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Echos filled the empty spaces of the manor, Damian had been well versed with how the Echos settled each time some one came and left. He remembered how the echos that sounded like Grayson, settled like static anger around the brighter corners.
Father and Drake had been fighting like starving cats over the last bits of discarded meat all week. Jason had left again, and Tim had to pick up the scattered peices left in his wake.
Pick up missions, gear, broken chairs, and doors. Had to try to keep the spirits high in a manor breaking at its very base, as if vines stranged the old wood foundation.
Father had began locking himself in his too big office. Shadows licked at the old man in the chair, his sighs echoing like the dammed, almost over powering the echos that kept the manor stable, in balance.
Damian had never had a good relationship with Tim,with him trying to kill Drake and all but a part of him has always had irked how his father shrugged his load onto the man. Well boy.
The screams, curses, and unsaid words molded into the folds of his brain, the words driving his older brother away. A brother who had known him, took care of him before anybody else.
But he knew it was bound to happen, Jason was a very angry man, anger fested and build inside his chest threating to burst. His father was an less angry man put he let it fester, fester for far longer then he should.
Damian had a feeling Tim was next, next to leave the nest, the darkness wrapped around each bat like a blanket of shadows. And each would fight their way out.
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The day that the cracks finally split open, revealing festering infections of the broken family. Bonds caused by emotional emptyness passed on like eye color. Was like any other.
Damian was seated on the couch in the upper seating room. The couch was a dark brown with copper furnishing. There was an old red blanket with a pattern he could no longer recognize, faded with time, with memories.
His fingers stained from his charcoals, it helped his mind refocus after memories from before he moved in with his father. Memories of scar tissue beganing to cover more area then his unscarred skin.
He could fill echos with the soft scratch of charcoal on textured paper, and the soft music humming from an old music box his grandfather had collected on one of his trips. The one Damian had been sent with.
The soft sighing of echos had been killed by the soft yelling during from his father's study like fload water pushing through a desperate attempt of towels. Damian had barely been able to hear the whisper yelling but once he did its all his mind wished to comprehend.
Echos hissed and snarled like scared dogs beneath the weight of his brothers and fathers argument. The charcoal threatened to snap between his fingers as the argument grew. Damian knew. He knew. It was coming to an end. It always did.
The fighting echoed, dredging up memories from the last time something like this had happened between both men.
As the yelling grew louder Damian could hear small snippets, that just pushed the nails deeper into the coffin.
Tim-
we are your family-
fought for you-
shelter-
mantle-
robin-
From his father.
I hate-
Im sick of taking care of-
Im exhausted-
I have my own team-
Damian-
Jason left because of y-
Im done-
Damian is your golden-
From his brother, from tim
Damian had always known Tim never like him, nor did he like Tim. But It ached in his soul, to have to fill in echoing gaps, gaps he wished were filled in.
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It was 10:36 am, Tim was never a morning person but Damian had still expected him to come down at some point.
It hit Damian in a tidel wave. The echos wailing emptyily, bouncing off new surfaces till it finally settled taking up space, made to be taken up. Damian knew what was happening why Tim hadden come down for food yet.
But Damian kept sketching, trying to remember each imperfection on tims face. Damian had to finish the drawing before his mind began to forget. Damian didnt like forgetting it gave the echos to much space to work with.
Damian found it quite hard to draw Tim, they hadden really know eachother. Sure they fought crime together, and lived in the same house, but Damian didn't know Tim, the true him. The Tim unguarded, so Damians painting didn't look so.... exhausted? ....angery? .....hopeless?
Damian didnt know why but the pit grew in his stomach, ripping open his stomach cavity like sharp mercilessly claws as the minutes pasted. His drawing didn't click like it normally did, it seemed off. It nagged at the back of his brain like a coiling rattle snake.
Frustration built rapidly in damains gut, it bubbled and fizzled like shooken up Dr. Pepper. It threaten to boil over, ruin his sketch.
Once the pressure built to hight, pounding on his head like miners stuck in a collapsing cave, the echos became to much, Damian put his sketch book down, and slowly made his way to Tims room.
The floor boards were cold under his feet. His hackles raised like a terrified mut. The echos screamed for him to run, to stop dragging his feet. The paintings along the high walls screamed, and the air pushed him.
Damian threw Tims door open. Expecting Tim to be sat on his bed, reading, talking to his friends, being a nerd. But when nothing sat on Tims bed, the window wide open, and Tims stuff was gone. Damian knew that he lost another brother.
Damians heart began to race like a speed train, his throat seized in pain. He didn't know why he cared so much. It was Tim Drake, his least favorite brother for gods sake.
Damians padded feet slowly backed out of Tims room, the rooms seemed to close in like a inwards directing avalanche, threating to bury him in the cold powdery snow.
Tears threaten at his vision. Why. Why was he so upset over Drake leaving, he shouldn't be, Drake was rarely a brother. They barely know each other.
Memories nipped at the back of his brain, of patrols, late night talks, reading in the living room together, looking over tapes and quietly chating about theories. Of inside jokes shared between two brothers who didnt know eachother.
No. They knew eachother. Tim knew Damian, knew his quirks, his favorite type of drawing paper, his favorite foods, how to take care of his animals when hes sick.
Damian knows Tim. Knows that Tim doesn't even know Tim. Knows how he connects theories, Knows truly his best friend, how he likes his coffee, what's caught his interest, how he interacted best with people, his favorite song.
The couch was too empty as he sat back on the plush material, the room larger then the echoing increasing in temp. His hands shake as he takes the pencil up again. Damian needed to finish the drawing. He couldn't forget Tim like he did Jason.
He lost another brother and this time he isnt forgeting this one.
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