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“Timothy?” Damian pokes his head through Tim’s doorway, who closes his laptop. Damnit, couldn’t whatever it is wait? He’s so close to cracking this case-
He sighs, spinning his chair around to the door. “Not now, Damian, I’m bu-”
His mind catches up with what he sees. Damian- disheveled, still in his pajamas, clutching something rectangular to his chest, his eyes red.
“Timothy, I require your advice, regarding,” he hesitates, before continuing, “regarding a personal matter.”
“Well, come in then.” He opens the door and lets Damian in, gesturing him to the side of his bed. Damian clambers up and Tim plops down next to him on the mattress. As soon as Damian settles, Tim looks to see what he’s holding. It’s a picture frame that seems somewhat familiar, probably taken from Damian’s room, but the way he’s holding it doesn’t allow Tim to see the photo.
“So, what is this personal matter?” Tim asks. “And why would you go to me and not Dick?”
“I thought you’d be better suited to answer my questions than Richard,” Damian admits.
“Ok, hit me. What is it?”
“Is it wrong to mourn for someone who isn’t dead?” Damian stares down at his knees and blinks- a stray tear falls out the corner of his left eye.
Caught off guard by the question, Tim reels back. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t understand why I feel this way. He’s not even dead- it’s not like he was gone for any longer than three weeks.”
Damian sniffles, and wipes at his eyes. Tim thinks that he’s never looked more his age.
“But I missed five years. Five years.”
Tim finally catches a glimpse of the image inside the photo frame Damian is clutching onto. It’s Robin and Superboy- Damian and Jon. His mind puts the pieces together.
So that’s why he came to me instead of Dick.
He can’t help but feel a clench of pity for his little brother in his heart.
“Oh, Dami…”
Wrapping an arm around Damian, Tim pulls him into a side hug. Damian rests his head on Tim’s shoulder and the way he’s shaking, god, Tim has never seen him so vulnerable.
“I told him to come back in time so we could celebrate his twelfth birthday together. And he had to spend it alone- in a volcano, being tortured by an evil version of his father. I should’ve been there! He would’ve been younger than me, still- I should’ve protected him.”
“Hey- hey, Damian,” Tim gently puts a hand on his shoulder, speaking firmly, “you can’t blame yourself for things that you never could’ve seen coming.”
Hearing this, Damian lets out a small chuckle in between his tears. “Hypocritical, coming from you.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? You can’t beat yourself up over these things.”
“It’s not fair. We were going to do so much together.”
Tim ruffles his hair. “No, no it’s not. Tell me about your plans?”
“We had a plan. When he turned thirteen, he was going to join the Titans. While he was gone, I convinced the others to let him join early when he came back- it was supposed to be a surprise,” Damian swallows. “I never let him join because he wasn’t a teen yet. Now he’s almost an adult.
“We were supposed to- to grow up together. Surpass our fathers eventually. Go from Robin and Superboy to Batman and Superman. As partners. Now- now, he’s already Superman, and I’m still Robin. And it’s not fair.
“He’s got a new life now. A boyfriend. He’s Superman. He doesn’t need our team, or me as a partner anymore. He doesn’t need the Supersons. And I’m happy for him, I really am, it’s good that he’s enjoying his new life.
“I just wish- I just wish he was still my Superboy. And that’s selfish of me, isn’t it? Because he’s changed, and he’s happy this way, so why can’t I just- just move on?”
The question hangs in the air as Tim contemplates how to respond, the only sound being Damian stifled sobs.
“Damian…” Tim begins hesitantly, “it’s not selfish to miss your friend. You said it yourself, you’re happy for him, but moving on isn’t that simple. Of course you feel this way. A month ago, Jon was still the Superboy you knew, and then all of a sudden, he wasn’t. That’s something that you need time to process, it’s only natural. And that’s ok.
“It’s normal to grieve the time that you lost. I mean, for me it was the same. Back then, after the Crisis, we lost four years with Bart- the point is, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.”
“Nothing wrong,” Damian echoes. “Are you certain?”
Tim nods. “I swear, Damian,” he reassures, “no one will blame you. Not Jon. Not me. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“Ok. I believe you, Timothy,” Damian sees the hint of skepticism in Tim’s expression, and rushes to repeat himself. “I really do! I just- I need some time.”
Tim exhales, and wraps both arms around Damian to give him a full hug. The tension in his shoulders finally drains, and he relaxes, leaning on Tim.
“Take all the time you need, Dami.”
“Thank you.”