"Sometimes I forget they're gone."
Bruce looks up from work - a crossword he's doing to pass time until the gas chromatography finishes - and over to where Tim is rolling back and forth in front of a secondary terminal. The steady squeak of his chairs back wheel was almost meditative in a way. He stared up at a blank screen, face only illuminated in profile by the gentle glow of Bruce's own terminal.
"Who is?" Bruce asked when Tim didn't elaborate. For all that this was functionally his home now, the boy had a tendency to occupy space in a way that made Bruce's jaw ache from biting his tongue.
"My parents." Tim stopped rocking and the Cave was as silent as a grave between them. One grave in particular. "Like, something happens and I think, oh, Mom would love to hear about this. Or Dad would get all huffy and rant over something silly and it would be fun to listen to."
Tim, who loved his parents and, arguably was loved in return. He spent most of his time in his room or the Cave, exploring other rooms in the Manor like his parents did archeological sites. Interesting to him, but not a place to be.
"Sometimes I pick up the phone and get as far as putting in their international number, you know?"
Tim, who was parented through phone calls and post cards. Tim, who spent so much of his life in boarding schools that an actual home looked more like a museum than a place to live.
"I'm sorry, bud," Bruce murmured. There wasn't much else he could say, aside from reminding Tim that his father was still alive. Comatose, hanging in limbo, but alive.
Bruce thought it would be easier if Jack Drake died with his wife. Bruce also hated himself for thinking those kinds of things.
"I just keep thinking about Mohenjo-daro," he continued. "We're learning about it in school this unit and I keep remembering- I keep remembering that Dad said he's been there. I can't keep the dates right in my head and he would have helped."
"I can give it a shot," Bruce offered even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do now just as it had been the wrong thing to do when he offered to find a Romani language tutor for Dick when he realized he was forgetting things.
It would solve one part of the problem, but it would never replace the help a father could give.
Tim turned towards him, pale face washed out in stark relief under the light from behind Bruce. He wondered if Tim could even see his face in the relative darkness and found a cowards courage knowing he couldn't.
"He told me a story about it once," Tim said. "I can't remember the ending. I can't remember what he told me. Why didn't I listen better?"
Bruce had no answer for him. He set his paper aside and opened his arms.
Dick would have thrown himself at Bruce, taking comfort where and when he could. Jason would have slunk over and did his level best to press close enough to cave in Bruce's chest and make himself a home.
He was, in hindsight, too good at that.
Tim always hesitated. Weighting the pros and cons? Overthinking a simple comfort offered freely? Bruce never knew.
Still, Tim slowly abandoned his squeaking chair. He let Bruce tug him in for a hug.
Tim was older than Dick had been, around the same age as Jason. Even so, in moments like this he seemed immeasurably younger. Tim, cast off in a prestigious boarding school, had lived comparatively untouched by life's hardest lessons. He signed up for the work, but he couldn't have known how hard it would be. Bruce never should have let him in, but what could he do now? Tim came to him when he needed a partner the most and he was so, so grateful even as regret threatened to choke him.
A beep, then. Bruce's eyes drifted upwards.
"The drugs we lifted from the Iceberg Lounge?" Tim asked against Bruce's neck.
"Yes."
"Show me."
Bruce let Tim out from the protective circle of his arms and did so. The moment lay broken behind them, like so many others.
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So this post was originally something entirely different for an entirely different fandom but I'm rewriting it now as what I really want to talking about.
It's a fucking. WALTZ.
The Soriku side of the fandom has picked this song to bits, having the game featuring the two main characters who have one of the strongest bonds in the series and having their theme for the game where they're together be a waltz is just a perfect hint towards their possible romantic relationship together.
Frankly, I think that's just beautiful, and if we ever get another kh game where we play both Riku and Sora, I'd love to see the DB call back to this song in some way. I also like how it's most magical, dreamlike. It fits DREAM drop distance.
I dunno, I love this song so much. It's definitely not my favorite Dearly Beloved (save me days/com/mom/kh2 db... save me) but it's up there. Then again ranking the Dearly Beloveds is a task no one should even try to do because they're all just so damn good. Yoko please come back for kh4, DBs aren't the same without you.
For the -1 person curious what the original post was gonna look like, it was gonna be something like "oh yeah these two fictional relationships soirta mirror each other in how they play out, one starting with hatred and the other ending with it" and how this is the db that would be on my playlist for them because I love the idea of the two dancing no idea why but just gahhhh them <3
Now that I think about it, I should rank the DBs, just to see how much I can screw that list up and have it all change in a day max.
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top 3 favorite books and favorite fictional character (from any kind of media)?
favorite books: the all for the game series (im gonna count it as 1 ok sfndjcj), ninth house by leigh bardugo, and crush by richard siken
favorite fictional character: for the last many years i have had an extremely strong attachment to john constantine of the hellblazer comics and andrew minyard of aftg and mollymauk tealeaf from critical role campaign 2
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