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Damian sits on Tim’s feet, careful not to make a noise. The two sit in silence, Tim’s hand resting on his knee. They listen to the steady beat of the rain. A few moments later, Tim gently raises his head up and looks at Damian. Damian leans back in, and Tim gives him a small smile. The two of them sit quietly for a few minutes, listening to the rain.
“How’s the drawing going?” Tim asks, voice raspy with disuse. Damian looks up at Tim, keeping his sketchbook close to his chest. Truth is, he’s been staring at the blank paper for a while now, unable to think of what to draw.
Instead of answering properly, he shrugs. Tim takes a sip of his hot chocolate. Both of the boys are quarantined together in a specific section of the manor. Tim had gotten sick from going outside in the snow in only sweatpants and his binder. He’d infected Damian that first day, and now here they are, two days later, cuddled up by a fire together.
A spark of inspiration hits Damian. He grips his pencil tightly in his left hand and begins to sketch, occasionally glancing at Tim. Tim, for once in his life, is feeling tired. He sets his drink down and rests his head on his hand. Damian looks at him thoughtfully.
The room is filled with sounds of Damian’s pencil on the paper and the crackling of the fire. Tim seems to have fallen asleep in the little amount of time since he’s stopped speaking. He looks... peaceful?
The creases in his face from stress and worry are gone now. His frown is replaced by a soft look. His cheeks have hollowed out more since Damian first saw him. He looks much younger than usual. Damian absently tries to capture that peace in his drawing.
Tim snaps awake suddenly, breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t acknowledge that he’s been asleep. He instead leans over to the table next to the couch. He picks up a thick leather journal, bound in dark green and worn from years of handling. He opens it and removes a makeshift small leather bookmark, filled with hand-written entries that look more like scribbles. Damian watches Tim as he writes. He has an idea of what the words are, but doesn’t understand what he’s writing, for he cannot see the pages well enough from this angle. Tim finishes quickly and sets the journal and the pen down on the table. He turns back and finally notices Damian.
“That’s my dream journal,” Tim admits sheepishly, “helps with the nightmares.” Damian nods along.
“Dream journal?” he asks, slightly perplexed at the idea.
“Yeah, I’ve had a few. It’s a really weird idea,” Tim continues, “you can keep track of all the dreams and all the nightmares. For me, it helps me to remember that my nightmares aren’t real and that I’m safe.” Damian hums and looks doen at his sketchbook. “For you, your metaphorical dream journal could be your sketchbook.”
Silence for a moment. Two. Five. Fifteen.
“What do you have nightmares about, Timothy?” asks Damian, voice small.
“Hm. I have nightmares about a lot of things,” says Tim, eyes staring straight ahead. “I have nightmares about losing my friends, mostly. Ever since Kon and Bart...” he trails off and clears his throat. “Sometimes I have nightmares about Jason.” The ‘I have nightmares about you, too’ goes unsaid, but that’s all Damian can hear. Tim shakes his head. “They’ve gotten less frequent, thankfully. Do you have a lot of nightmares?”
Damian sets his pencil down on his sketchbook. “No, only weak people have nightmares. Al Ghuls don’t have nightmares.” Tim’s smile falls as he turns away. Damian feels a bit of guilt in his chest. “Though, sometimes I have dreams that leave me with an unsettled feeling when I wake.”
“Hm?” Tim invites him to continue. Daminan does not. “Dreams about what?” he prompts. Damian looks at his hands.
“You. The times when I almost so easily ended your life.”
“Oh,” Tim says softly, as he wasn’t expecting that answer. Damian fidgets with his pencil.
“Does that make me weak?”
“No. Having nightmares doesn’t make you weak, not one bit.” Damian meets Tim’s eyes finally. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Damian shrugs noncommittally.
Tim rests his head on his hand again. Damian sneaks a look at his brother and adds a few more details to the sketch. By the time he looks up again, Tim has once again fallen asleep. Damian closes his sketchbook and, after a bit, manages to fall asleep as well.