hand was, watching Katsuki walk away with the tips of his ears red. Izuku sighs, whatever it is that they have, it’s not a bad feeling at all.

 Sneaking out is easy, too easy.

 “Fuck…” Katsuki stops, and Izuku halts beside him.

 “What?”

 “Aizawa’s car isn’t here. We need to see Shouto, now!”

 “Wait, Kacchan!” Izuku says when Katsuki starts speedwalking.

 “Every time Aizawa is out on nights like this, it’s always because shit happens, shits with us. Last time it was getting me out of my house, the day before that was to talk Zombie-face out of a bridge.”

 Izuku grabs Katsuki’s arm, but they don’t stop, “We’ll get to see Shoucchan. It’ll be alright.”

 “For his sake, I hope you’re right, broccoli head.”

 They didn’t need to see Shouto’s house to know that they were too late. They saw the red and blue lights before making a turn. They run and find police cars right outside Shouto’s house along with Aizawa’s. Their homeroom teacher is speaking with Detective Tsukauchi over something that makes Aizawa’s face twist unpleasantly.

 Then Aizawa finds them, and it looks like Aizawa ages for a decade in one look, “Go home.”

 “Not until you tell us what happened, stinky old man!”

 “Is Shouto safe?” Izuku asks, eyes gleaming with tears.

 “He’s fine, but you two shouldn’t be here,” The detective says.

 “We’re not budging until we see half-n-half!” Katsuki barks.

 Like a prayer granted, Shouto exits his house, thankfully harmless and with the same aloofness on his face. He’s being accompanied by the police on each side, a quirk-neutralizing cuffs on his wrists.

 “Shoucchan!”

 “What the fuck! You’re arresting him?!”

 “Shouto would never do anything harmful! He’s as harmless as a small kitten!”

 “He’s a fucking minor for fuck’s sake.”

 “Bakugo, Midoriya,” Aizawa scolds, standing between them and Shouto. “I need both of you to calm down and let the police do their job.”

 “I’m okay,” Shouto’s voice is soft as always, it sounded like he just woke up.

 “Shoucchan, what happened!?” Izuku and Katsuki push through the adults.

 “Um…” Shouto looks at the two adults, “I don’t think I can say, but don’t worry.” Shouto holds Izuku’s hand and passes a rare smile to them both. “Aizawa says it’ll be okay.”

 Katsuki and Izuku are stunned in place as Shouto is led to a police car. Shouto rarely ever smiles, and even rarer like that.

 Aizawa takes them back to the dorm, half of the ride is silent until Aizawa finally breaks it with, “You two are quiet. I thought you would be asking questions by now.”

 Katsuki and Izuku shares a look.

 “It’s not like you’ll tell us anything,” Katsuki sulks.

 “That’s right,” Aizawa sighs. “Why did you go to Todoroki’s house in the first place?”

 “The nerd’s trouble senses were tingling, keeps bugging me until we see icy hot ourselves.”

 “He didn’t answer my call!”

 “It’s in the middle of the night, Midoriya.”

 “It doesn’t matter, I was right anyway!” Izuku bites his lips, hands clutched on his lap. “You really can’t tell us anything?”

 “I can’t, but this will blow over quietly. Todoroki is a minor, if it truly involves him, then nothing will come to the surface. This is all stupid, but Todoroki will be fine.”

 “And yet another trauma buried under,” Katsuki spat.

 “He’ll tell us,” Izuku ensures.

 The rest of the ride is quiet.

 Once they’re finally in the dorm, Katsuki says, “We had our answer.”

 “I think so. What do we do now?”

 “What we always have been doing. Be wherever that two-toned dolt is once everything blows over. What did you say earlier? He’s probably so miserable because he can’t cry?”

 “Not exactly my words but… it was just a theory… we didn’t really know him, did we?”

 “We know him enough.” Katsuki sighs, “Once he’s back, we’ll fix that.”

 Izuku smiles a little and takes courage. The main room is dark, and there are only the two of them. A sneaky hand slipped past Katsuki’s palm and held tight.

 “Ye-yes, I agree.”

 Katsuki says nothing else but clasps Izuku’s warm hands, the tips of his ears red, hidden by the dark.

When Shouto didn’t come to school on Monday, they knew something was wrong. Aizawa told the class that Shouto had called in sick and resting at home while glancing toward Katsuki and Izuku. It wasn’t until lunch break that the news broke.

 The current number 1 Hero –Endeavor– is murdered in cold blood in his own house, and Shouto is the main suspect.

   ++++

  As soon as Aizawa got the emergency call to the Todoroki residence, he thought he’d be neutralizing Todoroki Senior’s quirk, not Todoroki his student. Detective Tsukauchi gives him a ridiculous rundown, pointing towards Todoroki Fuyumi, the one who called the police. She’s shrinking onto herself in the ambulance car, eyes hauntingly looking down.

 “There has got to be a mistake,” Aizawa says. “Todoroki Shouto isn’t that type of child, he has no aggression tendency whatsoever.”

 “Do you think his sister is the type to lie then?” the Detective rebutes.

 “She must’ve seen a clone or even a doppelganger.” Aizawa is a little surprised that Fuyumi didn’t come to this conclusion right away.

 “Look, I don’t want to believe this either, but this isn’t petty crime. This is a precaution.”

 Tsukauchi is just as surprised as Aizawa is at Todoroki Fuyumi’s testimony. She called 110 in a panic, she testified that he found Shouto walking out of the training room bleeding. He didn’t respond when she called for him and slammed the bedroom door behind him. Angry at her dad, she marched to the training room and found Endeavor dead, an ice spike through the heart. The training room is in a rough state, signs say that an intense battle happened there. Jury is still out on whether this is a sparring gone wrong or an attack. If this is an attack, it’s obvious that Enji is the perpetrator and Shouto fought back in self-defense. It’s one big ‘if’ as well.

 “Whatever happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

 “We have a witness, Aizawa.”

 Aizawa clicks his tongue, “Fine, I wouldn’t even need my quirk.”

 The door to Todoroki's estate is open, Aizawa had been here before but he doesn’t know where Todoroki’s room is. He doesn’t bother looking. He waits in the genkan and calls Shouto.

 “Hn, Aizawa? What is it?” Shouto answers, voice rough with sleep.

 Aizawa sighs. How do you politely and calmly tell a minor that they’re arrested? “I want you to hear me calmly, alright? I have something to tell you that could probably shock you.”

 “… Does it have something to do with the red and blue light that I can see from my windows?”

 Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I’m at your front door, can you come here?”

 “Ok.” A door open and shut. Soft steps grow closer. and Aizawa finds him at the front door, still in his PJs. Shouto doesn’t look upset nor agitated in any way, then again, Shouto never seems like anything. “Hello, sensei. Can I help you with anything?”

 “Have you seen your father?”

 “We had dinner together. That’s about it.”

 “Right. Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, Todoroki, but your father has been murdered.”

 Todoroki widens his eyes and pauses, “Oh… who murdered him?”

 “We don’t know yet, but your sister saw you did it. His body is in the training room.”

 “Ah… I’m a suspect. You came to get me because they thought I’d fight back.” Todoroki emits no other emotions other than pressing his lips and looking down.

 Aizawa nods, “I know it's not you,” His hand on Todoroki’s shoulder. “But you had to come to the police station right now.”

 “Okay.”

 Todoroki exits side by side with Aizawa, facing police officers behind car doors, pointing their guns on him. Aizawa openly scowls at them. One officer comes forward to put the fortified quirk-neutralizing cuffs, it takes up his whole forearms. Fuyumi is in their sight, Todoroki glances at her only to have his sister ignoring him.

 “Everything will be okay,” Aizawa says.

 “No, it’s not. It’s always like this…” Todoroki’s breath hitched, “I appreciate your efforts though.”

 Aizawa knows that Todoroki is a particularly strong child both mentally and physically. He wonders how much of it is just Todoroki’s incapability of expressing himself rather than strenght itself.

 Detective Tsukaichi promises that the press will not catch a whiff of it. All cases involving a minor are always kept off from the public, but a high-profile one like this is exceptionally difficult to keep quiet.

 But, detective Tsukauchi and Aizawa go way back, and Aizawa trusts him.

 He drove Bakugou and Midoriya back thinking the misunderstanding would be cleared as soon as they got the camera footage in the training room and Todoroki would be back on Sunday.

   +++++

   “What fucking psycho put a surveillance camera inside their house?”

 “Rich people, man. They’re on another level of crazy.”

 “Didn’t you see the Todoroki smear campaign last year? One of the Todorokis is a villain called Dabi, plastered whole lots of shit Endeavor did-”

 “If you had the time to gossip like prepubescent teens, I suggest you use the time to search the recordings.”

 The officers snap their heads to their head Detective and scurry along. Tsukauchi sighs and rubs his short hair. He gets his shitty coffee and leaves. Looking for the footage that records the crime scene had been proving harder to do when Endeavor was using wireless cameras and hiding his computer better than they thought.

 Just because they put Shouto on quirk-neutralizing cuffs, they feel safe enough to leave Shouto alone most of the time. Equipped with the knowledge of the future, Shouto knows someone who will be famous for their exposure will be hiding in the precinct’s back door to hear police officers talk over smoke breaks. Shouto finds him lurking behind the dumpster using their dissolution quirk that makes them blend with the surroundings. Shouto parted the door only slightly, enough that his voice would be heard.

 “I see that you’re here as always, Mister Koff.”

 The trash rustles, “And seeing that you didn’t immediately arrest me, there must be something you need from me. We can strike a deal that benefits both of us.”

 “Straight to business, I like that Mr. Koff. The youngest of the Todorokis is arrested for the murder of Endeavor.”

 “Allegedly, I need proof.”

 “And you’ll have it. A footage of Endeavor’s murder exists. Enter his office, twist the resin figurine of an Atlas and you’ll have access to the secret room, there’s a computer there. It holds the recorded footage of every camera in the household. The password is 17042118.” Rei’s birthday.

 Koff hums, “How can I trust you?”

 “Do you have anything to lose? It’s not like you can get any lower in your position.”

 “Touche, what’s in it for you?”

 “A personal grudge. I want you to leak the raw footage uncensored and anonymously. Make sure to emphasize that Shouto Todoroki has no remorse.”

 “Heh, you got it pal.”

 With that, Koff leaves and Shouto returns to the hallways.

 “What are you doing here?” Detective Tsukauchi finds him.

 “I’m looking for the restroom.”

 “You could’ve asked the nearest officer.”

 Shouto looks down, “They didn’t seem to like me.”

The detective sighs exasperatedly, “Don’t loiter around unsupervised like this ever again, this is the police station for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay,” Shouto lies, easily.

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The raw footage went online on Sunday night before any of the police officers could even find the computer. An expose article follows soon after. Shouto is quickly marked as a psychopath with a grudge.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 7/? Genre: Slice of life, Larry-centric, domestic No warnings apply.

Chapter 1 (1k)

Summary:

Just a regular daily life of a regular salaryman who happens to be a gym leader that also happens to be the elite four. He has a completely normal life. But the thing about life is, no matter how normal, it always has little adventures up its sleeve. This is Larry's slice of life story.

Author’s note:

So, for those who knows my publishing style. I usually finished a fanfic in a document somewhere, edited, and published them in a short span of time. I always publish finished works (lets not talk about my older works lol). This one is gonna be different, Larry Days has no plot, no real storyline, no cliffhangers tho! So i’m just freestyling Larry’s headcanon as I go. Writing and publishing one chapter at a time. Just wanna let you guys have a heads up!

enjoy??

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Chapter 1 Monday

Work days are always packed for Larry the salaryman, gym leader, and elite four. His 9 to 5 job is at a government function, the Bureau of Land Management of Paldea in Mesagoza. He does less about the fieldwork of taking care of the vast lands across Paldea to review the condition of the land and the pokemons that lived on it. No, he does the desk job that reviews the report from fieldwork employees, reviews building permits, and reviews results of research papers on potential pollution of industry permits. Boring desk job that got him sitting behind his desk for hours at a time, only getting up for lunch and bathroom breaks, no wonder he has back pain.

His Gym-leader responsibilities can only occur during his lunchtime from work, which is why he has his gym inside a restaurant, time-management. As for his elite-four responsibilities, he begged Geeta to have it on his weekdays too, that he'll make it work somehow because he refuses to work on weekends.

Larry has an okay position in the Bureau. High enough that he's not being pushed over, but low enough that he isn't needed 24/7.

He has an okay work life. He rarely comes to work late, and always clocks out right when the clock strikes 5. He's cordial with his coworkers, they all see him as a reliable person. His boss doesn't bother him more or less than necessary.

On the way back home, he always treats himself to a nice dinner, and an expensive one for every Monday because Mondays are always rough. Today is a Monday, and he plans to go to a fancy grill place in the town where he lives. His boss had asked why he lives so far away from his job (and whether it'll make him late for work). Well, Medali is a center of culinary delicacies and it's more important for him to have access to that than to his job. Another reason is that he doesn't mind the travel, and doesn't mind waking up earlier for the sake of it. He takes his small flute and blows. It sounds like nothing to human ears, but his long-life pokemon, Staraptor, lands in front of him from seemingly out of nowhere.

"How's your day been, Star?" Larry says to his pokemon, ruffling his feathers that replied in rumbling coos. "You up for a flight?" He might sound crazy for talking to him or even asking, but Star always replies. If he doesn't want to fly, he'll go away. If he doesn't mind, Star nuzzles his head into Larry's chest and under his arms, just like what he's doing right now.

"Alright, calm down." Larry ruffles his neck and put on a harness on Star so Larry can hold onto him and steer. Star lower himself and Larry hops up to the bird's back and takes to the air. Larry keeps himself low, holding onto the harness that goes from his chest and around his wings.

The view of Paldea from up here never gets old. The sense of flying also gives him a stress-relieving effect, as if he's leaving work behind and now he's going away where he's meant to rest. It's fall, so the sun is already setting, and Paldea is ever so beautiful. It's land mostly untouched, their pokemons living freely, reminding him of what he's fighting for. The wind on his face feels nice too, fresh and freeing after the ac inside the four walls of his office. All of that is the reason why he takes such a commute to work.

Star lands at the gate of Medali. Larry presses the button in the middle of Star's harness and the harness retracted into a circle. Star flies away to wherever he likes to go.

The chef that owns the restaurant knows him by now, and so is the waiter that always put him at a table where he'll be left alone. Larry highly appreciates it. He walks back to his apartment a little lighter after a delicious meal.

The first thing that greets him when he steps into his apartment is the coo of his Komala, seemingly just waking up from a long sleep. Larry regards her with a hello and a pat on her head.

"Slept all day, Koma?" He said to her. Koma only opens her eyes to regard him before nuzzling back to her comfort log and sleeping on his soft pastel blue blanket. Watching her makes him ache to go to bed right away.

Larry takes a deep breath and starts cleaning up. He puts his clothes in the laundry basket and separates his suits from his undergarments. He showers quickly with hot water and unscented soaps and shampoo, feeling more relaxed that he's clean.

After a shower, he takes a can of beer and sips it unhurriedly, savoring the one can he lets himself have daily. He sits on the bed and turns on the tv that's connected to Yootube, clad in comfortable shorts and a worn old t-shirt. His body sinks into his ultra-soft mattress with salmon-colored sheets, covering his legs on the super soft faux fur pastel blue blanket, and lets himself relax inside his apartment, a safe space that's accidentally mostly in pastel colors. He didn't mean to make his room look like a kindergarten, but when he was choosing colors, he wanted a non-offending color that isn't monochrome that would remind him of his workplace. His room looks cheerful and feminine but quite barren because he only owns necessities.

Oh well, he likes it anyway, and it feels very comfortable.

After his can of beer is done, depending on the day, he sleeps early. He would give Koma a chance to step outside if she wants to, but she nuzzles beside his pillow insistently. Larry is in bed by 10 PM. His head hits the soft pillow, his body sprawled on the plush bedding, and covered in the soft blanket. The moment he lays down in bed, he's out.

He always wakes up well-rested because of the splurge on his bedding. Though it's always a bit hard to wake up because of the same reason.

His 6 AM alarm jolts him awake, except for Komala who stays asleep and unmoved from the place beside his pillow. He takes a quick cold shower to wake him up, wears the pressed suit he did on Sunday night, and makes a simple sweet eggroll for breakfast.

Once he's ready, he walks to the street of his apartment building and blows his flute to call for Star. His bird is in a good mood and takes him flying to Mesagoza.

He clocks in and sits on his desk where the piles of reports and a to-do list of papers are waiting for him.

And the day repeats.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Note to self:

AHBHDBasd god it hurts so much. LOOK AT THIS ART. Look at how Eren looks up to the sky and just LOOK how Reiner looks at Eren instead and look at that look of LOVE AAAAAAAAAa. GoD, artists that can draw this look of LOVE just.... truly a gift to mankind, a sign that God has not truly forsaken us just yet. How can I NOT get inspired???

Ererei AU where Eren is born in Marley and becomes a warrior. Then he meets Reiner and has their Rival to Friends to Bromance to Straight-up Romance to Lovers trope, and they sneak out in the night to the rooftop, seeing stars and making promises and having dreams they can't have and Eren asks Reiner to run away with him instead of Mikasa ansajfdhsf.

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Oneshot gone rogue (3k words):

Tags: ch 139 aot spoiler (duh), spoilers on the whole ass manga, aaannnngsssttt.

AO3

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“Eren! You’re gonna get our ass killed!”

“We’ve survived wars and all you’re scared of is a little darkness?” The ass giggles, “Come on, you can hold my hand.”

“It’s not the dark I’m worried about and you know it!”

Reiner glares while Eren still hadn’t wiped that smug smirk on him. Their words always have a bite to them ever since warrior training until they’ve now become full-fledged warriors. But in the end, they never bite to draw blood. Even now, despite Reiner’s horror, he hasn’t let go of Eren’s hand and follow him into the dark maze of the Eldian camp.

It’s way past curfew and their camp is deep dark compared to the lights of the Marley area. Eren pulls him, away from the walls facing the city, far at the edge, going through narrow alleys, to a closed building. Reiner is scared out of his mind. He’s never been big on breaking rules, unlike Eren who had his jaw dislocated, his nose broken and his legs snapped for getting caught doing petty disobedience, but it never stops him.

Eren breaks into a building, and Reiner’s heart rate picks up.

“What are you doing!” Reiner screams whisper.

Eren smirks, pressing his thumbs at Reiner’s mouth, leaning close, “Shh, no one’s inside I promise. I won’t take you here if I wasn’t sure it’s safe.” He lands a kiss on top of Reiner’s and pulls him into the building.

It’s odd how that alone makes Reiner feels so much safer. As someone that had taken a role as a mentor along with Zeke, Reiner sometimes feels the weight crushing on his bones, but Eren... Eren takes everything in a stride.

Ever since they got back from Paradis Island, Eren had been in this haze of apathy and depression. Then out of nowhere, he got over it and starts being spontaneous instead. Making troubles, breaking rules, and the most surprising to everyone, he asked Reiner out to date.

But lately, Eren seems to be preoccupied. It’s like nothing matters. Not their prejudiced race, not the warrior's program, not their ticking years. Nothing. Until even Reiner doesn’t seem to matter too.

Until tonight. Eren wanted to take him somewhere special and the blush was imminent.

They climb the stairs to the rooftop. It’s so high up, they can see the glittering Marley’s lights from afar.

Eren stops, and Reiner bumped into him, “Lookup” he says.

When Reiner did, he swore he just gasps till his lung bursts. Stars like glitters all over the dark blue sky. They twinkle and sparkle and Reiner felt his heart stopped.

“Remember that night?” Eren’s voice got real low, his hand hangs on Reiner’s hips. “Our first night on Paradis Island mission. I was so scared.” Eren lands his temple against Reiner’s shoulder, his hair cascade down his face. “You were always trying to protect us, but I knew you’re scared too... Remember what you told me?”

Reiner looks down, and he remembers Eren’s scared face. Barely 11, Eren had always been brave and dedicated, more than Reiner could ever be, but that night, for the first time since Reiner knew him, he looked like a child.

“You told me, told us... that the sky is bigger than the titans and everything else in the world. That it’s so high up that no titans nor bullets can reach it. You said that if we died that night, that the horrible feeling won't last forever, because we’d ended up together in the same sky, safe from anything.”

Eren raises his head, and Reiner is once again struck with awe at how much Eren had grown. His hair flows down his shoulder that’s often in a bun, but Reiner always loves it down. He’s no longer that little twerp that didn’t even reach his chest, Eren now stands with him nose to nose. Those green eyes don’t look at him with hero worship nor a glint of rivalry anymore, but more fondly, kinder, softly. Reiner always finds it funny and in awe when his life has been nothing but fighting and war that he’ll have his share of softness from Eren out of all people.

But here he is. Eren’s eyes look at him like he had hung all the stars in the sky tonight, holding his hand tenderly.

And yet, Reiner can’t help that there’s something wrong. Because they don’t do this. Their relationship is blood, trust, and combat. Not this, not gazing at each other's faces lovingly in the glitter-painted sky.

“Eren...”

“Tomorrow’s festival,” Eren cuts almost abruptly. “Let's take the kids through the food market, spend it together, it’s been a while since we go on a date.”

Reiner could feel his heartbeat pulsing on his neck, “Sit next to me at Tybur’s play?”

“I can’t.”

And that confirms every fear Reiner had been haunted by. The days where Eren is nowhere to be seen, the haunted hollow eyes, his concealed whispers with his brother. Tonight, this moment seems like a goodbye.

“Eren, whatever it is you’re thinking, don’t do it.” Reiner wants to shout, but he forces his voice to whisper, and it’s close to sobbing.

Eren takes a solemn pause, his haunted eyes stare at Reiner. It haunts Reiner every night, how Eren’s spirit seems to die right in front of Reiner’s eyes. Maybe that’s hypocritical of him, since Reiner deteriorates in front of Eren too. None of them had been able to do anything about it. The war that’s forced on their hands waits for no one, especially cursed Eldians like them.

“If there’s no war-”

“There’s always going to be war Eren!” Reiner cuts, panicking. “You can’t let yourself think of-”

“If there’s no war,” Eren says firmer, eyes boring into Reiner’s. “Who am I to you?”

Reiner blinks, “What? What do you mean?”

“I know we never do this,” Eren looks to the side. “I know we’re partners more than we’re boyfriends. Warriors in arms, a fighter that I trust to guide my back, you’re all these things more than anything else. I know I’m that type of person to you too.” His eyes cast down to their shoes, Eren almost looks shy. It’s been ages since Eren looks shy, and it’s doing things to Reiner’s heart.

“So, if there’s no war, if we didn’t have to fight all the time, if we have freedom...” Eren continues, “How do you think we turn out to be? Who will we be for each other?”

Reiner remembers the day Eren asks him out, remember how happy he was. How easy they clicked together in everything, even in banter and fights, even more, when they kiss and have sex. It’s been way less lonely with Eren by his side, and no one had ever been able to do that for Reiner. Reiner could never imagine a life without Eren in it, he’s not sure that he’d live through this war if it wasn’t for this suicidally brave man.

Reiner cups his face, and Eren looks tragically young in that Eldian Warrior uniform. “You’ll still be annoying,” Reiner chuckles when Eren pouts. “Always going against what I told you, but small things, like how you’d use a rod to catch fish when I told you to use a net, just to piss me off.”

“It was worth it, and I was right.”

“We could’ve caught more fish with nets, anyway,” Reiner sighs exasperatedly with fondness, and he can see them in Eren too. His heart ached so badly. “We’d be in a house, by the hill, rivers by its foot. I’d set up a vegetable farm, while you tend for animals. Just the two of us... together.” Reiner feels himself smile, lets himself dream, though it made him bleed. “Maybe even adopt a few kids, watch them grow, and we’d be together till we’re just dust and bones...” Reiner didn’t realize he’s crying until he choked.

“Why... why did you ask me that?” His chest hurts, and with every heartbeat, it gets worse. His tears rain down, “Why would you let me dream?”

The pain is then soon gone with shock when Eren says, “Run away with me.”

Reiner glares, “We can’t, Eren!”

“We can!” Eren cries, holding onto him desperately.

“Tomorrow Tyburs is declaring war on Paradis, our roles are essential to the war-”

“But it’s not our war! It’s never supposed to be our war!”

“The war has only just begun!”

“The war has gone for far too long!” Eren’s voice lowers dangerously, “It had started before any of us were born, long before our great great great ancestors were born, but why do we get to be the one who fights it!”

“Because it’s just is,” Reiner’s voice weakens, “We aredestined to fight, it’s always going to be our path.” Reiner eyes the wall. “We didn’t have the privilege of a choice.”

“But if you do?” Eren whispers, he’s stepping back, looking at Reiner like one of them will disappear. “If you have a choice right now to do anything you want, what would you do?”

Reiner frowns, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Tell me.”

“Don’t give me hope.”

“Just answer me.”

“What does it matter? We’d be together in the end anyway, free in the starry sky-”

“What do you want?”

“I’ve said it,” Reiner clutches his chest, “I just want us to be together and free.” He sucks a breath at the deep swirling pain in his chest and choked out “I would’ve run away with you.”

Eren looks at him with that aloof smile, “We can do that.”

Reiner chuckles mirthlessly, “We’re in a heavily guarded area. Titans or not, we’d be shot dead if we stepped out-”

“What if I found a way?” Eren’s dead-set eyes pin Reiner at a spot, his dead serious voice is sobering, “What if I found a way for us to leave?”

Reiner had run out of breath yet again. His face cold with dried-up tears, his hands shaking at his side from fear, excitement, and from holding onto hope. He looks at Eren’s unrelenting face, the one he wears when he’s going down the battlefield and is determined to do anything at all to survive. Then the emptiness after that, bloodsoaked and tired. Weighed down with guilt and horror. And Reiner will lean onto him, weighed down by the same thing.

Reiner remembers the little moments they had in Paradis island. Moments like this after they’re dating. Those moments are rare jewels that he kept on his locked keepsake box.

“We can be together,” Eren says, there’s a smile there that Reiner had never seen before. “We can be free in this little blue dot before we go to the stars.”

“We only have three years left.”

“I know.”

There’s a manic smile on Reiner’s face, and another sigh of defeat. “Let’s go.”

-

Reiner dreams a weird dream.

He’s in a boat onwards to Marley. On the deck are the devils of Paradis Island. Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, and that weird scientist Hange. Gaby and Falco sitting next to each other, blushing as they steal glances at the other. Annie is alive and well, talking to Armin wearing a shy expression that Reiner had never seen. And there’s this feeling, wishing that Bertholt was here.

Across the sea, he sees steam and smoke. He knows he’s going to war, with the Paradis island devils are on the same side. Yet strangely, it feels like going home.

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“Reiner.”

The voice snaps him to what feels like reality. Eren is holding a bucket of fish and a rod held on his other hand.

Reiner scoffs, “I told you to use the fishing net.”

“Shut up,” Eren chuckles, sitting beside him on the porch and Reiner leans his head on him. Eren smells damp and of moss. “I got a cod for you.”

Reiner blinks and things get bright. There’s the sea and then there’s here. A wooden house on the hill. Eren seems older. His hair is cut short.

“Are we...” Reiner can’t believe what he’s about to say. Are we free? Where are we? What’s going on? He knows the answer to all of those questions, but at the moment, this doesn’t feel real.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“We’ve been having a lot of those these days, I guess it’s time.” Reiner looks at Eren who looks back funny. “We’re reaching the end of our last years.”

“We’re dying,” Reiner mumbles emptily.

“That we are.”

And so that night, they walk up to the top of the hill to have their dinner, like they do every night. Reiner knows this, yet today, it feels like it’s the first and the last time. None of them remembers what date it was when they first inherit their titans. None of them remembers what day today is, they measure the time with the season. It’s spring. Flowers bloom all around them, the stars are even more bright and colorful than when they were on Paradis Island.

Reiner looks at the night sky and remembers the day Eren asked him to run.

“Did you ever regret running away with me?” Eren’s voice sounds far away, but when he looks, Eren is right in front of him. Hand in hand, face to face, at the top of the hill, looking at the stars.

Eren blushes prettily, the amber from the campfire shines on half his face, accentuating his features, showing how much he had grown. Eren at 22 years old has high cheekbones, slim jaws, and round eyes. His hair always looks soft but terrible bed head when he wakes up. His body filled with lean muscle tones. Compared to him, Reiner looks like a deteriorating gorilla. But here they are, choosing each other to spend their last days together, abandoned everything they’ve ever known.

Reiner smiles wetly, cradling Eren’s face, “Never,” he whispers. “These three years are the happiest I’ve been in my life... Thank you for taking me.”

A tear escaped his big green eyes, cold hands cupping over Reiner’s. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Reiner. I had to,” the broken voice begs.

Reiner has a watery smile, deep down he had known, but he had been happy. He knows what happiness felt like. “I know you do. I forgive you.”

“Reiner,” Eren’s voice soft, his touch warm and he says sweetly, “I love you.”

Reiner’s tears stream down to his smile, “I love you too.”

Warm breath on his face. Soft lips on his. The familiar body pressed against him. Warm, solid, and loving.

It feels like coming home.

Eren in his arms has gone cold. He leans back and looks. Half of his torso blown off by the armored titan’s fist, green eyes look blankly towards the spring blue sky. Soft long hair cradles his sunken face. Splotches of tears on his pale skin. The mist all around them is the only thing that’s left of the Titans. Even Reiner’s own that he had freshly jumped out of had turned to mist in a blink.

Reiner is hit with three years worth of illusion that didn’t happen. Eren had never asked him to run away, never even took him out of curfew to see the stars, but Eren had wanted to, that’s why he took Reiner in the only way he can. In reality, Eren wouldn’t offer to run, his destiny is spoken by the god Ymir herself, not even Reiner could stop him. And Reiner would’ve said no, if they left their family would be killed and tortured.

What Eren did instead was disappearing to side with Paradis after Armin attacked at Tybur’s declaration of war.

Reiner wants to be angry at Eren for his betrayal, for killing so many people. He wants to feel happy now that the war is over, and there are no more titans. But he felt empty instead.

What’s left now is the surviving people of the rumbling, Reiner, and his dead lover in his arms.

For warriors, he doesn’t get to decide who survives the war. Reiner does, and Eren ended it. The war is over.

So, Reiner takes Eren home.

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“Reiner!”

“I’m here!” Reiner screams back, he goes up the hill, a pile of net on his shoulder and a bucket of a couple of fishes on the right.

Gaby meets him halfway down the hill. The years after the war had done her good. She’s calmer, taller, matured. Sometimes the war still catches up on her in her dreams, but Reiner is there for her, as she does for him.

“Where are you going?” Reiner eyes the outfit she’s wearing. She even put make-up on. She never puts on make-up for anything, not even for Mikasa’s and Jean’s wedding.

“I’m going to the Peace Festival.”

“Ah, so you’re meeting with Falco.”

The blush goes through her foundation, “He has nothing to do with anything!”

Reiner chuckles, “Have fun.”

“How about you come with me this year?” Gabby asks, as she always does every year.

And Reiner’s answer is always the same, “No, I got my own date.”

Gabby smiles still, but it’s been less and less understanding, and sadder and sadder.

Reiner cooks, picks flowers, makes lemonade, and brings it up to the hill.

The sun is setting as Reiner sets a picnic beside Eren’s headstone. Far away in the distance, he can see the peak of colorful buildings. It’s amazing how much humanity could rebuild in ten years after 90% of its population murdered.

Night falls, colorful lanterns floats to the sky, symbolizing the fallen soldiers and victims of the rumbling joining the heavens.

“I hated that you had to do it,” Reiner says, “But I get it. I’m a free man in a world without war and it is beautiful. I never thought this world could ever be beautiful...” His breath catches, hands on the bed of grass beside Eren’s headstone. “I just wished you didn’t have to do it. I wished you’re here with me.”

Or so Reiner says every time he celebrates the end of war anniversary with Eren, but as a decade had gone by, Reiner feels more and more content.

The world without war is peaceful. He feels proud every day seeing Gabby grow. He’s amazed to see how fast and pacifist humanity had evolved. Reiner finds that he’s beginning to like being alive.

So, he’s content to wait in this little blue dot until his time to join Eren with the stars.

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*sobs in the corner

Happy Valentine's day!

After the war is over, I'll get all the stars out of the sky for you.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Words: 12k (click link to read on ao3 or keep reading to read here)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Suicid@l Thoughts, Suicid3 Attempt Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Ending, Hopeful Ending, Established Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto, Mystery, Medical Inaccuracies, Im no doctor at all, nor am i a psychologist

Summary:

Shouto is kept in Tartarus. He doesn’t know why or what he did to deserve it. Katsuki broke him out, and when Shouto asked why he was there, Katsuki didn’t know either. Turns out, no one in the world knew that he was held in Tartarus, only that he's retired. Shouto's memory is hazy because of the drugs Tartarus put him under, but he held on to the only strong memory he has, with Katsuki. He’s grateful enough that Katsuki broke him out, that's why Shouto can’t bring himself to ask whether Katsuki is still in love with him as much as Shouto is still in love with Katsuki. With their relationship in the air, they became runaways as they try to find the truth of Shouto’s imprisonment.

Little help it did, but time was the only thing they need as the drugs slowly went out of Shouto's system.

And Shouto finally remembers.

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 Name                          : Todoroki Shouto Hero/Villain Code       : Shouto Quirk                          : Double Quirk – Ice and Fire Date of birth               : 11 January 2134 Confinement Date       : 21 July 2159 Confinement Period    : Indefinitely Cell type                     : Padded Security level              : Medium Consciousness            : Subdued Behavior                     : Violent Reason for confinement               : (Redacted)

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Shouto doesn’t know where he is. All he has ever seen are two rooms, in which he’s never fully conscious enough to know whenever he’s transported. There is this one –which is a four-sided white padded room with rounded edges– where he often resides. So far it has withstood the hottest of his fire and the coldest of his ice. The second room he’s ever been in is a concrete room, but Shouto is always kept in a coffin-like box with only a small window in front of his eyes for sight. Whenever he’s in there, he’s in a body bind that has also withstood his quirks while people are trying to talk to him.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, nor does he recognize the other people that talked to him in the second room. They seem to try to find out something that he had done, but Shouto didn’t remember doing anything they’re accusing. The second room is also for guests to visit him. He saw Fuyumi and Natsuo, though he can only remember them visiting him only once. Sometimes Katsuki visits too, and he doesn’t always visit in the second room.

Shouto doesn’t remember the visits too well, and he blames it all on the strangers in uniforms that kept subduing him with chemicals. The gas that emitted from somewhere in the padded wall would make him lose control of his limbs, flopping on the floor like a puppet cut at the strings. Then one of them will enter from a door that had been blended seamlessly through one of the walls, injecting him with something that takes away his consciousness or worse, sometimes makes him hallucinate. He swore there was one time he sees his family in the padded cell, and times when he sees Katsukis everywhere. None of them were ever kind, but Shouto knows it’s not them. He might be hallucinating but he’s still sane. And when he’s not hallucinating, he completely loose consciousness, and who knows what those people did to him.

Which begs the question: Why is he here?

He tried to ask, but after a hundred times he asked, he’s answered with silence and made-up stories. So, Shouto stopped asking and starts attacking instead. Because he needs to get out of here. His mother must’ve been wondering where he is, did Natsu and Fuyumi get to explain to her what happened? Did Katsuki know at all that he was here? How many school days Shouto had lost?

Shouto is so sick of feeling like his mind is full of bees in the cloud of smoke. He feels nauseous but there’s nothing in his stomach to vomit out of. He’s so sick of feeling weak, of barely able to stand or pull himself up by the elbows. He tried to get out, he knows he did, but he never remembered how it goes past stepping out of his cell.

If only he just had help. If only… If only someone would save him.

Shouto doesn’t know how long he has that thought, and he refused to call it a prayer. But suddenly, when Shouto is just wearing off their last injections, a rectangle of light appears on one side of the padded wall. It’s odd because they never opened the door unless they gassed him first. One more glaringly odd thing is the light of the door isn’t the usual blinding white light. It’s red and licking the air, and dark smoke dances around them. Fire.

A silhouette walked out of the door, and Shouto choked as he recognizes it.

Katsuki stomps into the padded cell in an all-black tactical gear, with blood-red eyes, spiky blond hair, smoke-stained skin, and murder in his face. Shouto finally feels safe.

“Stand the fuck up, we’re getting out of here.”

Shouto swallowed a sob, putting his emotions aside, and stands up even though the substances in his system hadn’t completely gone from his system. Shouto managed two steps before toppling sideways, but Katsuki catches him in his arms and carries him in the same movement. Shouto gasps when his feet are suddenly in the air and Katsuki runs with SHouto in his arms. It took his breath away to touch Katsuki again. All broad shoulders and strong muscular arms. Shouto tucks himself deeper, trying to not move and hinder Katsuki’s movement. The blaring alarm makes his head pound, and everything is red from the fire and the security alarm. Shouto looks around and finds the corridor foreign. He’s never awake whenever they transfer him.

Katsuki suddenly jerks, pressed against the wall, peeking through the adjacent corridor. It’s hard to hear through the alarms, but Shouto can make out people shouting.

“Sir! What's going on?”

“Ward 10 is open! It's a lockdown, everyone in the psyche ward has been evacuated, you need to get out of here!”

"But Doctor Junpei and Doctor Midoriya are still inside Ward 1!"

“Shit, get back to the main room and-"

Shouto is dropped all too suddenly, and Katsuki turns to face down the corridor. There’s barely any additional sound, but when Shouto looks up, Katsuki is sporting a taser gun, and the two security guards are on the ground.

Shouto is too stunned and high to process what he just saw, and let himself be picked up again. Suddenly there is screaming, and everything is too much. He shuts his eyes and ears, his head experiencing vertigo. In a daze, he thought maybe this is just a bad dream, it wouldn’t be far off from what he had had.

One scream broke upon many, Katsuki’s. When Shouto opens his eyes, they’re no longer in dreary flashing red corridors. There’s a building far away where the alarm sounded from and had sounded distant at some point. In the middle of the dark night, Tartarus is lit like a castle in the middle of hell. It was Tartarus… he started to remember that there was where he had been.

They’re at a foot of the hill, and Shouto had been on the grassy floor.

“RUN!” Katsuki orders.

To where? Katsuki pointed behind him. Shouto looks back and sees that they’re at the edge of the cliff. Katsuki is pointing him to jump, and Shouto did. It was too dark to see, so he realizes there was the sea at the bottom only after he jumped. Katsuki joined him mid-air, and embraced him, tucking his head into his neck. Moments before they break into the water, Shouto holds onto him.

  ++++

  Shouto is being pulled out of the water and plopped on a hard surface. The hacking cough is tearing through his lungs and eardrums but he can hear a string of curses echoing.

“Fuck! This is so fucked up!” followed by another rain of curses. Shouto had never felt so glad to hear profanities.

With labored efforts, shaking legs, and blurry visions, Shouto stands up, even though the rocky shore makes it hard. He barely takes in the cold that seeps through his bones, barely acknowledging the small pebbles that cover his damp skin and prison uniform. Shouto sobs when he saw Katsuki, seeing the growth that he never witnessed. Katsuki is exactly like how he imagined he’ll grow up. He’s wearing a tactical suit in black that he used for stealth missions, and it pained him already how Shouto isn’t there for that story on how the loudest hero is assigned any stealth mission at all. Shouto looks closer and his hair is cropped at the sides, the same scar is still marring the right side of his face from an incident when they were in school. He bulked up and had grown taller than Shouto. Also, he’s grown more handsome even though he’s scowling and cursing under his breath.

Shouto runs and wraps his arms around him, openly sobbing on his shoulder. He clenches his fists on Bakugo’s broad shoulder so tightly, afraid that he’ll disappear if Shouto lets go.

“Katsuki… you-you came,” Shouto rasps, it hurts to talk, hugging even tighter. It takes a while until Katsuki finally hugs him back. For once after so long, Shouto’s world feels solid and his mind feels so grounded. Katsuki is here, in his arms, nothing matters anymore. Shouto leans back and cups his face, taking in every detail. His stubbled face, his maroon eyes, and his severe expression, ever so much his boyfriend. “You came to save me...”

Katsuki’s expression twists to frown even more, “Hey, Shouto?” he sounds so unsure, and Shouto can’t have that.

“Yes, love?”

Katsuki’s expression softened, then twists into guilt, “What’s the last thing you remember before you’re locked away?”

Shouto blinks and then furrows his eyebrows when he notices the large gaps in his memory. Shouto tried to remember, but his memory only consists of the two rooms in Tartarus and his high school days. There are some memories outside of school when he moved in with Katsuki, but even then, it’s kind of hazy.

“I-I don’t remember. How can I not remember anything?” Shouto shakes his head, panic starts to raise now that the drugs that subdued him are out of his system. This is the first time Shouto is outside of the room while he’s completely sober. A cold realization washes over him, “How long have I been locked away?”

Katsuki studies him, staring at him mercilessly, “Ten years.”

Shouto feels dizzy, the world under his feet sways and Katsuki catches him before he falls. There’s bale inside his mouth, cold ice seeps into his bones. Shouto could barely breathe right, but he managed to say, “I… I don’t even remember what I did to deserve it.”

“You know what’s funny, strawberry shortcake?” Katsuki says, looming over him with a hard stare. “So does the rest of the world.”

 +++++

 They’re in a car, driving down along the coast toward where Fuyumi supposedly lived.

Shouto is looking out the rolled-down windows, watching the sea and the sky that starting to light up for sunrise, feeling the breeze on his newly cut short hair, it’s a feeling he’d long forgotten. Shouto sometimes would catch himself in the side-view mirror and startle, still not used to the new look. Black hair, black contacts, his scar is covered by a thick cream that feels heavy and greasy. They’ve burned his prison wardrobe in the nearest bum barrel with Shouto’s fire and replaced it with a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie. Shouto looks like a different person entirely, which is the idea, they’re on the run after all.

Still, the new makeover isn’t what startles him the most, it’s how old he looked that did. Supposedly, Shouto is 35 years old right now, but he looked even older. When he saw himself the first time, still with the scar and the red and white hair but older, Shouto had vomited. He’s glad for his mother’s feminine jaw and straight nose, but his eyes are exactly like Endeavor’s. His age shows a lot in his features. Textured skin, crow’s feet already deeply formed, darker circles under his eyes, and even his cheeks sagged a bit. He only glances at his body, skin sticking to bones, and he had lost all the muscle mass that he had from his hero days. He looks awful compared to Katsuki, who still looks like he’s in his twenties, handsome and youthful as ever. Shouto can’t help staring at him the entire time. Katsuki doesn’t seem to mind, because he didn’t say anything about it, and Katsuki always has something to say. So, the silence had been eerie, but Shouto uses this chance to stare even more.

They haven’t talked again after Katsuki dragged him from shore to a car where they drive to the nearest convenience store to buy the necessity to transform Shouto. Katsuki told him to hide his face, lest Tartarus was looking for him. Missing persons or runaway persons from Tartarus always break the news, but when they watch the TV inside the convenience store, there’s no such news. Shouto found it odd, and Katsuki did as well.

And so, they drove to the one who possibly has all the answers, Fuyumi, but not Natsuo. Turns out, Shouto had lost the right to decide for himself on the base of insanity and a conservatorship is established where Fuyumi will decide for Shouto above Shouto himself. “If anyone knows why you’re there, it’s her,” Bakugo had said when he was done applying Shouto’s makeup and Shouto had asked, “what now?”

Then there’s silence, as they drove for two hours already. Well, Katsuki drove, Shouto didn’t even remember whether Katsuki can do that.

“If you know where to get answers, why come get me?” Shouto asks, hiding hope.

“Don’t you want to know?”

“I do, more than anything.” Shouto looks away from the sea to Katsuki’s side profile which is also unfairly handsome. They’re next to each other, but it feels like there's a valley between them. Aside from the truth, Shouto badly wants to touch his ex-boyfriend. He’s pretty sure they’re exes now. Ten years gap between their relationship must’ve broken it. Why else would Katsuki be so cold? Which begs the question, “Why bother breaking me out? Why risk your hero career to commit a crime?”

“I do need you to know the truth.”

“I don’t think you do,” Shouto insists. “You’re my-… I remember that you’re close to my family. Fuyumi would’ve told you if you ask.”

Katsuki said nothing to that, and fear for the answer held Shouto back from prodding.

Another silence. Only breathing, the wind, and the sea.

 +++++

 Fuyumi changed her name. Her other name is Mitsuhara Yumi. She lived in a fishing city where the dock is only a walking distance from her house mid-way up a hill. She has a beautiful home in a beautiful city, the thing that she always wanted. They watch her family leave first before approaching her. Her husband looks gentle-hearted and kind, he seems to have heart-eyes whenever he looks at her. Their children are a pair of twins in middle school uniforms. She looks so different from what Shouto remembered. Her hair falls down to her hip, all white without any trace of red. She had grown to look so much like their mother.

Shouto watches longingly, suddenly, the ten years passed had finally settled in his heart.

Ten years wasted, wasting away, while his sister has this. Her kids must’ve been born before Shouto was imprisoned. He wants to be angry at his sister for locking him up, and for robbing him of his time with Katsuki and his nieces, but he’s also scared to hear the reason why his gentle-hearted sister ever needed to do something so cruel.

Shouto is so nervous, it made him hover over the door too long for Katsuki’s patience. Katsuki knocks on the door and leans onto the frame. Shouto watches him, horrified.

“What?” Katsuki says, “You wanted to wait there until sundown?”

“What if I’m not ready?” Shouto bites his lips, his heart is a hummingbird’s.

“We don’t have time for you to not be ready, you’re a runaway. That disguise can only hold you up for so long.” Katsuki then reaches out for his hand, and Shouto is startled at the gesture but he takes it. It’s been a while since he felt his lover’s hand, it feels the same as he remembered. Rough and grounding, it pains him that Katsuki isn’t his anymore, but he’s here when it’s important. “Don’t worry, I’m around if things go to shit.”

Shouto holds back his tears and smiles gratefully, he’s glad that Katsuki doesn’t abandon him even though they’re no longer lovers. “Thank you.”

The door opens, his heart jumped, and he tightens his hold on Katsuki’s hand. Shouto is having an eye-to-eye stare down with Fuyumi, who looks confused.

“Yes?” She says after a while of silence. She didn’t even recognize Shouto.

“Hello, Fuyumi.”

Fuyumi doesn’t miss a beat and slams the door shut.

“Wait! Please…” Shouto says, putting his hand on the door it shuts. She looks so scared of him, she looks so much like mother did. It’s been years, but he still remembers how he got his scar vividly in mind, body, and psyche, that Shouto shrank at her fear. “I’m…” Shouto couldn’t say anymore, so he wipes the foundation on his face. The flesh tone smears his sleeve, and when Shouto opens his eyes, Fuyumi balked.

“Oh… Shouto… it’s you…” Fuyumi says carefully, fear unrelenting, and it still hurts so bad to be seen that way.

“I-I… We,” Shouto looks to Katsuki, and Fuyumi looks that way too and furrows her eyebrows. “Katsuki told me that you’d know why I’m locked in Tartarus… It’s-It’s been ten years…” When he looks at how afraid Fuyumi is, his anger disappears and fear replaces it. “P-Please, I’m not angry, I just- we both want to know.” Shouto glances at Katsuki again, who gives him a supporting nod. “I don’t remember why I was there… or I guess, why you sent me there? Katsuki says you’re my conservator.”

“It’s…” Fuyumi looks behind her and then sighs. “Please come in first.”

Shouto lits up at the welcome, “Yes, alright.”

“I just ran out of tea, but I have orange juice, chocolate milk, and water if you’d like.”

“Chocolate milk, if that’s not much of a bother.”

They waited for a while until Fuyumi came with a box of mini-sized chocolate milk for Shouto. He savors every drop of the taste of sweet chocolate, he hadn’t even thought of buying it for himself when he was at the convenience store. Fuyumi has water for herself, watching Shouto closely. Shouto looks back at her, taking in her appearance. She also looks younger than Shouto.

“Shouto?” Fuyumi says, carefully. Shouto looks at her with the straw still on his lips. “How did you get out of Tartarus?”

“Oh… Katsuki broke me out,” he says to Katsuki, whose standing near the window instead of sitting on the couch with them.

“I see…” Fuyumi mutters. “Why did he break you out?” she asks Shouto.

Katsuki scoffs, and Shouto answers, “He wants to know the truth, as do I… It’s…” Shouto feels dizzy, maybe he shouldn’t drink something so sweet on an empty stomach. “It’s been ten years… ten years that to me felt… like mere moments passing.”

Fuyumi looks so guilty.

“You have no right to look like that when you’re the one that puts him there,” Katsuki snaps, then Fuyumi cries.

Shouto glares at Katsuki and reaches out to Fuyumi, who jerked away violently. His blood runs cold at her fear, and he retracts, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s…” Fuyumi gulps, “It’s okay, you didn’t mean to.”

It’s the same thing his mother had said when he visits on her bad days. He understands that his mother loved him, and she’s working things out, but it had hurt, and it still does.

Shouto retracted, watching her with sorrow, “I waited until your family left, I figured you wouldn’t want me around them,” he says. “You look good, Fuyumi. Happy and in love… I’m very happy for you.” He doesn’t know what else to say, but he wants to say that, at least. He IS happy for his sister. She had been so torn at their broken family and now she finally has her own.

“The conservatorship wasn’t supposed to be under my name,” Fuyumi finally says with a low tone. “I inherit it… from father.”

“… What does that mean?”

Fuyumi takes a deep breath, eyes closed, “Shouto… father died a long time ago.”

Shouto has no love for his father, nothing that he remembers, but he feels a strange emptiness as she delivers the news. His father doesn’t raise him, he trained him like a soldier. Shouto saw him as a mere general so high up the chain while giving orders and punishment behind a desk. After Touya, he doesn’t try to mend their bridges but he did try to be a better hero, no longer caring for the ranking system, apologizing to his children and wife, and humbling himself. Shouto still hated him, but he respected his efforts. Perhaps that’s there's a slight pain in his chest.

“Oh… how did he die?”

“I don’t know, Shouto… you tell me.”

Shouto paused, his skin shivers like cold water were suddenly dunked on his head. “What?”

Gone was her guilt and her fear, what resides now is sadness and yet also, frustration. “When they found you, he was dead, by your side.”

“I-I don’t remember…” As he said that flashes of images flood through him. There’s blood on his hands, all over his hero suit. He’s holding someone, they’re holding onto him too. They’re on the edge of a cliff, and there are melted ice and fire everywhere. Endeavor is in front of him, dead. He felt wet and sticky, the air smelt like rust. “I don’t… no… I don’t remember. I-I didn’t kill him.”

“I’m not saying that, but he died where you were. His death is caused by a penetrative stab toward his chest. There’s nothing on a scene that could’ve caused a mortal wound.”

“And they thought you did it, because what else could it be other than an ice spike that had melted away,” Katsuki adds accusingly.

“But I didn’t!” Shouto insists on him, then turns to Fuyumi. “Please believe me! I didn’t… I’m sure I didn’t. I hated him but I would never-”

“But you barely remember anything,” Fuyumi’s soft voice is cruelly accusing. “This isn’t your fault, I know.” which is the worse thing. Even at the thought that Shouto could’ve killed her father, she still doesn’t blame him.

“But if I had truly killed father then-”

“No, not even then,” Fuyumi says firmly. Shouto is startled by her support. “Not even then… God, Shouto…” She sobbed some more and reached out with her hands as if she wants to touch him, but she retracted as soon as she reaches out.

Shouto yearns for it, but there's something else he needs from her, “Tell me what happened, please Fuyumi.”

“I don’t know everything fully. You were the only person alive there.”

“Where?” Shouto asks desperately.

“They found you on the Hirasaki canyon with…” Fuyumi’s hand starts to shake, she eyes him hesitantly. “With Touya.”

“Touya? Didn’t he die long before I graduated?”

“No, Shouto he-”

“Shit!” Katsuki snaps from the window, making Shouto turns to him. “She called the cops on us.”

“What?” Shouto peeks at the window, and he recognizes the uniform of the guards at Tartarus. He turns to find Fuyumi already on the other side of the room. She looks deathly afraid, but it didn’t melt away his anger this time.

“Shouto, I’m sorry. This is for the best, I don’t know what else to do!”

“Am I so vile that you didn’t even trust me anymore?” Shouto wants to sound angry, but the tears in his eyes failed him. “You didn’t even give me any chance to redeem myself properly! You didn’t even tell me what happened!”

“I can’t, Shouto!” Fuyumi says desperately, “The truth always makes you worse.”

Shouto furrows his eyebrows at her, “always?”

“We got no fucking time, spicy mayo. We need to go, now!”

Shouto turns to Fuyumi one more time, she’s backed into a corner saying something Shouto can’t hear. She looks so terrified at him, Shouto shriveled. Shouto turns to Katsuki, takes his extended hand, and runs.

  ++++

  “Well, that’s a bust. What a bitch,” Katsuki says as they walk down a hill.

“Please don’t call my sister a bitch.”

They were in an intense car chase with the prison guards, and in the end, Katsuki drove the car off the rails down the hill. They didn’t fall that badly, but their car rolled a bit. They ran from the car just in time before it explodes, and now they’re on foot, going downhill to see the roads. There's a city further away, maybe a two-hour walk. So, they opted to go to the nearest diner on their way and hijacked someone’s car then off they go.

Katsuki had been bitching the entire way while Shouto stays silent, not even a comment when Katsuki stole someone’s car, but he did give a note that says his car will be at the train station.

Shouto’s mind had been nit-picking everything that Fuyumi had told him. It seems that Touya has something to do with his situation and that he didn’t die like he thought he did. Fuyumi was right, he could barely remember anything, but Shouto never thought that he’d ever remembered wrongly. He knows Dabi had died a long time ago, longer than ten years ago at least. Shouto would know, he watched his father kill him.

Fuyumi also said that the truth always makes him worse. ‘Always’ indicates that this had happened before, that he had been told the truth before and perhaps, Shouto had reacted badly but doesn’t remember.

A hand is gripping his jaw and shakes him a little, pinching his cheeks. Katsuki pulls his face towards him, “You’re gonna shatter your teeth if you clench your jaw any tighter.”

“Oh,” Shouto flushes pink at the contact, and Katsuki lets go.

“What are you thinking so hard at?” He asks.

“Touya. I thought he died a long time ago.”

“He did. Your dad killed him, didn’t he? It was all in the news.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.”

Shouto sighs, he doesn’t remember any of that too. He rubs his face, frustrated and nauseous. How did his life become like this? Why is no one giving him a straight answer? Even Katsuki doesn’t give him that. Katsuki’s motive in breaking him out is still questionable, but Shouto couldn’t find it in him to push, afraid that Katsuki will leave his side. Shouto steals a glance as his now ex-boyfriend. Taking in again how well he had grown. The thick tactical suit doesn’t hide the solid muscle mass underneath that Shouto is very familiar with. Shouto is glad at least, that his mind still remembers their intimate moments, though now it preserves as torture.

“Are you gonna say something or are you gonna stare at me so more like a creep?” Katsuki snipped, and Shouto chuckled, he misses Katsuki a lot.

“How have you been the past ten years?”

“This and that.”

“Come on,” Shouto grins. “I know we’re not dating anymore, but I still cared.”

“What do you mean we’re not dating anymore?” Katsuki’s voice lowers dangerously, glancing a glare at Shouto before looking back to the road.

Shouto straightens at Katsuki’s affronted tone, “I thought- … it’s been ten years.”

“Yeah, so?!” Katsuki barks, higher this time.

Shouto sighs, “Look, I don’t have any expectations, okay?”

“Expectations?? The fuck you on, poker-faced asshole? Say what you mean!”

“I’ve been locked away for ten years, Katsuki. I… I know you must’ve moved on.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, all his fangs showing, “You wanna know what I’ve been doing, huh? You wanna know so badly?!” He barks louder, glaring at him fully now. “I spent most of my time being angry and screaming at anyone that couldn’t tell me why you’re there nor help me get you out of there! I spent it being fucking obsessed at learning this city's dumbass law to death until I figured that this city and everyone in it can fuck themselves right off and that I’ll break you out myself, legalities be damned! Then I started planning, hacking, sabotaging my way so I can get to you and here you’re telling me I should’ve moved the fuck on???”

Shouto gasped, stressed, “Why? Why would you do that? What about your career? What if you got found out and-”

As if it's possible, Katsuki looks even angrier, “I told you all that and all that you’re worried about is my fucking career?!”

“Being a hero is all that you ever wanted!” Shouto yells back, “I don’t understand how you’d throw it all away just for-”

“For you? 'Just' for you? Is that what you’re about to say?”

“No, I was about to say 'for something that you easily could’ve done yourself.' She was reluctant to say it because it’s me, if only you come alone then-”

“Shut up! Shut up you water cooler dumbass!! Of course, I did it for you!!”

“Why?!”

“Wh- What do you mean WHY?”

“Why didn’t you move on? It’s been ten years!”

“With who?! Shouto, with fucking who???”

“Anyone else would’ve been better!”

“What the fuck is this??? What’s with all this negative talk? What did they do to you in there?”

“I got fucked up that’s what! So fucked up I barely remember what they did! Nor what I ever did!” Shouto clenches his hair, breathing hard. “Fuck, look at me, I’m a mess. I’m old and I didn’t even know- I didn't even know how much time had gone by!" Shouto hiccups, his chest hurts so bad. "My mind, my memory, everything I am is so fucked up. I’m not even sure the Shouto you were with is still in me. Why do you even still consider we-”

“Well, I did anyway! None of us ever said to break up with one another so there!” Katsuki roared, his fists on the wheel paled. “I haven’t moved on and I never will! I’m doing this for you, and whatever you think I should do isn’t gonna stop me!”

“Why?”

Katsuki went red, “Why do you keep saying WHY?! I told you that I-” Katsuki looks at Shouto, and Shouto hates that he's horrible-looking enough that Katsuki goes silent.

The car swerves to the side. Shouto is holding onto the sides as Katsuki pulls over.

“Katsuki! What are you doing-”

“I forgot something I should’ve fucking done the first time.”

“What would that-”

Katsuki takes his seat belt off and leans towards him. At first, Shouto thought he wanted to reach the glove box, but his hands are on Shouto’s face, pulling so harshly. His lips pressed against Shouto’s, kissing so fiercely. Shouto sobbed at the touch, his hands instinctively holding onto Katsuki’s chest and he kisses back. Rough fingers card his newly cut hair and shivers run down his spine. Katsuki slid his tongue in and his blood is lit on fire.

Shouto tries something, like moving to sit on Katsuki’s lap. In the short moment they parted, Shouto witnessed how Katsuki looks at him, seeing the same desire and love in them, and Shouto’s heart stutters. Katsuki pulls him by the waist, sushing him as his hand wipes the tears that have been pouring for a while. They kiss again, gentler this time, but the soft touches don’t last long, it never does with them. The other always wants more and it’ll escalate. The same thing happens when Katsuki moves his hands to squeeze his ass, and Shouto undoes his tactical gear, he still remembers to do it, even after all these years, even after all the memory that Tartarus had taken and blurred.

Katsuki’s hand on his bare skin makes him shiver, finally feeling the time that had passed him by. His body reminded him exactly how long it’s been since Katsuki touched him like this. It’s devastating to realize that, but Katsuki is relentlessly the same if not even more loving when he touches Shouto like he still loves him.

It’s been years, but it’s gratifying to know that they still love the same way they always did, as if nothing ever happened.

 ++++

  They don’t know where they’re going, but they know they’re running away. So, they board a train. Bought the tickets with some money left in the car’s glove box. Shouto chose the destination. Their four-hour ride will come in an hour, and so they wait at the quiet train station. It’s far from working hours, and it feels like they have the place for themselves.

“Why did you choose that destination?” Katsuki asks.

“I don’t know, just a hunch,” Shouto shrugged.

“Did you remember something?”

“I remember holding someone in my arms.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know…” Shouto picks on his nails, a habit that returned now that he’s sober and sound-minded. “I don’t know why I can’t remember, maybe one day I can.”

“Huh, makes sense I guess. When I found you, you were high as shit over whatever they’re giving you. I think you’re gonna sober up soon.”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“This again, I swear to god you flat-faced killjoy, I will-”

“I know, Katsuki. I’m not questioning your feelings.”

Katsuki glares at him, “No, you’re just questioning whether I should, which is the same fucking shit.”

Shouto reaches out to hold his hand, glad that Katsuki isn’t moving away, “I’m just making sure. I have nothing to offer you. What will we do from now on?”

“Why does any of that matter?” Katsuki scoffs, but he’s holding Shouto’s hand very tightly. “You’re here. We’re finally together. Nothing else matters as long as you’re with me.”

Shouto swallows tightly and leans onto Katsuki. They barely move away from each other as they ride the train, side by side, hand in hand.

Shouto leans on him and drifted to sleep. His dreams seem vivid, too vivid to be a dream. He dreams of Hirasaki canyon, just at the edge of the city where he was assigned, of his home, and of Katsuki. He’s in an apartment with Katsuki, they’ve been living together since they graduate so they can have more time together. For Shouto, it’s to escape his father. They’re always inseparable, despite the teasing and the banter. Katsuki and his family are the first ever sense of a real family and love that Shouto ever experienced. Dating Katsuki is the happiest he’s ever been, he never knew how it felt until that time and he smiles so hard his face is sore because he’s not used to it.

The dream doesn’t stay in his happy memory. Being a pro-hero had always been tiring for Shouto, and it’s so rewardless. Being able to come back to Katsuki had been the only saving grace for Shouto, and being able to protect Katsuki in the field had been the only reason he stays as a Pro-Hero.

He knows that he probably shouldn’t have stayed at a highly dangerous job with lives at stake for the sake of somebody else but Shouto can’t help it. Katsuki is his anchor and Shouto can’t imagine doing anything else. “That’s kinda sad, and lowkey pathetic,” Katsuki had said when he had addressed how unhappy Shouto had been as a Pro-Hero. Shouto had been struck, until Katsuki said “We’re gonna find something else for you, life’s too short to waste your fucking time doing shit that makes you miserable.”

Shouto wakes laughing at the memory or dream, the first time ever that he’s not screaming instead.

“What are you giggling about?” Katsuki says, eyes looking towards the train tracks, not inside the train as Shouto remembered, but he can’t find it in him to spiral about it like usual, not when he’s having his hair stroked gently as he leaned his head on Katsuki’s shoulder.

“I have a good dream.”

“What about?”

“Remember that time when you confront me about being a Pro-hero?”

“Of course I do, and it’s so infuriating that you’re such a pretty mental-breakdown crier,” Katsuki huffs and Shouto chuckles at his compliment, he misses that. “What about it?”

“You made me take a break from work and spent a whole week just trying weird obscure classes you found. It was the weirdest week of my life.”

“Fuck me for trying I guess.”

“I think I did fuck you for trying back then.”

Katsuki growls and pinches his cheek, “Don’t fucking get smart on me, half’n’half!”

Shouto chuckles and lets his cheek yanked side to side, reveling at the touch, at their playfulness, he can almost pretend that nothing had changed. Katsuki wraps his arm around his shoulder and Shouto presses closer to Katsuki’s chest, arms around his waist. He breathes in the sweet smell of Katsuki’s nitroglycerin sweat and a hint of smoke, it made him think of burnt marshmallows. He didn’t realize how much he misses Katsuki to tears.

“I want to stay like this forever,” Shouto whispers.

“You can,” Katsuki replies. “Let it all go, and stay here, with me.”

Shouto tightens his hold, “I will.”

“You won’t though, you never do.”

editing

Shouto looks up, but he sees nothing. His arms are empty, his palms pressed to the bench. He thought maybe he dozed off, or that his memory is lapsing again. He looks around and finds Katsuki standing outside of the train station, looking away to the other end of the train track.

“Katsuki?” he calls, but the blond head doesn’t turn. “Where are we?” he asks, because this isn’t the same station that they dropped off anymore. It’s another station smack-dabbed in the middle of the forest, it’s almost comical and off-putting.

“You’re going to stay, aren’t you?” Katsuki asks, finally turning around, his expression is severe, almost cold.

“I will, always,” Shouto says, firmly as he can. His heart is pounding, suddenly anxious about having Katsuki out of his reach.

Katsuki looks up towards the blue sky, “Do you remember the last time we saw each other before you were locked away.”

“I… I remember… we were…” Shouto blinks, “We were in your favorite climbing spot, right? Hirasaki canyon.”

“Right, that’s here, further away into the woods until we see a clearing.”

“Katsuki, what’s going on? What- How are we here?”

“You were spacing out, so I carried you here.”

“Oh…” Shouto gulps, guilt and shame chill him. He wondered if this will be their new normal, that Katsuki will be his mental crutch for the rest of their lives. “I’m sorry, I’ll get better.”

Katsuki sighs, “I don’t even know what you’re sorry for, but I bet it’s dumb,” and he extends his hand towards Shouto, “Let’s go then.”

Shouto grabbed it, he barely felt the touch and his vision spins.

Suddenly they’re in a dark grotto, stalactites hanging from the roof, and glow worms hang and glow in between them. Under the starry ceiling is a clear pool of water. Shouto might not remember many, but he remembers this moment. They had been dating for two years and so sickly in love. Katsuki brought him here, his secret place. Shouto was near in tears when Katsuki confessed how the place is his safe haven from everyone and everything, a place to be himself. Katsuki brought him there so it can be Shouto’s place of safety too. Shouto had never felt so loved, and they made love under the starry cave.

“Do you remember?” Katsuki asks from under him.

“I do,” Shouto choked on his breath, “It’s our place.”

“Then let’s go.”

Shouto opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. He’s at the edge of the cliff, Katsuki's favorite climbing spot. The cliff is deep with a wide gap, there’s a river at the bottom. His heart raced with nostalgia and memory, eager to be safe yet again.

And yet, as he steps on the edge, Shouto hesitates. He looks down and feels his head spin. It’s not the height, the height is not what he sees despite the deep fall staring at his face. A memory assaulted his mind, one that makes him sweat ice. Shouto blinks and the memory comes and goes. The grotto, the cliff, the grotto, the cliff. The sky, the cave, the sky, the cave. Katsuki.

“Why aren’t you going?” Katsuki says from behind him.

“What-What am I seeing?”

“The truth,” he says, cold and ruthless.

“Wh-what?” Shouto trembles, his throat closed up. Shouto blinks, and the scene flickers again. “No…” he whined, hitting his head as if it’ll fix him.

“You’re getting sober now, Shouto,” Katsuki says, gone was his tenderness, his voice doesn’t even resemble him anymore. It sounded… more like Shouto’s own voice. “This is what they’ve hidden from you. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, not without what they gave you.”

“But you’re here with me now,” Shouto says, looking sideways at Katsuki who looks blankly at the canyon. “Nothing matters anymore, now that you’re with me.”

Finally, then, Katsuki smiles at him, hand reaching out to Shouto. “Would you go with me?”

Shouto melts, a dopey smile on his face, he had never felt so much relief, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Shouto reaches out to hold Katsuki’s hand, but another, third-party hand grips his and pulls strongly backward.

Shouto turned around so hard the world spun. Shouto jerked away violently at the strange touch, his fire and ice formed in either hand, ready to attack, but he slowly relents when he recognizes the person in front of him.

“Shouto, dear, please move away from there,” she says gently, arms extended as a welcome, her expression grieved. “Please… come to me,” Mitsuki says, way older than when Shouto remembered. Shouto felt a pang of pain in his chest at another reminder of the time passed. He can see Katsuki in her.

“Mitsuki, I… I haven’t seen you in-”

“Ten years, I know,” She gulps, she looks sad. “Please, come here, it’s been a while since you visited.”

“But… But Katsuki… He wants me to go-” Shouto clamped his mouth shut, he looks around to find Katsuki but he isn’t there.

“Where,” Mitsuki’s face changed, “Where is he? Where’s my son?”

Shouto feels cold trickle down his neck and his chest painfully clenched. Katsuki couldn’t have left him, right? No, he just went ahead. Shouto has to leave, now. “I can’t tell, it’s our secret place. It’s his precious safe haven, I-I can’t… I need to go.” Shouto gasps when the memory of the grotto poured into his mind. A dozen of memory of the two of them there together and the last time they did. “NO!”

“Shouto! Please be careful!”

“I… that doesn’t happen!” Shouto looks away to the cliff, running to climb down, but someone pulled him backward.  “Katsuki?”

Mitsuki has a death grip on his shoulder, teary-eyed, “Shouto,” she says with gritted teeth, “My son is dead.”

Shouto narrowed his eyebrows, “No… that… no, Mitsuki, Katsuki brought me here, I couldn’t have without him. A-ask Fuyumi! She saw us at her house!” Shouto says, beginning to panic. He doesn’t know why he’s panicking, nothing is wrong, Mitsuki is mistaken. Shouto looks around wildly and finally found Katsuki standing beside her. Relief washes over him, Katsuki hadn’t left him. “See? He’s right there!” Shouto pointed to her side, but Mitsuki relentlessly stare at him, even though her gaze wavered with sadness. “Mitsuki, please if you’d just look! He’s fine, he helped me escape, he’s right there!” Shouto insists, grabbing Mitsuki by the shoulder and turning her, “See? Right there! Katsuki please say something!”

“There’s no one there, Shouto,” Mitsuki says with a strained voice, “Not even a shadow of him left behind.”

“What-” Shouto is confused. He looks back to Katsuki’s relentless stare, still saying nothing. “But… He’s… Katsuki…” he lets her go and runs towards Katsuki, wanting to hold his hand and run away. But Shouto’s hand doesn’t feel Katsuki’s hand, can’t. The momentum of the run makes his body slam against Katsuki, which doesn’t happen, as he went straight through him.

Shouto stopped breathing for a second as he catches himself from falling, slowly looking back with dread. Katsuki too, looked back at him with a cold stoic expression.

“Katsuki?” Shouto breathed, begged, but Katsuki doesn’t deem him any mercy. The love and fondness that was there before are now gone. He looks down at his hand, touching his lips, “But… but we kissed and-”

Shouto felt a pulse on his head, headaches coming in waves. He tried to remember the grotto, their safe haven, remembering how unguarded Katsuki is in his arms. The grotto crumbled the more his head pulsed, Shouto screamed at the sudden pain in his chest. A flash of Katsuki in his arms, burned and bloodied on the concrete.

“No!” Shouto opens his eyes, hoping to rid the scene from his vision, from his mind. His back is at the edge of the cliff, and Katsuki is standing in front of him a bit further away, staring at his soul. “Katsuki, what’s happening?”

“You’re remembering,” he says unnervingly quietly, walking to the side, still facing each other. “Nothing is holding back the truth anymore.” He walks and walks as fire licked his face, leaving behind flesh and bones… blue fire.

“No… it’s…” Shouto choked, his heart is about to burst and he wishes it did. What he’s seeing between the scenes, can’t be real. “No, you’re here, aren’t you? You said you’ll stay with me, you kissed me! You- We’re supposed to run away together. I was supposed to propose to you that day!” Shouto sobbed, stuttering in his breath, eyes wide and manic. “I was about to propose to you at our place… before we were called.”

Katsuki says nothing about his mental breakdown, says nothing as Shouto is hyperventilating. He keeps walking and walking, his body keeps burning until half of his face is a skull. He walks towards his mother, goes behind her, and disappeared. Shouto is forced to face Mitsuki, who had tears down her face.

“And what happened that day?” She asked

Shouto tried to block it, but the haze of his mind is no longer there to keep his mind blurry, not anymore. He remembered a riot, half of the city decimated. Dabi, blue fire haloed Katsuki’s silhouette, his body in Shouto’s arms, and how useless Shouto was, frozen shocked as he held the person that ever give him joy and love. He remembered being angry, seeing Dabi everywhere, wanting to burn everything to the ground. Then the hospital, which he then burned and escaped from. He started killing Dabi, he didn’t know which one is real, so he killed them both. The emptiness that follows is haunting, he didn’t want to live anymore. He wanted to go to that place, a place where he’d be safe, with Katsuki. It’s always come to this, to this cliff, to someone stopping him.

“Katsuki is gone,” Shouto finally says, tears running down his face, he looked away to the other edge of the cliff. It feels like there’s a gaping wound in his body, his voice scratched, “Katsuki is gone… and it’s my fault.” He turns to Mitsuki, “I’m so sorry, I failed to protect him. I failed … My heart isn’t in the pro-hero anymore but I stayed anyway, and it costs me the love of my life.”

Mitsuki reaches out to hug him, but he quickly flinched away, his feet on the edge of the cliff, with no space left to step back from. “You didn’t fail. His death is far from your fault, you’ve already avenged him. I’m glad he’s loved. I’m glad you loved him.”

“I still do, Mitsuki. I still do…” Shouto whispers weakly. He couldn’t tear away the sight of Katsuki’s burned corpse from his eyes. He wishes he can get rid of it, he wished he can just… stopped his mind. He wanted to be where Katsuki is, he doesn’t want to be here. “I need to go to him. I promised that I’ll go wherever he goes,” Shouto says desperately. He can’t see where the grotto is from here, but he doesn’t think that’ll matter. If he did find Katsuki in that grotto, dead, he doesn’t think he’ll live through it. If his memory right now is correct, he had tried, multiple times, and he always woke up in that padded cell, seeing the hallucination of Katsuki’s figure everywhere.

“Wait! Shouto, please look at me,” Mitsuki says desperately.

Shouto cursed himself for hesitating. In shame, his fists tightened, lit up with fire, frosted with ice. He doesn’t want to hurt Mitsuki, the one other person that had treated him like a parent should have. “I don’t want to do this in front of you, but if you-”

“I understand, please, I do! I know exactly how you feel,” Mitsuki says with a watery voice. “He’s my son, my only son and he-” Mitsuki sobbed, tearful, and Shouto’s weakness to her makes him turn around to see Mitsuki wrecked in hiccups and tears. “At least say goodbye. Please give me this, it’s the only thing I ask for if I’m about to lose another person I’ve thought of as my son,” She begged so earnestly, and it was hard to see someone so close to Katsuki hurting that way, especially if it’s the same pain Shouto is currently harboring.

“Why haven’t you done it then?” Shouto says, “If you understood, why are you still here?”

For a slow second Mitsuki only stare with wide eyes, so still, she almost seemed paused entirely. She gulps, “I’m scared.”

At that Shouto smiles consolingly, “Then why not go with me?” He says, extending a hand, the sky behind him, the wind swirls his hair like a black halo. “It’ll only be scary for a while, and then we’ll be with him again, you’ll see. Everything is going to be alright.”

Mitsuki seems hesitant, and Shouto doesn’t get it, but he tried to be understanding and give Mitsuki time. Still, he ponders, what is so scary about reuniting with her son? Perhaps someone else is here with her? Some other person she loves more than Katsuki, her husband? The thought strikes a spike through his heart, Shouto doesn’t have that, not anymore. Katsuki was his only person, one that gave his life meaning. He didn’t realize how empty his life is until Katsuki died. In his own fashion, Katsuki is the only person who gives him love as pure as it comes. Not conditioned to his powers like his father’s love then full of guilt and carefulness as if he’s something to be fixed. Not awkward and distanced like his siblings. His mother barely remembers, barely put together, she loves him like a mother would in an instant, but it's glaringly obvious that she sees someone else in Shouto that kept him at arm's length despite her love, her existence made him feel lonely.

Then there’s Katsuki. He’s been there for him more than his family ever did. All confident, explosion, and fierceness. He loves so deeply, passionately, boldly, going all or nothing. Shouto never knew what love was until Katsuki showed him without even realizing it. Katsuki has his back. Katsuki looks him in the eye to tell him what’s wrong and what he did wrong to be there for him to work with it and loves him anyway. Katsuki who’s a workaholic because his heart is so big. Katsuki who told him that he doesn’t have to be a hero if he doesn’t want to anymore and rather Shouto be happy. Katsuki who holds him when he has nightmares, accompany him to meet his mom, tells Endeavor that Shouto owes him no family dinner, and held his hand whenever they’re together.

Shouto had never felt so supported, so loved, so fully whole until Katsuki. Then he was gone, and it felt like Katsuki took Shouto’s heart and soul with him too, and waiting for his physical body to follow suit.

“Okay,” Mitsuki whispers, she looks terrified, but Shouto can see the determination in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll go with you but… can-can you hold me for a while? Just a bit. And-and can I be the one that pushed us?”

The thought of going with Mitsuki in her arms teared him up, how long has it been since he’s held? “Yes, that would be lovely,” he says, eagerly opening his arms.

Mitsuki’s expression broke into a heartbreaking sadness. Shouto hugs her so tightly. His only salvation is that her pain will end soon. Both of their pain will end. Soon.

There’s a sting on his neck and it burns. Shouto slumped into her arms and pulled away from the edge. Shouto keeps his eyes open to see a tube in her hand pressed against his neck. He recognizes that syringe, he recognizes this feeling. “Mitsuki…” he looks up in betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, her tears falling down onto his face. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Shouto looks up to her image, the tears in his eyes blur the sun with her face, and everything is turning white. “How?”  he sobs, despaired that he’s once again torn away from Katsuki. “How, when Katsuki had already gone? And I’m alone… unloved… empty…  Nothing mattered anymore, don’t you see? He was everything to me, and now he’s gone…”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, strawberry shortcake.”

Shouto’s eyes pop open, gasping at the blinding light. Katsuki’s face comes into view, that usual grumbly pissed-off face and soft eyes that look at Shouto. He’s looking away from a book he’s holding with a raised eyebrow at Shouto, casually as if nothing had happened. The blue sky behind his blond hair frames him like an artful painting. Katsuki’s rough hands play with his long red and white hair as he lays his head on Katsuki’s lap, making Shouto shiver. They’re in the middle of a meadow, on top of a picnic carpet. A calm image, a peaceful existence, real.

“What the fuck is that face for?” Katsuki says with a confused tone, “You look like you just stepped in shit and-”

Shouto wraps him in his arms before Katsuki finished, holding him tightly like his life depended on it. “Katsuki,” Shouto gasps, breath caught in his throat as his tears come pouring. He’s so tired of crying, but he never felt so relieved to find it all a dream. It felt so real, he probably had gone through it all. Escaping, again and again, only to be caught, until finally saved and ran away after Katsuki came to get him.

“Alright, cry baby, everything is fine. It’s just a bad dream,” Katsuki says, sighing while patting his back. He moves away to cup Shouto’s face, rubbing his thumb under his eyes to wipe the tears away. His usually severe face is so soft and loving, Shouto had never felt so grateful. He slumps into Katsuki’s embrace, hugging him close and tight.

“Wherever you go, take me too,” Shouto whispers to his chest, “Please promise me that you’ll never leave me behind.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Really? After I just spent ten years devising a plan to break you out of the most secure prison in the world?”

“Please,” Shouto begs and Katsuki melts over.

Katsuki kisses the top of his head and Shouto feels calmer already. “I promise.”

  -

 -

 -

 -

 -

 -

 -

 Mitsuki holds his brother dearly, rocking him back and forth as his brother smiles at her peacefully, calling her Katsuki over and over again while rambling softly about sweet little things. Shouto didn’t even realize the Tartarus tactical team that came with Mitsuki stayed behind to guard her. Never mind the earpiece on Mitsuki’s ear connected to the team leader, instructing her on what to say and what to do. Shouto’s eyes stay glazed at Mitsuki even as he’s being approached.

Mitsuki turns to him, “Natsuo,” she says, bone-tired.

Natsuo nods and kneels down, “I got him from here.” He administers a tranquilizer for Shouto, shooting the needle at the back of his left elbow, one that is easy to find the vein. In a few seconds, Shouto has his eyes closed and his body limped. No complication.

They watched the guards take him away, grimly silent in each other’s company. Natsuo wants to say he’s sorry, but after half a dozen times this happen and him always asking Mitsuki’s help, it’s starting to feel less sincere, but it is. It is, Natsuo just doesn’t know how to say it, how to say that he’d do anything to erase Mitsuki the responsibility she didn’t ask for when she was the only person on earth that a sober Shouto wouldn’t react violently on, the only person that can administer the hallucinogens that kept Shouto mellow and away from the truth that made him crazy.

“Thank you,” Natsuo tried, but it still feels lacking, “And I’m so-”

“No,” Mitsuki cuts. “None of that, we’re family, let me do this for you, for him.” She looks to the armored car, where Shouto is tightly chained like an animal, Natsuo looks away. “Did you know that Shouto had wanted to propose?”

Natsuo bites his lips, it was the one information that he had wanted to protect Mitsuki from. Shouto had told him and Fuyumi about that, showing them the ring he chose. Natsuo tried to find the ring again after Shouto is admitted to Tartarus, but he couldn’t find it. He’s deathly afraid that he lost it somehow, missed a corner or a drawer where it could’ve been. It didn’t matter anyway, Katsuki died, Shouto has no hope for sanity, and he had wanted to spare Mitsuki the pain of another what could be.

“I knew, I’m sorry.”

“And what did I say about apologizing again?” Mitsuki half-heartedly scolds.

Natsuo hangs his head, “It’s meaningless when you’re not even ‘pissed’?”

“See, you’re a smart boy, so stop saying dumb things, alright?” She said with an amused smile.

Natsuo wants to bite back that it’s been a while since he’s been a boy. Hell, his brother… his little brother had just turned 35 years old, Natsuo feels nauseous at the fact. Ten years had gone by since Touya killed Katsuki and his little brother went crazy, carried Katsuki’s corpse away, and came back to the world alone with laser-focused revenge. Eight years since their father and Touya died from Shouto’s manic rage –allegedly though, no one was there to witness but Shouto was the only one there among their bodies– and Shouto’s first attempt at killing himself. Fuyumi changed her name and appearance to get away from the dangers of nosy investigators and fans of Endeavor and Shouto. Natsuo became Tartarus’ prison doctor to keep a close eye on Shouto while benefitting from the protection as well. Their mother had been in the psych ward when everything went down, Fuyumi and Natsuo told her that Endeavor and Shouto is very busy and they’ll visit soon. They tried telling her the truth at first, she'd have a breakdown but then she’d forget and ask again. At one point it became too much for them to retell it over and over again.

Suddenly, Natsuo felt his age, he’s been mentally exhausted for ten years. As if sensing it, Mitsuki has her arms around his shoulder, comforting his inner turmoil.

“He broke his five-year streak of containment, how are you doing with that?” Mitsuki asked the biggest question Tartarus had been asking since Shouto single-handedly broke out four days ago.

“Terrible, I only have a theory for what happened and I don’t know what to do about it,” Natsuo presses his thumb and index fingers to massage his temple harshly in frustration. “We finally figured out the mix of high-dose tranquilizer and hallucinogens that can subdue him without endangering him or others, but we kept raising the dose because he keeps gaining tolerance. We finally maxed the safe limit of the dose last month, and I haven’t authorized raising the dose again. If I didn’t, then this will happen again, probably. If I did, the cost will make the boards consider a death penalty and it will have lasting effects on Shouto…”

Natsuo looks on grimly, “I know there’s no point in his safety anymore, he has no chance of living a real life, the psychologists can’t get through him, not even Midoriya… but he’s my brother and I can’t-” Natsuo bites his lip, not daring to finish that sentence out loud yet. He swallows it and hangs his head.

Mitsuki is rubbing her hand on his back in soothing circles and Natsuo instantly feels bad for dumping it all on her. He knew all too well about seeing something that he can’t do anything about and feeling useless for it. Even so, he’s glad that Mitsuki heard him anyway.

“It’s a tough thing to decide, but whatever your decision is, I’ll back you up.”

Natsuo’s eyes prick with heat, he closes them and sinks into Mitsuki’s hand. He didn’t know how much he needed that. “Thank you,” he presses his eyes with the heel of his palm, breathes in, then sighs. Natsuo looks to Mitsuki, “How about you? Did he manage to tell you where Katsuki’s body is?”

Mitsuki shakes her head, “It’s okay, I’ve let him go.”

“But… it’s not-”

“Shouto told me something. He said he took my son to a place only they knew. Katsuki’s safe haven. Even I don’t know about this,” Mitsuki chuckled wetly. Her voice and conviction are unshakable, but her eyes are watering. “Wherever my son is, he’s at peace in a place he deems safe, a place he shared with someone he loves. I can live with that.” Her breath hitched at the end, and Natsuo wraps her shoulder in his arm.

It's been a while since they console each other like this. Fuyumi, Natsuo, Mitsuki, and Masaru had been a tight-knit support group when their family started to collapse. Time flows by and they’ve separated ways slowly, but the pillar of support still holds strong as Natsuo holds her tighter to hold his heart from breaking over Shouto’s limp body in a bind, driven on an armored car to a prison where he’d never able to be able to see the light of day or have his sanity back ever again.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Natsuo finally says.

“Only if you’re staying for a cup of tea.”

“Okay, it’s been a while.”

“It truly has,” Mitsuki sighs, patting his back. “It gets easier, isn’t it?”

“But not by much.”

She nods and they walk away together, holding onto each other so as to not crumble.

 -

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 -

Deep inside the bright grotto, lay a half-burned body of a man with his vacant eyes staring at the glow worms hanging on the ceiling. In what’s left of his decaying finger, is an engagement ring.

 -

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+++++

   **We’re back again with a news update about the retired pro-hero – Shouto – that had resurfaced since Tuesday this week. It’s been four days since the first sighting of the beloved pro-hero that had never been seen publically ever since his partner died in a villain attack ten years ago which the public presumed as the reason for his early retirement at only 25 years old. He was spotted at a dollar store where the clerk says that Shouto bought black hair dye and a pair of clothes. The clerk also says that Shouto had looked off, seemingly to be in a daze and talking to himself. Citizens noticed in the CCTV of the dollar store that Shouto is wearing a Tartarus prisoner uniform, which then sparked a demand for the truth.

His latest and probably last sighting is just four hours ago at Hirasaki Canyon where nearby citizens recorded an interaction with Shouto and a lady that is presumed to be the mother of the late pro-hero Ground Zero who was Shouto’s partner. In the footage that has now gone viral, you can see that the Tartarus task force came with the lady to subdue Shouto and bring him back to Tartarus. After the footage, there’s been an uproar in social media about the truth of Shouto’s prison time. According to the Musutafu code of law, every prisoner imprisoned in Tartarus has to hold a public trial to avoid human rights crimes and for public safety. Pro-Hero Shouto had never had such a trial. There’s been talk that citizens are planning to do a strike for the truth. This sparks questions about whether people’s popular theory is true, that Endeavor was killed by Shouto, or if there’s some other truth that Tartarus is hiding from the public regarding Shouto’s discreet arrest for the past ten years.

Either way, the citizens of Musutafu demanded the transparency they were owed. So far, the movement for the truth has been growing all over Japan as the injustice against Shouto gains traction. ***

   +++++

  Shouto doesn’t know where he is. All he has ever seen are two rooms, in which he’s never fully conscious enough to know whenever he’s transported. There is this one –which is a four-sided white padded room with rounded edges– where he often resides. So far it had withstood the hottest of his fire and the coldest of his ice. The second room he’s ever been in is a concrete room, but Shouto is always kept in a coffin-like box with only a small window in front of his eyes for sight. Whenever he’s in there, he’s in a body bind that had also withstood his quirks while people are trying to talk to him.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, nor does he recognize the other people that talked to him in the second room. They seem to try to find out something that he had done, but Shouto didn’t remember doing anything they’re accusing. The second room is also for guests to visit him. He saw Fuyumi and Natsuo, though he can only remember them visiting him only once. Sometimes Katsuki visits too, and he doesn’t always visit in the second room.

Shouto doesn’t remember the visits too well, and he blames it all on the strangers in uniforms that kept subduing him with chemicals. The gas that emitted from somewhere in the padded wall would make him lose control of his limbs, flopping on the floor like a puppet cut at the strings. Then one of them will enter from a door that had been blended seamlessly through one of the walls, injecting him with something that takes away his consciousness or worse, sometimes makes him hallucinate. He swore there was one time he sees his family in the padded cell, and times when he sees Katsukis everywhere. None of them were ever kind, but Shouto knows it’s not them. He might be hallucinating but he’s still sane. And when he’s not hallucinating, he completely loose consciousness, and who knows what those people did to him.

Which begs the question: Why is he here?

He tried to ask, but after a hundred times he asked, he’s answered with silence and made-up stories. So, Shouto stopped asking and starts attacking instead. Because he needs to get out of here. His mother must’ve been wondering where he is, did Natsu and Fuyumi get to explain to her what happened? Did Katsuki know at all that he was here? How many school days Shouto had lost?

Shouto is so sick of feeling like his mind is full of bees in the cloud of smoke. He feels nauseous but there’s nothing in his stomach to vomit out of. He’s so sick of feeling weak, of barely even being able to stand or pull himself up by the elbows. He tried to get out, he knows he did, but he never remembered how it goes past stepping out of his cell.

If only he just had help. If only… If only Katsuki would save him.

Shouto believes he will. He just needs to stay strong and wait for him.

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 He almost had it. Shouto was finally able to see other people than Katsuki, he had begun to see new faces. It was a success! If he had just gotten further, if only Fuyumi hadn’t called Tartarus, he would have more information about what he had to work with Shouto’s psyche.

A week after Shouto is brought back, daily psyche eval for insane prisoners continues on, including Shouto’s, just before Shouto’s daily dose of hallucinogen and tranquilizer that Natsuo had established for him.

They put Shouto into the containment box with only a small square of glass to let them look at each other. He prayed, he prayed that when Shouto look at him, he will truly recognize him. Then he’s brought into the room in his casket-like box, eyes grey and cyan, looking at him in a haze, outside of the tiny window in the casket, to the glass separating the room.

“Katsuki? I knew you’d come back. I’m sorry I got caught, it won’t happen again… please!”

The desperation in Shouto’s eyes makes his eyes prick with tears, but Izuku also feels a soaring accomplishment. Shouto had remembered what happened last week, he was usually always a blank slate. Shouto is still looking at him as Katsuki, but it’s still progress. Shouto is starting to remember what happened outside his cell, even though he still can’t remember that Katsuki is dead, but he’ll get there.

A hand on his shoulder startles him, his senior gave him a pitying look, “I’m sorry Izuku, it seems like he hasn’t gone better.”

Izuku sighs, hoping it’ll look as hopeless as he hoped, “It’s alright, I knew this would be a possibility, but I’m not giving up on him.”

His senior is giving him a pitying look before glancing at his watch, “Oh, I need to go, you sure it’s okay for you to do this on your own?”

“It’s not like it’s my first time, Junpei-san,” Izuku consoles. “Also, Tartarus doesn’t have the budget to keep a team of psychologists. We're the only two, and you’re needed elsewhere.”

“I know, guess we just have to make do. I'm just worried about you kid, with what happened with your friend there.”

"Thank you, but I still need to be professional. And Shouto needed me now more than ever."

"You're a good kid, good luck." His senior says his goodbye with an encouraging smile. Junpei disappears down the corridor, to the west wing where he’d deal with his portion of prisoners.

Izuku knows that he has to press the little button that will put Shouto partially sedated for Izuku’s safety before the psyche eval. But Izuku walks past it and enters the room where Shouto’s casket is. Shouto’s dose of hallucinogen and tranquilizer last more than a day, only given daily as a precaution to keep him in a consistent state of high and reassuringly safe. Shouto should still be out of it, and yet, when his mismatched eyes finally recognize Izuku approaching closer, Shouto gasps.

“Izuku?”

“Hi, Shouto,” he tried to keep his voice calm, even though his heart is beating loud from hearing his name from Shouto’s voice, for the first time in nine years. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

Shouto struggles, and Izuku waited with bated breath, “I… I killed Endeavor, didn’t I? And I’m in Tartarus.”

Izuku swallowed a sob, relieved and in tears at Shouto’s accomplishment. He remembered. He believed. He no longer denies it and yet, he’s not violent.

Izuku had been giving him less and less of his daily dose. When Izuku opened the door of Shouto’s cell and lead him out of Tartarus, he was scared and nervous about his little experiment. But to make any progress at all, Izuku has to have a peek into Shouto’s mind, the root of the trauma in his psyche without being tempered. So, he followed Shouto discreetly across the country to Hirasaki Canyon, staying out of his sight, hearing his conversation with phantom Katsuki and with Fuyumi, making sure he was safe. Izuku’s quirks helped a lot in doing that while keeping his distance and stealth. It was heartbreaking to just stand on the sidelines and watch Shouto’s deeply rooted grief out splayed in the open, seeing how the only time he smiles at all is when he presumably talked to Katsuki. Shouto's imagination is very vivid, there are moments when Izuku is uncomfortable in his surveillance, but Izuku toughed it out, it's for Shouto's own good.

Izuku knows he’s breaking protocol and the law, and going against his direct officer, Natsuo. But Natsuo is clouded with grief and mental exhaustion that he forgot that they should’ve been treating Shouto instead of just drugging him on and on. Natsuo has been putting a bandaid on an open wound. Perhaps Natsuo had given up on Shouto’s sanity, which is worse. Shouto doesn’t deserve this, he deserves a real chance to heal, a real chance in life for what’s left of his life. To do that, Shouto needs someone to go above and beyond for his recovery. Even more than making Tartarus lend their high-security cell to keep a dangerous mental patient.

“Izuku, please. I have to get out, Katsuki… he’s waiting for me.”

Not all delusion is dissolved, it seems, but it’s progress all the same, just as Izuku predicted. How can anyone even start to heal Shouto when he’s been put out of his mind for the past ten years? Izuku had only been here a year but Shouto is already making progress. As he will continue to do so, because no one did, and his best friend – Katsuki’s fiance – deserved better.

“Don’t worry, Shouto. I’ll get you out of here.”

This time, Izuku won't fail. Shouto had been failed many times enough.

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Name                       : Todoroki Shouto Hero/Villain Code    : Shouto Quirk                       : Double Quirk – Ice and Fire Date of birth            : 11 January 2134 Confinement Date    : 21 July 2159 Confinement Period : Indefinitely Cell type                  : Padded Security level            : High Conciousness           : Subdued Behavior                   : Violent Reason for confinement             : Dangerously Insane Transfer Patient from Musutafu Psych Ward. Suicide Watch.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Summary:

Itachi must pay for all of his sins.

 Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of Torture, blood, gore, and violence. Full tag on AO3 link.

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a couple of notes: - I am completely clueless in what happened in Boruto. This is set when Boruto is like 15 and Naruto is saving him somehow. So, here, Naruto and Sasuke is 35 or 36 yo. - i went into this bcs i wanna dabble into horror for fun, but it just got turned to angst in the end... - weird realm that i made up

I'm quite clueless in how i should tag this, but i did my best. Feel free to tell me what tags i should add!

enjoy!

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: Oneshot Rating: Explicit Warnings: S E X, Porn With Plot, Light Dom/Sub undertones

Summary:

So, how does one cope with being touch-starved and emotionally starved? The solution might have been staring him right in the face.

Tim notices that he's lonely and hadn't processed how heartbroken he is over his break-up with Bernard two years ago. At the same time, he also just noticed that there's an awkward sexual tension between him and Damian. Awkward how? Well... aren't they supposed to hate each other?

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Words: 7k

They’ve always hated each other ever since Tim can remember, and that’s why when he notices the awkward sexual tension between them that has been going on for a while. It baffles him, though… not entirely unappreciated.

Look, Damian is 21 and hot. The boy has become a man and what a man he’s become. His dark olive-tinted skin looks delicious over his bulging muscles. He’s grown as tall as Bruce, hitting that growth spurt at 18 and suddenly filled up. Don’t even get Tim started on his face. Damian’s round baby face had become sharper by his high cheekbones and strong browbones. His green eyes are always in a permanent smothering expression.

It starts slow. Damian was dumped here like a hissy defensive kitten with sharp murderous claws that can literally murder and he treats Tim like he’s the bane of his existence. Damian mellows out over the year and they begrudgingly work together. What starts as distrust and competition had turned into cold camaraderie, and then turned into well… whatever this is…

Damian clicks his tongue when Tim limped from the batmobile that Damian was driving, going straight to the med bed instead of snapping at whatever Damian is cooking under his sharp tongue.

“Since when have you had that wound?” and that’s another difference. Damian from a few years ago wouldn’t ask even though it’s in a cold and bitter tone. No, Damian would’ve gone straight berating about how unreliable Tim is and how irresponsible it is for Tim to hide an injury from a fellow partner.

Tim from a few years ago would’ve snapped back, but now Tim answers, “Since before Batgirl called you in.”

“You could’ve died.”

“Yeah, what’s new?”

A harsh sigh echoes through the cave followed by heavy steps stomping towards him. Tim sighs and turns around, not really wanting to fight but God be damned if Tim doesn’t put up a fight. Tim barely opens his lips, and Damian ducked, his broad shoulder on Tim’s torso, and lift him up like a sack of potatoes. Tim is horrifiedly a little turned on when Damian’s hand is in his thighs while the other is on his waist, dangerously close to his ass.

“Hey!”

“If you’re going to kick me, use your better leg. I’ll drop you if you aggravate your wound.”

“You don’t know it’s a wound! I probably just fractured a bone,” Tim winced when his right leg swings. “Yeah, that’s definitely bone fracture.”

“That means that and a wound.”

“But I-!”

“You’re bleeding all over the floor, and now it’s all over me.”

Tim heaved to deny that, but he looks to the floor, and there are traces of blood on the floor that are still red. Tim huffs, not quite embarrassed, but pissed that Damian just called him out.

“Whatever, your costume is red anyway.”

“Ah yes, to hell with hygiene,” Damian says sarcastically. “Hold on.”

Tim held to his back as Damian bends down to put Tim on the med-bed. Damian takes off his Robin mask, and his hair askew, eyes brilliant green, sweat-slicked his saturated skin. Tim sneaks a gulp.

“Strip,” Damian says.

“Geez, buy me dinner first.”

And this is why they have a painfully stiff sexual tension. Who even says ‘strip’ like Damian does? With so much power and gruff in his voice while looking at Tim with smoldering eyes, not fair. Obviously, Tim has to tease back, even if it worsens things (or improved? He doesn’t really know where this is going, or if this is going anywhere at all.)

Damian gives him another severe look, “Tim.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and takes off his cape and all the gear on him, “I thought your humor has gotten better, baby bat.”

“Don’t call me that,” Damian hisses like a kitten.

Tim can’t help himself, “Dick calls you that.”

“Dick is different.”

“Wow, favoritism much? I’m hurt.”

“As if you cared.”

That one stings a little though. He had thought he played civil enough with Damian to have an understanding. Though, not like Tim had been good at showing the civility he assumed.

Tim bites back, “No, I don’t. So, no thanks for carrying me. I know how to walk and stitch myself.” It doesn’t have enough bite as Tim wants, it came out more like a pathetic whine and honestly, Tim doesn’t hate Damian enough to care how hurt he sounded.

Tim bends sideways to get the scissors to cut his suit. Damian grabs his arm and deeply sighs.

“Let’s fight later after you’re well enough to fight me back,” Damian says, his voice isn’t as terse.

Tim sees it, hears it, and is a little weakened by it. He scoffs, “I can fight you here and now and still win.”

“I would’ve loved to see you try, You’re lucky I’m not a heartless murderer… anymore.” Damian sits by a chair and takes off Tim’s boots. Just like that, no prompt at all.

Tim snorts at the acknowledgment, “Wow, thank you for sparing my life, ex-child assassin.” He gulps when he sees Damian down there. It’s so alarmingly intimate that Damian is taking off his boots.

“Why do you always have such a mouth on me?” Damian smirks at him when he says that as he’s grabbing the scissors and starts cutting.

And now it’s just wildly erotic. Tim is nervous that their skin will touch. His skin shivers when bared to the cold air. Damian holds his leg too gently to be in character, and he keeps cutting and cutting until his right thigh is fully exposed. There’s a lot of blood there, but Tim is too busy holding back his horniness to care. With that established, Tim runs his mouth to distract himself.

“Me? As if you didn’t start it first when you came to this house like a-… like a tornado of blades!”

“Tornado of blades?”

“You know what I meant,” Tim grumbles, looking away from Damian’s eyes and towards his exposed leg. There’s a big gash on his thigh that’s gonna leave a mark, an addition among many. It looks pretty nasty, instant boner killer. Tim sighs. Well, it’s not like he’s running for Miss Universe, but it’s really nasty.

“That I hurt you?” Damian asks in a nonchalant tone.

“Hadn’t that always been your goal? What do you want me to give you? A medal that says ‘Congratulations for being the youngest person that gave me insecurity issues’?”

Tim is waiting for the usual retort of ‘Oh please, grow a pair,’ or something akin to ‘you deserve it'. But to his horrifying conclusion, none of it came. Damian had looked… chastised. It’s uncomfortable.

“Is that what I had done?”

Tim gapes at Damian’s faint voice, head ducked and retracting. The proud and loud Damian is literally hunching his back with tails between his legs right at Tim’s knees, cleaning the surrounding of his wound with cold alcohol.

“We-well, I know you were a kid and-”

Damian snorts, and Tim peeks that Damian looks like he’s been holding back laughter.

Tim flushes, “You ASSHOLE! To think I was starting to feel bad for you!” Tim hits him on the shoulder and grabs his hair to shake away that smug grin. It works.

“Timothy Jackson Wayne! I’m disinfecting your fucking gaping wound!”

“Don’t scold me like you’re my mother. My real mother doesn’t even care about me enough to scold me!”

“If I let you trauma-dump on me will you finally chill the fuck down?”

“No!” Tim kicks him with his good leg.

“Ow,” Damian exclaims.

“Now, I’ll chill out.”

“Yeah, you better do after treating me like a punching bag.”

Tim scoffs indignantly but kept it at that. Sulking and crossing his arms. Damian offers an ibuprofen injection, but Tim shakes his head no. He let Damian disinfect his wound after a brief warning of ‘sting in coming’ when Damian grabs a new bottle of alcohol with a numbing agent in it. Tim bites his lips to hold back from screaming, it gets easier with the years he’s been Red Robin, still hurt like a bitch enough to earn a hiss out of him.

When it’s finally done, Tim sighs a breath of relief at the slight numbness it gave and breathes easier. Though he knows it’s not the end, there’s still the stitching.

“I’m sorry,” the faint voice cuts through his labored breath and Tim looks down again to see Damian tucking away the blood-soaked cotton pads. Tim is instantly uncomfortable, hoping that Damian is once again, scoffing and hiding his annoying giggles… but he’s not. “If you don’t know yet that I am, I’m saying it now. I’m sorry, for treating you like a worm.”

Tim looks away, folding his arms, both because he’s uncomfortable and unreasonably happy about the years-late apology. “Tsk, I know… It’s just how we are. How we always are.”

“Do you want us to keep doing this? Just snapping at each other for the sake of it?” Damian asks casually, but Tim isn’t falling for it again.

“You don’t hurt me, Damian,” Tim says, eyes boring at the back of Damian’s head as he gets more supplies from the cabinet. “Not anymore. Not for a long time now.”

Damian breathes evenly, masking a sigh. “Good then,” he says nonchalantly, but he looks different when he turns around to see Tim.

Tim stops him by the shoulders when Damian moves to grab his leg. “Am I hurting you?”

Damian’s expression mellowed, “Have you ever truly tried?”

Tim scowls at his answer, feeling pathetic, “No.”

Because no matter how murderous a baby is, a baby is still a baby. Tim snaps back at Damian, but he couldn’t really put his whole back into it. Not when the voice that throws him insults are squeaky and high-pitched like children in a Mcdonald's ball pit. Not when the fists thrown at him are way smaller than his. He felt pathetic, maybe he should’ve tried, maybe he shouldn’t? Who knows, it’s just kind of awful that Tim had realized he let himself be a punching bag.

“Time for stitches. You sure you don’t want painkiller?”

“No.” Tim grabs the sheets into his fists. “Go ahead.”

Damian seems to want to argue but he complies and starts stitching him. Tim will never admit it even on his deathbed, but he doesn’t want the painkiller so he wouldn’t focus on how careful Damian’s fingers is on him, how warm and rough his palm is yet gently holding onto his thigh as his giant fingers delicately handle the needle that pierces his skin. He also hopes that the pain will prevent boners because Damian tucked between his knees while holding his sensitive inner thigh is too much for his self-control.

Tim swallows a groan at how pathetic he is. He’s just horny and touch-starved. It’s been a while since he had sex. The breakup with Bernard two years ago had been ugly and rough. The worst thing is, it was a long-standing relationship. They were together for three years, and at one point Tim was so in love with him. What did Bernard say? One missed call too many? Long nights AWOL too many? Tim hadn’t even known Bernard was suffering in all those three years. What does that say about Tim? Imagine being broken up by a boyfriend you love that had also loved you back but not wanting to be hurt anymore. Then they fought, loud and big. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? We always talk about everything!’ ‘What could you have done anyway? You’d never choose me first!’

It hurts Bernard that that’s the case. It hurts Tim to hear that because it’s true. It makes Bernard angry that it’s true, and it makes Tim angry that he’s made to believe that Bernard had understood.

They had said their apologies a few weeks later, but nothing is the same. They went from best friends, to in love, to a long committed relationship, and now they don’t speak anymore. Tim hadn’t had any romantic inclinations after Bernard. Doesn’t even have sex since then either. Maybe he should fix that. This sexual tension with his pseudo stepbrother whom he barely has any truce isn’t healthy.

“Penny for your thought?” Damian asks, breaking his trance.

Tim bites back a retort ‘why do you care?’. Truce, remember? Fragile as it is, Tim does want it. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“I hardly believe that. You’re always thinking about something.” Damian continues stitching. Curse him, now Tim is focused on how Damian’s dark hand looks wrapped around his pale scarred thigh. (It looked insanely hot). “You don’t have to tell me, I’m just gonna say that all that frowning is gonna make you look a decade older.”

Tim scoffs, “if only I have an anti-aging green bathwater.”

Damian chuckles with mirth, and Tim short-circuits a bit. They don’t make each other laugh, they never have whatever tension this is, and they don’t co-exist without insults thrown.

But this… Tim doesn’t mind whatever this is.

They continue their peaceful coexisting until Damian put Tim’s leg under MRI and says, “Your leg isn’t broken, you’re just being dramatic.”

That sets off their banter again. Even then, Tim let Damian carry him like a sack of potato (again) to put him in a wheelchair. He rolls Tim to the kitchen and starts making a meal, still bantering. Even so, Tim notices the difference. The barbed wire around their words had lessened with the years, but now, it’s entirely gone.

What’s left is an enjoyable and scenic company. Tim is staring, enjoying the view, and doesn’t really know what to make of his new attraction.

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 He should’ve known it was a bad idea. What was he fucking thinking?

Tim ran out of the club like a bat out of hell, feeling icky in his skin.

He went clubbing for the sole purpose of picking someone up, and boy did it work. Tim knows he’s hot. He’s considerably tall, lean-legged, broad-shouldered, and pretty on the face. He wore his tight leather pants and a sheer top that guarantee him a lay. It did, and it started to feel wrong. He doesn’t know the person that was touching him but it didn’t feel good at all.

Once again, what the fuck was he thinking? This isn’t Tim. Tim is not the type to fuck someone he doesn’t know. He never was! Not even before Bernard. Has he gone so stupidly touch-starved that he forgets that?

Tim’s drive back home with cold sweat all over him is answer enough.

Tim stomps up to his room, and just his luck, Damian is in the sitting room, lounging with Alfred the cat. Damian is staring at him, hopefully at his nipples and not his in-the-brink-of-tears expression.

“Where were you to justify that thing you’re wearing?” Damian says, his voice a tad bit lower.

“The club.”

“You were going to a club? Why on earth would you do that?” Damian says incredulously. Great, even Damian knows Tim better than Tim, that’s just great.

“None of your fucking business,” Tim scalds, and speedwalk into his room.

He showers, scrubbing his skin clean and smooth with a bath glove. Puts on his softest most oversized worn shirt and sweatpants and tucks himself into bed while his tablet plays his favorite gaming YouTuber playing dumb video games. Tim felt better after all that, but he still kept being reminded of Bernard.

Shit, it’s been two years, why is he still so hung up?

Sure their parting had been rocky, but they’ve talked it through and agreed to separate. Tim isn’t in love with him anymore.

It’s just been… lonely. Tim hadn’t realized how lonely he felt until the slight touch Damian gave him turned him on, both physically and mentally. It’s not until he realizes that he likes riling up Damian for his attention that he’s been lonely. Tim hadn’t been coping very well for two years.

Tears welled up in his ears and he wiped them harshly.

Damn him. Damn it all.

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 So, how does one cope with being touch-starved and emotionally starved?

The solution might have been staring him right in the face.

“You’re stupid.”

“No, you’re stupid, stupid.”

Damian grits his teeth, baring them, “We’re not fucking children, Tim. Just accept that your plan sucks and move on!”

Tim smirks, Damian is getting pissed off, perfect. “Really? You sure act like one. Stop being stubborn and let me fucking explain!”

They’re arguing in the Batcave. The rest of the bats had logged off to leave them alone because of their arguing, perfect.

“I’ve listened to you bitch for 34 minutes. Can’t your big ego take a humble hit?” Damian steps closer, trying to intimidate him, it’s not working, it’s perfect.

“I’m not perfect, but I’m smarter than you at least. I’ve done this before little baby bat. You might have the education, but none of my plans had ever deviated outside my backup.”

Tim stands tall, staring right at Damian’s smothering jade eyes. Damian’s chest is so filled out and they’re so close. The tension is so thick and Tim itches to snap it, but now would be too premature.

“Get off your high horse,” Damian hisses.

Perfect. “Make me,” Tim says with an alluring smirk and a cock of the hips.

He’s laying it thick, and Damian notices. He notices because Damian’s eyes widen. Gone is the angry furrowing expression and Damian is just in a state of pure shock… and hunger. Because Damian is finally acknowledging his low-cut v-neck sweater, his tight black yoga pants, and his pink-tinted strawberry lip balm.

Tim moves slowly enough for Damian to lean back when he grabs Damian by the collar of his zip-up hoodie and pulls him into an experimental kiss. Or, it was supposed to be experimental. The fruit of his labor came to an early harvest when Damian kisses back instantly, deepening the kiss, grabbing his ass, and lifting Tim up to sprawl him on top of the mission desk. Damian fits himself between Tim’s legs like he owned the space. Tim shudders when Damian rubs on him, their flaccid cock rubbing through the cloth as Damian’s tongue goes down his throat.

It's too much at the same time all too suddenly. It’s perfect.

Tim hooks his legs behind Damian’s waist and pulls him closer. Hands roamed under the hoodie and gropes at Damian’s toned body. His fingers rake at the back of Damian’s head and grab the hair by his nape. Damian’s groan travels down Tim’s throat and it’s delicious. Damian’s hands had moved from his ass to his thigh and under his shirt, groping his chest. Tim shudders at the touch. His crotch pulsed when Damian grinds his hips at the same time he flicks his nipple. Tim moaned too loudly at that and Damian pulls away to drag his teeth down Tim’s throat. Tim whines as shivers run down his spine when Damian sends wet kisses from his jaw down his throat.

“You’ve been riling me up on purpose,” Damian hisses, grabbing Tim’s jaw to make him see him in the eye. It shouldn’t turn him on this much but damn, Damian being a dom turns him on so badly.

“You like my insults?” Damian grinds his crotch again and he dug a thumb into Tim’s lips. The breach in his mouth makes him excited for other things that could be breaching his mouth. From what his crotch is feeling, it’s gonna be a massive breach. “You’re that desperate for my attention?”

Tim leans away from Damian’s fingers, grabbing Damian by the collar and pulling so hard Damian falls on top of him. Tim swears he feels Damian’s cock twitch at that. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your eyes stripping me naked.” Tim bites his ear and his other hand to grope Damian’s ass and clench. Damian curses in something Arabic. “Now, get off of me and get running to my room.”

“Don’t think you can just order me around without repercussion,” Damian warns with a low rumbling voice as he grabs Tim’s ass and lifts him.

Tim holds on and is prickly annoyed that Damian isn’t letting him go and insist on carrying him. Tim pulls Damian’s hair again, and wetly kisses his throat.

“Fuck! Tim, I could’ve dropped you.”

“If you did, I’ll kick your ass.” Tim breathes on his ear, “and I’d demand you to fuck me on the floor.”

Damian squeezes his ass so hard it stings. It’s going to bruise. Perfect.

With a lot of cursing and fanfare, they finally arrived at the closest room, Damian’s. It smelt like old books and a touch of frangipani.

Damian throws him to his bed, and Tim bounced from the force. Damian is on top of him right away.

“Who’s fucking who?”

“You’re fucking me… for now.”

“For now, huh?” Damian smirks, leaning back only slightly so that his breath still ghosts over Tim’s skin. Rough hands slipped under his yoga pants. “You’re seeing us doing this again? Fucking me?”

“Vividly,” Tim says, shimmying his leggings off for Damian to pull out with an easy swoop. His cock sprung out in the open, semi-hard already. He moves to take off his sweater but Damian holds his arm.

“Keep the sweater,” Damian’s voice thick with lust.

If Tim was semi-hard then, now he’s all the way stiff. Damian moves away a little to get the lube. Tim wants to say not to bother, but it’s been a while and Damian is big enough to draw blood if he’s not prepped. Tim leans back, shoulder-length hair splayed, watching Damian put lube on his thick finger then look up to Tim with those brilliant greens and his heart stopped. He hasn’t even touched Tim. Wow, he’s that starved for attention.

Holding eye contact, Tim is caught off guard when Damian slips a finger in his ass, “Jerk.”

Damian grins evilly, an elbow perched beside Tim’s face. For a moment, Damian is looking at him like he isn’t just hot, which is mind-boggling and makes Tim flushes.

“What?” Tim nips, and Damian smiles softly.

“You’re very beautiful,” Damian whispers like he’s out of breath. Something in Tim’s face makes Damian grins wider.

“I’m already on your bed, no need to suck up to me,” Tim looks away. Another finger enters and Tim gasps, instinctually holding Damian’s shoulder.

“Hm, good idea,” Damian dips to kiss him, then his jaw, then his throat, then his collarbone.

Tim clenches Damian’s collar, “Wait.” Damian stops immediately, including his fingers, looking tentatively at Tim. Tim flustered a little at the attention, “My mouth is bored.”

Damian rolls his eyes, “God forbid you to ask me anything straight away.”

“This is not a straight activity.”

Damian huffs and kisses him again. Tim wraps his arm around Damian’s shoulder slipping inside his clothes to roam the skin of his back while his other hand unzips Damian’s hoodie. Holy brick wall Damian’s muscles are so tight against his skin, and it feels so smooth aside from the occasional bumps Tim meets from the raised scars. Tim’s palms roam Damian’s chest, groping the little fat there, pinching one of his nipples. Tim swallows Damian’s groan and Damian hooked his fingers inside his ass, brushing against his prostate. Tim tensed, legs convulsing on Damian’s sides. God, even pressed against Tim’s inner thighs, Damian’s body feels so good. Warm, velvety, a perfect mixture of hard and soft, grinding deliciously against Tim’s torso, his sweater rode up under his armpits.

Damian’s fingers brushed against his prostate again, but not quite pressing. Tim moves his hips to chase his fingers but Damian moves away when Tim does. There’s a smile against Tim’s open mouth. The asshole doing it on purpose! The third finger enters and Tim can’t handle it anymore.

“Put it in,” Tim says on Damian’s lips and pushes him, “come on!”

Damian doesn’t, just laying there with a shit-eating grin, “You need the prep,” Damian digs into him until the whole length of his fingers are in, making his cock pulse. “You haven’t had sex lately.”

“You don’t know that,” Tim snipes.

“I’ve been watching you.”

“Wow, stalker much?”

“Does that mean that’s true?”

“Ugh, are you 20-questioning me or are you fucking me?”

“I can’t see why I can’t do both.” Damian spreads his fingers, and Tim feels so obscene from being stretched gaping like this, his body is on fire at how Damian is toying his hole.

“Damian! I swear to all your ancestor if you don’t fuck me right now-!”

Damian chuckles, “No need to get spicy, kitten.” He pushes the band of his sweatpants down, and holy shit there’s a weapon of mass destruction right between his thighs. Tim is basically vibrating with anticipation. His mouth is watering at the curved dark cock and red tip already leaking with pre-cum. Tim wants to lick it like it’s the last cream on the bowl, but his hole is hungrier than his mouth, for now.

Damian is putting more lube on his dick, and Tim’s heart is racing.

“If you come in five minutes, I’ll kill you.”

Damian grins cockily, turning Tim around and grabbing his hips so hard he felt his meat is being clawed out when Damian pulls and slams his cock in. It punched a whine out of Tim, the burn isn’t as bad as he wanted but the ring of muscle there convulsed against Damian’s teasing slow pumps is twitching from the delicious stretch. His inside is so full and hot, slippery from the lube and-

“Fuck!” Tim gasps when Damian bottoms out in a sudden jerk, keeping him buried there with his death grip on Tim’s waist. That grip is going to bruise, (Tim hoped it will.) Damian hums pleasantly as he roams his hands along his spine, thrusting his hips as if he’s savoring every inch of his insides.

Tim leans back, wanting to have all of Damian inside him, but a large hand held his back, pressing there.

“Tut, tut,” Damian clicks his tongue, and Tim puts his face to the side, seeing that annoying shit-eating grin.

“Damian, what the hell? Fucking move.”

“No.”

“WHAT?”

“I’ll move however I want, what can you do about it?” Damian smirks, dragging his cock painfully slow but so thoroughly. The tip of his cock has been brushing against his sweet spot but not really abusing it. Making Tim shiver and calmed down before he twitches again. A loop of torture. “I can just stay here, use you as a cock warmer until… what did you say? Five minutes?”

Tim glares at Damian who looks even smugger. Tim hooks his feet on the back of Damian’s thighs and pushes himself back, but those yummy bulky arms damn him by holding him back. If Tim can’t use force, then he’s going to use… his mouth.

“What? Can’t handle rough and fast?” Tim smirks, “I saw your dick, you’re about to come just from my voice, didn’t you?”

Damian grits his teeth, his face is getting pink, and his mortified expression is adorable.

“Or is it my ass?” Tim rocks his hips back and Damian loosened his hands for Tim to be able to bounce on his cock. “Tight aren’t I? As you said, it’s been a while. You’ll cum if I just-” Tim yelped when Damian grabs the lock of hair on his nape and pull, hard. Tim’s back crashes against Damian’s hard chest and Tim’s leaking cock is dripping and bouncing in the air.

“Say that to yourself,” Damian growls in his ear and bites so hard it stings. Tim’s pulse is in his throat, biting his lips from a moan.

Damian starts fucking him, finally. Hard, rough, and merciless. Tim’s ass landed hard on Damian’s hips in a loud slap-slap-slap that sounds wet from the lube. Damian’s hand that had grabbed his hair moved to his neck. Oh fuck Damian’s hand almost circled his neck completely. Damian gives it a squeeze, not too hard that he couldn’t breathe, but there’s pressure enough and Tim is so painfully hard from that as if Damian’s grunt and harsh breath on his ear aren’t torture enough.

Tim is holding onto Damian’s clawing grip at his hip and his other hand reached back to Damian’s flexed bicep as he’s using Tim’s neck as a rod to yank him back to his body. Tim lost control of his voice at some point and sigh, moan, and scream whenever he feels close. He wants to last longer than Damian to maybe coax a blow job out of him. It’s starting to be a little hopeless though because Damian started fucking talking.

“Can’t bitch now, can you?” Damian smiles at the leaf of his ear, slamming even harder.

“Oh, fuck, Damian!” Tim whines, too lost in pleasure to be embarrassed.

“No, you can’t. If I knew my cock would shut you up, I would’ve dicked you long ago.”

Tim agrees. Not the shutting up part, but if he knew Damian can fuck like a god with a cock to match, he would’ve done this long ago.

Tim is pushed down, hands on his shoulder and his face buried in the sheets. Damian’s knees pressed to his sides and started humping his ass like a dog, using him like meat.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck! Aah…!” Tim muffles himself, can’t do anything but lay down and take Damian’s hot rod. Tim’s dick rubbing against the sheets with Damian’s hard, merciless piston pounding is making him dangerously close. Not to mention that his hole is going sore. He felt his ass gripping Damian as he pulls out and burns when Damian slams into him.

“Lu-lube,” Tim breathed out. Damian heard his incoherent word and doused his dick and entrance with more lube, working through it.

Damian flips him, and the curve of his dick hits his spot. Tim gasps so hard he feels light-headed. Damian looks haggard on top of him, a few strands of hair sticking to his forehead, eyes worried, “What is it?”

“If we do this in this position, I’m going to cum.”

Damian grins and starts slamming into him with the same roughness when Tim is even more sensitive, which is rude… but also, Tim felt like he’s being tortured in heaven.

“Shit! Ahh…! Damian! You-” Tim bites his lips, knees squeezing Damian’s flanks involuntarily. Tim is grabbing the sheets into fists, holding them for dear life.

And it’s so unfair how hot Damian is when he’s groaning and harshly breathing as he hovers over Tim. Damian’s eyes are stripping Tim even more naked as he watches Tim’s gasping face, his labored chest, his leaking cock, and finally, at Tim’s eyes. Damian looks at him differently, like he’s searching deep as if trying to commit him to memory. All this while Damian’s cock is making a wreck out of Tim’s body, continuously abusing his prostate.

“Damian… Damian! I won’t last long- fuck!” Tim felt it. His balls hurt so much, his cock is weeping and begging to just cum. His ass feels so hot and his insides felt like he’s been turned inside out. Tim’s body starts to jerk, and he’s trying to lean away from Damian’s torturous aim at his prostate.

“Cum then,” Damian breathed, leaning down, biting at the base of his throat.

“No,” Tim groaned.

Damian looks up from Tim’s chest with an incredulous expression, “What? Why not?”

“I want to cum on your mouth,” Tim grits, looking at Damian half demanding and half begging.

Damian smirks playfully, “Yeah? And what do I get in return?”

“Cum inside.”

Damian has a satisfied smirk and kisses him. Damian slowed down so they can kiss deeper. Tongue in each other’s mouth, rubbing, domineering, wrestling for more contact. Damian grabs his jaw as fingers play with his hair. Tim gropes Damian’s back and down to his ass. Damian leans away, hands on Tim’s jaw to make Tim look at him. Damian gives a few harsh, deep pumps inside Tim, bottoming out till Tim’s ass is flat against Damian’s hips. Damian lowly growls and gasps when Tim felt warmth poured inside him. Tim can feel Damian’s cock pulsing against his walls. Damian’s temple leaned on top of Tim’s sternum, gathering breath as the hands holding Tim shakes a little.

Suddenly, it’s all too tender. Tim puts his hand on Damian’s head and pets him. His hair is prickly like grass, it feels pleasant against his thickened hands. Damian kisses his chest, pulling out in an obscene sound of ‘splech’ and Tim feels hot cum dripping out of his hole. Damian kisses him down to his navel and slumps down to level his face at Tim’s cock. Damian goes down still looking at Tim, heavy-lidded and blissed out. Tim gulped when Damian stares at him as he kisses along the shaft pushing the cock’s head at Damian’s lips as he sucks shallowly.

Of fucking course Damian is going to tease him yet again.

“Damian, if you don’t put your mouth on me-”

“Now, now,” Damian smirks, tongue running down under the shaft, “Ask nicely.”

“DAMIAN!”

“Come on…” Damian bats his long thick lashes languidly at Tim, and fuck his dick is about to explode.

“Please… P-please I want to come in your mouth.”

Damian smirks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it, dear?” kissing the tip of his cock, and then as suddenly as Damian fucks him, he slides Tim’s cock down his throat in one thrust. No gag no nothing, just right up his throat and Tim screams. Damian bobbed his head, tongue wriggling under his shaft. Then Damian had the fucking gall to put his fingers inside him again, timing his mouth with nudging his prostate.

Tim is clutching Damian’s hair, pushing his head deeper until Damian’s pointy nose is buried at his pubes. Tim presses Damian’s head there as he finally fucking cums in a tidal wave of orgasm. His hip is jerking towards Damian’s mouth, his abdomen clenched hard as thick warm liquid surrounds his cock inside Damian’s mouth. Damian cups the hand on his head and dips his mouth even deeper and hums on Tim’s cock. Tim laid back, twitched, and screamed as he uses his other hand to hold the sheets again to ride the rest of his orgasm, breathing hard, seeing stars.

They stay like that for a few more seconds until Tim evens out.

Damian presses his lips around his cock and leans back. When he enters Tim’s field of vision, Damian has a dribble of cum down his lips and he gulped down. Tim swore he felt his cock twitch again at the sight. Damian wipes the cum off his chin, Tim wishes it wipes away that smirk too.

“See? I do things for you if you ask nicely,” Damian says with an obnoxious lilt.

“Fuck you,” Tim says between breaths.

“Promise?” Damian says, eyes glinting mischievously.

“You bet.”

Damian lays down facing Tim, once again, he’s looking at Tim like… Tim bites his lips and looks back. It’s unfair how beautiful Damian looked at this moment. Glowing because of the layer of sweat, eyes brilliant green and sharp yet framed with long curled eyelashes. Damian is looking at Tim like he likes him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tim asks before he can stop himself.

Damian bats his eyelashes, shyness rarely ever shows on Damian’s face, but it looks so pretty on him.

“You’re beautiful,” Damian simply says.

Tim felt his heart stutter. Damian hadn’t mellowed his piercing gaze and Tim can’t look away. His heartbeat hasn’t let up and Damian’s attention feels like he’s finally at the top of the hill, feeling the warm light of sunrise.

“You said that like it means something,” Tim whispers, a little afraid, and bemusedly a little hopeful, though Tim doesn’t know hopeful for what.

Tim and Damian don’t do close. They’re acquaintances but also family. They’re not close but also trust each other with their lives. They hated each other but they respected each other. They couldn’t stand in the same room without fighting but now they just had sex with a promise of another time. What is happening? More accurately, when did Tim start feeling this way towards Damian?

“And if it does mean something?” Damian asks back, folding his arms. If Tim hadn’t known any better, he thinks that Damian is nervous… is he?

“I don’t know…” Tim says truthfully. “But I like doing this with you, and I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you too,” Damian whispers, leaning closer “And you’re an excellent lay.”

Tim chuckles, “Why thanks. Your cock is great.”

Damian chuckles lowly.

“Also, we couldn’t have done this any earlier,” Tim says out of the blue. “It would’ve been pedophilic.”

Damian rolls his eyes, “Oh please, like we didn’t already share the same last name.”

Tim mock grimaced, “You’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Don’t you dare, you promised to fuck me!”

Tim chuckles, “I kid.”

“Good,” Damian huffs, “Because that’s all stupid anyway. We never see each other as siblings.”

“Yeah… but we should care, shouldn’t we?”

“I don't.” Damian shrugs, “I want you. No moral qualms will ever hold me back from having you.”

Tim flushed pink at the confession, it’s unfair that Damian is smooth on top of being drop-dead-gorgeous. “What’s been holding you back then? If not moral qualms.”

“Your consent.”

“Oooh… ok.”

They stay there laying on Damian’s sticky comforter for a few more minutes, just in silence, just to exist together. Tim thinks it’s nice. It feels nice to have someone beside you, just so you’re not alone, Tim missed this too on top of touch. Great, there’s another issue there Tim needs to unpack.

A gentle touch on his abdomen snaps him from his reverie, “Tim, you’re dozing off.”

Tim sighs, rubbing his eyes, he hasn’t been sleeping well and that was one hell of a round, “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Damian stops him when Tim stands up. They look at each other for five long heavy seconds as Damian looks conflicted and Tim is confused.

“Why not sleep in my room?” Damian asks.

Tim blinks, “You’d be okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” Damian huffs.

“Geez, fine. I’m too lazy to go back to my room anyway.”

“Or you can be grateful I didn’t send you out with wrinkly cum stained clothes out for the people to see.”

Tim rolls his eyes. He sits up to move again then he’s reminded of something. “So uh, whatever we are, is it exclusive?”

Damian pauses, “It’ll be ideal for me if we are. I don’t share well… but again, if you prefer-”

“No no! I mean- I’d like us to be exclusive too…” Tim confesses, and Damian’s soft look at that makes Tim feel awkward. He’s not used to Damian being soft.

“Okay, I uh, I’ll get to the shower,” Tim takes off his sweater, discarding it mindlessly to the floor, not seeing how Damian’s eyes follow his movement and looking at his ass as he goes.

Damian joins him a few minutes later, making the glass box small in his naked glory. Wordlessly, Tim starts soaping him too to cop a feel. Damian looks too self-satisfied for Tim’s comfort.

“Haven’t had enough?” Damian lowly says, hands on Tim’s shoulder and neck, bending down kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw.

“Like like you didn’t come here naked to purposely be a cock-tease,” Tim kisses him then.

They spent a few minutes making out and then rubbing on each other for their second release. Tim feels light for the first time in a long time. His emotions feel pliant and wrung out. His ass is sore but the high of having an orgasm after such a long time makes him feel tired and languid. Tim streaks naked into Damian's room while drying his hair.

“Hey, can I borrow any of your clothes?” Tim asks, even though he already dug into Damian’s closet.

“Sure,” Damian says, landing on his bed and stretching like a cat, “Pass me a boxer while you’re at it.”

Tim chooses cotton pants and a shirt. Both of them are loose on him. Tim walks out of the closet to Damian laying naked as if he’s posing for a painting. Tim throws the boxer on Damian’s face and slumps beside Damian.

“Wake me up in…” Tim looks at the clock on the bedside, “Two hours, I have a meeting.” Tim slips under the fresh comforter, and Tim isn’t one to sleep easily in a new environment, but the new sheet smell and the slightly floral smell of Damian’s room lull his consciousness away. Then a pair of warm hands snakes on his sides, spooning him close to his bare chest.

“Is this okay?” Damian whispers gently.

Tim only replies in a pleasant hum, holding the arms around his waist and pressing his body closer to Damian’s, who feels so nice. Damian’s thumb is rubbing over his waist, lulling him even more relaxed.

For the split second in Tim’s syrupy brain, he thinks that this feels like more. This doesn’t feel completely like a detached physical relationship. Not with the way Damian is looking at him the entire time. Not with how comfortable and safe Tim felt despite their relationship before this happened. Tim tucks those thoughts for later, too tired and too sated to think about complicated stuff.

The last thing Tim feels before he drifts to sleep is a gentle kiss on the back of his neck.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

As I’ve said before, Resident evil, Leon being pretty, and Chreon sparking joy.  Now I’m gonna type a lil short story that’s inspired by THIS CUTE SWEET UWU INSPIRING BEAUTIFUL ART. 

This short story sets after Resident Evil 6, since Leon’s hair is greyish-blond in the picture so I just assume and sorry if I assume wrong. And I’m not too deep into the fandom (yet) so somethings might not be canon.

No warnings. This is purely vanilla fluff.

Words : 3k

++++

He fucking sings too????

Ah yes, here we see an advanced specimen, Leon Scott Kennedy, freaking the fuck out because his long (presumably) lost crush, Chris Redfield, is singing like he’s in The Voice’s finals, singing for that sweet sweet record deal with Adam Levine.

This was not what Leon had predicted when he accepted Sherry’s invitation for a get together at her backyard. It’s a full house. Sherry and her “it’s complicated” bf/figuring-it-out, Jake is here, being not so complicated with both of them looking at each other with disgustingly sweet heart eyes. Leon is watching him though.... watching him closely. If he hurts Sherry, with God as his witness he will weaponize the nearest item to get that hand off Sherry’s waist. But Sherry happy with him, and he’ll try to be happy for Sherry. Claire is here too, and it’s been so long he had seen Claire. He didn’t realize how badly he misses her until he has seen her in the flesh. Helena got invited too and seems to move on pretty well as she’s making moves on Claire. Piers, Chris’s subordinate is also here, fitting in like a glove starstruck at everyone he sees with the exception of Jake and Helena.

Leon thought he’ll sit in the corner with a beer or any potent alcohol and just watch. He didn’t expect how happy he is catching up with Claire. How incredibly proud he is to see how much Sherry had grown. How eye-opening it is to talk with someone that idolizes you a.k.a. Piers. And he also didn’t realize how heart-clenching it is to talk to Chris again.

It was stupid. It started when he was young. He was lonely, and somewhat needed to have someone to love. To feel something, anything else than the need to survive, and the constant fear of failing. Something else to think about other than mission after missions and the faith of humanity resting on his hands. Chris easily filled that role. Courageous, kind, funny, and loving. Anyone would be a fool to not love Chris Redfield. He bet everyone in the room would fell for Chris at least once if given the chance. Leon however, fell more than once, deeper than he bargained for. He had wanted someone to love, not to actually fall in love. He didn’t act on it because...

It was a missed opportunity. They first met when their mission collides, and Leon finally met the Chris Redfield that Claire thinks the world of, and he then understood why. But Leon got dragged for a briefing before Leon could ask for his number. They met at Claire’s birthday party one time, they hang out for thirty minutes over a beer that Leon still thinks as the best thirty minutes of his life. Then Chris got called and Leon never gets to say “Let’s see each other again sometimes.” They met again for a briefing, the DSO and BSAA have a joint case and by chance, Leon and Chris are handling their respective cases. They and a few others were attending the briefing, their heads were focused on that the whole time. When they separate ways, Leon looks back and Chris was already gone to the helipad and up in the sky. When Leon finally had Chris’s number, they had years of silence in between and it’s weird to just randomly called someone you haven’t heard in a long time, so Leon didn’t. He missed his chances, he thought, and that’s fine because...

It was unnecessary anymore. Originally, he had wanted a distraction, being young and foolish he was. He didn’t need that anymore. He’s grown and more emotionally mature. He has resources to have many ways of healthier coping. Keeping hobbies and expressing his emotions in healthy ways to keep his focus on his job but relatively satisfied and happy when he’s not on the job. He had his hiccups but he can take care of himself, he didn’t need Chris anymore.

It didn’t have to be Chris, he thought. Along the way, Leon had loved a couple of people and have relationships with them. It convinced him even more than what he had for Chris was just puppy love.

All of that eventually makes him forget about his daydream about Chris.

He thought it’ll be fun to see how much Chris had changed and to check up on your old crush. People do that, right? It would’ve been fun if his heart isn’t racing like he’s being chased by a BOW for a few blocks. Sure, he had seen Chris when the guy was pointing his gun at him after fighting him and not realizing it was him. This however is like a blast to the past. Back to when they were young at Claire’s birthday party, the origin of Leon’s best thirty minutes.

It’s been too much but Leon still wants more. Tonight, he laughed with Chris, cold beers in hand, and greasy foods on their laps. Smiling till his lips hurt. Heart working double-time when Chris laughed at his cheesy bad jokes. Chris told him so much of what he’s been through and it’s hard to not let his heart cracks seeing that defeated smile that still manages to look relentless. Leon felt as if a faucet turned till the end and the ghost of his scars pours away because he knew they’ll be safe in Chris’s hands. They had their own corner in Sherry’s garden, and he didn’t know how long they’ve been there, just filling the gaps between the years like they were best friends. Despite the change of weight in their topics, the air stays light and natural.

Chris had changed, and Leon did too. They’ve grown separately, but not grown apart. Despite never really making a move and with years lack of contact before now, they’re talking and laughing like they just talked yesterday. And despite presumedly dead, that feeling re-emerges, as whole and as fresh as it was first born.

There are a few moments where Leon just need to pause and listen to Chris talking as they sit next to each other. It felt surreal that Chris is here, that their job paused at the same time for this opportunity to strike. Leon watched closer, committing every Chris’s expression to memory, and the blush on the other man’s face was perhaps a sign that his staring was making him uncomfortable. But Chris didn’t say anything about it, so Leon didn’t stop. This a rare chance they get to sit down and talk without the weight of the world on their shoulder and the faith of a lot of lives constantly in their minds, and Leon is taking it all in before.... before another few years of pause. Before another mission makes them meet in the field. Hell, this could’ve been Leon’s last chance, ever.

Before Leon drowned under the thoughts, someone materializes a guitar. Jake is abusing the strings while squawking, singing a mating song to Sherry. Only then, the two realized there’re other people at this party, and now they’re all drunk. Leon and Chris laughed as Jake continued to squawk and Sherry, that’s as drunk as her kinda boyfriend, was swooned as if Jake is Beyonce. Leon and Chris Laughed when Jake asked for back up dancer and Piers said “Got ya bro,” and starts to spin like a Beyblade on the floor.

The laugh gained Claire’s attention, who looked like she just realized that they’re here.

“Stop your animalistic screeching!” Claire had barked, and rips the guitar away from Jake and push it at Chris. “Sing! Now. Proof Jake he ain’t shit.”

Chris shyly takes it and prop himself. He didn’t have to do it, both of them are the only sober people here, and the drunks can be distracted with a plate of nuggets from the kitchen. When Leon noted that, Chris just shrugs and says he didn’t mind. Leon thought Chris is gonna prank them because there’s this glint in his eyes that he’s up to something. Leon was braced for a yell to startle the kids that’s paying surprisingly close attention to Chris. Or maybe he’s gonna abuse the strings and deeply growl because Chris mentioned about liking a few heavy metals.

Yet Chris manages to do something Leon didn’t expect by a mile. The tune he carries on the guitar sounds like a country genre, and then Chris starts singing. His voice is deep and melodic and beautiful. The drunken crowd whistles and dances to the country song he’s singing and Leon just froze. Chris is singing about a tree and a yellow ribbon, something’s Leon can’t really digest because his mind is thinking to the first time they met.

And that’s how Leon found himself here, harboring the same feeling of years ago that feels like it’s born yesterday.

He fucking sings... Leon thinks in awe. Chris sings to the audience that sitting in front of them, and sometimes he’ll glance Leon’s way, making his heart flip like pancakes.

What else that Leon doesn’t know about Chris? Probably a ton, and he wants to know. If this night can last forever, he wants to know a whole lot more about Chris.

After the song ends with the loud round of applause, they continue talking believing that mirage. One by one, the participants drop at the space they occupy. Thankfully, Sherry has a house with multiple guest rooms, courtesy of her parent’s inheritance, and her hefty paycheck. The only two sober one around puts the falling participants to their respective guestroom, with water and aspirin on the nightstand for the oncoming hangover. They wake them, tell them to change, and literally tucking them in.

Chris is tucking Piers away and Leon is keeping Helena’s company and watching Claire that’s starting to drift off to sleep. Leon plans to tuck all of them to bed and the night will be Leon’s and Chris’s. They’ll talk all night long and he won’t even want to sleep. He truly believes so, until that familiar tone rings from his “work phone.” Leon stiffens, and Helena who hears that instantly sobers and reaches for her phone.

“Relax,” Leon put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s mine.” She sighed in relief and lay back to the sofa, already back to spacing out and about to fall asleep against Claire. Leon envies her because he can’t sigh in relief. His mirage shatters then and there when he reads a cold series of instructions from Hunnigan followed by a time and place.

His blood runs ice cold and he takes a deep breath. He looks around and sees the ghost of a party. Boxes of pizza laying around, puddles of spilled beer, toppled over chairs, scattered over Uno cards, and a lone guitar. It was fun while it lasted. He’ll look back to this moment for a lot of times. And he’ll see Chris’s smiling face when he closes his eyes, his singing voice in his dreams. He’ll remember everything, and brings these memories with him until they meet again in an indefinite place and time. Leon felt himself choke. He has to, and sighs.

“Oof, I know the sound of that,” Chris chirped, and Leon had known he there for four steps. “When?” Chris asks as he sits on the chair in front of him.

“They’ll pick me up in two hours.”

Chris grimly pressed a thin smile, “That soon, huh?”

“You know how it is,” Leon shrugged and he sees Chris with a slumped shoulder mimicking the sigh of disappointment.

“I do... where?”

Leon feels guilty already, “No.”

Chris just gives an understanding ‘ah...’ and nods.

“I’m going to leave in an hour...” Leon announced, and the one that’s disappointed by that the most is him.

This is the one time that leaving Chris feels this hard. Back then, it was easier, he was focused on something more important, and Chris had not been a priority. Chris was shoved at the back of his mind. Now... he can’t think of anything more important than Chris, and he has a feeling that shoving him at the back of his mind won’t be as easy.

He looks at Chris, really look at him. Last time he saw him, he didn’t have crow feet yet, and now they make those wise eyes looks the part. His hair was a bit longer too, his skinless pale. When they meet again, he wonders what Chris will look like.

Then it sinks in, truly sinks in, that in two hours he won’t be seeing Chris’s face in months or perhaps years. Years. His heart rebelled, yelling no, it’s not fair. Why is he holding back? He doesn’t want to leave because Chris is here, and leaving means that he’ll go back to where it was with Chris, acquaintances. He doesn’t want that... he wants more...

But it was stupid. It started with a stupid reason, but it’s grown as something more. Leon is older, wiser, and he can differentiate between wanting anyone to fill a void and wanting Chris.

But it was unnecessary anymore. Now it is. He wants this so much it hurts. He always had wanted Chris, he still does. 

But it was a missed opportunity. It was, but by some weird-ass luck, the universe is giving him another chance. This moment is his chance, and he’s never been more sure.

He’s not a fool to think that Chris would be easily won, or even available to be won over. One thing he knows for sure he wants is to have Chris in his life. To not wait for years to see him again, and not wait for a mission to hear his voice.

“Uh, want me to drive you?” Chris asks when Leon didn’t complete his sentence.

“No...” Leon looks up at Chris and instantly cowers when he sees Chris all beautiful and warm with caring brown eyes and a charming smile. It feels like it’ll be too good to be true. It is, and it will be.... get it together Leon. “I... I was thinking.”

“Yes?” Chris bends he head down when Leon paused again and looking at his feet. Dammit, it’s hard then he thought.

He’s overthinking this. It’s nothing grand, just a simple question, something he’s been wanting to say. “We should hang out together... sometimes... You know? Get beers and... whatever,” Leon gulped. He’s smoother than this, come on. “I just feel like we’ve known each other for a long time but we never get to actually know each other.” Nice.

Or so he thought. Leon was proud of his smooth delivery until Chris’s response is a pause and a flustered face. Leon was about to beat himself over it and do a recovery dialog before Chris burst out a laugh with pink on the tip of his ears.

“Why are you being so flustered and shy about it? For a second there I thought you’re gonna ask me on a date or something.”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I mean...” Leon was winging it when he heard ‘date’, no time to slow down now lover boy. Your years of hidden crush ends here and now. “I’m saying that it can be a date if you want because I... I certainly do.”

Leon put his eyes on Chris and see every micro-expression on this man, only to find that effort useless because Chris gives one big grin.

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man smile from ear to ear, the ones he’s been wearing for the whole night.

Leon is stupified, not sure he’s hearing him right. “Really?”

“Yeah... I would’ve asked first had I know you’re interested.”

Leon laughed out loud, chuckling so loud that it jolts Claire awake before falling asleep after a scowl. “You have no idea,” Leon’s voice comes out breathless and deep. 

"No idea about what?”

“Nothing,” Because it’s not the time to confess the years of love he has for Chris, and he doesn’t have the strength too... so maybe later. And this time, later is somewhere near. “So, I have your number, I’ll call you?”

“You have my number?” Chris questioned in surprise.

Guilt immediately puts him on pause. He feels bad for never calling, letting hesitation stops him, but you know what? He’s ready to just face it. “Yeah, I have it for a few years now.”

“I have yours too.”

Oh, then... “Why didn’t you call me?”

Chris shrugs shyly, “I thought I lost my chance,” He confessed with dejected eyes looking mercilessly at him.

The tense knot on his shoulder de-tangle, his heartbeat slowing down, and he smiles at him, at them. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

“No, we don’t,” Chris smiles in understanding.

They tuck Helena and Claire to their room. Chris ended up driving Leon to the pickup point. It’s at the helipad of a five-star hotel 20 minutes away. 

When they arrive at the helipad, the chopper is already there with two soldiers that’s standing on each side of the transport helicopter’s open door. They’re early, way early, which doesn’t mean good. The transport carrier picking him up instead of the regular helicopter means that’s going to be briefed and armed there and they’re going straight to the red zone. Chris knows that too, and he sees him tense beside him.

“Well, look at that, they’re early,” Leon playfully groans. Despite him not looking forward to this mission, he does look forward to something. “I’ll see you soon,” and this time, it really means soon.

Leon was about to turn around and leave, Chris says “Wait.”

Not knowing what to wait for, Leon waits anyway, and he froze in place when the reason he waits lands on his lips. He doesn’t freeze too long, not when kissing Chris feels this good in his body and soul. Leon connects his fingers at the back of Chris’s neck, cradling his face as his thumbs rub along his jaw.  A hand rakes the back of his head, playing at the hair on his nape as it pulls Leon closer while the other hand is clenching the shirt on his side. And Leon melts.

The separate as soon as they connect, sucking in a breath. Their hands stay in place longer, even when their faces no longer close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“Call me as soon as you’re home,” Chris says, and Leon can hear each word weigh heavy with worry. Leon gets it now. He rubs his thumbs on Chris’s jaw, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“I will.”

They let go, even so, their touches linger. Smiling as they wave each other goodbye, breathing a little easier. Leon flies and as Chris grows small, the usual suffocating weight in his heart isn’t there anymore.

Because as soon as he’s done, he doesn’t have to wait years before he hears Chris’s voice.

++++++

I’m so dead. This pairing is so cute.

Leon:'Chris can play the guitar and sing' nicely.'❤ •/////• !

@sardine0313

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage Tags: Bad Ending, Angst, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Heartbreak, Cliffhangers, Dubious Morality, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Grey, Consent Issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Out of Character, Time Skips, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Summary:

Title from song 'OOHYO(우효) _ BRAVE'

Damian hates Tim at first sight. At 16, Damian still hates him even after he’d fucked him. Soon after that, Tim left. Damian found him in another place, another identity. Damian never knew how miserable Tim was until he finally sees how happiness looks on Tim. He’s pretty and swaying like a flourishing flower blooming in the wild. Growing where it belonged. Tim was never meant to be found.

Words: 8.8 k

+++++

 Damian hates Tim at first sight.

At 16, Damian still hates him even after he’d fucked him.

There’s something about Tim that always grates him. Itches him somewhere new.

At first, it was jealousy. Tim was Robin, and Damian thought that Tim was never father’s real son anyway, so it should’ve been his. Even after Tim became Red Robin, Damian chalks it up as a lazy rebranding and hates Tim for it even more.

Then Damian grows up, but the hate stays for different reasons.

Tim is neglectful. He doesn’t take care of his health, his office is a mess, and he’s always tired, and because he’s always tired he’s always in a bad mood. It’s such a pain to work with him, even though he’s a bat still and competent beyond belief. So, Damian tried to compromise... but he’s so infuriating. He acts like a know-it-all and replies to everything with hums and sighs, it’s like communicating with an animal, and even an animal makes sounds. Tim just breathes. Damian would rather leave him alone to do solo missions rather than work with him.

Then the hate turns incredulous. Tim begins to look... pretty. It’s impossible but it’s true. Damian thought that something is wrong with him, there must be! How could that slumping sleep-deprived grinch with saggy eye bags and oily hair ever be attractive? Damian tried to rationalize.

Yes, Tim at home is a filthy oily creature that never comes out of the room, but all his negative points are connected to habits and behavior. Objectively speaking, Tim has lean muscles, long legs, vibrant ocean deep eyes, soft-looking black hair, and a plush mouth. When he has to, he can stand up straight. When he has to, Tim can smile what looks like close to a real one. Physically, Tim is infuriatingly beautiful.

So when Tim approached him the day he turned 16, it was hell and heaven.

“Stop eye-fucking me in broad daylight if you don’t wanna get discovered,” Tim says offhandedly in the kitchens, not looking up from pouring his coffee.

Damian felt his heart jumps, but he covered it with his usual scowl. “Speak clearly.”

Tim leans on the counter, rolling his eyes. “You’re not hiding your crush at me as well as you thought. Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Damian narrows his eyes, a million thoughts go through his mind. He doesn’t panic, Robin doesn’t panic. He thinks possibilities through, takes precautious steps, and comes out a victor in the end.

“I think the most shocking part is you approaching me first, Tim,” Damian smirks, knowing that if Tim doesn’t want this, he should’ve continued ignoring it, but he doesn’t. “Almost seems like you want me.”

“I do.”

Damian doesn’t expect that. He thought that he’s going to tread this trail with mind games. But Tim is looking at him straight on, bare, and perhaps exhaustion makes him open. Too honest to be anything else.

So here he is, having Tim pinned to the mattress so far down so hard that Tim is engulfed in the covers. Damian doesn’t hold back, never does with Tim, not anymore. Years under his father had forced him to learn how to reign back his strength, to see limits in human beings, to see their invisible barriers and never cross them, or cross them correctly to gain control.

It’s never mind-games with Tim, just raw unfiltered lust, and a part of Damian feels free knowing that Tim can take it. Even weeping as fingers-shaped bruise blooms in Tim’s pale wrist and hips, as his skin tore and bleed from Damian’s teeth, Damian knows Tim can take it. Tim does, and he always comes back, always the one that approaches.

Until he doesn’t.

Damian doesn’t realize Tim no longer exists until a few days later. As Robin, he doesn’t work together with Red Robin often, and Damian never looks for Tim in the manor.

When Damian finally tried to, it’s as if Tim was spirited away. His room is empty of the usual laptop and case files. More than just empty, every essence of personality is gone, and his room looks like any other guest room. His Red Robin costume is nowhere to be found. His bike is no longer in the Batcave. His file is no longer in the batcomputer.

Damian asked Dick if he knew where he is, and Dick just says, “Ah, who knows? Maybe he moved out? I never knew with him.” Even after he points out how Tim told no one about the move and was not even active as Red Robin for weeks, all that he can get from Dick is ‘I don’t know, he’s been distant lately.’

And since when distance ever mattered when it comes to knowing everything about each other? The bats never really heed privacy or just turn the other cheek for things that’s ‘none of their business.’ There’s no such thing in their family.

Damian knows it’s weird, and an eerie feeling climbs at him, even more, when Damian asked Jason. All Jason did is laugh with no sign of humor in it. Jason doesn’t elaborate, only gazes and runs.

Damian asks Steph, thinking that perhaps she knows him better because of their history. She schooled her expression enough to let common men notice nothing, but not Damian. She seems to masked defeat, but she seems to not know even though she’s curious. Seeing how useless she is, Damian lets her go, so does with the rest of the bats that all reacted just like Steph did.

So, Damian goes to his father, asks him where Tim is.

“He’s nowhere,” Batman says nonchalantly. As if what Damian asked was about the goddamn weather.

“Father,” Damian presses harshly. At this point, he’s getting tired of all the non-answer answers he’s getting. “Why is everyone hiding him from me?”

His father then finally looks away from the dozes of screens in front of him. The cowl hides his true expression, but Damian had learned to read his father’s silence expertly enough to know that he’s surprised.

“Why on earth are you looking for him?”

Damian blinks, truly taken back, “It’s none of your concern.” Because telling his father he’s fucking his stepson is a bit distasteful. “Now, where is he?”

“You are not seeing him again.” The grave in his father’s tone is not new, but the hate, yes. Damian felt chilly all of the sudden.

The little kid in Damian wants to snap, ‘you can’t tell me what to do!’ but there’s a rational part in him that knows he’s missing something.

“Why?”

“Not after what he’s done to you.”

Damian barks a laugh. Everything falls into place, painting a nasty picture. It makes him want to laugh even more at his family’s foolishness and filled him with dread at what becomes of Tim.

“So you chase away Timothy because we had sex?” Damian says bluntly, watches as his father twitches. “You have to be kidding me, tell me where he is.”

“Why are you chasing after your molester.”

Damian’s giddiness at the misunderstanding is gone with a snap, “You thought I’m a victim? Tim’s victim out of all people?? Me???”

“You’re a child,” Batman growls, “and he’s a full-grown adult that approaches you first.”

“So you didn’t take in my consent into consideration before you chuck Tim at... wherever he is?”

“You’re not of age to consent.”

“But of age to murder?” Damian retorts with bitterness.

“No, not even that,” his father’s voice has the gall to go softer. “You know better now, you’re not responsible for the acts from your ‘earlier education’.”

“But responsible enough to carry the fate of people’s lives?”

Doesn’t need to see beneath the cowl to know that Bruce is narrowing his eyes, “What are you getting at?”

Damian scoffs, “I’ve been Robin for seven years father. I know you did your best to reeducate me, but you seem plenty comfortable in trusting me to patrol Gotham, letting me go on missions when I’m technically a ‘child’. Yes, I’m telling you that you’re technically an irresponsible adult for letting your kids do dangerous vigilante acts at the average age of 11,” Damian adds when he sees the black gloves tighten in a fist. “But I do understand, our family isn’t like any other, and we all have our flaws. It’s a bit funny is all why me being ‘technically underage’ matters so much when I give the same healthy consent to sex as to being a vigilante.”

“It doesn’t.” His father says gravely, “You may give consent, but he’s never supposed to agree to it. He’s a grown man, and he knew better. Knew better to not touch an underage child.”

“I’m getting sick of you calling me a child,” Damian narrows his eyes dangerously. “You’re holding one side responsible for an atypical behavior that I agree on. Then father, aren’t you at fault for child neglect and child endangerment?”

There’s a pause, and Damian hoped his father suffocates a little by it.

“You can hold your own,” his father said finally.

“Yes, I can, which means that I can choose who I have sex with.” Damian sighs, there’s no getting through his father. “Where is he? I know you knew if he has ever done me wrong I could’ve dealt with it on my own. No need to protect my honor with all these cloak and dagger.”

There’s another pause from his father, and this one suffocates Damian. It stretches so long that a subtle feel of horror creeps into his skin mysteriously.

“I don’t know.”

Damian scoffs, “And you want me to believe that Batman doesn’t know where his son is?”

“He’s no longer my son,” Batman spits bitterly.

The horror made itself known, loud and proud as Damian finally comes to a realization. “Tell me what you did to him.”

“I told him to leave, and never be found.”

Damian takes a deep breath, dread takes the forefront, but rationality reigns him back. It sounded bad, but he trusts his father no matter how angry, he’d never really hurt his sons. Maybe Jason, but Jason was asking for it, surely not Tim. Not proud, serving, and dedicated Tim. If this is years ago, Damian would’ve preen at the attention. The false Robin is overthrown, and Damian is finally the apple of his father’s eyes. Now... Damian felt Tim’s loss, and all of this is truly foolish.

“I’m finding him,” Damian says.

 =

It took one year for Damian to finally find Tim. In that one year, he had some contemplation about how he feels about Tim more than about what’s truly going on.

Tim makes it shown that he didn’t want to be found. Tim is living in a secluded town in a secluded country of Liechtenstein. Damian spots him at a school, saying goodbye to kids, said kids are giving him hugs and kisses before leaving. Some parents converse with thankful smiles as they pick up their kids. The fact that Tim is a teacher was not what makes Damian stunned in place, it was that Tim looks different.

Happier.

Tim has smile lines, no more dark circles. His gaunt face is now filled with healthy fats that make his face adorably round. There’s actually light in his eyes. His hair is short, bleached a sunlight blond that fits him perfectly, so is the round glasses he wears.

As the last of the kids go, he finally meets eyes with Damian from across the streets, and all the happiness and free smiles go down the drain. The bag he was carrying drops to the floor, and Damian swore that Tim could’ve faint then and there.

Until a woman runs up to him, familiar arms around Tim’s shoulder. Worry in her face, love in her eyes when she leans Tim back to the concrete pillar.

“Darling, look at me, breathe,” the woman speaks in German, taking Tim’s face in her gentle hands.

“I’m alright, I just...” Tim looks across the street, but Damian had already left.

Tim looks somberly, knowing he’s going to expect him tonight.

=

At 9 Pm, Damian knocked on Tim’s door. A humble house at the foot of a hill. Opening the door, Tim is still in his previous khaki slacks and sky blue button-up, minus the deeper blue vest. Despite the bland clothes, Tim looks youthful still.

Still infuriatingly beautiful. Even more, Damian might dare think. Though not more beautiful than the candid smile he had earlier.

Tim doesn’t welcome him in, only moving away so Damian can enter.

Tim’s first word to him is, “You must be here for an explanation.”

It’s only been one year, but Tim’s English already had an accent. Not only that, he has a life here. A lover, a community, a job. And he’s happy. Damian never knew that Tim had been unhappy in the manor until he sees what happy looks on Tim.

“Of course, you left rather abruptly.”

Tim still has his back on him, pouring hot water from the kettle to a teapot of fragrant-smelling tea. Jasmine, Damian’s favorite.

“I didn’t leave,” Tim says, putting a tray to the circular table by the front window of his small kitchen. A dining table for two in a small house, but the pairs of shoes by the doorsteps are all the same size and males.

“I was under the impression that you were shooed away.”

Tim chuckles mirthlessly, and Damian hates it, even though it’s the first smile Tim gives to Damian since he got here.

“Yes,” Tim says, eyes empty as he puts down a couple of teacups and a pot. “It was the only way I could leave.”

Damian sharpens, “What do you mean?”

Tim sighs, and for the second time today, they meet eyes. “I don’t know about everyone, but... Once you have a bat symbol on your chest, you can’t leave.”

Damian holds his breath. Out of the revelations he expected, this is way far from everything. His mind jumbled, but what came out is, “But Jason...”

Tim chuckles mirthlessly again, this time almost broken, “Jason doesn’t leave, he died. Then the abandonment was only a punishment. I don’t think he’s meant to be let go too.” Tim presses the word like it haunts him.

This past year trying to find Tim had filled Damian with looming dread of realization. The more he asks his sibling about his search, the more off-putting their expression were. There’s no worry in their faces even when Tim left without a trace. They didn’t seem to care when Damian told them the truth about his relationship with Tim. They just... let Tim go, too easily for a comrade that supposed to be family.

“What happened to you?” Damian’s question is instinctual. There seems to be a rule of his father’s family that Damian isn’t aware of.

It seems to open the flood gates for Tim.

“A few years before you came, I had wanted to quit being Robin,” Tim confesses, and Damian can’t imagine the stubborn, highly driven, and dedicated Tim had ever wanted to quit. “I was... tired and scared, I was 14... I told Bruce this, and a few days later, my parents were killed.”

Blood drained from Damian’s system, the warm tea sitting in his belly chilled completely.

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you do,” Damian growls. He might have his disagreements with his father, but he’s not going to take the slander of his name lying down.

“No, I never really had any proof it was his doing. I was grieving, and he grieved with me. When he adopts me I... I was happy, but when I realized the correlation it was too late.” Tim hadn’t drunk the tea, only gaze at it hauntingly. “When you came, I took a chance to quit again and leave the Robin name for you. He said that I didn’t need to quit just to pass the name. I keep telling him it’s fine, and that maybe it’s my time to step down... he simply said no.”

“No?” Damian says more impatiently. “Did he tell you why you can’t quit?” Because who knows, maybe his father needs Tim.

“He said... it’s because I’m forever going to be his family, that it was for... for my own good.”

‘He’s no longer my son,’ his father had said.

Damian balled his fist to keep from shaking in anger, “So the only way for you to leave is for him to disown you.” Damian had wanted to ask why Tim wanted to leave but realized that perhaps, not everyone is built to face danger and aliens and doomsday threats.

Damian remembers Tim walking around the corridor looking half dead, yet still works. They all put their backs into saving people and standing up for what they believe in, but Tim always seems to be the one that squeezes the will from his body till its last drop just to function. Like he had to instead of wanting to. Damian had chalked it up as sleep deprivation, how wrong he has been.

The table shakes anyway, and Damian realizes it’s not from his hands, but it’s from Tim’s.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, dripping with guilt and it’s painful to look at. “I used you... I knew- I knew he’d choose you over me, no matter what. And...and I knew what I was doing was wrong... I still did it anyway... I’m sorry.”

What hurts the most isn’t Damian’s pride, miraculously so, but it’s the fact that Tim hadn’t even wanted to have sex with him, perhaps doesn’t even like Damian, while Damian had been attracted to Tim. Damian is just a tool as means for Tim to leave. If his father had known Tim’s true intention, then perhaps Damian understood why he’d be angry, but then again, his father should’ve let Tim left before desperate measures were taken.

Damian had come here knowing that Tim was shooed away. He never knew that this is the reason. Damian had wanted to lend a hand for Tim to come back home, because being disowned over fling sex is ridiculous, only to learn that Tim never wants to come back, and Damian’s first time had been for a jailbreak, Damian is just a tool. It hurts, and Damian is showing that he’s been hurt. Tim knows he’s hurting Damian, that’s why he’s saying sorry.

Damian doesn’t blame Tim to do what’s necessary to gain what he wanted, Damian has the same belief as well. Still, it hurts.

Then Damian realized why it hurts so much, he’s heartbroken.

“Did you know that I liked you?” Damian asked.

For a few seconds, Tim doesn’t seem to breathe, “I know that you’re attracted to me at least.”

“Did you like me then?”

Tim’s expression grows cold, eyes hollow, and Damian only realized that Tim’s eyes have always been in that dazed hollowness only after he has seen the brightness those eyes could’ve hold.

“No.” The words ring hollow, echoing hauntingly.

Damian reaches out to Tim’s chin, lifting it. For a second, there’s want in Tim’s face before it quickly passes, leaning away from his hold.

“I was never meant to be found,” Tim says, lifeless as it comes. Even then, his voice was as melodious as a singing bird.

“What’ll happen if you are?”

There’s a smile on Tim’s face as he looks out the window. The sun had long set. Outside the window is nothing but pitch black and a couple of the neighbor's lamps.

The smile is off-putting, “We’ll see.”

 +++

 Tim refuses to gives his contact information. Even as Damian figured the number himself, he never picks up when he knew it’s from Damian. But Tim never refuses when Damian comes to visit. It’s no easy feat to come to where Tim is, but there’s this nagging feeling in his chest, the longing that seems to grow from every time Damian leaves.

At first, Tim’s smile always dims whenever he sees Damian, but lately, it’s as if he had finally torn down his walls. There had been a looming fear washing down Tim’s face, but no more. Tim’s smile finally reaches his eyes for Damian. It comes as a mild surprise that Damian’s insistent visit was because he missed Tim.

How? Damian asked the tomato plant by the bed of the vegetable garden behind Tim’s backyard. When Tim was Robin, they barely spent any time together, as a family nor a coworker. Why? Damian asks the porch where Tim is grading his student’s homework by the sun. They had sex three times before Tim left, in all those three times were driven with lust, and nothing more, and nothing changes.

Was it truly nothing?

Damian picks the ripest tomato, puts it in a basket, and sits back with Tim where there’s a tray of iced sweet tea.

“Got what you need?” Tim asks, not looking up from the math homework.

“Yes.”

“I’m still surprised you cooked. I never saw you do it.”

“That’s because you only went to the kitchen in ungodly hours for coffee.”

Tim chuckles, “That’s true.”

And it’s good to spend time with Tim. To kick back, relax, enjoy the weather, the quiet town, the hills, and the company. Tim is not in any way a boisterous company, but as he shows Damian around town, Damian learns more things about Tim than he ever had in the years living together. Tim likes his coffee with foamed milk, and he takes his time to make it instead of what Damian had known, chugged black. Tim sleeps early because he likes to wake up in the morning and have breakfast by his favorite diner instead of having a dysfunctional sleep schedule. Tim likes to cook despite not being good at it. Tim likes children. Tim goes out on weekends with his teacher friends and he’s close with his teacher friends and a lot of people around town instead of being an awkward hermit.

This Tim is so different, but still so true to himself.

Tim is still a little shit. Jabbing at Damian’s ‘princely’ demeanor, and being salty that Damian is taller than him. Tim is still a nerd, still watches anime like a child, still has a fond sense of family. He looks at his students as if they’re his own. Still can’t cook even though he’s putting an effort into it relentlessly. Still loves a good mystery novel and solving puzzles.

Damian realizes that Tim is not being a different person. He’s just thriving because he’s free. In this place, without the burden of the world, he builds his life. It’s mesmerizing to look at and experience, because somehow Damian doesn’t carry the same bitterness towards Tim as he had always does. Then again, he hasn’t hated Tim for a long time, and here Damian can just like Tim without the competitiveness nor expectations of competency in missions. He can just truly enjoy Tim as he is.

“Amelie is dropping by today,” Tim says offhandedly as he stirs a pot of goulash.

On Tim’s back, sitting by the round table, Damian stiffens. Damian had never been properly introduced to Amelie, but he knows who she is to Tim enough to justify the lurch in his stomach.

“Would you like to meet her?” Tim asks, looking back this time, and sees the open disdain in Damian’s face. The pleasant smile on Tim’s face once again gone, once again because of Damian.

“This life you build has been a reflection of what is true to you,” Damian begins, and even though he sees Tim grips the ladle tighter, Damian continues. “So why fool yourself to pursue a woman you’re not interested in?”

Tim takes a deep breath through the nose, there’s anger simmering in his eyes, “It’s none of your business.”

Damian rolls his eyes, “Yeah, fuck me for caring about you.”

“Still has some social hiccups from murder masterclass, huh?”

“Even the blind can see that you’re compensating pathetically.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re doing so great here, Tim. I wanted to get to know you as you are, not whatever the fuck you’re doing with her.”

“She’s nice to me,” Tim’s voice dropped, “And she cares about me.”

“And I don’t?” Damian retorts, and finally, it’s something he regrets.

Tim’s eyes widen, “Is that what it is? You’re jealous?”

Damian presses his lips. Was he?

The pause lingers too long, and Tim has taken it as an answer. He throws the ladle there, rubbing his face harshly.

“Why are you here, Damian?” Tim asks, finally. Damian knows the question had been logging at the back of Tim’s throat, it had also loomed in Damian’s consciousness. Here it is now. No running away.

Damian is a Robin, Robins don’t panic. He thinks possibilities through, takes precautious steps, and comes out a victor in the end. What would be considered a victory in this case? Damian had never answered those questions for himself, but faced with it now, the answer has never been more obvious.

“I told you, I liked you, Tim.”

The blond bangs sweep away from Tim’s eyes as he snaps a glare at Damian. “This says more about you than me isn’t it?”

Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Why? Even though I admitted I used you?”

Damian sighs tiredly. Tim and his whole family seem to feel wronged on Damian’s behalf without taking account of Damian himself.

“You said you’re sorry, and I’ve forgiven you, Tim. Yes, I feel betrayed and heartbroken, but in this family, we’ve done worse things to each other, don’t we?” Damian softens his voice at Tim’s slacked jaw and widened eyes. “I liked seeing you happy, and I liked being with you when you’re happy like this, and finally being true to yourself.”

Tim opens his mouth as if to say something, before closing it and going back to his goulash. “So, are you staying?”

Damian can’t ignore the jealousy now that he had seen it and acknowledge it. “No.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you next month?”

“Isn’t that too soon?”

“Based on what?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and so Damian leaves.

 +++

 Despite Damian’s promise, Damian doesn’t come by again until half a year later. Not until he finally moved out of the manor, not until he finally shed himself of the Robin mantle. Another kid had come under Bruce’s attention. Another smart sixteen-year-old hurt kid wronged by circumstances, she thinks and acts too mature for her age, it’s like a lazy re-scripting at this point. She’s pretty calm, yet snappy at her remarks, she painfully reminded Damian of Tim. Everyone welcomed her, giving her the warnings and yes or nos of being a vigilante.

Damian knew it’s time for him to be independent, be more than a sidekick. So, peacefully, he hands the Robin mantle to her when she’s deemed ready. It was a very proud moment for her and Bruce, even Damian.

Tim however, doesn’t look as proud.

“I see,” is all he says as they continue to trek all the way up towards the top of the hill. The sun is setting, they can see the whole city from up here.

“You’re right, it’s a beautiful scene,” Damian feels himself smile, small as it seems. His life is far from a common people’s. He has scars that never heal, both mental and physical. There are unlikely moments in his life that’ll haunt him till this day and things are more complicated than they normally should have. But existing here with a companion he likes, even as the silence stretches, he’s happy.

Tim takes a deep breath, his chest expands, head thrown back. His hair has grown long, his nape completely covered and bangs fall to his closed eyes. He’s still blond, but his roots growing just an inch. The wind blows on them. Dark lashes open to bright blue eyes, a smile in them.

“I know, right?” Tim says cheerfully, and this is the first time Damian hears Tim ever so cheerful. “I come here to calm down. Everyone I meet, always says that they want to go travel, move somewhere bigger and be someone, or make something of themselves, but I love this town the way it is. Small, and adorable. Sometimes I feel it could fit in my palms.” Tim raises his hands, cupping the scenery. “Everyone I needed is right next door, it’s easy to get familiar with everything, no surprises, and it can’t overwhelm me... I felt...”

Tim pauses, and it seems like he had this revelation as he speaks. Eyes widen, and finally, Tim smiles wide.

“What?” Damian clutches Tim’s fingers, and to his surprise, Tim holds his back.

“I feel safe.” The way Tim says it, breathless and free, Damian feels an odd twinge.

“Were you not able to before?” Damian feels a bit nervous approaching the subject, they haven’t talked about Tim’s ‘previous life’ ever since Damian found him again.

Tim chuckles, “Dami, with what we do on the side? We’re never safe.” Tim sits down on the grass, patting the space beside him.

With a relieved sigh, Damian sits.

“At first, getting into it, there’s just an abnormal fearlessness to kids I guess? And Bruce was always there, and there’s a limit to what I can do. Then I got older, and things got real, and I got afraid. The sleepless nights were just me stewing in fear, another night survived, but until when? Have you ever thought of that?”

Damian’s hyper-focus on Tim’s confession is surprised by the sudden question. “No, I always know that I’ll come on top.”

“Not even a close brush to death?”

“I had my share of those, but the fact that I come through is just proof of my skill.”

To that, Tim laughed, “Of course you do! That’s good then. I didn’t have that confidence.”

“You were very skillful.”

“Why, thank you,” Tim says smugly, putting hair behind his ears. The easy air on Tim is another growth, they usually never went far without Tim scowling or pressing his lips bitterly whenever they talked about being Robin. All it took was three years out of the commission. Damian wondered if Tim would have grown like this if he was allowed to quit, whether Damian could’ve had him without Tim ever needing to be this far away.

“You’ve changed, Tim,” Damian sighs to the wind-blown blond. He’s pretty and swaying like a flourishing flower blooming in the wild. Growing where it belonged.

Tim finally looks at him, and it felt like time stopped, “You too... You look happy. No more grumpy deathly stares shooting out of your eyes.”

Damian’s cheeks heat up, “I’m not grumpy.”

“Yes, you are!” Tim shoves his shoulder, “You scowled the moment I met you until the moment I left.” Then Tim finally looks somber, “I wish... I could’ve stayed to see you grow.” I’m sorry for what I did to you.

Damian hears it both and sighs at yet another apology. He finally leans in, kissed Tim on the lips. It’s as innocent as a couple of kids’ first time, but Damian’s heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“There,” Damian leans back. Tim’s eyes wide and lips parted wordlessly, but the lack of disgust makes Damian’s heartbeat slowing in relief.  “I took what I wanted from you too, now we’re even. Stop feeling bad about it... I never did.”

There’s a small ‘oh’ coming from Tim’s parted lips, his eyes still linger even as Damian had looked away. He doesn’t want to see what Tim had figured out from seeing the blush on Damian’s face.

“I’ll miss you,” Tim whispers, so weakly it almost sounds like the wind.

It took all the wind in Damian’s lungs to hear it, and it took all the warmth from his skin to see Tim’s mirthless smile. Their bubble burst then. This Tim is never gonna be his Tim. He’s going to be here forever, and Damian can only come so often. Tim Wayne has retired early from a successful career and is on a vacation on a faraway land, the world will never know that Tim Wayne will never come back. The person in front of him is Arnold, a teacher, and the most honest Tim could ever be.

The realization showed on Damian’s face, and Tim gives him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“Let's go back before it gets too dark.”

Tim holds his hand to lead him through the hiking path down, Damian doesn’t say that he can navigate himself just fine in darker lighting. Tim drives him to the airport. The hour drive to the nearest airport in the next-door country is serene. A soft song playing on the radio, Tim sings with it like the language is made for him. Damian smiles at Tim’s singing voice, he never heard it before. He wondered if he had stayed longer, he would’ve still found more things about Tim. Little snippets of Tim being happy.

Damian wished the airport is even further away. Suddenly, Damian feels like he doesn’t want to leave.

There are thirty more minutes till the flight, he should check in now, and Tim needs to leave before the road gets too dark, but he refuses to let go of Tim’s hand. Tim parts his lips, lips that he had just kissed and he’s reigning the hell hounds from dipping in to kiss him again. Even when by Tim’s expression, Damian will hate what Tim will say, he still wants to kiss him. Even knowing he wouldn’t leave if he did.

“Don’t come back,” Tim says, eyes stare at Damian’s like pikes through the heart, but Damian stood strong. His stubbornness was always both his make or break.

Damian pulls Tim into his arms, and Tim hugs him back just as tight, proof enough that the hurtful things Tim says had been done out of fear yet again.

“I know you don’t want to be scared anymore,” Damian says to the top of Tim’s head. “But you’re free. Being brave won't prove you wrong.”

“You don’t understand, I’m never meant to be found.”

It’s been two years since Damian first found him, yet those words never left Damian’s memory. Damian leans back, hands-on Tim’s face, and expected fear on Tim’s face, but no, Tim’s face is carefully blank. Tim’s hand clenched tight on Damian’s shoulder.

“Don’t come back,” Tim says again, the resolve behind it is baffling.

Damian doesn’t know what to think about the muck in his chest.

So he kisses Tim again despite everything, and says “I’ll miss you too.”

 ++++

 It’s almost eerie how nothing seems to change in Gotham. Tim Wayne was a socialite, not as famous as Bruce Wayne, but he had a following, yet a couple of years passed, and not a peep of his name was ever mentioned in the media again. Tim Wayne is the third Robin, a Red Robin, his years of a vigilante made a mark in the masked community, yet still, no one questioned that he left. Jessie, the new Robin, had asked where Tim was but always met with a dismissal answer, until Damian can’t take it anymore.

“He’s fine,” Damian says to her on a patrol, “Just retired.”

“Oh, so that’s all there is to it?”

Oh, if only she knew the truth... Wait, why didn’t Damian starts telling the truth? What had stopped him? Tim’s accusation doesn’t seem plausible, but... it doesn’t seem like he’s lying.

“Not really, but he did quit the vigilante life, it’s what he wanted.” That’s a half-truth, but the bit with Damian and him he has deemed personal.

“Oh, where is he now?”

‘I’m never meant to be found.’

“I don’t think he wants to be found.”

“But you have,” Jessie looks at him with large intelligent eyes, pinning him then and there until she finds the truth.

Damian gives it to her, “Because I look for him.”

Jessie rubs her chin, thinking, “So all I needed to do to meet him is find him?”

“Yes, if I could, then I have no doubt our family could’ve.”

“Then why did they say they don’t when I asked?? Some even just... doesn’t care.”

Damian pats her shoulder consolingly, grim at her confusion. He knows that she hates leaving things unrevealed.

“Sorry, Robin, but I didn’t know the answer to that question as well.”

Jessie’s face goes laser focus, light in her eyes, and that’s where her resemblance with Tim’s Robin stops. Tim’s Robin has always been getting things done no matter what, Damian doesn’t realize how deeply laced with desperation Tim was until Damian witness Jessie’s brand of determination.

A few days later, he’s being proved that Jessie’s the brightest Robin that had ever worn the mantle.

Jessie bursts into Damian’s room, closed it behind her back, eyes cold and face stony.

“When Tim wants to leave, did they let him?”

Damian’s eyes are blown wide.

“Did you?” Jessie accuses. She had never met Tim, but the protective nature of her seems to be as generous as ever.

“They didn’t, not willingly,” Damian feels the truth at the tip of his tongue, and it tastes so bitter he wants to vomit. “At least, that’s what Tim told me.”

“Tell me,” She demands, “Tell me now or I’ll find him and get the truth from the man himself.”

Damian does, it’s the least he could do. She earned it, she figured it out without having to do something she hated. When she heard of it, she had a complicated expression, but strangely Damian finds a similarity in her, she doesn’t blame Tim for ‘what he did to Damian.’

“What?” Jessie says when Damian looks surprised, “We have our choice taken from us since we’re young, and we still is young, sure, but I think it’s fair to say we’re more mature than the average of our age. You’d think people would start honoring our choices after all we’ve been through.”

Jessie was a child sold to a free labor ring, true enough she broke out of it with her wits and determination only to be put in a sketchy foster home. She broke out of that too, enough that it stole all their hearts. She thrived being Robin, she’s protective and fearless.

“How did you figure it out?”

Jessie cocks an eyebrow, “Figure what out?”

Damian blinks, “That Tim wasn’t allowed to leave.”

“I don’t, you just told me.” Jessie sigh, “It was my hypothesis, and I had hoped it wasn’t true.”

“Oh, so I basically handed it to you.”

“What? Regret telling me?”

“No, it’s just that I don’t have the whole truth myself.”

“I suppose you don’t know why they won't let him leave?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why don’t you, oh I don’t know, ask him?” Jessie sighs exasperatedly.

“He doesn’t know either, all he knows then when he does, he’s given a reason not to.”

Jessie narrows her eyes, “What are these reasons?”

Damian sighs, he hates saying things without absolute proof, that’s basically just gossipping. “It’s just words.”

“It’s never just words, Damian,” Jessie’s voice lowers dangerously. “Manipulation can turn words into chains, stronger than a real one could ever be.”

Damian’s eyes widen, is that what happened? How could he never see it that way? Mindlessly, Damian told her what Tim had said. The reasons. Including the convenient death of Tim’s parents.

Jessie has her thinking face again, where she pursed her lips and rubs her chin. “I know, someone hired Captain Boomerang to kill him, found his parents instead... Depends on how many times Tim had asked to leave, it could be a coincidence, but that does seems.... sketchy.”

“You seem to take this revelation in stride.” Completely different than the five stages of denial Damian is still having.

“Believe me, no I’m not. This family saved me, but then again, I’ve been saved by a lot of people with strings attached, until now.” She looks up at the ceiling as if seeing the people they’re talking about. “But it’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? They all are rough on the edges, but there’s no doubt they would never go that far. I know their kindness is genuine, even though I did feel... it’s a bit sad how they gain their kindness.”

Damian agrees. Everyone in the family doesn’t have the best childhood. There’s pain itched on their early lives. All of them are tragic cases that choose to retaliate in kindness instead of anger. Jason had strayed once, but the anger never lasted long. Damian had almost does, but he’s grounded, humbled, and shown what kindness could do that anger never can. Dick showed him that, and his love had been the first that goes through Damian, not his father’s.

“So, what do you think about them?” Damian says with defeat, completely both enamored and jealous how much Jessie knows more about this than Damian.

“I don’t think they’re malicious, but there’s such a thing as toxic kindness. Being kind as an act of self-righteousness, or to fix what’s wronged, or for selfish purposes, instead of thinking for what that other person needs, I can go on and on.”

“You think that’s what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Jessie sighs, “You still know them better, longer than I have.”

Damian smiles, at least he has that. His attention is directed to Jessie’s careful blank one, “How do you feel being Robin now?”

Jessie shrugs, “I like being able to help people. This way I can even be more direct, no more long corrupt justice system in my way! No lawyers no politics, no nothing!” Damian chuckles at her risen fists. “And I do like this family, they have my back,” Jessie adds, putting a consoling smile for Damian.

“I’m glad you do, but if things happen-”

“I don’t think I would want to quit, I love what I do,” Jessie ensures again, this time she steps in and wraps his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

Damian sighed a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding. He hugs her back, and he wondered, back then when Tim was her age, if this was what he needed? No use to wonder what could’ve been. All he can do now is do what he can with Tim that survived the past.

Tim told him to not come back, but Damian returns faster than he had been the previous ones. A month gap this time. Damian wonders why he keeps seeking Tim so, but he doesn’t question it. He had accepted that affection grows in an unlikely place but always meant to be. If Tim is whom his heart chooses to pursue, then Damian will.

When he knocks on Tim’s house that one evening, no one had answered. It’s the holiday season, there’s supposedly no class going on, and it’s way past school hours. Under the impression that Tim is doing chores outside, Damian lets himself in, it’s hardly the first time he did.

Yet the moment he steps in, the anticipation of comfort had vanished. The house is empty. No more the desk and two chairs by the window. No more stacks of flour that Tim doesn’t get to use because he keeps trying to bake despite failing every time. Not even the pastel blue paint of the kitchen Damian had helped paint. Now it’s just boring beige walls. Damian goes back to the backyard, and there’s no vegetable growing. Nothing grows at all. The plant beds are replaced by one flat lawn. Even the bed is different. The guestroom reserved for Damian is different too. Like every essence of Tim is stripped away and what’s left is a house tidied up for sale.

The next day Damian asked Amelie about Arnold. Her face instantly saddens.

“You must be Damian.”

Damian wants to feel flattered that Tim talks about him to her, though it’s stomped by his feeling of loss. “Yes, and you Amelie.” Damian’s German needs to be repolished.

“So even you don’t know where he is.” Amelie’s resignation chilled him.

“Is there anything he says to you before he left? Something he left?” Damian persists.

“Last I saw him was four days ago. I didn’t notice anything different with him, and then he gave us a resignation letter because he’s moving for personal reasons. he never bothered to show up.” Amelie looks rightfully heartbroken. “He didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

Four days ago. Damian realized his mistake now. Usually, Damian visits out of the blue. Four days ago he had contacted Tim that he’s visiting. It pained him a little, realizing how deep Tim’s fear truly ran. There’s also anger woven into Damian’s mixed emotion, ‘coward’, it said seethingly towards Tim. Yet insecurity in him adds, ‘no, just not brave enough to stay for you.’

It’s discouraging, sure, but Damian had seen Tim’s affection in the first seat. Damian felt it in their lingering touches, his honest smile, the way he laughed. He believes Tim when he said he’ll miss Damian. He knows Tim feels the same for him, though everything is distorted with his fear.

No matter, Damian can be brave for both of them. Damian will find him again just like the first time.

And Damian will show him, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

  +++++

 Tim had thought he was plenty brave all those years. He told himself to be brave as he desperately looks around for a way out. That is until he finally recognizes the loophole in the family’s unwritten rules. Tim was Robin when he had wanted out, and there seems to be no limit to what must be done for him to stay. The collar loosens however when someone else is Robin. That’s when Tim recognizes that Damian’s dubious attraction could be his scapegoat.

Tim hated himself through it all, even though Tim did come to love Damian. The violent little twerp had grown to be a not-so-bad teen and had his endearing moments. But Damian has never been anything but his brother to Tim. When Tim finally went with his plan, it takes a lot not to succumb so much to his self-disgust. The only thing that tethers him sane is that Damian seems to genuinely love him romantically. Tim approaches first for sex, but Damian initiates kisses, the petting, the caressing, and Tim apologized to him so much inside his own head for every gesture of affection Tim can’t return.

Thinking about it now, Tim realizes that he’s never been brave at all. Having sex with Damian when he was underage is a cowardly solution, but Tim had been desperate, he had just survived yet another brush with death. Damian’s touch isn’t as scary as he thought. It was rough, but there’s always a gentle caress after the death grip, apologetic kisses after the biting, damp warm towel over his slick stained skin.

The feelings never go anywhere, Tim never lets it. It gets harder to reign himself after Damian found him, seeing Damian change to a fine person yet still keeping that snark. Finally seeing Damian as a person instead of a masked vigilante demanding cooperation.

Faintly, Tim smiled at the text Damian sent him. It’s from a number he didn’t recognize, but he knew it’s from Damian. It’s sent hours ago, but Tim stares at it still. Damian is coming to visit, and for once, Tim is looking forward to it.

Tim is always a coward, but at this moment, is the only time he truly feels brave. Even as a hand grabs his phone away.

“You were never meant to be found,” he said.

Tim looks up to the gleaming blue eyes, and everything that Tim had questioned is finally answered. It always had felt like there are shadows in the dark, punishing him for every thought of leaving. Tim doesn’t understand why he can’t leave, why his family can’t just answer why he can’t. Tim finally knew.

“I’ll never be able to outrun him, Dick.”

Those blue eyes always look kind, even now. Dick sits across him over the patio, actually in tears.

It makes Tim sweat. His heart pounding. Still fearful, yet strangely brave.

“Why... Why won't you let me leave?”

���Don’t put that tone with me,” Dick snaps, yet still sorrowful. There’s no one here to put a facade upon. This is Dick’s true feelings. “You’re the one that put your hands on my little brother, how could you?” Dick ruly sounds hurt, betrayed, and perhaps Tim deserved it, but it scares him even more.

“Because I know you love him more than me, and if I did, you’ll finally let me go.”

“I... I love all my brothers.”

Tim sees the crack. “Did you? Did you ever loved me?”

“Of course I did!” Dick screams, hands gripping at the edge of the table. “I did everything to protect you.”

“What? What did you do?” Tim’s voice lowly shakes.

“I gave Robin to you, so you’d learn to be strong.” Eyes blue, big, glossed over with tears, staring openly and show the endless void of sorrow. “And you did! You needed it so nothing bad could ever happen to you.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“Did you kill my parents?”

Dick looks downright furious, “No! Wha- is that why you never trusted us? Your paranoia?”

“It happened way too soon after I begged to be retired!” Tim says defensively, he knows it’s a reach, but his gut feeling says otherwise.

“You know we don’t kill.”

“No, the Bats don’t, but we’re not perfect are we?” Tim looks pointedly at Dick. Tim doesn’t know where he got this bravery from.

“Tim...” Dick sniffs, “You’re always were a scaredy-cat.”

Tim looks down to Dick’s clenched fists, “I know.”

“I thought being Robin will make you braver.”

Tim wanted to ask why Dick feels the need to fix people, then he answered his own question. Savior complex is a powerful, taught thing. A young boy losing his parents being adopted by a vigilante needing to save everyone ought to leave a mark. Though Dick’s affection is twisted, and perhaps, Bruce had looked the other way, will Tim ever get to know the real truth?

‘Robin’ had always been Dick’s since the very beginning. A mask of safety, maybe Dick felt like it is, and gave it to the kids that needed it. Then feared losing them if they let ‘Robin’ go.

“It makes me scared even more,” Tim says.

“Did you know, our new Robin?”

Tim looks up, sweat building up his temple. Damian had mentioned, but he quickly tuned him out.

“Her name is Jessie, precious girl, very smart, and plenty brave.”

“Good for you.” It’s hard to care for someone that he never met. “Did you save her too?”

“I did, she thrives from being Robin. I wish you could’ve seen her. She’s really happy,” Dick says, preening, but Tim is a bit disturbed to see him while there are still tears on Dick’s face.

“Good for you.”

“She’s trying to find you.”

Tim feels his heart thumps.

“She got curious.”

His hands tremble.

“She doesn’t know what she’s walking into.”

“I’ll never touch her, you know that!” Tim’s scream shakily, and he made a mistake in looking at Dick’s face. A serene, cold look in his eyes. Stoic. Dick had never been stoic, ever.

“I probably believed that before you touched Damian.”

“I didn’t even-”

“You were never meant to be found.”

Air left his lungs, “I won’t... never again... please give me another chance-”

“I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I’m your brother, you love me. I thought you love me,” Tim says desperately, but the cold look on Dick’s face makes him tremble, even more, the fear overtook him, and realization hits.

His last words to Damian had been ‘Don’t come back.’

Being brave won't prove you wrong.

Tim wondered if this means being brave proves it wrong, or maybe, this happened because Tim had never been brave at all.

Tim puts a fight, as much of a fight as a three-year-long decommissioned vigilante can.

For the sake of Damian, he hoped Damian never found his body.

Still, he wondered –as he sighs one last time under Dick’s tearful eyes- if he was brave enough to take the leap and truly fall for Damian, could he have been less scared of dying?

 ++++

 Bruce found them, as he always did. Dick shocked frozen and lifeless eyes, holding another lifeless-eyed dead body in his arms. Like he always did when Dick had psychotic breaks like this, Bruce cleans everything up. When Dick wakes up, he never remembered. It never gets easier the more he cleans. Still, Dick is his boy, his first one, the first time Bruce experienced how precious it felt to be a dad. He’d do anything for him.

+++

+++ 

Tim was never found, but Damian never stopped looking.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death. ANGST. I’m going for blood today. CHAINSAW MAN MANGA SPOILERS

Relationships: Denji & Hayakawa Aki & Power Summary:

The snowball fight scene but sadder.

Aki truly believed that he's a kid again, playing snowball fights with his best friends Denji and Power. On the other side, Denji and Power isn't too sure that the Gun fiend is Aki, even though the fiend is talking to them about snowball fights?

Words: 2.1k

Click keep reading to read the complete fic

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Aki squeals and hides behind a tree. He peeks and he watches his best friend, Denji, looking frantically for him. Aki snickers. Rookie mistake, he doesn’t even have a snowball ready. Unlike Aki, who had tons and tons of snowballs in his arms.

“Yaaarrggghhh!!!” Aki screams and throws a snowball on Denji’s face. The kid is younger than him, but that doesn’t mean Aki is gonna pity him! Denji falls backwards by Aki’s mighty force and he chuckles. “Got you! You’re really bad at this game, Denji!”

“Hu-huh??”

-.-.-.-.-

Denji’s face is blasted backwards. It’s a miracle that his saw is still intact. The gun devil is speaking, and he’s… laughing? “Got… you… you‘re bad at this… game…Denji.”

“Hu-Huh???” How did he know his name? The voice is distorted and scratchy like a swamp monster in movies, but he recognizes that voice. Holy hell Power was right, the gun devil is Aki! Speaking of Power. That bitch is cowering in the buildings instead of helping!

-.-.-.-.-

Aki spots a ribbon of pink hair twirling between the trees. He snickers and sneak up on her. Power’s eyes go bambi wide and Aki throws his snowball. Unlike Denji, Power is better at sneaking and she easily dodge him. Though, he doesn’t know why she’s not attacking him, she’s going to only have half the fun! As the oldest in this bunch, he can’t have that.

“It’s okay Power!” Aki says to nothing in particular, Power is still hiding. “You can attack me. I’m a big kid, alright? Come on, you’re gonna have so much fun!” Aki runs to the clearing and spots Power and a few other kids. Well… the more the merrier!

-.-.-.-.-

“AAAAHHH, the gun fiend just told me to attack him! He’s boasting! He knows he can kill me!” Power screamed, running away from the Gun fiend’s aim. Power ducked just in time the when Gun fiend takes a shot, killing the crowd of people that Power hides herself in. There’s so much blood on the road, a shining opportunity. She can make a big move, hey, maybe she’d kill that Gun-fiend and the fame and squalor will finally grant her the seat of the president!

But the Gun fiend, she’s sure it’s Aki.

But the presidency!

But it’s Aki… that stiff, good for nothing but food, lame Aki.

But it’s not Aki anymore, not really. He smells kinda different kinda the same.

There’s a fucking gun barrel on his head!

But Aki…

“Pooooweeeer.”

“KYAAAA!” Power jumps into the pool of blood. Better attack than being a prey! “Eat this!”

-.-.-.-.-

Power jumps from the protection of the woods and starts throwing snowballs at him. Aki giggles at the flurries of small packed snow that he barely felt. For the sake of it, Aki acted like he’s hurt. “Ow! Arrgh, I’m down!” Aki lays down. He hears Power cheers, yapping about being able to run for president. Aki chuckles quietly, Power is so cute with her big dreams, but very naïve.

“I have regenerated!” Aki exclaims with two snowballs on his hands. Power yelps, running out of packed snow. Aki feels his back hit with a big one and toppled over. Aki turns to look behind him, and Denji has a really big snowball on both his arms.

“Fight me, Gun devil!” Denji declares.

Aki smiles a little at the nickname, he takes pride in it, since he’s so good at snow ball fights. “Yeah? I’ll take you on, Denji!”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Aki stands back up even when Denji had sliced his back to pieces, as if nothing happened to him. Denji runs over to Power and grabs her arm, “RUN!”

“No need to tell me twice!” and she goes full throttle and hides between buildings.

Denji turns around, and Aki-no- the Gun devil- no, Aki- no- that’s not Aki. That’s not Aki!

“Where… is Power… going? No…play?”

Denji grits his teeth, chainsaws extrude from the flesh of his forearms, “AKI! Stop this!”

-.-.-.-.-

“Ahahaha! Nuh-uh! You have to stop me yourself!” Aki teases, dodging Denji’s snowballs and throwing his. Denji seems to get better, because not all of Aki’s shot hit him. It’s starting to get so much fun!

Snowballs hits his left, and Power is there. Tiny, adorable, but ferocious. “You think I’d run like a coward? Huh! No way! I’m aiming for the presidency babeyyy!” She starts throwing snowballs mercilessly and Aki giggles.

“There you are, Pow-wow!” Aki throws her some snow, but she quickly dodges with a squeak. Aki doesn’t go easy with her this time.

She’s starting to get smarter, more powerful, Aki taught her that. Denji gets back up, and he’s no longer throwing blindly. His snowballs have different shapes and hits different areas strategically. Aki is wide eyed in awe that the rash pipsqueak Denji is actually learning something. They’re starting to work together, his smaller younger friends that used to fight all the time are now working together to take him down. Aki isn’t too overwhelmed, he’s a big kid after all! On the contrary, he’s having the best fun of his life! And he’s very proud of his smaller friends that they’re all getting along.

There are other kids that comes and goes, and he hits them too, hoping they’ll join in and play. They don’t, but that didn’t matter, because Power and Denji sticks around to continue to play with him.

All three of them together. Aki wishes that this is forever.

They’d grow old and disgusting together. Maybe live together in one place like most adults do. Power and Denji are a manace, and being the responsible big brother, Aki would be the one to cook while he’ll bully them to clean. They’d have dinner together, watch movies together, play games together, do stuff together. Always, always together, and Aki will never ever feel lonely ever again! Aki can see it, the riot the three of them would be when they’re older. He can see it so clearly. A future where Aki doesn’t feel lonely and surrounded with the people he cherishes. Never a boring day in their lives.

It's so vivid, the visions of his wonderful future, as if it had already happened.

Snow hits his face and he feels a little light headed, but for the spirit of the fun, Aki brushed it off and laughed. “You caught me, Denji! But I’m getting back up!”

Aki starts to feel really tired. He’s been out playing all day, but the sun hasn’t set yet, which means he still has a lot of time left, right? Then why is he so tired? Why is he starting to feel so sluggish?

Even so, Aki still has the strenght to laugh even though he has no more strenght to lift up his arms and throw a snowball. Suddenly he’s ambushed by a ton of snow from his back and front. So hard that it kinda stings, and very cold. He looks up and see Denji and Power in mid throw. They land a final hit on Aki, and it stings a little more, but seeing how proud they are, Aki instantly forgives them.

“You got me!” Aki smiles. “It was a fun snow ball fight, wasn’t it?”

Power and Denji seem to widen their eyes, looking at each other. Aki wants to go over there, but his body feels heavy. There’s too much snow. Denji and Powder seem wary of him, and that hurts even more than hard ice thrown at him.

“Come on, I won’t hurt you. The game’s over, and you beat me. I surrender!”

Denji’s expression lit up, “Yeah! Wohooo that’s right! We beat the Gun Devil! Aki must be so proud of us!”

“Yes, yes I am proud of you.” Aki finally reaches them, and he rubs their head. They stiffen, but they don’t move away.

“I-I’m going to leave today,” Aki stutters, his heart hurt so much. So much that he felt it all over his body. “My family moves a lot so my baby brother can get the best doctor. He’s sick… He’s always sick.”

“Hu-Huh??” Power says.

“I know, it’s so not fair,” Aki chuckles mirthlessly. “You know… sometimes, being with my family is lonely, but I don’t want my brother to die.” Tears stream down his face as he looks at his best friends that he had started to cherish as much as his own blood and flesh family. Hell, even more. He couldn’t think of a day where he’s lonely whenever he’s with them. And now he’s going to leave.

“I’m going to move so far away, and I don’t know for how long,” Aki says listlessly. He looks to his friends full of hope, “But… we won’t forget each other, right?”

Power and Denji stare at him, a mix of terrified and horor. Aki understands, but he begs, “Please promise, that we won’t forget each other, and you won’t forget me.”

They say nothing, and Aki starts to feel terrified too. “Promise!”

Both of them jolts in panic, “Ye-yes!” “We promise!” “Yup, super promise.” “Promise and hope to die! Haha… ha…”

Aki smiles ear to ear, that’s all that he ever wished for.

“Akiiii,” Calls his mother, “It’s time to go.”

Dread fills him. His hands raise up to their faces, caressing their small itty bitty face. He can see it. He can see their grown-up version in his hands. One day when they’re older, they’d be together again.

But why… why does it feels like he’s going to leave at a point of no return?

They promised, didn’t they?

They promised that they’d never forget each other. One day they’d meet again, and they’ll cherish each other like no time had passed.

His thumbs carress their snow dusted cheeks and he smiles at their cartoonish fear. Tears forming in his eyes, it feels cold. Aki doesn’t know why he feels so sad. He doesn’t know why it feels like this is the last time he gets to hold them.

So, Aki holds them. Wrapping them in a tight hug, and they don’t hug him back, but that’s okay. They’re in his arms. Finally.

“Good bye…”

Aki wants to turn back and walk away, but he fell on his knees instead and his lids slams shut.

In the distant he hears someone laughing, saying over and over again the phrase, “The future is best~

The future is best~

The future is best~”

 ~

~ 

~ 

~ 

The gun fiend falls to his knees, right between Denji and Power. His arms were around their shoulders in the most terrifying yet gentle hug they’ve ever felt. The Gun fiend died on his knees, leaning on the blood spears that Power pierces through all over his body.

The gun fiend just hugged them, and they’re alive. The gun fiend just spoke to them and it sounded… it sounded like Aki. Not like a swamp monster version of Aki. But really really like Aki.

“I-I-… I TOLD YOU IT WAS AKI,” Power screams.

“Wha- I- I mean no way right??? Aki isn’t a fiend, and he was attacking us! He’s killing people!”

“I TOLD YOU. I told you he smelt like Aki, didn’t I? HM? And now look at what you’ve done!”

“ME??? You helped with the killing blow! Those spears are yours!”

“No, they aren’t!”

“You’re starting to really piss me off Power, Aki’s blood is in your hands too!”

“It’s not Aki!”

“But you just fuckign said-”

“Look! There’s no way Aki would attack us, right??” Power’s eyes are wide and manic. Sweat pours down her face. “And there’s no way we killed Aki! You said Aki will be so proud of us if we kill his super-duper mega antagonist for him!”

“Ye-yeah… Yeah!! We should cut this guy’s head and bring it as a thropy for Aki. He’d be so happy then he’d have to bring us to that expensive sushi shop again!”

“YEAH! Yeah you’re right! Aha-ahahaha! Man I’m hungry already, come one, let’s get a clean cut of his neck.”

They barely touch his body, but as they do so, something dropped from the Gun Fiend’s suit. The thud is deafening amidst the dead city that was reduced to rubbles and their citizens buried under it. Whatever fell, it fell face up. Power and Denji say nothing and do nothing when they saw it.

None of them can read, but they know intimately of Aki’s 4th Division Public Safety ID.

They feel nothing but perturbence. Like knowing something is wrong without feeling something is wrong. The have intuition, but no human heart. They don’t shed a tear –can’t shed a tear– as they’ve just killed the only person that loves them.