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Tim’s back was pressing against the wall, his arms pulled to tuck his legs close to his chest. His eyes are anywhere but his own body, observing the living space surrounding him. Though, it could hardly be called that right now, considering anyone in their right mind should be in bed now. But, here he sat, eyes glassy and not particularly focused on anything. Out here was somehow more private than his room… the walls weren’t thick enough to hide Nona’s music or Cal’s audiobooks, so how could they do any better hiding whatever may come of whatever this was spilling out of him.
He resented everything he felt. He resented being here and being surrounded with people who knew each other far better than they’d probably ever know him. He couldn’t bear to think about any of that too long, or he’d end up here; on the floor of the kitchen, shaking slightly as he tries his best to remain composed. Every part of him ached to be better, to be more like Mitch or Max or whatever other types of leaders he’s looked up to his whole life. But, that task seemed impossible considering where he was before all of this. Maybe now, maybe after everything, he could somehow reach those heights. Well, not literally. Mitch could fly, afterall.
Disrupting the silence that had settled over the open space, there’s a creak on the stairs; followed by another, and a handful more encroaching closer and closer, which leads Tim to scramble to his feet, his hands shaking as they attempt to nonchalantly grip the counter. His knuckles are white, fingers pressing forcefully into the marble, probably selected by Lex Luthor himself, if he had to take a guess. It was pretentious, just as the rest of the space was, which made him loathe it even more somehow.
After what seemed like hours, heavy boots hit the ground at the end of the stairs, though they don’t make the sound one may typically expect, which means only one thing; Theo.
The boy’s eyes instantly find Tim, offering, “Oh. Hey,” as he manages an awkward wave, approaching Tim slowly, as if he was some kind of scared animal. “I was going to go for a walk.” A pause as he takes in Tim. “You can come, if you want.”
Tim grimaces, glancing at the microwave, “It’s like 2AM.”
Theo shrugs, “Exactly.” His eyes pour over Tim, analytically assessing whatever all of this was. He doesn’t mention it, instead, he repeats, “You can come, if you want.”
He stares at him, mouth slightly agape, any bit of snark not forming at the tip of his tongue. Slowly, he manages to nod, “Let me go get my shoes.”
“Alright.” Theo smiles, small and hesitant, like he’s scared Tim will go back on agreeing if he’s too excited.
But, he doesn’t. He climbs the stairs, going to grab his shoes and throw on a sweatshirt over his loose fitting pajama shirt. Then, he’s out the door, tagging alongside Theo, neither of them speaking.
There’s a part of him that wants to pull out his hair, run back home (wherever that was now), and hide in his room until everyone leaves him alone for the rest of his life. That part of him often reigned supreme, making him bite back harshly and try so terribly hard to take control when he had none. Right now though, another part of him was winning; a lonely, dreadfully yearning part that had longed for this kind of thing— for friendship— for years.
Theo’s quiet voice breaks him from his thoughts, “Are you from Metropolis?”
“Yeah.” He bites his tongue, staring harshly at the pavement as his feet match the speed of Theo’s. “Are you?”
“Mhm.” He nods, his hands now shoved into his pockets as he stares ahead. “My parents’ travel for work though… not that I’ve really been with them. Busy with work, and all that.”
It’s Tim’s turn to nod, and so, he does. Then, he manages to ask, “Why’d you invite me to do this?”
Theo’s pace falters as he stops for a moment, finally looking over at Tim, “I thought you’d make good company.”
“Me.”
“You.” He shrugs and continues walking forward, like it’s the easiest thing for him to possibly say. Like all of this was so simple, like it wasn’t something he had to calculate and hope somehow went well.
Tim, still standing where they stopped, jogs slightly to catch up, “What do you mean?”
A sigh, then, “There’s really nothing more for me to mean,” Theo stops again, more purposefully this time. “I think you get in your head… don’t get me wrong, I do too, but with you—” He makes eye contact, choosing his next words carefully. “It sort of feels like you think we all hate you… or something.”
At that, Tim’s face shifts, eyebrows furrowing and frown deepening, “What?”
“We don’t, just to let you know.”
“I— I know that.” He shakes his head. “This is stupid. I don’t… I don’t think you hate me.”
Theo hums in approval, “Good, because I don’t.”
Quietly, Tim asks, “Really?”
“Do I have any reason to lie?” He tilts his head, observing Tim in the same way he did when he saw him in the kitchen earlier. There was always some level of analysis when it came to Theo, his words often unintentionally pointed and far too perceptive. Tim supposed that came with being quiet, with simply watching; though he certainly wouldn’t know that from experience.
Exasperated, Tim shouts, “I don’t know!” Lowering his voice as he glances around the empty street, he continues, “Team synergy or whatever bullshit Mitch is always on about.”
“If I hated you, I would tell you, Tim.” His look is now disapproving, like he can’t fathom how Tim would possibly assume that of him.
“You have to now.”
“Hate you?” There’s an edge of a laugh in his tone, at least as much as Theo’s capable.
Tim shakes his head, “No, no— tell me. If you ever hate me.”
Theo smiles, a real one, “Alright. I can do that.” His words are still accompanied by an almost laugh, amused at all of this.
Tim, however, was dead serious as he replies with, “Great.”