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Kon always keeps the sounds of his loved ones in the back of his mind. He doesn't really focus on any of them, except for one person. He simply loves listening to Tim. To his intelligible mutters, to the stretch of his body, even to the blink of his eyes. And he loves listening to his heartbeat, perhaps more than anything.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
When his super hearing first came in, it was overwhelming. He didn't know how to control it, and the pounding headaches settling in didn't help. He talked about it to Clark after a couple of days, albeit a bit reluctantly. Under all the headaches and cacophonies, he was excited, delighted at his new power, making him closer to his Kryptonian heritage. But he was also a bit apprehensive of Clark's reaction at the fact he couldn't manage it quite yet. Besides, he always dealt with his abilities alone before. He wanted to figure this one out by himself first. But it quickly proved impossible, all the pain in his head making him unable to concentrate. So, he went to Clark — or rather, Clark found him holed up in his room at the farm, pillows pressed tightly against his ears in a futile attempt to shut the world and its detestable noises out. Safe to say, it didn't work. The knock against his door felt like a hammer banging against his eardrums and the creaking of the hinges bounced and echoed horribly in his head. There were no footsteps, and when he tentatively pulled his pillows off, he saw Clark hovering just next to his bed, a sympathetic grimace on his face.
The man talked softly, but the words sounded like they've been spoken out of a megaphone, one placed right against his ears. Something about Ma informing him about Kon's current condition, and he could only groan, rubbing his temples and mumbling something he wasn't sure was coherent about his hearing and headaches and loudness. Clark nodded empathetically, quietly sitting down on the edge of the bed. He shared his methods to not be overwhelmed, or not too much at least. He told Kon to focus on something or someone, a focal point to ground him.
His mind immediately went to his friends, to Young Justice. They shared so much together, they've been through literal hell together — the 70s themed one and the horrible, apocalyptic one. He pictured Bart, Cassie, Cissie, Rob. Tim, that was his name. They knew his name, now. And it worked. He heard Bart's fast chatter, Cassie's laugh, Cissie's sarcastic remarks, Tim's know-it-all tone, and the rest of the world became quieter. Clark shared his own experience with super hearing and headaches, what worked for him and what didn't, how to keep them at bay. Despite the pain still consuming most of his head, it was a nice afternoon. Over time, he picked up more anchors, as Clark called them. Ma and Pa, Kara and Clark, Anita and Greta and Slobo, Lois and Jon, even Krypto.
He focused on their footsteps, their voices, their heartbeats.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
And then, one day he couldn't really place, he started listening to Tim more than the others. In retrospect, he thinks that's when the whole crush thing took form, or maybe a more defined one. Kon knows he loves his friends. He loves them in a way that feels more than friendly, more than family, but not really romantic. It's a love that runs deep, that's so easy. He doesn't really have a word for it, he's not sure if one even exists. He hasn't found it in all the things Cadmus implanted in his head. He simply loves them, in a way that bounds them forever. He doesn't know if soulmates are real, but when he looks at his friends with a warmth in his chest, all together and laughing, he thinks maybe they are.
But he starts feeling something different with Tim. The same thing than with all the others, but also not different enough for him to pick up on it right away. It started innocently enough. Kon was wondering what the other boy was up to, and after fifteen minutes of Tim not answering the text he sent him, Kon let his hearing wander. He picked up Tim's tune easily, his heartbeat memorized a long time ago and so distinguishable from all the other noises around.
Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump.
It's slightly elevated, either by adrenaline or too much caffeine consumption. But the sounds of running footsteps, of a grapple line releasing, of the rush of the wind told him everything. His friend was on patrol, bantering with Spoiler and Nightwing over their comms. Kon wished he was there, adding to the jokes and having Rob's back. He knew his friend was more than capable of handling his own, that he was in safe hands with Dick and Steph around. But still, he wanted to float next to him and start a pointless argument about something stupid just for the fun of it. He wanted it to be just the two of them, not even the rest of Young Justice with them. It didn't feel weird to want that. Tim was one of his best friends, and he thought it would be fun. He didn't question it further than that, instead letting the sound of his heartbeat lulling him into warm dreams.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
It's not necessarily a pretty sound, but it's a familiar tune that spells safety to Kon. He likes to listen to it during dull moments to give his mind something to do. He likes to focus on it during sad moments to soothe himself. Sometimes, it'll be accompanied by a quick and tight hug. Sometimes, it'll be accompanied by petty fights. Kon loves Tim, he loves all of his friends, but they still fight from time to time. Only this time, it ends with one or the other apologizing before cuddling in front of a movie. It ends with Kon's arms wrapped around Tim, listening to his heart beating a tempo Kon knows better than his own.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
Then, he finds himself wanting more. It caught him off-guard, the shift completely unnoticeable until it was choking, the feeling of want so strong it was almost drowning. He wakes up in Tim's room and in Tim's bed, his little bird in his arms. He opens his eyes to the other's face so close to his, soft and calm, resting. The boy always carries too much on his shoulders, but now he looks worriless, peaceful. Kon barely registers his fingers cradling his hair, and when Tim hums, shifts to fit better in his palms, Kon's breath catches, his heart stutters.
Thump thump thump.
He wants. He's not sure exactly what it is that he wants, but he wants Tim and anything that the boy will be willing to give him. He wants in a way he doesn't with any of his other friends. It's so much and too little at the same time, being here with Tim. The boy opens his eyes, blinks a few times to try and get rid of the sleep trapped in his dark eyelashes. Kon can do nothing but hold his breath, drinking in the sight of Tim waking up. The boy smiles at him, small and soft, and Kon wants. And when Tim whispers 'hi' with a gentle and sweet tone, Kon wants. So, he shifts the hand still delicately, lovingly cradling Tim's neck to his cheek, and he watches the other's pupils widen, stark black swallowing pale blue. He rubs his thumb slowly and tenderly on the other's cheek, a little tentative smile on his face, and he hears Tim's heart accelerate to match the rhythm of Kon's own.
Thump thump thump.
Kon wants, and so, hesitantly, he closes the gap. The kiss is soft, chaste. Plush lips against chapped ones, warm but not burning. It's innocent, timid, just kids' first steps into something that felt inevitable, like the sun rising over the horizon. He pulls back, his pulse thundering and his cheeks flushed, matching Tim's pink ones. The other boy looks surprised, and happy, his smile broad and fond. Kon beams, giddy and vulnerable. It feels right then, to be there with Tim and basking in each other's presence, the melody of Tim's heart harmonizing to his own.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
The tune is with him everywhere now. In the back of his mind with the others he keeps close, or at the very forefront breaking away from all the other sounds. He never tried to chase it away, and even less now, after a decade of being together. Even when Cassie and Bart tease and make fun of him. He doesn't mind it too much, because Tim's hand is in his and their fingers are intertwined together the whole time, a pretty, small blush on Tim’s cheeks. He simply loves to listen to Tim, no matter where they are, together or apart.
He focuses on it when there's another alien invasion and Tim is on the other side of the country, leading a last minute team and Kon wants to make sure he's okay, alive. He picks up his soft snores when he helps with the chores at the farm, accompanying him so early in the morning just like the radio show Pa puts on while he's fixing the tractor. He tunes in to Tim's sounds when he's stressed and angry, feeling like he's going to snap, but he can't, because letting his anger out could mean razing buildings or cities and burning forests to the ground. It helps him calm down enough so he can breathe properly again. He zones in on his racing pulse and almost silent gasps when Tim is flushed under him, a fire burning more intensely in Kon's veins at each little sound and shiver that escapes the other. He listens to his calm heartbeat when they're lounging on their couch after a long day, Star Trek playing on the TV and Tim's weight between his arms.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
It's soothing, it's comforting. It's there, and it means Tim's alive, even if he isn't always okay.
Until it isn't. And Kon almost loses his mind. The sound stops abruptly and Kon thinks he's going to go crazy. He's in the air and where he last spotted Tim's pulse in seconds, his breathing heavy with panic. And then, he hears Tim call out his name in confusion, and the tension dissipates so fast he almost falls with it. He's still a bit too panicked, and Tim pulls him somewhere — somewhere safe he guesses, he's always safe in Tim's hands. The other starts explaining that he was working on a case that pushed him underground, somewhere Kon can't hear apparently. Maybe blocked by a machine, or a certain material, or a precise frequency perhaps, his bird starts to hypothesize, and Kon can only focus on the pulse under his fingers wrapped around Tim's wrists. He feels like he overreacted, and it feels like Tim can read his mind when he tells him he didn't. He says he would've done the same if the roles were reversed. Tim apologizes, and promises to figure something out so it doesn't happen again. They don't mention the year Kon's been gone, even if they both think about it.
They talked about it already. Tim apologized, and he did each time the topic was brought up. And no matter how much he loves Tim, he hurt Kon, and Kon still feels hurt sometimes. Rarely. When he thinks too much about it, when he imagines Tim succeeding and replacing Kon with another clone. Tim assures him every time that he knew it would never be Kon, that no one and nothing could ever replace him. He explains that he was a bit too insane and too gone back then to really grasp at what he was doing, but that nothing will ever justify or excuse what he did.
Kon forgave him when he came back, with hollow words he didn't believe in himself, but that Tim needed to hear. Later, they really talked about it, and he could feel all of Tim's guilt at his actions. The other boy apologized deeply, and that's when he explained why he did it. He said he understood if Kon never wanted to see him again. And Kon… Kon needed time, space to process everything. He didn't want to lose Tim, and even if he thought he could comprehend why he did it, his actions- trying to clone him, it hurt, deeply. Tim said 'of course', told him that he'll always be there for him if Kon wants him to be, and that he'll disappear from his life if Kon wants him to. And Kon nodded, throat tight with emotions, his hearing still tuned to Tim's erratic, anxious pulse.
Thump thump thump thump.
It's not erratic now, despite the gun pointed at Tim's head. Their eyes are locked on each other, but Supernova can't move at the moment and Tim Drake-Wayne can't either. Cardinal could, maybe, but all of Tim's gadgets and suit are hidden in their apartment. Tim looks calm, and Kon knows he's trying to be reassuring for his sake. He can't stand it, being useless while Tim has the barrel of a gun against his temple.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
They just bought a new plant to put in Tim's study, and Kon has plans to propose to him soon. He already asked Cassie to be his groomswoman. They talked about marriage, kids, and he thinks he wants that. A family of their own he can return to, children that he'll be able to watch do everything that was denied to Kon, a ring he helped design on Tim's finger and one on his, a date and a promise engraved on the inside.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
But Tim is trapped by the gun against his head and Kon can't move. He feels powerless, something pulling and tearing in his chest at his helplessness and desperation. They're so young, and Kon always liked to imagine holding Tim's wrinkled hand in his own, sitting on a porch or a balcony. Tim's face shifts into something like resignation and fondness, and Kon hates it. A raw scream escapes his throat, and Tim opens his mouth.
Thump thump thump.
"Don't look."
Thump thump thu-