Chapter Text
World… Fuzzy.
Was fuzzy.
Was…. World was World. World was… Wrong.
He was wrong.
He…
Something was touching him. No, someone was touching him. There were fingers, carding through his hair.
Words.
They were speaking words.
The words were words like… Like, uh, words.
Words were meant to mean something, at least he thought that they were meant to mean something but these sounds simply didn’t have any sense to them at all. Another language, then?
No, he would still understand the general gist of other languages, he’d made it a point to learn the basics of almost every root language that was somehow connected to ones that were now spoken so these words were meant to make at least some vague sense to him but they didn’t and he didn’t and he is supposed to understand things.
He should understand it, he always understands it. Understands what? Words. There were words.
Fingers in his hair. That, at least, he could understand. Could appreciate. Could… Could what?
The fingers were nice.
Familiar.
Gentle.
They were gentle. The words were gentle too but they weren’t just directed at him but to somebody else to. Someone else was hurt.
Was he hurt?
No.
Yes?
Words. There were words. There were words and fingers in his hair and something soft beneath his head and he was on his side. He was on his side for some reason and for some other reason, it felt important to know that he was on his side.
His legs were weird. Fuzzy. Not really there. They were there though and they were half curled against him. No, one was curled towards his chest while the other was outstretched, kind of like how one of his arms was close to his face while the other was laid away from him.
The ground was hard. The ground was hard but whatever he was laying his head against was soft and the fingers in his hair were soft and the words were soft and he felt like he was soft too.
A cloth, cool against the back of his neck.
It was nice, it was all so nice.
No.
No, it wasn’t, his muscles were hurting. Quaking. He was quaking, his whole body racked with trembles that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard he fought against them.
His head too was hurting even though it was laid against something soft and even though the fingers were gentle in his hair and even though he shouldn’t be hurting and he was hurting, he had not realised that he was but now that very same pain was unrelenting and commanded all of his focus.
Tears burned in his eyes but a hand took up his own and they squeezed and he was okay and it was okay and nothing was okay.
He was hurting.
No, he was okay, the voice was saying that he was okay, it was saying that he was doing so well, it was saying words and he could almost understand those words and he felt his chest warming because he had finally done something right.
He didn’t know what he was doing right exactly, but he was doing it so that’s what mattered.
The voice…
The voice was fading.
Words were… No, he didn’t want the words to fade, he needed them to stay, he wanted them to stay.
Focusing on staying only made his head spin because something was wrong and he was on the ground and oh fuck he was going to be sick. He lurched hard with a gag but the fingers in his hair soothed him through it, even when he gagged again.
The words were a little different now, less ‘everything’s okay’ and more ‘easy, easy’. Wait. Was that what the words meant? Easy? Was… Was this supposed to be easy? Maybe he wasn’t doing so well after all because this didn’t feel easy at all, it in fact felt like absolute shit instead.
Acid burned his throat but his stomach clenched again anyway because of course it fucking did.
His eyes were closed. He commanded them to open but instantly they were shut again because it was too bright, everything was too bright.
They needed to dim the lights, they always dimmed the lights but this didn’t feel like the hospital and the bed he was on wasn’t a bed at all and he was on the ground, he didn’t want to be on the ground.
He surged up to his feet only his legs never truely got beneath him and he was on the ground and everything was hurting and he was on the ground he was on the ground he was on the ground.
“Breathe, Lad, breathe through it.”
Breathe.
They were telling him to breathe.
He could breathe, everyone could breathe but maybe he wasn’t? Was he? Yes? No… Yes? He didn’t know if he was breathing but he definitely knew that he was giving off a whine because everything was hurting and he didn’t want everything to hurt.
“C’mon, Rob, come back.”
The second voice. That was the second voice. It was young. Masculine. Nice, somehow, though a little rough around the edges. Whoever belonged to that voice was the one holding his hand and for some reason that information made his face burn hot.
“Tim,”
The first voice. Older. Much older.
“Breathe, Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’ve had a seizure but it’s okay.”
Seizure.
No.
Yes?
That… That was a word. Seizure was a word. Was it a word that made sense though? Was it why he was on the ground.
Yes, obviously, he’d had a seizure and now he was on the ground. This kind of things was old news by this point, he’d had a thousand seizures before this was nothing new.
Not a thousand.
Still a lot though. He… He’s had a lot of seizures. He was on the ground. He should probably stand up.
“Not yet, Love.”
Love. He liked that. He liked that a lot. Love. Love. Love.
“Why isn’t he coming out of it?”
“Give him time, Conner,”
Conner. Conner Conner Conner. Seizure. He’d had a seizure. He… There were words. The words were wording. He… He didn’t think he was wording.
He did know that he was on the ground though. He didn’t want to be on the ground anymore.
“Tim,” The older voice said. The not-Conner voice said. The warm and familiar and loving but absolutely not-Conner voice said. “Focus on me. You’re okay. You’ve had a seizure but you’re okay. We are right here with you.”
We.
That sounded nice too.
Conner and not-Conner were right there with him.
His stomach protested and he curled into himself, making himself the smallest ball of pure misery and seizure-ness that he could.
Shielding his eyes with his arm helped ease his pounding head just a little but when he tried to open his eyes again it was still too bright.
“Conner,” The older voice said. “Use your jacket to block out the sun.”
Sun?
No, Son.
Sun.
Jacket.
He likes jackets. He likes Conner’s jacket in particular. Kon’s? Kon? Conner? Kon. Jacket. He likes jackets.
The world dimmed which meant that it must be time for bed. He should sleep. No. No no no, he was meant to stay awake, the older man was telling him to try to stay awake.
His breath caught in his chest because the hand that had been holding his own was gone and he must have done something wrong, he always does something wrong and now they’d left him just like every else always does and he was alone, he was so alone.
But… But the fingers were still carding through his hair so maybe he wasn’t so alone after all?
He didn’t want to be alone.
He didn’t know why but he really didn’t want to be alone.
He didn’t want to stay here on the hard ground either even though there was something soft beneath his head. It wasn’t a lap but it was fabric? Soft. Sweater. It was a sweater. It was… His?
No?
Did… Did he even own sweaters?
He… He doesn’t know.
He does know that he doesn’t want to be alone and he wasn’t alone, not with Conner-Con and not-Conner-Kon right here with him.
He curled a little tighter, his whole body aching.
Seizure. He had had a seizure. The man had said he had had a seizure. Is this… Is this what it was meant to feel like after a seizure. Yes. He knows that, of course he knows that, he’s had a thousand seizures before this one. No, not a thousand.
Still a lot though.
Still a lot.
It is little and it is broken but it is still good. Still good.
Ohana? Stitch? What? The fuck does Stitch have to do with Seizures.
Was he little? Was he… Was he broken?
No. No, he was not broken. He had Epilepsy, sure, but that didn’t make him broken. His bad thoughts didn’t mean that he was broken either, because he wasn’t broken. He was loved and he was cared for and he was laying on the ground, his body aching.
“Tim.” Not-Conner-Kon said. “Can you try to open your eyes for me, Son?”
Son. Sun. The sun was shining. The Son was on the ground. He was on the ground. He… Probably should get up, Not-Conner-Kon probably wanted him to get up.
He didn’t want to open his eyes but he tried it again all the same, the world little more than a hazy blur.
“You’re doing so well, Son,”
He was doing well. He really liked that he was doing well. He really liked being a Son too. A Son, or just Son? He… He didn’t know.
“Can you try to follow my finger?”
The blurs shifted in front of him and Son closed his eyes instead because holy fuck was he dizzy.
There was a chuckle then, a warm one but for some reason he knew that it was worried too. Son didn’t like that he was worrying someone so he forced his eyes open once more. He followed the blur that he supposed was meant to be a finger.
Son’s stomach flipped.
“Okay, shh, okay I’m sorry, just breathe through it, Son.”
He lurched again even though the blurry finger was gone now and he really really did not want to throw up despite how insistent his body was on doing just that.
It was an eternity before his stomach mostly settled and even then his whole body ached.
“Rob, are you… You good?”
“Conner. Give him time.”
“I did! He’s awake now, isn’t that meant to mean that he’s passed the worst of it?”
“It takes time to fully come out of it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Conner-Kon said. “But it’s been time.”
Kon. He was Kon. Why Conner was Kon and why he knew it was meant to be with a K not a C, Son didn’t know. He didn’t know. He was supposed to know everything. He was meant to be smart, he needed to be smart, if he wasn’t smart then, then, then someone wasn’t going to want him anymore.
Someone? Who? The older man? No, no this older man will always want Son, he had promised just that. When and how he had made such a promise, Son didn’t remember, but he did know that the man would stay true to it.
Wait, if he was Son then was this Dad? Yes. This was Dad. One of his Dad’s, at least, the one he liked far more. Wait… Who was the other Dad? Was… Was he meant to have a favourite Dad? Was he meant to have hazy blurs in front of him?
He should get up.
“Easy,” The man said.
“Dad.” Son said.
His throat screamed from the single word as if he hadn’t spoken for a thousand years. A thousand seizures. He’d had a thousand seizures. No. Yes? His eyes were burning.
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
“I’m here too, Wonderboy,” Kon said. “You’re good, Man, just wake up fully when you’re ready.”
But he was awake. Was he not meant to be awake? He had been awake as his head had snapped back and his back had arched and he had been awake and he whole body had been in agony and he had been awake he had been-
A hand, gentle on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Lad, you’re okay. We’ve got you.”
“Dad.” Son sobbed. “Hurts.”
“I know, and I’m sorry that it hurts, but it will pass. I promise.”
Son believed him. Dad doesn’t lie, not about things like this. He lies about other things though… Only when he needs to.
The world blurred.
“Can I…” Son’s voice sounds wrong even to himself. “Sit up?”
“Do you think you can sit up without vomiting?”
Absolutely not but Son nodded all the same.
Even with his nod though Dad was slow in easing Son up from the ground, not letting him sit on his strength but rather leaning Son up against him. Son didn’t actually mind all that much, leaning into Dad’s familiar warmth.
“Lad,” Dad said. “Do you think you can tolerate the sun now?”
Tolerate… Sun? Oh. Oh, Kon was still holding up the jacket. Son nodded again yet the moment that Kon’s arms lowered Son was flinching hard against Dad’s chest. Dad soothed him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head that felt so right that it made Son want to cry all over again.
“Tim,” Dad said.
Son hummed.
“Tim, can you tell me where you are right now?”
He frowned. He was clearly up against his Dad’s chest, what other detail could possibly matter? Oh, seizure, he’d had a seizure and now Dad was trying to make sure he was reoriented with the real world again.
Clearly he was reorientated, he was so orientated, he knew exactly who he was and where he was and what had happened just as much as he knew that he was okay and he knew he was loved.
He was careful in scanning their surrounds, making certain that Dad did not notice that he needed to look around to fully confirm where they were because he was meant to know where he was, he needed to know where he was.
Cars. There were so many cars. A van, it’s back open, a few feet away. Strangers, tied up, close to the van. The strangers were all unconscious but for some reason Son didn’t mind that fact so much.
Cars meant it was a parking lot but Dad didn’t want him to just say parking lot so there had to be other information he could glean from his surrounds. In the distance there was colourful metal formed into shapes. A rollercoaster.
“The amusement park.” He said.
Which amusement park, Son had no fucking idea but Dad seemed satisfied all the same.
“I had a seizure.” Son said, because that sounded like important information too. “But I’m okay now.”
“Yes.” Dad said. “Do you think you can fully sit up?”
Son didn’t want to leave the warmth of Dad’s arms but he knew that he shouldn’t lie either. He could sit up by himself, of course he could, yet when he tried to do just that his body didn’t quite listen to him right.
“Just take your time, Tim.” Dad said. “There’s no rush.”
Tim. Dad kept saying Tim. That seemed important too. Son liked that word; Tim. Name? He liked the name Tim. His name was Tim. No. Yes? His head was spinning again.
“Tim,” Dad said.
Tim. His name was definitely Tim. But maybe Dad’s name was actually Tim? No, Dad’s name was Dad. At a stretch, he could be called Better-Dad instead. Or maybe Dad-Man. Dad-Man sounded both goofy and hilarious and there was a reason that it was funny, of course there was a reason that it was funny.
“Tim.” Dad said again.
Tim hummed.
When Dad didn’t say anything more Tim shifted his head up until he could see Dad’s face more clearly. Dad’s eyes were really pretty but his warm smile looked almost broken for some reason.
“Sorry.”
“What for?” Dad asked.
For making Dad look worried like that. For making Dad sit out herein this parking lot for who knows how long. For all of it.
Tim only shrugged, knowing that Dad didn’t want him to feel like he has to apologise for simply existing.
Everything was hurting but the blurs had mostly become actual refined shapes and when Tim adjusted again he saw a teenager practically in his face.
“I’m fine, Kon.” Tim said.
Why Kon had any reason to be worried at all, Tim didn’t know. Was he Tim though? It… It sounded right but it didn’t fully feel right. Nothing felt fully right.
“Can we go home, now?” Tim asked. Son asked. Someone fucking asked. “Please?”
“Soon.” Dad promised.
But soon wasn’t soon enough, Tim just wanted to go home.
Dad ran fingers through Tim’s hair again and he couldn’t hold back the content sigh, leaning into the touch. The chuckle was less worried this time as if whatever had concerned Dad had passed.
“I’m fine now.” Tim said. “I swear. I know who I am, where I am, what happened, I just want to go home to sleep it off.”
“I know you feel like you’re okay again but the seizure you had was pretty significant, Son. It’s possible you can go into another one.”
“I mean, sure,” Tim said. “But then wouldn’t it be safer if I had it at home instead of out here?”
Dad stiffened a little. He considered it carefully, weighing his options. Why he felt like he had to weigh up options for something as simple as going home, Son wasn’t sure. Tim. Tim wasn’t sure. Son. Tim. Both. Both weren’t sure.
Fuck.
He just wanted to go home.
“I can carry him,” Kon said.
Dad’s chest rumbled and before Tim could say that he really didn’t need to be carried, Dad was gathering him up in his arms.
It felt right to be carried by Dad, Kon sticking close by carrying a backpack and a sweater, and Tim let himself drift a little. Every step Dad took brought sleep closer to claiming him but every time he let his eyes slip closed, Dad would unfairly rouse him.
Tim glared at him when Dad did it the third time but glaring was a lot of effort and he really did not feel like maintaining that effort. All he felt like was curling up in his bed and sleeping for a thousand years.
Eventually, Dad slowed.
There were sirens, loud and screaming, and Tim’s heart stuttered in his chest because he didn’t want to go to the hospital, he didn’t need to go to the hospital, he was fine, everything was fine, he just wanted to go home.
Except those weren’t ambulance sirens, but police.
They were police. Police were here? Did Tim do something wrong? No, no they were here for the strangers that had been tied up. Why were they tied up? Tim probably should have asked that earlier but it was a little late to do it now.
It was another three rows of cars before Dad was stilling again except this time it was because they had reached where they were supposed to be going.
“Tim,” Dad said.
“Still fine.” Tim muttered.
Dad’s chuckle was the lightest one yet.
“I know,” Dad said. “I was just going to warn you that you will have to ride in the back. Conner will be right there with you the whole time.”
“Can’t you stay?”
It sounded pathetic, he knew it sounded pathetic, he wasn’t some kid in need of their Dad’s comfort but his whole body was aching and his head was still a little fuzzy and he just wanted his Dad dammit, it didn’t fucking matter how old he was.
How… How old was he?
“I will be right up front.” Dad said.
Tim only hummed, burrowing into Dad’s neck for another moment before Dad was shifting, carefully placing him into a car that’s door he hadn’t even realised had been opened.
He just wanted to curl up in a ball but Dad didn’t let him, coaxing him instead into sitting in the seat like a normal person instead despite the fact that Tim was actually an extraordinary awesome person who didn’t need a seatbelt so much as he needed a nap.
“You do need it.” Dad rumbled.
Tim stuck his tongue out at him.
Dad moved away and Tim surged towards him because he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t ever want to be alone again but sometime was keeping him on the seat and there was someone else coming into the car now and Tim let himself fall fully back against the chair again because damn this guy was really cute and now they were sitting next to each other and Tim was fairly certain his entire face was burning red.
If this boy, Kon, Tim reminded himself, if Kon noticed that Tim was about to self implode, he didn’t show it. Instead Kon’s hand slipped into Tim’s, squeezing gently. It felt nice, so nice, so right, everything was so right because Kon was right here beside him and that meant everything was going to be okay.
Except there was a bead of sweat on Kon’s face.
Tim reached up to brush it away and Kon’s eyes widened, his mouth falling a little open.
“What?” Tim asked.
“Nothing.” Kon rushed out, snapping his hand back again. “I’m just, uh, still dizzy. Yes. Dizzy.”
Tim stared at him.
Had Kon had a seizure too? Maybe? No, no that didn’t sound right. But Kon was a little shaky for some reason and he looked absolutely exhausted and something was wrong.
“Kon.” Tim said firmly.
“I’m all good.” Kon said. “Just, y’know, takes time to get over it.”
Over seizures. It takes time to get over seizures. Kon had had a seizure. Tim’s heart broke for him, if Tim’s muscles were so sore then Kon’s own body must feel the same and Tim didn’t want anyone to feel like this.
“But don’t worry about me,” Kon said. “Mr. Wayne already got rid of the Kryptonite, so I’ll be all good soon.”
Tim blinked slowly.
Mr. Wayne.
Kryptonite.
All good.
These words were important. Mr. Wayne. Mr. Wayne was someone, a man most likely. The man getting into the front seat? But that was Dad. Dad’s tend to have names other than Dad so maybe Dad’s real name was Mr. Wayne? But shouldn’t Tim know that? He did know that. He knows everything.
He’s meant to know everything.
Kryptonite. That was important too. It had been gotten rid of so it was clearly dangerous. A chemical, then? No, something else, something that posed a great risk to Kon somehow. Something that so long as it was well enough contained, it would not keep harming him.
“Rob? You good?”
“Just tired.” Tim said.
It was fine to be tired after seizures, and apparently after whatever Kon has gone through.
“Can I sleep against you?”
Kon’s eyes had blown wide again, his whole face flushing.
“Uh, sure, whatever.” Kon said. “If… If that’s what you want.”
Tim blinked slowly. Had he misstepped? They were obviously close, he was clearly meant to know Kon, Kon wouldn’t have held his hand like that otherwise.
“Actually,” Tim said. “It’s fine.”
“If you need to sleep,” Kon said. “Just lean on me or whatever, it’ll be a while before we get back to yours.”
Yours, not ours. They don’t live together then. For some reason, that revelation was in equal parts a relief and a disappointment. Tim didn’t think he was ready to permanently live with someone other than his family but he also thought that maybe it would be fun to have the occasional sleepover.
Sleepover? He wasn’t some kid in need of a sleepover, he was almost-
Almost… He was almost an age. Eighteen. No. Sixteen? Hell no. He was almost some kind of age, that was for sure, it didn’t matter what age that was specifically.
Except… Tim was meant to know his age. Everyone was meant to know their age. He didn’t know his age. He didn’t know what was happening.
Why didn’t he know his age, what the fuck was going on, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
Kon shifted a little beside him, gently tugging at Tim’s arm. The rest of Tim went with the movement, his head resting against Kon’s shoulder even before he intended to so much as nudge against him.
It was so comfortable, a leather jacket like this was not meant to be so comfortable but it was and Tim didn’t even try to fight against the sleep that claimed him.