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Bruce and Dick have Damian to look after now. They don’t need another whiny kid to deal with. They have to spend all their time teaching the ten-year-old not to stab everyone he sees and other more normal life lessons. They don’t have time for him.
And anyways, he was never really a part of this family in the first place.
So Tim makes a (what should be harder to make) choice.
Early in the morning, he takes the bag containing all his stuff that he had at Wayne Manor which he packed up the night before and makes the one mile trip back home.
It’s not his home. It’s his house.
Drake Manor is so cold, so empty when compared to the life of Wayne Manor that he had left behind him. An hour or so later, he discovers that there’s naught but a solitary unopened box of cereal in the kitchen.
Cereal it is then.
It tastes like old cardboard and he tips more than half of the bowl out into the bin.
Today is Monday, which means school. And without Alfred to drive him to Gotham Academy, Tim has to take the half-hour bus trip. The school day is lonely and boring. Tim keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to his family — the Waynes.
Did anyone notice that he wasn’t at breakfast this morning?
Did they even care that he wasn’t?
He only remembers that he hasn’t gotten groceries when he’s home back at Drake Manor and looking at the sole cereal box in the pantry. It’s too late for him to do anything about it so it’ll have to be cereal for dinner. It’s not like he hasn’t had cereal for dinner before.
But once he’s done eating, Tim finds himself just existing. A day ago he would be down in the Cave getting ready for patrol. Not anymore. He’s not Robin anymore. Without the need to prepare for tonight's patrol to fill up his time, he’s got nothing to do.
At some point, he must have drifted back upstairs to his room as he wakes the next morning seated at his desk, face squished against his laptop keyboard.
This day goes much like the previous one, only he remembers to stop for groceries. “Groceries” is used lightly when it’s just some instant noodles and coffee. He’s kind of numb to the world at this point. The loneliness takes care of that.
But he can’t go back to them — the Waynes, that’s not where he belongs anymore. His place is here in the drafty halls of Drake Manor. He knows his place as much as he loathes it.
On Thursday afternoon, Tim steps out of the doors of Gotham Academy to spot Dick in the parking lot, leaning against his car. The eldest of Bruce’s sons is waiting for someone, whoever that is most certainly not him.
He keeps his eyes glued to the pavement as he descends the stairs, fully intent on just walking right by Dick and off in the direction of Drake Manor.
The first Robin doesn’t give him a chance to follow through on that plan. “Timmy!” Dick is jogging over to him and his brain is short-circuiting.
This was not part of his hastily made plan.
“Oh hi Dick,” he finds himself saying. “Are you picking up Damian?” A look that Tim can’t decipher flashes over the acrobat’s face.
“No, Damian’s at a workshop,”
What? If Dick’s not here to pick up the demon brat then who?
“I’m here to pick you up Tim, if that’s alright with your parents?” he asks.
What.
“That is why you went home, isn’t it?” Tim doesn’t want to see Dick’s face and the concern that is sure to be there.
“Oh, um…yeah, they got home late on Sunday,” he lies smoothly. “They fly out tomorrow. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen them, you know?”
Everyone will tell you to keep your lie short as it means less chance that you’ll screw it up but he’s learnt that, with Dick, a few more details make it more believable. After all, he’s been lying about his parents’ whereabouts since he was seven years old.
“I know,” Dick agrees. That blasted concern fades a little. “But surely you can spare an hour or two to hang out with me?” he asks.
This is a direct offer. Dick wants to hang out with him.
Tim opens his mouth to agree, to say yes he would love to, to ask if I am still part of the family?
Before he can get the vibrations from his throat to convey it, he comes to his senses. He is a Drake, the Waynes were just giving him food when his parents forgot to renew Mrs Mack’s contract. They were just people doing a good deed for their neighbour. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I can’t, I’m really sorry. We've got a gala at seven and I need to get ready,” This lie is just as easy as the last one had been. He doesn’t wait for Dick’s response as he turns away and heads off to the Manor.
His little brother looks so heartbreakingly lonely when he comes out of Gotham Academy. Then Tim looks surprised that he’s here for him.
The little flicker of concern that had come to life when they had woken Monday morning to discover that Tim had gone back to Drake Manor explodes into a blazing inferno.
Something’s not right. And Dick’s gonna figure out whatever it is. Even if he has to do the unthinkable to do so.
When he asks if Tim has the time to hang out, the fifteen-year-old flounders and presents him with a lie, a decently believable one but a lie nonetheless. He forces himself to head back to his car, watching as Tim walks back to his house. When Dick pulls his car to a stop outside Drake Manor, the door has just clicked shut.
That same numb feeling has followed Tim all day and hasn’t left even as he works on making his dinner.
“Baby bird,” Dick’s voice calls quietly from behind him. Tim spins on his heel to see the man himself standing there.
Only he forgets that he’s holding a bowl of noodles and boiling water. The aforementioned water sloshes over the edge to singe his arm. He hisses in pain. Dick rushes over to help him.
Minutes later, the acrobat is helping patch up Tim’s arm to stop it from getting infected.
“Why?” Tim asks, his free hand flying up to cover his mouth in embarrassment. It sounds like it was forced out of him.
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Patching you up? You’re my brother-“
Tim cuts him off. “No! Not patching me up…the other thing — why do you want to spend time with me,” he sounds so damn confused. “I can handle this myself, you didn’t need to help me,”
“I know you could handle this, it doesn't mean you have to,” Dick says slowly. “And I’m spending time with you because I want to,” A horrible idea dawns on him.
“Timmy, does your coming back here have something to do with Damian’s arrival?” The second Robin looks away, it’s all the answer he needs.
“It’s just…you all are so busy with him, you’re spending all your time with him, and — and-“ Tim’s sentence gets cut off by a sob, “—if you spend all your time on Damian, then you’ll have none left for me!” And the dam has finally broken.
There are tears streaming down Tim’s face. Dick’s heart, which had been broken because of the fifteen-year-old already, shattered into a million pieces.
“Oh Tim, that’s not true,” He thought Tim knew that, but it appears not. It matters, Tim matters. He’s going to make sure that he knows that.
“Just because Damian’s here now doesn’t mean we — any of us — aren’t going to spend time with you,” Dick tells him. “Our time and attention nor effort isn’t measured, just because we have to divide it more doesn’t mean anyone, even you, have to have less,”
Tim stays quiet.
“You mean it?” he asks, rather childishly.
“Of course,” Dick adds all the sincerity and love into those two words that he can. “Hey, how about we head over to the Manor and watch a movie until dinner?”
A moment passes. “…Okay,” An agreement!
Tim gets to his feet and before they can leave to head over to Wayne Manor, Dock wraps him in a hug, a tight one. If he sits closer to Dick than he ever has before while they watch the movie, it doesn’t mean anything.
If you were to ask Tim about it, he’d say it was because he was cold, winter was just starting to set in, after all. Before dinner, Bruce stops Tim just before he can head into the dining room.
“Tim, I’m sorry if the way I’ve been acting since Damian’s arrival has made you believe that I don’t have or want to spend time on you,” the man says and doesn’t look like it was akin to pulling teeth, for once.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, I got over it. It’s fine,” Tim says, far too casually.
“No, it’s not,” Bruce rebukes. “You shouldn’t be fine with having people who are supposed to love and care for you spend more time on other people rather than you,” he says, carefully and with so much care that it makes Tim’s chest tight with emotion.
“Master Tim,” Alfred calls from the kitchen down the hall. “Could you please help carry these dishes?” the butler requests. Tim scurries off to the kitchen to help.
When they’re all seated at the table for dinner, Tim finds himself constantly being included in the conversations. Even Damian makes an effort to ask for his opinion. This never happens at dinner with his parents.