Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was no bigger lie than a happy ending. No sweeter deception than the promise to move on.

The anger one could hold for the dead was breathtaking in its cruelty. For this grief of madness was entirely selfish in nature. But it was also true. Truer than stories of letting go and the fading of mourning.

Tim had built himself on his despair. On his refusal to move on and seek a happy ending. For the dead clung onto him, and he clung back. How he clung. With crooked fingers and an anguished heart.

If Tim could’ve given his heart up, he would. It had never done anything for him, after all. It just festered and bled and soaked everything he did in blistering red.

This was an ode to grief. To sorrow.

To love unsaid.

***

When Tim lost Robin, everything seemed to go with it. His family fell into their grief over Bruce, Bart died, Kon died, Stephanie was dead. Dick didn’t want him anymore, and Batman had vanished.

Fueled by nothing, Tim vanished across the world. Alone, he took on everything he could. Empty of peace, empty of trust, he fell victim to his own violent grief. He took down the League of Assassins and found undeniable proof that Bruce was alive. He proved everyone wrong, and in the process, he lost everyone. Their eyes told them they were afraid, even as their lips curled around reassuring words. Even as they played puppet to the people he once thought of as family.

He helped bring back Bruce, and in exchange, he lost himself.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get that back.

He tried so hard to rebuild his life. To be grateful for the good that happened. Bruce was back. Steph wasn’t really dead. Bart was alive as well, but he’d only shaken his head when Tim asked about Kon. Unable to tell him what he wanted to hear. It’d been like watching Kon die all over again, this confirmation that he wasn’t coming back.

“It’s difficult in this line of work,” Dick had told him once, gaze distant. “You lose a lot of good people.”

Tim knew he was talking about Wally West. Dick’s own Kon. The person he looked for in every ginger he ever met. But it wasn’t the same, a twisting in his stomach insisted. It couldn’t possibly be the same.

He had lost so many people, so much trust in such a short time period, and by the time fate decided to gentle, he was already hollow. His volatile emotions were dampened to a dullness pressed harshly against his skin.

The thing about Tim was that denial had always been something he could use to push forward. To prove everybody else wrong. He’d been so sure that Bruce had been alive, and although he ended up being correct, the others were within their right to think that he’d gone crazy. Because in the beginning, he’d only denied Bruce’s death since he’d desperately wanted it not to be true. Proof came later, ripped free with bloody fingernails.

He’d also been in denial when Dick had refused to come back and play at Robin again. He’d only taken up the mantle himself because deep down, he’d been sure that Dick would come around to the fact that Bruce needed a Robin. He couldn’t understand why he never had, and so he’d remained Robin by default. Until Damian came into his life and made himself into Robin with a willpower Tim feared he lacked.

His life was not an unusual one for a vigilante, he was aware. The loss, the grieving, the pain, it was all rote. It was all expected.

But Tim had his denial and his stubbornness and his grief manifested in the ugliest of ways. He was audacious in the way he refused to ever let things rest. In the way he let his desperation consume him wholly.

Tim Drake was a devoted soul. And it was that devotion that would kill him one day.

***

Tim hated, as many self-claimed vigilantes did, being perceived. He hated that people thought that they could look at him and instantly know what he’d been through, what he was thinking. Worst of all, he hated when they tried to pass judgment upon his tangled lines of connection that twisted through the vulnerable air despite his best efforts to hide them.

Mostly, this applied to the mess of a working family that he had with the vigilantes of Gotham. However, what he remembered most was what someone had once said about him and Kon: You guys don’t care about anyone but each other.

It’d been said with exasperation, but Tim’s memory twisted it now to echo with warning. A threat that unspooled everything they were into a simple sentence. Foolish kids who only cared for each other. Foolish kids who didn’t realize that the world wouldn’t take kindly to such sentiment.

In a way, Tim figured his relationships were cursed. His family, in a constant battle with grief and loss, and his friends, losing themselves over and over again as they tried so hard to make a difference. To overcome their youth with bullheadedness.

But Tim, somehow, hadn’t realized this curse had extended to Kon. Stupidly, he’d thought that his closest friend would be the exception to such a fate. After all, hadn’t Kon suffered enough? Hadn’t his entire existence been agonizing and lonely and worthy of tragic poetry? Kon was powerful and strong, but these were traits that came at a price. He was made, not born, and Tim had seen firsthand how he’d suffered for it.

Despite all this, or maybe because of all this, Kon had died. Not vaguely or mysteriously, but right before Tim’s very eyes. And this was not an outcome Tim was willing to accept. So many people had come back, why not Kon? What made him undeserving of life?

Tim grieved strangely, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. After all, Kon’s death put a hole so deep in his heart, he was sure that you could see right through it to the other end.

On the calm nights, Tim liked to climb up to the tallest building he could find and whisper his name. “Kon,” he’d call out, picking at a wound that would never heal.

Kon would appear in front of him, form flickering beneath the cloudy sky. He’d smile that Superboy smile, and Tim would reach out for him. His fingers passed through his chest, and he’d vanish into the dark.

He hated that darkness. The darkness that swallowed up Kon and took him away from Tim. Sometimes that hatred swelled into frantic, ugly energy that coursed through his veins and begged him to bring Kon back. In those nights, he didn’t know shame nor logic. Just bleeding desperation and a black sorrow that took over his life.

Over and over, he tried to clone Kon back to life. Dozens of green test vats, bubbling over and failing. Flashing red and throwing his failure in his face. It took everything from him, and yet he kept giving everything he had.

“Come back,” he slammed his fist against the glass cloning vat, ignoring the threatening way it trembled. He pressed his forehead against the cool material and rasped out a plea. “Don’t leave me here, too, Kon.”

Overhead, his computer’s robotic voice announced, “Solution unknown.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he snarled, and his soul heaved with denial. Almost pointedly, there was no reply.

Tim knew that Kon would hate that he was doing this. To himself, and to Kon. It was wrong to try to clone him back to life, to do exactly what had made Kon so spiteful.

But did the immorality of a gesture of devotion make it any less profound? Did his selfish act of care lessen their friendship because it lay outside the lines of what was good and correct?

Maybe. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and desperately missed Kon with a fervor that ached like heartburn. The cloning vat burbled almost mournfully before him.

Maybe.

***

“Superboy, I told you to go left,” Tim grit out between clenched teeth. There was goo in his hair and a terrible smell emanating from him because Kon had failed to do so.

Sheepishly, Kon hovered overhead. He shook his head like a dog, and Bart took a clump of blue goo straight to the face. He squealed like he’d been burned, and Kon lowered himself to Tim’s level. “Hey, I still got the job done, didn’t I?”

The goo monster was dead, sure. But the four of them were covered head to toe in goop, which they wouldn’t have been if Kon had just listened for once in his life. Briefly, Tim wondered if this was how Batman always felt around them. “There was a plan in place. You diverged.”

“I improvised,” Kon insisted, and Cassie snorted as she dropped down on the floor next to them.

“Improvised a shitshow, am I right, Rob?” She held up a hand to Tim, which he only clapped to make Kon feel like they were united against him. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Your plans are always so fussy,” Kon grumbled as Bart used his superspeed to pick off the goo from Cassie’s hair. Kon leaned his arm against Tim’s shoulder, sighing loudly. “Sometimes you just need to think on your feet. Not with the stick up your ass.”

Tim ground to a halt, whipping around to grab Kon by the front of his stupid uniform. Cassie and Bart kept moving, either oblivious to their bickering or used to it. Tim wasn’t sure which would be worse.

He pulled Kon in close, watching his eyes widen behind those stupid sunglasses. He jabbed a finger against his forehead and said, “My foot is going to go up your ass if you keep on refusing to listen. I have plans for a reason. Yes, you can improvise if the time calls for it, but only then. We minimize damage, remove outliers, and use all of our combined skills to the best of our abilities. You’re lucky this time that the only consequence of your disobedience was a messy end.”

Kon’s eyebrows shot up, and he pressed his face dangerously close. Tim didn’t count his eyelashes because he was still mad at him. “Disobedience? Boy, do I have a message for you. It starts with I and ends with am not a dog. You can lead us, but there’s no way I’m letting you order me around.”

Kon had started to rise again, but Tim refused to let go of his shirt. This meant Kon had to grab his waist so he wasn’t dangling precariously, and they awkwardly glared at each other in the air. Tim tried not to let the feeling of his legs swinging in the air bother him. “That’s exactly what leading entails; ordering you guys around. You’re just not used to listening to anyone besides yourself.”

It was difficult to tell if Kon was aware of how high he was taking them. When he was annoyed, he often subconsciously used his powers. “You calling me selfish?”

God, Tim hated supers. Always abusing their powers in arguments. At least Bruce couldn’t strip his dignity away by dangling him several hundred feet in the air when they had disagreements. “Did that much get through your thick skull?”

Kon’s eyes narrowed, and then his tight grip on his waist dropped away and Tim let go of his shirt in surprise. He fell, but his initial surprise had been overrun by exasperated annoyance. He didn’t bother preparing to land, wiping off blue goo as gravity took him straight down, wind snapping around him.

Seconds before he could pancake on the floor, Kon swooped in and snatched him in a cradle hold. “Got you,” he grinned as if he hadn’t been the one to drop him in the first place.

Tim noted they were only a few feet from the floor and smiled viciously. He rolled his body up, startling Kon, and then twisted to wrap his legs around his neck, locking his ankles behind his head. They hit the ground with a painful thump, and Tim made sure to maintain his grip as he pinned him to the floor beneath him.

“Got you,” he echoed Kon’s exclamation, leering down at where the super’s face was in between a vivid red and ugly purple. He held his legs tight for a moment longer and then let go, rolling away with a triumphant grunt.

“Holy hell,” Kon gasped out, pushing up to all fours and clutching at his neck. “Are you sure you aren’t a meta?”

“Pure training,” Tim wasn’t above bragging, pushing to his feet on wobbly legs. He crossed his arms and stared down at Kon, who, for some reason, was grinning back wildly. “Are you done being annoying?”

Kon grabbed the offered hand, one hand still massaging his throat. “Only if you are.”

“Are you two done?” Cassie looked unimpressed as she came up to them, goo-free. “Bart is already back at the tower, taking a shower. He called dibs, but it’s not like it’ll take long anyway.”

Tim frowned at that. “I sure hope it will. Just because he has superspeed doesn’t mean the water will clean him any faster.”

“Huh,” Cassie cocked her head, like she hadn’t considered that before. “Never thought of it like that. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him a ten-second shower should be enough for him.”

“Right,” Tim didn’t pinch the bridge of his nose. That would be too much like a Bruce movement. “Can you go tell him to take his time?”

“I guess,” Cassie pointed between the two of them. “No more fighting. We don’t need another tabloid about how the boy wonder and Superman’s kid don’t get along.” She took off without waiting for a response, and Tim felt the heavy weight of an arm drape over his shoulder.

“So,” Tim turned to see Kon’s face annoyingly close. Again. Kon smiled, revealing unfairly pearly whites. “I’m sorry for going off script. You’re sorry for being a massive nerd. All's well that ends well.”

Tim had apologized for no such thing. “You’ve got to stop dropping me hundreds of feet in the air to prove a point. It got old after the first two times.”

“At least I don’t catch you by your ankle anymore,” Kon protested, as if this was a good excuse. “I even let you take me down.”

“Let me?” Tim stressed the words, positive that there was a tic in his forehead. “You ate shit, Superboy. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Well,” Kon shrugged, pulling him along with the ease of unfair super strength. “Maybe I wanted to be in between your legs.”

Tim made a show of gagging, and Kon laughed himself hoarse. “I’m pretending you didn’t say that.”

“You can’t ignore me,” Kon playfully pressed a finger against his cheek, and Tim let him. Because as much of a fuss as he’d put up over Kon’s carelessness, he didn’t really hate it. The battle was over. No one was dead or heavily injured. Cassie and Bart were already back at the Tower, and Kon was smiling at him like maybe he could hold this team together.

“Yeah,” Tim watched where the sun was setting below the horizon, the last of its rays dragging away from their view. “I guess I can’t.”

Tim trusted his team. Tim trusted Kon. Everything else was semantics to be figured out later. Kon ruffled his hair, and Tim leaned into the touch.

If only Tim had realized there wouldn’t be a later for all of them.

***

In a different universe, Tim gave up after his ninety-ninth attempt. In a different universe, he accepted death as what it was.

Not in this universe, though. No, in this one, Tim once again left Gotham in order to bring a loved one back.

He didn’t tell Dick or Bruce the true reason for his absence. He told them Drake Industries was sending him off on a business trip in Taiwan and that he wasn’t sure how long it would take to wrap things up. As overwhelmed as the two were by their transitioning of roles, neither of them questioned him as much as they once would’ve. There was also the fact that they were growing used to his independence, unsure of where he stood now that he was Red Robin. This gave him much-needed space, and Steph and Duke agreed to split his cases while he was gone, although the former was clearly very skeptical about his potentially long-term disappearance.

If he weren’t so aware of the moral failings on which this mission was founded, he might’ve invited Bart and Cassie to come with him. They’d loved Kon, too, after all. And he missed them almost as much as he missed Kon, despite the fact that they were alive and well. But they wouldn’t approve of his grief being the driving force behind his actions, and Tim wasn’t sure if he’d have the will to go through with it if he saw the disapproval in their eyes.

Tim collapsed in the motel bedroom, headache throbbing in the back of his head. He’d spent most of the flight typing up emails to wrap up any loose ends and assuring Tam that this wasn’t him going off the deep end (again). Her curt reply seemed to imply that she wasn’t convinced, but Tim didn’t have time to explain it to her again. His cover story was good, but Tam was even better at poking holes through his excuses.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes and sighed. The soft mattress felt good against his back, even though he knew he wouldn’t be spending much of the night on it. No, there was research to be done.

There was a rumor circulating in the darkest corners of the world, and that was exactly where you found the truth. The rumor held that there was an abandoned archeological site in the rice terraces of Northern Taiwan that had been there for nearly a century. It was said that all but one of the archeologists who had been working on the site had mysteriously vanished, and the one who remained had come out a changed man. A rich man who paid off all his debts and built a business empire out of nothing. A man who never spoke of what happened at the site.

Tim found it almost ironic how his parents’ livelihood now held the promise of all he ever wished for, when in his youth it had always taken them away from him.

A few people after that man had either stumbled across the site or purposefully gone looking for it, and each consistently reported finding themselves in a desolate span of land where a stony altar was the only feature. Cut yourself on the altar, the whispers hissed, and any wish you have will come true.

At a price.

Tim found that he was willing to pay any price. He knew that this might be one of the worst possible ways to go about bringing Kon back, but he’d tried all of his other options. He’d tried cloning him, tried looking into alternate universes, tried letting go. Nothing came of any of those attempts.

There was magic in this world, Tim knew, and bats were trained to despise and distrust it. But Tim couldn’t afford that paranoid stance. Because the people who’d made their wish had all gotten what they wanted, one way or another. And although they were tight-lipped about the specifics, Tim found himself unable to let this go.

“Let him rest,” Dick had once urged him, eyes full of grief.

Tim had thought of the blood that had seeped almost endlessly from Kon’s body and the terrible fear in his young eyes. “That was no rest.”

The next day, Tim went off alone to a vague location he’d managed to scrounge up from what little he had to go off of. He had a guide bring him halfway there, then paid her for her time and went the rest of the way herself. She’d warned him, in British-accented English, not to get lost. “There are angry spirits around here,” she told him, voice raspy. Her dark eyes didn’t trail away from his face. “But angry deities are worse.”

With that ominous farewell, he trekked through mostly desolate land. He was wearing his Red Robin suit underneath his hiking clothes, just in case, but he was starting to regret it now. It was hot, almost unbearably so, and he could feel his uniform sticking uncomfortably where it touched his skin.

It took hours for him to find the site, and in those hours, he had nothing but his thoughts for company. And those thoughts were vicious in nature. He’d become destabilized at some point, proving Dick right even with Bruce alive. His mind felt like it was no longer his own. It felt like it was struggling to fit into a human shape that he didn’t recognize.

When at last he came upon an empty plain where half the rice terraces up a hill were destroyed, the Sun hung low in the sky. His pace quickened despite the ache in his feet, and he stepped onto the abandoned archaeological site with breathless anticipation.

The area was a large half-moon shape, boulders curved unnaturally around the bend. The dirt was surprisingly moist, although the green grass surrounding the site seemed to lean far away from the desolate black soil.

In the very middle of the site was a grey rock slab, shaped into a sacrificial altar. Or perhaps an altar for worship. Tim didn’t have high hopes for that scenario, though.

Slowly, Tim approached it. This was it. Either the answers to his hopes or the crushing of his dreams. Either way, his journey ended here.

When he got close enough to see the craters in the ancient-looking rock, he pressed his hand against it. It was cold, nearly freezing to the touch. He fought the urge to jerk his hand away, instead insistently pushing harder against it. It seemed to rumble in warning beneath his skin, and a wild smile spread across his face for the first time in months. Perhaps for the first time in years. (Tim wasn’t good with time, not anymore. The minutes blended into weeks, sludging by him while he tried so hard not to collapse).

He brought out a dagger from his belt, pressing the blade against his arm. Mouth set with grim determination, he dug it into his skin and cut a thick line that quickly welled up with blood. He knew better than to cut along his palm; hands were your most important tool. But he wasn’t willing to take a risk with a shallow cut. No, he needed to bleed unquestionably, with a fervor that matched his gall. To show that he was to be taken seriously.

With a hiss of pain, he tilted his arm and let the warm blood sluice onto the altar. It dripped in a thick rivulet, and he watched with bated breath as the stone seemed to absorb the red liquid. His blood sank into the stone, and then strange carvings that hadn’t been there previously began to glow. He had barely enough time to commit them to memory before a wave of dizziness hit him like a truck of bricks, and he stumbled against the altar, closing his eyes tight at the onslaught.

“Robin,” Kon’s voice brushed against his ear, and when he opened his eyes, he was floating in golden-white nothingness.

He twisted around, eyes soaking everything in with mute shock. A small, defeated part of him had already assumed it wouldn’t work, even before he travelled across the globe to get here. Yet here he was, dropped in a realm that could only be explained by the unnatural. By magic.

The only thing with him was the altar, floating stonily next to him. Experimentally, he kicked through the air, fingers outstretched to grab onto the altar. Flesh met solid stone, and he squinted down at its now blank surface, devoid of the glowing carvings.

His exhaustion had been cured, somehow, and his body no longer ached. The deep cut into his arm was healed into nothing more than a pale scar, and even his mind felt lighter.

This was, of course, all the more reason to be very suspicious.

“You are smaller than most that have come here,” a voice crackled above him, and Tim’s neck nearly cracked at the speed with which he looked up.

The being that hovered in front of him was jaw-dropping in its terrifying beauty, and for a brief moment, Tim couldn’t speak.

It was broaching nine feet tall, and its nearly translucent skin pulsed with faint light. It was difficult to tell whether its face was a mask or whether it was wearing one, white and porcelain, with eyeholes that held nothing. Above its head, blades of light formed a deadly halo, and a silver crown crusted with crystals rested on its covered head. It wore flowing, formless robes of a pearly white color, a silky scarf wrapped over its head. It tilted its head, animalistic, and Tim bit back both fear and awe.

“Are you the one who has been granting wishes?” Tim asked, and his voice echoed like they were in an enclosed room.

“Wishes?” If its face could move, it would be full of disdain. “I fulfill desires. At a price.” It floated closer, and Tim refused to falter. “For a trade.”

Tim had anticipated as much, and he knew the only thing he could do was offer whatever would appease it best. “Is it… magic?”

“It is nature,” it seemed unimpressed with him, halo flaring over its head. “I am a deity of these lands. Of every land. I was born of this planet, and I will die with it. In fact,” it tapped its cheek, and Tim was surprised when it didn’t clack like glass on glass. “You will be the last of my fulfillment before I pass.”

That, Tim hadn’t expected. “Me? Why?”

“You aren’t special,” it responded, as if Tim had any delusions of such a thing. “I simply only have power enough for this. I’ve waited a long time for rest. Once our trade has been carried out in full, I will consider the contract complete. And I will disappear with its end.”

“A trade, then,” Tim wet his dry lips, eager and tense all at once. He breathed in deeply before speaking again. “I want to bring Kon back to life.”

The deity’s empty gaze drilled into him. Flickering with something akin to curiosity. “I know who you are. The ex-Robin.”

Tim hadn’t expected that to be the response. “I’m—is that a problem?”

“Timothy Drake,” it continued, ignoring him like he hadn’t spoken in the first place. Its halo of blades flared even brighter, and Tim squinted against the light. “I know of you and your friend. Superboy was a loss I grieved as much as the planet has grieved such. He did this world much good. His life is a powerful bargaining chip.”

Tim knew that. And this distant deity knew nothing of loss. Still, Tim couldn’t afford to offend it now. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. What he needed. “Then you know how important it is that he be brought back.”

“Important, yes,” its tone was impassive despite the agreement. There was a nasty curl to its next words that he hadn’t expected. “But also weighty. The scale dips heavily for such a desire, little one. What will you trade for such a thing?”

By now, Tim had had ample time to think of a response. To scour his mind for what he might have to offer for something so great as Kon’s life. The terrifying, honest answer was nothing. Nothing could amount to all Kon had been, all he was worth in Tim’s eyes. But Tim needed an answer, and there was only one that would take his all to give.

“My life,” Tim splayed his palm over his quivering chest. “I trade myself for him.”

“You?” The deity metaphorically lifted a judgmental eyebrow, wispy skin fading in and out. “I demanded an equal trade, mortal. Do you think that your life is equal to that of a Kryptonian? You, who does nothing for this world? What miracle have you that would make you equal to the clone of Superman?”

Tim gritted his teeth. “I know. I know that it’s not equal. But this world needs Kon. You cannot deny that.” What he didn’t say burned his tongue like acid. Kon wasn’t just the clone of Superman; that was not what made him more worthy than Tim.

“I can do whatever I wish,” the deity snarled, and its form seemed to grow larger. Looming over him like an unspoken threat. Tim did not shrink beneath it. “I will take your life, mortal, but I need more than that. I need to balance the scales of this great request you ask of me.”

Tim knew what he would say next, but it would be a dangerous gamble. It would be putting the ball in the deity’s court, and he knew no godlike creature knew of what mercy was. “Tell me, then, what is it that I could give to balance the scales?”

At last, the deity laughed, robes fluttering in the nonexistent wind. “Oh, how I do love the desperation of a mortal with nothing. You are just like every other person who has come here asking me for too much. If I asked for your city, would you give it to me?”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he truly was unsure. Then insurmountable guilt washed over him, and he hated himself so thoroughly for his hesitation that he was sure it was clear on his face. “You cannot ask for the lives of thousands in exchange for one. Not even one so brilliant as Kon’s.”

“You really must stop telling me what I cannot do,” the deity said, almost mildly. It flicked its finger, and the altar between them split cleanly in half. A wailing burst through the air for an ear-piercing five seconds, and then the two halves floated gently away. “I assure you that irritating me will do you no favors. Especially not when I was just about to make you a compromise, just for you.”

Tim didn’t dare speak. Just nodded, once.

The deity floated in even closer, and now Tim could smell something acidic coming from it. Something almost like blood. He fought back a shiver and held still as its finger pressed against his sternum. “I will take only your life in trade for the Krypotonian’s. However,” it seemed inordinately pleased with itself, which was how Tim knew what it was about to say would be unjustifiably cruel in nature. “I want that life to end at the hands of your Superboy. Within two months, he must kill you directly, and only then shall our contract be complete. His powers, a gun, strangulation, I don’t care how. But it must be him, in his right mind, killing you.”

There were no other words that could’ve sucked all the air out of his lungs than those just then. For that was unfairly monstrous. And impossible in design. Kon would never kill him, not willingly. Not in trade for his own life. And even if he did, he could never live with himself. He would lose himself in his grief, just as Tim had.

Tim had done everything he could to get to this moment. To this promise of his wish, just at the reach of his fingertips. He could not bend here, when everything was so close to finally falling in place.

The deity’s mask-face had no mouth, but if it did, it would be pulled up in a nasty smile. “Keep in mind that you may not speak of this to anyone, nor may you ever evoke my existence. You have thirty seconds to make the choice. Centuries of life does not give you the patience one would think it does.”

Tim had gotten so damn close. And he found that he couldn’t let this opportunity slip away from him.

He would come up with a plan. A better alternative. Some way for Kon to stay for good, without the guilt of killing Tim. He had two months to come up with an idea, and if he hesitated now, he would never see his best friend again.

It was that last thought that sealed the deal. “I accept your contract.”

Its hollow eyes began to glow, and Tim found that he couldn’t breathe. “Excellent. I will make sure to be the one to carry your soul off when your time comes. It will be enjoyable. And do not worry, little one. I don’t believe in foolish cliches such as tricky wording and such. Your Superboy will not be choking on dirt when he takes his first breath, nor will he come back as a zombie. I’ll have his body moved to the Kent’s farm prior to any sudden life.” It didn’t blink, but the light in the mask’s eyeholes flickered briefly. “I hope this will convince you to do the same. No loopholes, mortal.”

Tim felt blood pool up against his tongue, and he swallowed it down, hard. “No loopholes.”

“If you break the contract, just know that it is Superboy who will pay the price.” It hummed, and then, without warning, it plunged its entire hand through his chest. Tim choked on a gasp, staring down at the appendage wide-eyed. It didn’t break through skin or bone, instead appearing ghost-like in how it was phased through his chest. He felt its fingers curl heavily around his heart, and he winced at its unforgiving grip.

“We have a deal,” its voice seemed to drop a hundred octaves, rumbling through his ears like a barrage of drums. It rattled through his skull unpleasantly, and he was dazed when the deity yanked its arm back out, and suddenly he was back at the abandoned site.

He collapsed against the altar, breathing hard, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. His arm was bleeding again, and all his exhaustion was back in full force. But most of all, his chest felt unnaturally hollow.

With a shuddering gasp, he clutched his hand to his chest and felt nothing. No thump of his heart, no beat of life. The deity had taken his heart, and somehow he still lived. “What the hell?” he whispered, and the altar thrummed menacingly beneath him.

Something about the world he’d returned to felt off. The sky was a little too blue, the ground a little too flat. It was messing with his mind, like a filter had been placed over everything. Like his heart wasn’t the only thing missing.

Then he recalled that Kon was alive, and he staggered too quickly to his feet. His head spun, but all he could think was Kon, Kon, Kon.

He wanted to call out his name right away, but if Kon had truly come back, he would need time to reunite with the Kents. To see his friends. Travel back to Metropolis. Settle in before Tim broke messily all over him.

Tim had waited for so long, but he found that he could wait a bit longer.

(and perhaps there was a part of him that was terrified that it hadn’t worked. That he’d call his name, and only the wind would answer, as it had for months)

Tim bandaged up his arm, scarfed down a pack of trail mix he’d brought with him, and then readied himself for the long journey back to his motel. He pressed his palm against his chest periodically, still in shock that he couldn’t feel his heart pumping in his ribcage. He tried running for a short distance, and although his breath came in quicker, his chest remained silent.

Was he a walking corpse, then? Did all who’d dealt with the deity lose their heart? The deity hadn’t mentioned this. Tim had no explanation, and he hated it. He hated not having all the facts, but when given the choice between Kon’s life and having a heart, he would forever choose Kon’s life.

He managed to make it to the edges of a city before his legs threatened to collapse. He called a cab, too tired to argue when they tacked on a horrendous upcharge. He rested his forehead against the icy window and closed his eyes.

When they next shot open, the cab driver was grumbling at him to get out. Half-awake, Tim stumbled out of the car, handing over the fare with unsteady hands. He thought he saw a flash of paternal concern flash through their eyes, but then they were turning away, and Tim was left at the driveway leading up to the motel.

On lead feet, Tim trudged up to his room, barely making it to his bed before he was out again. He had unusual dreams, of glowing figures and Kon’s smile and Batman’s not-death. It was entirely unpleasant, and when he woke, it was with tears pressing at the corners of his eyes.

He rolled over, squinting at his bright phone screen. 3 a.m., it blared up at him. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he dropped his head against his pillow. A mind-numbing loneliness spread through his empty chest, and his shoulders shuddered with a weight they no longer held.

Against his will, his lips opened, and a singular word spilled out. “Kon.”

Within seconds, there was a loud knocking against the window. Tim lifted his face, gaze magnetized to the blurry figure that waved at him from behind the window. He was on the fourth level up, and Tim knew only one person who would wear a jacket like that.

He almost tripped in his rush to clamber over his bed and across the room. It felt like the floor had stretched impossibly long, a treadmill his feet beat against furiously to reach the window. With a gasp, he threw it open and leaned so far out he nearly fell.

“Whoa, there,” rough hands grabbed him by his shoulders, gently but firmly righting him. Bright eyes gleamed at him, nearly overpowering the tired grin on his face. “Already falling for me, huh?”

Kon fell from the sky, bloodied and bruised and broken, a nightmare Tim had never truly seen.

“Kon,” Tim gasped out, and it was like he had no other words. His eyes darted all over his young, impossibly alive face. Down to his broad shoulders and ridiculous jacket. Back up to his crinkled eyes. “Kon.”

Cassie sobbed as she cradled Kon in her arms, and somewhere in the distance, Tim felt his chest concave empty.

He practically climbed out of the window, wrapping his arms around Kon and pressing his face into the crook of his shoulder. He dug his nails into his back and didn’t care if it creased his leather jacket. Kon’s pulse beat steadily against Tim’s ear, and he sobbed at that.

Kon hit the ground, again and again. Shattering the Earth. Bones cracking, skin splitting.

“You’re alive,” he said, as if he wasn’t the one to bring him back. As if he might disappear at any moment, just another figment of his imagination. “You came back to me.”

Tim watched as Kon’s casket was lowered into the ground, taking his heart with it. Blood soaked the wood, seeped into the ground, dripped from Tim’s hands as if he’d killed Kon himself. Unending, crimson sin coloring him filthy.

Kon easily hauled him into his arms, and Tim didn’t care when his legs crumpled uncomfortably against the windowsill. All he cared about was that Kon was warm and alive, and Tim knew now that he could never regret his choice. Foolish and selfish as it was, he would’ve had his heart ripped out a thousand times over just to feel the chuckle that reverberated through Kon’s strong chest.

“Don’t I always come back?” Kon gently floated them into the hotel room, setting Tim down on his feet. Reluctantly, Tim pulled back to look at Kon, hands still locked around the back of his neck. “You know, no one knew where you were right away. And I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, so really, you scared me.”

The idea of Kon asking for him despite all of his inevitable confusion and the uproar that had to have ensued tugged at a heart he no longer had. “It’s a trick,” Tim managed to lie, hands reaching up to trace along his face, like he was a miracle. “Bruce taught me while you were gone. It can block metas and supers like you from hearing my heartbeat.”

“Well,” Kon frowned, pulling him in closer with a rough hand. “Can you stop doing the trick? I want to hear your heart.”

“Kon,” Tim ignored the request, which made him scowl petulantly. Tim tried with all his might not to find this endearing. “Are you okay? I can’t believe you’re here. I buried your body.”

He winced, withdrawing a little. Tim missed his warmth immediately and had to forcibly prevent himself from chasing after him. Kon smiled, but it wasn’t a happy one. “I remember dying, too. I’m not sure why or how I came back. It wasn’t too long ago that I came back to life. I was in the Kent’s farmhouse for some reason, and I really freaked out Pa and Ma.”

“Did it hurt?” Tim asked softly. He wanted to check Kon for injuries, check him for further proof that he was truly alive in front of him.

“No,” Kon replied, honestly. He absentmindedly rubbed at his chest. “It felt like a heart was being pushed into me, and all of a sudden, I was alive. Waking up from a deep slumber.”

The terrible implications were there. Tim pushed away those thoughts and focused on the distant look in Kon’s eyes. “Have you seen Clark? Does he know why you came back?” The deity had promised him to secrecy, but perhaps they could piece things together another way. They could solve this together.

Kon’s smile grew emptier. “Sure, I saw him. He got all unsettled and had to leave after a few minutes, though. Guess my existence really does bother him.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Tim said with a ferocity that startled both of them. “Kon, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re alive. No matter how it happened.” He considered telling Kon everything. Would the contract break instantly? Would he simply get a warning? Tim didn’t know. He wasn’t willing to risk it, either. Not with Kon finally here in front of him.

“Maybe the world decided I was too good to let go,” Kon’s grin turned teasing, which relieved him. He started walking around the room as Tim sat down heavily on the bed, unable to believe that he’d done it. “So,” Kon poked at a poem that was composed of Chinese characters dripping down the scroll in black ink. “How’d you end up in Taiwan? Mission from the Bat?”

“No,” the best lies were always the ones that connected. “Just here on a business trip.”

Kon raised an eyebrow at him, coming around the bed to stare down at him. “You look tired for a business trip. And how long have I been gone that you’re getting flown out to Asia for business calls?”

There was a fragility to Kon’s playful smile that gave Tim pause. “I’m—honestly, I’m not sure. Time’s been wonky for me since you’ve been gone. I try not to keep track.”

“Bart and Cassie don’t look that different,” Kon shrugged, eyes glued to Tim’s face. “But you look older. Like you went and grew up without me.”

Tim tried to play at mock offense. “Are you calling me old?”

Kon didn’t play along like he thought he would. He reached a hand out to his face like Tim had, but instead of tracing over his features with awe, he simply cradled his cheek in one hand. “I’m saying that I’ve missed out on so much of your life that I feel like I’m being left behind. You’ve got new scars, Rob.” He pressed a calloused thumb just under his eye. “I don’t remember this one.”

“Ninja star,” Tim quietly replied. “From the League of Assassins.”

“See?” Kon’s hand seemed to shake, so Tim lifted his own to press against it. “You’ve got stories I know nothing about.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” Tim would do whatever Kon wanted for the rest of his life. However short either of theirs may be. “All of them.”

Nobody knew all of his secrets and stories. Tim had never told anybody all of them. But Kon was here, looking at him like he was afraid of becoming strangers, and every bat needed their exception. Kon could be his. Kon could be everything, and Tim would not let that slip through his fingers.

He pulled Kon down on the bed, and they lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Tim spoke like he hadn’t spoken in so long, and Kon listened, rapt. Attentive to every word, like each and every one mattered.

It’d been so long since Tim had felt like he mattered. Since he felt like everything that he’d gone through mattered.

“I missed you,” Tim whispered as the sun rose and its rays streamed into the room. Kon’s face was awash in the glow of the early morning, but it was his smile that Tim found most mesmerizing. He gave a tiny smile back. “Do you think it’s selfish of me to only talk about myself when you’ve quite literally just come back from the dead?”

“Not at all,” Kon assured him, tilting his head to look at Tim. His cheek was squished against the mattress, and Tim had to bite his lip to prevent a giggle from slipping out at the sight. “All I’ve heard since I’ve come back are questions. What happened? How are you back? How can your hair still look that good after you’ve died?”

God, Tim had missed this so much. The jokes, the easy camaraderie, the mindless way their conversations flowed. “True mysteries of the universe, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kon reached out and pressed his thumb against his brow. “You’ve got stress lines here that weren’t there before.”

The only thing that would cause him enough stress to mark his skin would be Kon. “You don’t think they’re charming?”

“It’s just different,” Kon’s hand retreated, and his admission felt subdued. Pressed flat. “You look tired.”

“Life’s hard,” Tim closed his eyes and refused to let his voice break. It’d bring down the dam if he did. And he couldn’t burden Kon with all that.

“You don’t—” Kon cut himself off, frustration palpable in his tone. “Rob, you’re okay, right? You’ve got a scary look in your eyes now. Not like you’d hurt someone, but like you’d let someone hurt you.”

It was just like Kon to be so concerned about Tim when he was the one who’d died and come back. When he was the one who’d been brought to a changed place. “I’ve waited for you. All this time.”

“Oh, Tim,” Kon said mournfully, and his real name coming from Kon’s lips jolted him like nothing else.

He peeled open his eyes just as Kon dragged him in close, curling against Tim like a cat. He tucked his head against Tim’s chest, curls tickling at his chin. Hesitantly, Tim wrapped his arms around Kon. Allowing himself this touch when he’d pulled away from everyone else. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“If I’d died for good,” Kon murmured, pinching at Tim’s skin when he immediately let out a noise of protest. “If I really died, you’re allowed to move on. I’m serious, Rob. It makes me so happy that you waited, but it also breaks my heart.”

The thought was inconceivable. Move on? From his everything? Tim only knew how to cling, how to bury himself in his grief like a cloak. He searched Kon’s steady gaze when the super tilted his head back and found only honesty. “You can’t ask that of me.” His stubborn voice tripped on a crack, yanking him down.

“I’m not asking,” Kon breathed, eyebrows furrowed in distress. “I’m telling you to let me go.”

For a moment, Tim felt like he was floating. Like he was still in that golden-white realm, being stared down by a being far greater than him, yet still far less than Kon. “What?”

“If I were really dead,” he amended, eyes gentle at the reminder. The confirmation that he was here, that this was real. “But I’m with you right now. So let’s put all that away, okay?”

Tim was getting sleepy again, despite the rising Sun. “Stay with me?”

Kon looked at him like he could do no wrong, and that terrified him as much as it gratified him. “For as long as you want.”

This was selfish. People were probably looking for Kon right now. Questions lay between them, still unanswered. Tim couldn’t have this.

Yet, his fingers only clung tighter to Kon’s jacket. Possessive. Obsessive. Needing this moment more than anything. “You have to still be here when I wake up.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kon promised, and it was his turn for his voice to crackle.

Tim drifted off to sleep once again, but this time it was with strong, warm arms wrapped around him. Oddly enough, he thought he saw a white porcelain mask watching them through the distant window, but he pushed the image away. Nothing could disturb this peace.

Nothing.

***

Reach up to your throat. Feel it tremble as you breathe. Trail down scarred skin until you come to the concave at the base of your throat. Press against it. Wonder at its hollowness.

That’s where your grief lies. That’s where pain wells up and forces the skin inwards.

Tim was not one for poetry. He had never been, but he especially disliked poetry when he started to become accustomed to death. Poetry liked to talk much of death. Liked to paint it with pretty words cradled on paper.

There was only one exception he made to his distaste, and it was the poetry of grief. He became nearly obsessed with it as everyone seemed to drop like flies around him. As Kon died and stayed dead. He’d read over words that resounded in the pain that echoed in his chest and allow himself to bask in that hurt. To the feeling that he couldn’t begin to speak about being described so perfectly. So honestly.

Tim craved understanding. In every stranger’s eyes, he sought it out. In every moody Pinterest post, he thought he might catch a glimpse of real emotion. Raw and unfiltered. Enough to sate him, let him know that his emotions were not wild and out of place. When he turned to poetry, it was because the words resonated. Or perhaps he simply wanted them to. Either way, they consumed him. Just a little. Enough for him to settle his fingers against the hollow of his throat and wonder.

If grief lived in that empty concave, why did it feel so heavy?

***

The next morning, Kon seemed full of an odd energy that bubbled over everything. He dragged a sleepy Tim from bed, insisting he be shown around the city. Tim, who’d just arrived there himself, made for a poor tour guide. But as he grew more awake and Kon oohed and ahhed over everything he pretended to know, he found himself smiling harder than he could ever remember. A warmth pressed in his chest, and he found he didn’t need a heart to feel happiness. To love each little excited noise Kon let out.

After a dizzying flight over the city in which Tim swore at him for nearly dropping him five times, they landed at a café and ate soup. “Better than anything in Metropolis,” Kon said with much enthusiasm. He slurped up a wonton, and Tim cocked an eyebrow.

“I can tell,” Tim noted, but he was still grinning. Still riding on the high of their flight. Of his success in bringing Kon back.

Kon held up a finger as he picked up the bowl and drank the rest of its contents. An old woman at a table over looked at him in what was either disgust or approval. It was difficult to tell with the elderly. “Rob,” he placed the bowl down a little too hard, and Tim hissed at him in warning. He ignored that, which didn’t bother Tim as much as it once would’ve. “We should travel the world.”

“What?” he laughed, shocked at the idea. He swirled his own unfinished soup around, head propped up and eyes firmly glued to Kon. He hadn’t looked away from him yet, not since opening his eyes and seeing his grinning face first thing in the morning. He wasn’t sure if Kon had noticed his staring yet. Either way, he wasn’t going to stop.

Would you stop looking at a miracle just because it noticed you looking?

“We have to,” Kon insisted, as if Tim had put up any argument. “We’re already in Asia, and I’ve always wanted to go to Singapore. Then we can go to Thailand because I heard their food is so good. And then we can go through Europe, and then maybe to Mexico because I’ve been working on my Spanish and Bart went one time and said it was super-duper awesome.” He paused when Tim didn’t answer right away. “After you finish up your business stuff here, of course.”

Tim was still stuck on the fact that he’d said super-duper. In some ways, Kon seemed so much younger than he remembered. Or maybe that was just because Tim felt so much older now. “You should probably go back to Metropolis. They probably already miss you there.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say. What he wanted to say was yes, unequivocally so. Tim wanted Kon all to himself for as long as he could. Just to bathe in his existence for a little longer.

“Do I have to?” Kon grimaced, and the expression was so him that Tim barked out a laugh. “Everyone is being so overbearing. And I get it. Really, I’d be worse if you died or something. But Tim, I really just want to be here with you. Just for a little bit.”

Tim should send him off. He should contact Clark and assure him that Kon was fine, alive and well. But he hesitated, and Kon saw that, just like he’d always been able to see through Tim.

“We deserve it, don’t we? A trip around the world, just the two of us,” Kon batted his eyes, which didn’t do as much for his argument as he probably hoped it did. Fortunately for him, Tim was a terrible person, and it wasn’t going to take much convincing.

“Kon. Are you sure this is what you want to spend your first days back doing? Messing around the planet with me?” he kept his voice even, eliminating any hope in his tone with brutal efficiency.

“I was actually thinking I’d spend my first few weeks messing around with you,” Kon looked triumphant, like he knew he had Tim in the palm of his hand. He just needed to close his fingers. “Come on, man. For the best duo the world has ever seen?”

Tim made sure to keep his face neutral. Just to keep him on his toes. “Fine.” Kon whooped so loud that the old lady was looking over at them with what was now definitely disgust. “But you have to call Clark first. Or Ma Kent. Someone back home. I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping the newly returned Superboy.”

“Of course!” Kon snapped his phone out quicker than Tim thought possible, pushing up from the table with so much enthusiasm that Tim’s soup spilled a little. He was polite enough not to make a phone call inside the café, going out with a hop to his step that made Tim grin.

It was weird, for a moment, to not have Kon within arm’s distance. Even if only for a few minutes. He watched Kon through the window until he realized how creepy that was, and then stared down at his soup. A porcelain mask framed by a sharp halo stared back up, and he jumped out of his seat. The old lady scowled at him and a couple who’d just entered the café gave him a weird look. He ignored all of them, eyes darting from his soup to the ceiling. As if the deity was hanging above, watching from afar. There was nothing, and when he looked back down, his soup no longer reflected the mask.

“Shit,” he sat down heavily, fists clenched and trembling slightly. His arm ached where he’d sliced it, and he focused on untensing his body.

Either he was hallucinating the deity following him around, or it was truly planning to tail him for the two months their contract held true. The latter was equally as likely as the first, but Tim had a sinking feeling that this was no trick being played by his own mind.

It was an unwanted, stark reminder of what was truly at stake here. He had less than ten weeks to either figure out a way to get Kon to kill him or come up with a different plan. No loopholes, the deity’s voice hissed in his ear, and he pushed away his soup, appetite ruined.

“You didn’t like the soup?” Kon’s voice brought his attention back up to his friend, who was watching him strangely. A little confused.

“Not really,” Tim forced a smile on his face, glad that he had no heart for Kon to listen to. Otherwise, it’d be pumping like crazy. “What did they say?”

Kon’s face cleared like clouds parting in the sky. “They really wanted me to come back, but I told them I’d rather pull off my ears than listen to any more of their nagging. Clark gave me the go-to, and now I’m ready for the trip of a lifetime.”

It was a little too easy. Too good to be true. Tim looked at the crinkles of Kon’s eyes and couldn’t find it in himself to shatter his bubble. “Business stuff is all wrapped up. We can go tomorrow. To, uh, where was it? Singapore?”

“Really?” Kon perked up like a big dog, and Tim felt himself relax. “Your business stuff will be over that quickly?”

“No, but I think I deserve a little vacation,” he rolled his shoulders as if they ached. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kon said softly. “You deserve it.”

Tim swallowed back all the words that were straining to burst out. He refused to look at the soup anymore, reaching over to playfully flick one of his curls. “Superboy and Wonder Boy. My favorite duo.”

“Mine, too,” Kon laughed, and things felt right. For the first time in ages, things felt perfect.

Tim figured he didn’t have to tell Bruce about this new little modification in plans. He’d been vague about how long he’d spend in Taiwan, and the older man probably wouldn’t even notice his absence. Gotham never let him rest, after all.

Besides, he was sure Bruce had heard of Kon’s reappearance through the hero grapevine, and Batman knew how to put two and two together. Where Kon was, Robin wasn’t too far to follow.

The only odd thing was that he hadn’t gotten a text from Bruce yet asking about Kon. Or from Bart or Cassie or any of them. Maybe they knew better than to ask. That he wouldn’t give them more than a vague answer, because he’d learned to hold things in. To give only as much as was the bare requirement.

It was with that fading thought in mind that Tim boarded a plane to Singapore, Kon complaining the entire time through the airport and on the plane. “I can literally fly, Rob,” he huffed, fiddling with the belt. “Why do we have to go on a plane?”

“Like I’ve said a hundred times, the public doesn’t know you’re back yet. Flying around the world is going to catch some eyes,” he kept his voice low, narrowing his eyes at Kon. “The wrong kind of eyes. Like Luthor’s.”

Kon shuddered a little at the thought, belt clasp tumbling out of his hands with the motion. “Yikes. Okay, I guess I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Good,” Tim batted his hands away as he went for the belt again. He leaned over to press the buckle into the clasp, tightening it mercilessly before settling back in his own seat. “Christ, you’re like a baby.”

“Maybe I just wanted you to do it for me,” Kon teased, and Tim paused, a memory flashing through his mind. Maybe I wanted to be between your legs.

“You really haven’t changed,” Tim shook his head, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Same old lines.”

“Why fix what isn’t broken?” he leaned back in the chair, turning his head to squint out the window. “Ugh, why aren’t we in the air yet? If I were flying, we’d be there by now.”

Tim had gotten him the window seat on purpose. He figured Kon would appreciate being able to see the sky, even if it was from the inside of a huge metal cage with wings. A smug feeling spread through him when this theory proved to be right. Of course it was. Tim knew Kon. Inside and out. Always.

Tim didn’t mind sitting in the middle seat. It was just slightly annoying that the guy next to him was bulky and seemed to know it. Not in a good, self-aware way either. His elbows were planted firmly on both armrests, broad shoulders pressing against Tim’s every time he leaned to the side. Which was a lot. He seemed to take gleeful satisfaction in the fact that Tim could be pushed around so easily, and Tim did his best not to let his temper flare. Big guys liked it when there was a smaller guy to shove around, and it appeared this wasn’t just the mindset of high school boys or small-time criminals.

The next time the guy’s arm slipped off the armrest and slapped obnoxiously against Tim’s lap, he considered dislocating his arm. “Sorry, sorry,” the man grinned at him, obnoxious smile showing each tooth. “Not a lot of space, huh?”

Tim narrowed his eyes, only willing to take so much. “You’re touching me.” His tone was acidic and unfriendly, but his seatmate didn’t seem to hear it.

“Like I said, not a lot of room,” he leaned to the side as someone passed by in the corridor, but a hand was squeezing its way between their shoulders before they could make contact.

Startled, Tim turned to Kon, who’d snaked an arm behind his back and placed his hand between their bodies. He was no longer smiling, pulling Tim closer to him. “Let’s switch seats,” he said to Tim, even as he continued to stare down the man.

“It’s fine,” Tim blurted out, edging his leg away from where the man was manspreading into his space. Kon’s quick eyes caught the motion, and his glare became even more apparent. “You’ll be even more squished.” He pointed out, which seemed to have no effect on Kon.

“Christ, leash your dog,” the man muttered under his breath, and now Tim swung his head to glare lasers into his head.

“Watch yourself,” he hissed, and now people around them were starting to look over. Kon’s hand squeezed his shoulder, either in reassurance or warning, he couldn’t tell.

Bad guys, Tim could deal with. Corrosive allies, he’d handled all the time. This? A random civilian whom he couldn’t stick a batarang in? This was frustrating.

“Tim,” Kon’s voice was curt, even in a dangerous way. “Switch with me. Please.”

Tim turned to argue with him, and then caught the look on his face. It was blank. Which meant he was seconds away from grabbing this guy by the front of his shirt and launching him out of the plane.

Hurriedly, Tim unclipped his belt and did an awkward shuffle thing where he slipped in front of Kon, and Kon squeezed in behind him. He felt gentle hands on his hips, and then he was sitting in the window seat, blue skies zipping by.

“Freaks,” he heard the man mutter, looking put off when Kon pointedly slammed his arms down on the armrest between them.

“You gonna keep your limbs to yourself now?” Kon was a little shorter sitting down than the guy, but his muscles weren’t for show, and the man seemed to know it.

“Fucking hell, your girlfriend isn’t that pretty,” the man snapped, even as he withdrew his arm and pressed himself far away from Kon.

Tim didn’t care for the girlfriend comment, but Kon just grunted. Just like that, his intimidating demeanor vanished, and he turned big, adorable eyes to Tim. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tim was a little breathless, actually, but he wasn’t sure why. He pressed his hand against the back of Kon’s hand that lay on the armrest between them. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to have the window seat.”

“It’s okay,” Kon smiled as if he meant it. “I’ve got a better view now.” The tone was teasing, but Tim blushed nonetheless.

“My view has gotten significantly better, too,” Tim said, and then they watched a movie on Tim’s phone, sharing the wired headphones he’d forgotten he’d brought.

Barely an hour into Nemo, and Kon was out like a light, head resting against Tim’s shoulder despite his complaints that it was bony. Tim carded his fingers gently through his hair and sent an icy look at the man when he glanced their way.

When they landed, Tim made sure to slip in front of Kon when they shuffled down the aisle. At Kon’s confused look, he’d just held a finger up to his lips and slipped a device into their seatmate’s pocket before he rolled his suitcase down the aisle.

Kon had the common sense not to ask any questions until the guy was gone, and then he instantly blurted out, “What’d you stick on him? A tracker? A bomb?”

“A bomb?” Tim scoffed, hiking his backpack higher up. “I’m not crazy. No, it’s just a stink device. He’ll smell like shit for days. Dick’s invention.”

Kon took in his devilish smile, then promptly pulled him to a stop in the middle of the airport to pull him into a hug. Tim let out a yelp, a sound that was muffled by Kon’s unfairly bulky chest. “You,” Kon said with feeling. “Are amazing.”

“Shut up,” Tim smiled against his pec. “I already knew that.”

Their mood was much improved by the time they’d got to their lodgings. It was nighttime by then, so they decided to save the sightseeing for the next day. Instead, they stayed up late watching movies and throwing popcorn at each other, and when they ran out of popcorn, they started trading stories. They were the same ones they’d always passed around, but that was half the fun. Reliving the moments they both loved.

They went to sleep late, giggly and hyped up like schoolgirls. Tim couldn’t stop smiling, and it hurt. In a good way. In a way it never had after Kon died.

For the next week, they went out and explored. They visited famous monuments and beautiful gardens. They ate at fancy restaurants and tiny street food vendors. They shopped at huge malls, and Kon bought clothing at an enthusiastic rate that seemed odd for someone who only ever wore the same shirt.

It was fun, and Tim was beginning to warm up to this idea of relaxing. Of adventure with Kon by his side. If Kon wanted to show him the world, then he’d let him.

Kon bought a corded necklace and surprised him by giving it to him later that night, as they sat on a hill munching on snacks from the nearest convenience store. “I couldn’t find a BFF heart necklace, so this was the second-best thing,” he told him, face deadly serious despite his words.

“Kon,” Tim said helplessly. His fingers ran over the necklace, and he pulled it around his neck. It sat lightly at the base of his throat, and yet it felt so heavy. Like a weight he would never take off. “Thank you.”

“You make me happy, wonder boy,” Kon leaned back against the grassy hill, hair spilling out in a beautiful halo around his head. “I just want to return the favor in any way I can.”

Tim swallowed. There were no words he could’ve said just then. The silence grew, and they basked in it. He lay down next to Kon, uncaring for the prickly grass. They stared up at the stars, twinkling despite the low haze that seemed to cloak everything in mystery.

After a long time, Tim spoke. “I’m going to give you the childhood you never got.” Kon was staring at him, he knew. But he didn’t turn to look at him, keeping his gaze steady on the stretch of sky above them. “I’ll make you so happy that there’s nothing in the world that you could do to pay me back for it.”

Kon’s hand crept over to his, curling around it softly. “You’re sweeter than anybody gives you credit for,” Kon murmured, voice gentle in the breeze.

“Only for you,” Tim whispered, and he hoped Kon hadn’t heard it. Was positive he had.

The stars twinkled sadly, and Tim let his gaze drift to the moon. It was in the wrong phase for the month, he noted. Perhaps everything was falling into anomaly now. Perhaps Kon’s existence had put everything off-kilter.

Certainly, it’d knocked Tim sideways. Brought him to his knees and told him to pray.

They pressed their hands together, but they didn’t hold hands, and Tim thought of the world they’d yet to see. Of promises to be fulfilled.

Of a contract.

This was beautiful, Tim thought. This was everything.

***

The world was cracking. Splitting down the seams and ripping apart faster than even Wally West would’ve been able to keep up with. It was all wrong, wrong, wrong. Bruce called his name, and Steph shouted out in fear. Cassie and Bart slipped through his fingertips as the Earth began to spin the wrong way.

“Kon!” Tim shouted, and the world began to tear faster. Unraveling beneath his feet as he ran. “Kon, where are you?”

“You know,” a voice slipped past his ear, and he snapped his head around to look at the deity. Glowing and all-powerful and terribly smug. “You know exactly where he is.”

Tim opened his mouth to scream, and then he was tumbling out of bed in a twisted mess of blankets. Sweat slicked his bangs to his forehead, and if he had a heart, it would’ve been pumping at a hundred miles per hour.

He forced himself up on shaky legs, kicking away the blanket as he tried to get his bearings. He stumbled around the bed to where Kon had insisted on taking the pull-out couch, a little surprised that the super hadn’t woken instantly upon his fall.

In fact, Kon seemed almost unnaturally still. His face was devoid of any expression in his sleep, limbs neatly tucked beneath his blanket. The only sign of life was the steady movement of his chest, and Tim still felt irrational fear tighten up his spine.

He fell to his knees next to Kon, resting his head in his arms as he watched him. This was creepy, he knew. But he needed the reassurance that Kon wasn’t gone. That the world wasn’t ripping them apart yet again.

“You mean far too much to me,” Tim’s voice was small in this silent room. It fell short in every way possible, and he pressed his face against his folded arms like he could hide away. “You make me scared.”

There was a truth he couldn’t see. A consequence he didn’t want to bear.

This world was perfect. And perhaps this world was too good to be true. Tim couldn’t let that matter.

Not when Kon rested before him so peacefully. Alive and whole. He’d let the world tear itself apart if that’s what it took to keep him here. And that frightened him a little. His devotion frightened him a little. Because it would always be the devoted who suffer.

***

Their flight to Thailand was uneventful, and they spent five days there. They tried to shove as much as they could into those five days, spending most of their time in bustling Bangkok. They went diving and hiked through scenery Tim had only ever dreamed of, adrenaline bursting through every movement like an endless ocean.

Tim tried on a scarf from a small, hole-in-the-wall shop, and he flung it dramatically over his shoulder just to make Kon laugh. “It looks good on you,” he told him, and Tim scoffed. It was bright red and embroidered in gold; far too flashy for his taste. Kon stepped closer, reaching up to tug at the ends of the scarf. “Seriously, it looks good.”

Tim let him fuss, slightly amused. Kon’s face was furrowed in concentration, as if it was a matter of great gravity that it was perfectly styled. As much as Tim liked it when Kon was looking at him, he liked it even more when he was so focused on something he didn’t even seem to realize that Tim was there. He had a little dimple that popped up when he concentrated, and his sunglasses slipped low on the slope of his nose like he was trying to see better. Tim reached out to gently push them back up his nose, and Kon’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“I’ll buy the scarf,” Tim told him, and Kon instantly shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. You’ve been paying for everything, the planes, the hotels, the food,” Kon crossed his arms like he was trying to be stern. Tim pursed his lips, but he was sure it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. “I can pay for you to look good. Not that it takes much.”

Tim pretended not to see his exaggerated wink. “With what money? I’m annoyingly, unfairly rich, remember? I’ve got the Drake and Wayne name to back me up.” He didn’t say it to brag. Just as a fact.

“I’ve got money,” Kon scowled at him, unwrapping the scarf with deft fingers and practically running to the cash register before Tim could argue.

Bemused, Tim shook his head as he trailed after him. If Kon wanted to buy him something so bad, who was he to say no?

Kon pulled out a wad of baht, the Thai currency, and Tim felt his eyebrows shoot up. The shop owner silently made the exchange, and he found himself hard-pressed to make out the details of their face. They were edged in blurriness, like Tim was wearing smudged glasses. He had a feeling his eyesight was getting worse, as this had been happening more and more often. He struggled to make out the facial features of the people around them, everything blurring together as he blinked heavy eyelids.

Maybe he was just tired. Their adventures were fun, but endless, stretching into the night and early morning like they were trying to do as much as they could in as short a time span as they could.

When they exited the shop, bell tinkling above them, Tim lightly asked, “Where’d you get that money? I don’t remember seeing you at an ATM.” They’d been using his credit card for most purchases, which didn’t have foreign transaction fees attached to it.

For a brief second, Kon’s face went slack, empty of any emotion. Tim froze at the sight, pulling them to a halt. “I’m not sure,” Kon answered after a beat, and when Tim reached out a hesitant hand, he seemed to snap out of his daze. “But I know that I haven’t heard a thank you out of you yet.”

Tim let his hand fall between them, unsettled but amused. “Thank you for this generous purchase. I’m sure I’ll think of some way to make it up to you. Maybe by paying for all of our meals today.”

Kon, who’d been eating all day like his stomach was a bottomless pit, grinned. “You would’ve done that regardless.”

Tim shook his head, unable to hide his fondness. “I guess I would have. Spoiled.” He pinched Kon’s cheek like a grandma, and Kon rumbled a laugh.

“I deserve it,” he said cheekily, and Tim didn’t agree because that would be out of character for him. But he wanted to. He wanted to reassure him that he deserved all of this and more.

The world had been dark without Kon, and now it was filled with a light he hadn’t known he’d been missing. He wouldn’t let him go now, he knew. Which meant he had to come up with a plan. Quickly.

On their long, twelve-hour flight to Italy, Tim came up with a few plans. In the blink of an eye, two weeks had slipped by since he’d made the contract with the deity, and he couldn’t afford to let anymore time pass him by while he did nothing.

His first plan was the most reasonable. It was to somehow get the message across to Bruce that he’d made a deal with a deity, and see if any of Batman’s connections could get them someone who would know what to do. Bruce was smart, and Tim had trained under him for years; it couldn’t be too difficult to get him suspicious without outright blowing the whistle on the whole deity schtick.

But Tim was worried that the deity would somehow know if he even hinted at what was happening to someone else. And he hated relying on other people for disasters that he’d gotten himself into. Even when he was in way over his head.

His second plan was far more dangerous. He could search for another deity and convince him to turn on the first. Or at least, help him figure out how to get out of the contract without losing Kon. If there was one deity, who was to say there wasn’t more out there? They were already exploring the world, and Tim could dive into the rumors once again and try to find another deity without letting Kon know. Fighting fire with fire was dangerous, but it was going to be nearly impossible to get out of this kind of situation without getting burned.

His third plan, he tried not to think too much about. It was to quite simply just ask Kon to kill him. He was unsure how to go about this one. Should he lie? Tell him that it was all part of a bigger plan, that he just needed to trust Tim on this? Kon would trust him, without a doubt. But Tim wasn’t sure what might happen as the years went by. As it became clear there was no bigger plan, and it had just seemed like Tim wanted to die.

So all of Tim’s plans were flimsy and half-formed at the moment, but he had nothing else to go off of. I have no heart, he imagined telling Kon. So it’s okay if you kill me. It's okay to trade my life for yours.

“I’ll get you out of this,” he whispered into Kon’s hair as they flew through the sky. “I promise.”

Italy was just as gorgeous as he’d hoped it would be, even though he’d gotten his favorite jacket stolen by what he was fairly sure was another tourist. Kon had been aghast at first, but when Tim had just laughed, a reluctant smile cracked his mouth. “It’s impressive that that’s the first thing we’ve gotten stolen so far.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed as they walked down a quiet street, a trio of giggling kids racing past them. “I’m still waiting for someone to steal your jacket.”

Kon defensively pulled his jacket closer around him, appearing almost offended. “Never.”

“It’d be best for all parties involved,” Tim patted his elbow condescendingly, and Kon threw back his head to laugh. The line of his throat bobbed, side profile beautiful in the bright sunlight. Tim had to avert his gaze to avoid being burned by the sight.

“Have you been in contact with Cassie or Bart?” Tim asked after a few more peaceful minutes of walking.

He wanted to invite the two of them at some point to join them in their journey. To reunite in their intimate banter and joy that had long been missing. Maybe towards the end, when they were coming back to America, because Tim was selfish like that, but he was sure Kon had missed them, too.

In all honesty, Tim was surprised that neither of them had called or even texted him, demanding to know what they were doing. Since when had either of them learned boundaries? A few times, Tim had gone to pull out his phone and text them himself, but then he’d get distracted, or his mind would suddenly go blank, and he’d forget what he was doing. It was little lapses like these that had him partially convinced that he was going back to how he used to be. Losing time, hallucinating dead people, physically incapable of reaching out and asking for help.

Tim hated that version of himself, but he also knew that he hadn’t changed that much from him. There was still a part of him that was certain that he’d wake up and Kon would be gone, just a figment of his overactive imagination. A hope that had never been truly fulfilled.

“A little,” Kon’s nose wrinkled when he was deep in thought, and Tim resisted the urge to poke it. “I think they’ve been busy. But we definitely should meet up with them later, once we get back to America.”

“Right,” Tim nodded, eyes cutting to their left where the river swelled along the bank. “I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

Kon was quiet, and when Tim looked over, he had that faraway look in his eyes again. A faint confusion that pressed over his features like a thin skin. “I miss them, too.”

Gently, Tim said, “Want to get some gelato? I think I saw a shop down the street from here.”

Kon shook himself, like a physical reminder of his reality. “I’d never say no to gelato.”

Italy was brilliant, but Tim found no traces of any deities anywhere. The only whispers he’d managed to grasp were of strange happenings in Turkey, and Kon didn’t seem to mind when he asked that they go there next.

“Wherever you want,” Kon told him, like an oath. “To the ends of the Earth.”

***

One afternoon, Kon came to a Tower meeting in a bad mood. He was late, slumping in his chair with a scowl when Tim gave him a pointed stare. He and Cassie exchanged quick glances, which only served to make Kon even moodier.

He stared out the window the entire time, and Tim couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed about it. There was a tremble to his hands that didn’t bode well, and when he started wrapping things up, Cassie pulled him to the side and murmured, “Fix this, Rob. And don’t be a dick about it.”

He wanted to protest the last part, but he knew she was right. He had a way of losing his temper when it came to Kon. They just seemed like they were always at odds with one another, so unfairly opposite in every way possible.

“Hey,” he sat down next to Kon as Bart and Cassie filed out, watching as the super tensed. “What happened?” he was straight to the point. There was no reason to beat around the bush. Not when it came to the two of them.

“Rob,” Kon leaned back in his chair, lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Fine,” Tim arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attitude. “Don’t talk, then. We can just sit here in silence and hope all of our problems go away on their own.”

Pointedly, Kon turned away from him. He didn’t leave, however, and Tim decided to wait him out. He’d played this game before, although Damian liked to hiss at him when he refused to go away. Kon just crossed his arms and sulked.

After a pitiful minute and a half, Kon broke. “Do you think I should change my superhero name?”

Surprised, Tim didn’t speak for a second. “I thought you liked Superboy.”

“I do,” Kon’s mouth twisted unpleasantly. “I did. But that’s Jon’s thing now, apparently. And Clark wants him to take on the title.” He spat Clark’s name like it was a bad word, and Tim softened.

Kon and Clark’s tumultuous relationship was well known by anyone who knew either of them. It was a point of spite, but also heartbreak that Kon refused to talk about. “You can, if you want to,” Tim said, slowly. “But you should only do it if it’s something you want. Not because someone else is kicking you out of your role.”

At the time, he hadn’t known how hypocritical that was of him. It was like fate had taken note of his words and written them down to make sure they would come back to bite him in the ass later on.

“The way Clark bosses me around, you’d think he was my dad.” There was a nasty look in his eye, meant to cover up his hurt. “Not that he ever wanted that role.”

“He’s missing out, then.” Tim waited for Kon to meet his eyes. For the bitterness in Kon’s gaze to gentle. When it did, he pushed on. “Your life isn’t his to control. Your name isn’t his to change.”

Kon exhaled, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes. “You’re right,” his voice was subdued, but not beaten. “It’s mine.”

Tim made sure to control his smile, sure it would come out smug otherwise. “I’m always right.”

Kon peeled away his hands, eyes bright when he looked at Tim. For a moment, he felt his breath catch in his lungs. “I’ll change my hero name. Eventually. I’m tired of everything I do being connected back to Clark.”

Kon would die before he got that chance to change his name. His legacy would forever be as Superboy, people would look to Superman to mourn, as if he’d ever truly known Kon.

“You’re not a clone or Superman’s unwanted son,” Tim tapped his finger, right over where Kon’s heart beat. “You’re Kon, and you’re my super. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“Well, then,” when Kon smiled, it was with all of his gleaming white teeth. “I guess I’m yours.”

“To the ends of the Earth,” Tim said gravely, and his lip twitched when Kon chortled.

“To the ends of the Universe,” Kon elbowed him, gently. A warm touch embedded into his skin.

***

This universe wasn’t good enough for Kon. Tim thought about it often, how perhaps that was why Kon died. Because the world he was in didn’t love him as it should have.

Perhaps Tim’s devotion hadn’t been enough to make up for that lost love. He’d thought it had been. That all those insurmountable obstacles would come to pass because of Tim’s will alone. A strength enough to keep Kon with him.

Pressure made rocks into diamonds, but sometimes it just crushed them into dust. Sometimes it just made you crumple.

Kon had already been a diamond when the pressure had gotten to be too much. When it kept pressing and pressing until he shattered in a beautiful explosion of shards.

Tim wouldn’t lose his diamond.

Not again.

***

They journeyed to Turkey, and Tim could tell that it was Kon’s favorite place by far. Even if he didn’t like planes, he very much enjoyed the hot air balloon, laughing as they soared in the air like he couldn’t do that on his own every day. They walked through ancient ruins, showing each other broken rocks like they were the most fascinating things on the planet. They bought tiny trinkets, matching key chains that warmed Tim more than they should’ve. They bought so much that Tim had it shipped off to Metropolis, not wanting to risk sending it to Gotham and having it stolen within the first day of arrival.

“Beautiful boy,” Kon murmured as they sat in a hot spa bath, steam rising through the open roof.

Tim fumbled to reach for his hand without looking, tangling their fingers together beneath the heated water. Kon’s thumb rubbed soothing circles against his palm, and Tim felt all of his muscles relax like goo.

“Do you remember,” Tim leaned his head back, hot water making him sleepy. “When I told you to go right, and you went left?”

There was a pause. “Are you talking about that time we fought the goo monster?”

Tim grinned, both at the disbelief in his voice and the fact that he knew what Tim had been talking about. “I’m glad you went left.” He said, like a confession. “I’m glad you always kept me on my toes.”

“You’ve gotten a lot sappier, you know?” Kon didn’t sound like he minded. “The Tim I remember would’ve died before admitting I did something right.”

“Time’s change,” Tim imagined Kon among the stars and his soul ached. “You died.”

Kon’s grip on his hand tightened, pulling him down to Earth. “I’m right here, Rob. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Tim closed his eyes, and a few tears slipped free. “Okay,” he whispered, and felt a rough thumb wipe away at his tears. “Okay.”

The following day, Tim managed to convince him to go off on his own so he could chase down a lead he’d caught wind of. “Bruce just needs me to do this one thing for him, and he doesn’t want anyone else to know about it. That includes supers from Metropolis, SB.”

Scowling, Kon sank lower into the beanbag chair he was occupying. “Why does Bat business always have to get in the way of everything?”

“It’s one day,” Tim pressed his hand against Kon’s knee. “Haven’t you gotten tired of me yet?”

He meant it as a joke, but Kon looked at him with strangled disbelief. “Tim, I literally begged you to travel around the world so that you’d spend some time with me. Trust me when I say that I am not and will never be tired of you.”

Tim hated Kon’s blunt honesty. It made his ears feel as if they were on fire. “Right. Um, I scouted out a few cafes and libraries I thought you might be interested in while I’m gone. I’ll send the list to your phone, and you can make your own choices.”

“See?” Kon pointed a dramatic, accusing finger at him. “You’re thoughtful! A good planner. How could I ever get tired of you?”

Tim made a garbled sort of noise, relieved when he finally managed to make his escape. He was pretty sure his face was still faintly red as he rode a train down to the area where he’d heard rumors of a wish-granting creature. He leaned his head against the cold, grimy window and tried not to think of Kon’s pitiful eyes and sad little pout.

His lead brought him to an abandoned beachfront, the sand a gray-black and the ocean a tumultuous mass that sprayed at his feet. He found no altar, and for a second, disappointment sunk its claws into him.

The ocean beckoned him closer, and almost subconsciously, his feet dragged him in. He kicked off his shoes, holding them tightly in his hands as he waded in. He stopped once the waters were knee-high and stared at the vast ocean that churned before him. Blue, white, and grey, tumbling together like a breathtaking portrait.

“What a view,” a deep voice crooned in his ear, and Tim nearly jumped in his surprise.

The deity he’d made a contract with hovered beside him, robes flaring around it with the ocean breeze. It tilted its head, empty porcelain gaze drilling into him. “You’re trying to make contact with another deity.”

Tim ground his teeth together, shivering under the sudden drop in temperature. “Nothing in our contract said not to.” Their contract was flimsy, not written down on paper nor promised in full words. The only thing that held it together was the deity’s binding power and Tim’s refusal to let Kon go.

“I said no loopholes, did I not?” The deity’s voice was even, but there was a viciousness to its demeanor that Tim didn’t trust. “You will find no other being willing to help you, little one. Not when it comes down to a contract that I made. You will die by your desired one’s hand, or he shall die in your place.”

That was not an outcome that Tim had yet to come to terms with. “Make me another contract,” he demanded heedlessly, an angry desperation filling his bones. “Force my hand at something else, anything else.”

“You are a fool,” the deity snarled, and Tim couldn’t help but tremble beneath its power. It felt like pressure was building in his head, ready to burst his skull.

“Kon will not kill me!” Tim shouted, thinking of the corded necklace around his neck, the protectiveness on the plane, the smiles they shared in the spa. If he hadn’t known before, he was certain now; Kon would never kill him. Not like how he needed him to. “You know this. You know your contract is impossible.”

“So did you,” the deity sneered, and Tim wondered if he was imagining the small cracking in its mask. “And yet you still accepted the deal. This is a result of your selfishness and nothing else. Do not put fingers that you cannot afford to lose.”

Tim tried to change tactics, unable to think of anything else. “You took my heart. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

If the deity had a mouth, it would be curled into a mocking smile. “Oh, mortal, your heart is pumping life through a much more deserving body right now. How do you think he is alive? He has taken your heart, in more ways than one.”

Tim didn’t like the way it said that, like Tim was the butt of some cosmic joke. “Are our lives some toys for you to mess around with?”

At that, the deity laughed. “You have no idea, do you? None that has ever made a deal with me has ever been as willingly blind as you. I shall not divulge everything now, because you amuse me. But do watch yourself. Your audaciousness will not go unpunished.”

Tim shivered as the wind seemed to pick up speed around him, sending the waters churning violently. He stumbled, but refused to fall, eyes still glued to the deity before him. “What am I missing?” he couldn’t help the pleading way he asked. He was certain something was off, but he couldn’t name it. He was afraid to name it.

“Look a little closer, mortal. You may find the answer right at your feet,” it vanished with a blinding flash, and Tim blinked away stars in his eyes.

“Shit,” he stood there for a moment, feeling defeated and irrationally angry. “What have I done?”

His trip back to the hotel they were staying at wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as the one to the ocean. He was in a sour mood, and his clothing was covered in sand. Kon wasn’t there when he got back, and Tim took his time taking a scorching hot shower.

He ran shampoo through his hair and suddenly felt that he might collapse. “What have I done?” he repeated to himself, but this time it was with terrible horror. He sank to a crouch, water sluicing down his back as he tried not to fall into panic.

In the end, Tim was alone in this. He couldn’t speak of the deity or contract to anyone, and there was no one else to rely on for a way out. He’d perfectly isolated himself, even from Kon, who’d been with him for weeks.

How long exactly had it been? He counted in his head, windpipe closing when he realized it’d been a month and a few days since he made the deal to bring Kon back. He had less than a month to come up with a solution, all on his own.

When Tim got out of the shower, he went straight to his phone, hair still damp as he dialed a number he’d long been avoiding. He gripped the cellphone tightly in his hand, sitting on the edge of his bed as he waited for Bruce to pick up.

It rang and rang and then it went silent. Not even to voicemail. Tim bowed his head over the phone and called again. And again. Nothing. Tim was spiraling into panic, a chanting of what have I done, what have I done, what have I done echoing in his head.

“Bruce,” Tim croaked, shuddering with fear and denial. “I can’t do this.”

The air didn’t respond to him. Tim had nothing, no one to rely on. He’d done this to himself, and for the first time, Tim hated it. This pervasive loneliness chasing at his heels. Promising him a life of isolation that he’d willingly chosen.

“Kon,” he managed to get out, and in between a heartbeat that wasn’t his, Kon was there. Alive and tall and worried. Oh, yes, he was alive. Somehow, Tim had forgotten this. That calling his name wouldn’t just be sobbing out into the abyss.

“Tim?” Kon took in his distressed state, pajamas still damp, phone held achingly tight between his fingers. He kneeled next to Tim, hands pressed on the bed. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“He won’t pick up,” Tim said, nonsensically. “Bruce won’t pick up and you’re going to leave me again and I can’t fix any of this. I can’t keep you here.”

“Tim, breathe. Please, I need you to breathe,” Kon’s eyes darted all over his face, before focusing on the tremble in his breath. “I’m not going anywhere, remember? I’m not leaving you anymore.”

“But what if you do?” Tim reached out, and Kon easily caught him in his arms as he pulled him in close. Feeling a heart that wasn’t his beat steadily in his chest. “What if everything I’ve done isn’t enough to make you stay?”

“You’ll never be the reason I leave,” Kon rubbed soothing circles against his back, free hand crawling up to rest gently against the nape his neck. A gentle brand that still burned. “You know that, right?”

“I’m so scared,” Tim hiccupped, curling up tight against Kon. Willing him to stay forever. “I never grieved you properly. I never learned to let you go, and I don’t think I ever will.”

“Rob, I want you to be happy. More than I want you to remember me or miss me or even care about me, I want you to be so goddamn happy that it hurts not to smile,” Kon hugged him like he didn’t know how to let go, and Tim continued to shake apart in his arms. “Please don’t ever let me be the reason you can’t live for yourself.”

“Kon,” Tim said helplessly. Clutching at this boy that he couldn’t keep. “I want you to be happy too.”

Tim wanted them to be happy together. Was that too much to ask? Was that too greedy in a world where they threw themselves at danger again and again without regret nor compromise?

“We’re going to be okay,” Kon swore, and Tim didn’t think of death or their future or the inevitability of the end. He just clung to Kon and refused to let go.

***

Without a doubt, Tim had known something was wrong. Not just with him, but with the world. Ever since the contract had been made, reality had been slipping. Dangerous and ominously so.

Tim was no fool. He simply chose to remain oblivious. He turned a blind eye to the fractures in the world and prayed that they would solve themselves. That his insurmountable greed could get him what he wanted without bringing down the universe with it.

So, he didn’t think about the consequences. About the clear signs of warning that surrounded him. He closed his eyes and covered his ears and tried to live his life without having to acknowledge the truth that was shaking him by his shoulders.

Tim had Kon. After all this time, he had Kon and he had happiness, and he didn’t want that reality to come crashing down on him. Not yet. Not ever, if he had any say.

To be human was to be selfish. To be mortal was to wish for more time. To be Tim was to desire more than the word had any capacity for.

***

After his breakdown, Kon seemed to hover even more intensely than before. Eyes full of concern, a smile pushing forcibly at the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure Bruce is just busy. Have you tried calling Nightwing or the others?”

“No,” Tim was embarrassed at having fallen apart so thoroughly in front of Kon, but he was also relieved to have gotten that out of his system. It felt like an inkling of honesty amongst all the lies that were holding them together. “But it’s okay. I’ll just go see what’s going on in person after we stop by Mexico.”

Mexico was to be their last destination. Considering the insane flight time, Tim had grudgingly allowed Kon to fly them over. He dropped Tim off and then flew back for their luggage, of which Tim made sure to keep small and ready for departure at any given moment.

It was stupid, he knew, but for their one-week stay in Mexico, he pushed all thoughts of the contract to the back of his mind. He’d only have two and a half weeks to figure things out once they got back to America, but he wanted this time to be peaceful. He wanted to fall in love with another country with Kon by his side, allowing him this capacity to feel.

They didn’t rush to see everything in Mexico, not like they had everywhere else. There was a feeling of placidity that settled between them, an easy peace that slowed their pace. They went on walks, ate at small shops, and talked for hours on end. They didn’t make plans. Kon wouldn’t let him, and Tim was grateful for it. He needed a few days to turn off his brain. To stop thinking and just let himself have fun.

The ground cracked beneath them at odd times, and the sky seemed to fade in and out with Kon’s pulse, but Tim paid it all no attention. Either it was the deity messing with him, or it was Tim’s mind slipping, because Kon never mentioned it, and everyone around them never seemed to notice. He looked away from it all and grabbed Kon’s hand as he ran into the future, trying to outrun whatever was chasing him. Whatever warning was flashing in his face.

On their sixth day in Mexico, they went to the beach. It was a gorgeous day, the sun casting everyone in a gold tint as blue-green waves spilled across the shore. It was, miraculously, only mildly crowded, and they managed to snag a good spot overlooking the water.

“You look like a ghost,” Kon teased as Tim lathered on a layer of sunscreen. “Don’t scare the kids.”

Tim rubbed in the sunscreen over his forehead, eyeing Kon distastefully. “Not all of us soak up the sun. Some of us just burn.”

“That’d be cute, though,” Kon reached out and poked him on the nose. “You’d look like Rudolph if you put sunscreen everywhere but your nose.”

Pointedly, Tim smoothed some over the bridge of his nose, ignoring Kon’s dramatic sigh. “Go get me some wet sand. I’m going to make a sandcastle.”

Kon leveled him with a challenging look. “Am I your dog?”

They’d had several reiterations of this same conversation many times before. “Go fetch.”

Kon obeyed, smirking, and Tim waited beneath the shade of the umbrella for Kon to come back with a bucketful of wet sand. He plopped it down beside Tim, wiping his sandy hands on his board shorts. Tim ignored the ripple of his abs as he did so, focusing on dumping out the sand and methodically sculpting the base of his sand castle.

Kon went out and dove into the waves, coming back every once in a while with sand loaded up to the top of his bucket. He practically glowed here, face relaxed and smile stretching fondly across his face. The sun did him wonders, as did the water dripping from his hair and well-muscled body. His board shorts dipped low at one point, and Tim instantly reached out and yanked them back up. Kon swatted him away, running back into the water like a misbehaving child, and Tim found himself unable to stop smiling.

Things were perfect here. Bathed in the sun with the cawing of seagulls overhead as they soared through the endless blue sky. Tim finished his sand castle, proudly leaning back to admire his work. He almost called out to Kon, only to see him helping a kid jump over a wave as the assumed mom of the kid watched with unbearably soft eyes. Tim bit down on his tongue, a sticky warmth spreading through his chest.

He lay down on the blanket at one point, eyes fluttering shut. The next thing he knew, he was blinking slowly awake as Kon carried him like a bride to their rental car. “Kon?” he slurred out, feeling the half-Kryptonian’s hot skin press against his ear.

“Don’t worry, Rob, I got you,” Kon brushed his fingers at the nape of Tim’s neck, and he shuddered as he fell back asleep, confident that he was safe. He vaguely felt himself being placed in the shotgun of the car, and then the lulling darkness of sleep pulled him down.

For that wonderful week, there was peace. And those days would forever be seared into his memory, drenched in the honey-gold of the beach’s atmosphere. What he would remember most, however, was Kon’s strong arms carrying him as he slept, vulnerable to the world. It would be Kon’s voice, tender in his reassurance. It would be Kon, backlit by the setting sun and the crashing ocean, smile so brilliant it could bring deities to their knees.

***

Some things were not meant to be whispered. They were meant to be shouted at the top of your lungs for the world to hear. Yet they were whispered anyway, for it was the foolish heart that controlled the volume.

Tim sat on the edge of a building and didn’t look down. His cape fluttered behind him, unsettled in the breeze. He thought of violence undone, and his feet dangled weightlessly below him, right off the edge of the roof. Taunting him for his inability to fly.

“Kon,” he said, and it took a moment longer than usual for him to appear before him.

“Rob,” Kon greeted, and it had a slight edge to it.

They’d been fighting for a while now. Bitter arguments laced with hurt that neither of them was willing to own up to. Bart called them stupid, and Cassie refused to talk to either of them until they got their acts together. Tim felt Kon’s absence gut-deep, and he hated it.

“You came,” he noted, unable to keep the bitter surprise out of his voice.

Kon floated in front of him, casting his gaze over Tim. Like judgment. “I always do. Even when you’re being a prick.”

No metas in Gotham, Bruce had always insisted. No supers in your heart, Tim thought was a much better saying. “I’m sorry.”

Kon opened his mouth and then closed it, eyes wide. Neither of them was in the habit of doling out apologies. Usually, their disagreements were by pretending they never happened in the first place because they started to miss each other. Water under the bridge and all that.

But Tim was sorry. Not for whatever stupid argument they’d had that he hardly remembered. No, he was sorry for everything he was, for the stupid mistakes he kept making. For everything wrong with him that he couldn’t undo. “I keep messing up.”

Kon landed on the edge next to him, sitting cross-legged as Tim stared over the city. “Rob? You okay?” There was a cautiousness to his voice that was new. Uncertain.

“Kon,” Tim said gravely, and he wasn’t sure when this had become a confession. When he’d decided he could only trust Kon with this. “I’m pretty sure I hate myself. Or, at least, there are parts of myself that I hate. But I can’t help it. They keep taking over my life regardless.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kon said immediately. Unreservedly sure of himself. “I’ll just have to like those parts of you for you, then.”

“You can’t,” he said sharply, words of defensive despair. “They’re hideous, the parts that I hate. They are unlovable.” Saying “they” was a way of avoiding using the word “I”, avoiding the implications of being hideous and unlovable. Pretending he could detach himself from all of the harsh meanings.

“I can,” Kon replied stubbornly, fiercely faithful to Tim even when it was against himself. “And I have. I may hate you sometimes, but I love you always.

But I love you always. Those words crept into his heart, strangling his lungs. Promising him a future he was terrified of. Tim turned to Kon, and neither of them smiled. Neither of them blinked. “You are so good, Kon.” He said it bitterly, quietly. “Too good for me.”

“No,” Kon shook his head, fingers inching across the ledge to press lightly against his hand. Tim didn’t pull away. “We’re just right for each other. As I said, I’ll always come. Even when you’re being a prick.”

Tim smiled helplessly, a painful turn of his lips. He leaned his head over and lay it on Kon’s shoulder. The city glimmered beneath them, a scenery too beautiful and too violent for this quiet moment. “And I’ll always be waiting. Even if I’m being a prick.”

Kon rumbled a laugh, and for a second, everything was perfect. Everything was cast in warmth and promise. The world continued to turn, and Kon and Tim stood still in the midst of it. Tethered down by skin pressing against skin.

They were not meant for this world, Tim sometimes thought. They were made only for each other.

***

In a twisted turn of events, everything came crashing down when Tim tried to call Bruce again. Kon had gone off to look for places to eat, claiming that he was feeling antsy in their hotel room. Tim watched the window flicker and tried to breathe past the panic in his lungs.

He was only going to call him once. Just to check-in. Because Bruce still hadn’t called or even texted back, and annoyance had begun to slip away into worry. If he didn’t pick up this time, Tim told himself, he’d stop thinking about it. He’d just assume Bruce was in some undercover mission, or off-planet, unable to contact him just yet.

The phone rang and rang, and just as Tim was certain it’d go to voicemail, an ominous click cut through the ringing. He inhaled sharply and spoke when Bruce didn’t say anything. “B? Can you hear me?”

There was a rattling and a static noise that made him wince. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring in disbelief at the way the screen was fritzing out on him. Jumping between pitch black and blinding brightness.

A warped voice pushed through the noise. “T—Tim. You…up. There’s a…can’t…”

“Bruce,” Tim said urgently, clutching the phone tighter. “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“—come back,” Bruce insisted, though his words kept cutting out. “—no heartbeat—”

Frustrated, Tim tried tapping the screen to no avail. “I can’t understand you. Am I coming through?”

There was a long patch of static, and then his voice came through for a crisp, clear moment. “—2177. 652177. 652177.65—”

The phone abruptly went dead, but it hardly mattered. Tim felt the phone drop through his limp fingers, clattering to the floor with a loud thud that he vaguely registered. Deep in the back of his mind, a suspicion he’d deliberately been pushing further and further away had been confirmed. Icing him in its deadly truth.

652177 was code for false reality. Mostly, it was used for those under the sway of the Black Mercy, a plant-like alien that left its host in a waking dream full of their deepest desires. It meant that this wasn’t his world. It meant that this was all fake.

It meant that Kon wasn’t real.

“No,” Tim swayed, holding himself up with a death grip on the table. His phone was shining brightly, and he swiftly kicked it across the floor, unwilling to look at it any longer. “No, no, no. Please, it can’t be true. It can’t.” 652177. Oh God, how long had Tim been here for? How long had he been lying to himself?

Frantically, he stumbled over to the window, throwing it open and staring desperately at the world that wasn’t his. For the first time, Tim looked. Truly looked. And he saw the cracks for what they were. He saw faceless people passing in the street, and he heard conversations repeat themselves like broken audio. He saw that the sky was perfect, so unbelievably perfect as it was at all times. There was a cracking spreading beneath the sidewalks, clambering up building walls like a taunt. A message he’d refused to see.

This reality wasn’t real. And it had slowly been crumbling as the weeks had passed by. As he played at a happy life with Kon.

Kon. Kon, who was a part of this false reality. Kon, whose face went blank at odd times and who hadn’t asked nearly enough questions.

“Please,” Tim was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as his chest hollowed with fearsome grief. “I wanted this so badly.” He choked on a gasp, wetly sobbing out, “Kon.”

In a flash, Kon was there. Perfect and warm and everything Tim had ever wanted. “Hey, move back from the window, Rob. You’re going to fall.”

Tim took several trembling steps back, and Kon cautiously flew in, eyes darting over the room as if looking for the perpetrator of his fear. Tim whispered, “I fucked up. Kon, I fucked up so bad.”

“Rob, look at me,” Kon said, and Tim hadn’t realized he’d been staring past him, eyes blurring over as he spiraled. He met dark blue eyes and found himself crumbling all over again. Kon shot over and caught him, raising his hands in surprise when Tim forcibly pulled away. “What’s going on? I thought things were going well again.”

“Kon,” Tim said wretchedly, his name poison on his tongue. A lie like he’d never told before. “You’re not real.”

Kon held dangerously still, confusion and nothingness warring in his eyes. Fighting an existence that had never been true. “What are you talking about?” The question was flat, like he wasn’t sure he meant it.

“I made a deal,” Tim wiped at his tears, bleeding with sorrow. “I made a contract with a deity to bring you back to life, but it tricked me. This world isn’t real. You’re not—” he hated himself so much. So viciously. “You’re not actually alive.”

“I am,” Kon said with such confidence that Tim wanted to hold him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tim, but I’m alive. You can’t take that away from me.”

He was angry, but there was a fear cutting through his words. Like he knew exactly what Tim was talking about, and he refused to acknowledge it. “I’m sorry,” Tim had nothing else to give. “I wanted you back so badly that I allowed things to get to this point. I knew something was wrong, but I refused to see it.”

“I’m not an illusion,” Kon’s voice rose, like he was angry but mostly afraid. His fingers were curled into fists, and he looked like he wasn’t sure whether to step forward or back. To confront Tim or to run. “I’m real.” His voice broke on the last word, and Tim hesitated.

The Kon before him seemed so honest. So real in a world of blurry faces and shattering reality. He was too good to be true, but maybe he was true. Maybe he was the only thing that was. “I don’t know, Kon.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, tension visible in every line of his body. “Like you’re afraid of me.”

Tim had hurt him. Hurt him badly, and all Tim had wanted was to make him happy. To give him the life he deserved. “I’m not. I’d never be afraid of you.”

Kon collapsed heavily into the nearest chair, eyes closing tightly. “Tim,” he started flatly. “Tell me what you did.”

And so he did. For the first time, he told someone the full truth. “I’ve done a lot, Kon. Too much. I tried to clone you back to life. I looked into the Lazarus Pit. None of it worked. I went to Taiwan because I heard there was a place there where anything you wished for would come true. I met a deity there who made a deal with me; your life in exchange for you killing me within two months of your resurrection. I agreed. And ever since then, I’ve been trying to figure a way out. I’ve been trying to think of a way to keep you here without making you kill me. But I called Bruce and he told me the code for false reality and I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t keep looking the other way.”

The silence that followed was oppressive. Kon had opened his eyes partway through Tim’s confession, and now his eyes seemed glued to him. Unblinking. “You tried to clone me, knowing it wouldn’t really be me. You wanted to use the Lazarus Pit, knowing its consequences. You made a deal with a deity and took control of my life because you wanted me back.” There was no inflection to his words. No disbelief or anger. Nonetheless, they cut through Tim like shards of jagged glass. “You love me.”

It was an awful confession. Backwards and accusing and still so full of wonder. “I do,” Tim thought of lonely nights and screaming sorrow. “I did horrible, horrible things because I love you so much that I don’t know how to live without you.”

“Tim,” Kon was shattering in front of him, agony in his every motion. “I don’t want this. And I hate to see you like this because of me.”

Tim wanted him to be real more than he wanted to be forgiven. More than he wanted to be a good person. “Do you not want to live?”

Kon stared down at his hands, like he was unsure if he was truly there. The walls warbled, and Tim shuddered for control. “I want to live. Tim, I hated the way I died. I hated it more than the way I hated the way I was made. I want a life I never got to live, but Tim,” he looked up at him, and for a second, his face flickered. There and then gone. “I’m not real.”

Tim was collapsing. Like a black hole folding in on itself endlessly. Self-destructive and inevitable. “Kon, please,” he stepped forward, one foot in front of another until he stood before Kon. Until he could see the devastation in Kon’s eyes that much more clearly. “You’re real to me. No matter what, the times we had were real. The things you said and the gifts you gave me were real.”

Kon reached out and touched the corded necklace around his neck. His eyes were dark and hopeless, yet still so soft. Unbelievably gentle. “You have to look, Tim. Really look. None of it was real.” The necklace tugged at his neck once, and then it was gone. Like it was never really there.

Tim felt at his bare neck, and tremors spread through his body. “But you’re here. You’re so much clearer than everything else, and that has to mean something.”

Kon should hate him for all he’d done, but all he did was grab him by his waist and pull him closer until Kon could rest his forehead against his stomach. Fingers digging into Tim’s sides like he was grounding himself. “Tim, you just had to let me go.” There was sorrowful pity in there, not for Kon, but for Tim. Like Tim’s despair burned.

“If I could devoid myself entirely of you, I would,” Tim promised, each word venomous and strained. “If I could dig you out of my chest and pretend you meant nothing to me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Because you and your existence and even your death has made my life a living hell. But I can’t. Kon, I don’t know how to live without you.”

“You have to learn,” Kon was crying against his stomach, tears soaking his shirt, even as his voice remained steady. “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean you have to die with me.”

But that was exactly what it meant. “You have my heart, Kon.” He said, fingers reaching out and digging into Kon’s shoulders. Holding him in place with a greed that disgusted himself. “All of it.”

“I know,” Kon said quietly. He laughed wetly. “I think I always knew. Bruce didn’t teach you a trick to hide your heartbeat, did he?”

“No,” Tim whispered, pressing a gentle hand against Kon’s back and feeling their heart beat as one. “He didn’t.”

Kon inhaled, dragging in air. “I think it’s time I give it back to you.”

“Don’t,” Tim tried to jerk away, only for Kon’s super strength to keep him in place. There’d be bruises on his waist, but would those even be real? All of a sudden, he wanted the pain. The markers that this moment had actually happened.

He opened his mouth to say as much when the air suddenly seemed to grow still. Unnatural quiet descended over the room. Underneath them, the ground tilted, and they stumbled with it.

“How sweet,” a familiar, unpleasant voice cut in, and Tim grit his teeth so hard it hurt. Kon looked up swifter than ever before, eyes locking onto something behind Tim. “It seems you’ve finally figured it out. Some never get it, even as their world crumbles around them. Denial is quite the killer. You would know, wouldn’t you little one?”

Tim turned, stepping in front of Kon instinctively. The deity hovered before them, the ceiling warping over its head to accommodate its height. Its porcelain mask sent unreasonable, blinding waves of rage through Tim. “You don’t fulfill desires. This is your trick, playing with humans and creating a world for them to inhabit and die in. What the hell do you get out of doing this? Any of this?”

It tilted its head. Unbothered. “Entertainment, I suppose. It’s always interesting to see how far delusion can take mortals. Aren’t you happy here, anyway? I allow all the others their happiness. They still live in their fake worlds, all their desires met. Everything they could ever want sat right in their lap.”

Kon stood behind Tim, glaring with a hatred Tim had rarely seen from him. “Am I not real, then? Am I just a figment of this world you created for him?”

“In a way,” the deity studied Kon, unflinching in the face of his rage. “You were tricky. Most desires are not so exhausting as his. I expended much of my powers on you, which is why this world is so flimsy. Easily seen through. I couldn’t even conjure a version of this mortal to go about in reality, which is what I’ve done for the others. Unfortunately, this caught unwanted attention from some of your people in the real world.” Tim thought of Bruce’s phone call.

“That’s how the rumors spread,” Tim felt stupid. Easily played in his desperation. “You suck people into these crafted worlds and create fake versions of them to go about in reality. So much effort, for what?”

“I must be sustained in some way,” the deity scoffed, like it was a foolish question. “I live on through your desires and these worlds I’ve so kindly given you mortals. This is the last time I’ll use my powers, in any case; I hadn’t lied to you when I told you that your desire would be taking the last of my abilities. In turn, you get what you want. Better than any contract, no?”

“Why make a contract at all?” Tim didn’t understand. And if he was going to get out of this, he needed to understand. “Why give me two months when you were planning to trap me in here forever?”

“To make it seem more realistic. To watch as you tried to convince your boy to kill you for no real reason,” the deity shrugged, an elegant roll of its shoulders. “No more questions. You just need to accept this world and all the cracks and nonsense should go back to normal. Just ignore calls from that mentor of yours and I’ll take care of everything in reality.”

“No,” Kon said for him, hovering up to the deity’s level. “He won’t stay here in this fake place for your entertainment. You need to break this world and put Tim back where he belongs. Now.”

Tim reached out to grab at Kon’s ankle. Deeply afraid. “Kon, wait. I can’t leave you here.”

“That’s right,” the deity said smugly. “He won’t leave you. I’ve created a world he won’t ever have the will to leave. Just enjoy it, Superboy. You can be alive here, in some capacity. There is no bringing you back in the real world.”

That hit Tim like a blow to the chest. An unescapable truth he’d been running from for so long it’d become a distant lie. Kon bared his teeth at the deity, still unwilling to back down. “It’s like you said. I’m not real. This doesn’t matter. None of this will make him happy.”

A flash of annoyance seemed to pass over the deity. “You mortals and your selfish need to be happy is becoming tiresome. I am promising you a world where you can have whatever you want, as you desire it to be. Little one, there is no Superboy out there in that world. There is nothing for you out there.”

“Okay,” Tim cut in before Kon could try to fight it. He kept his grip on his ankle firm, squeezing it tightly. Like a plea. “I’ll stay. Just go away. Look over the other humans you’ve trapped in these worlds. I won’t leave. You know I can’t.”

Kon spun to him so fast a breeze fluttered over him. “Tim.”

The deity nodded, as if its expectations had been fulfilled. “Of course you can’t. If I sense this world crumbling any further, I’ll have to start over. But I’ll give you a chance to put things in their place. Remember, you must forget the world out there. This shall become your new reality.”

It vanished in between blinks, and then Kon was dropping down in front of him, furious and in disbelief. “What are you doing? You can’t stay here. You have to go back.”

It was odd that the deity hadn’t changed this Kon to be more obedient. Like real glimpses of Kon was peeking through this version of him, fighting to breach the surface. It made Tim ache even more. “Kon, you know now. How much I’m willing to do for this. How far I’m willing to go to be selfish and to keep you in my life.”

There was no world without Kon in it that Tim wanted a part of. There was nothing Tim hated more than himself, but there was also no one he loved as much as Kon, and those two things converged into this. Into accepting a world that had nothing but Kon. A world that would kill him one day.

“Tim,” Kon sounded so sad. Not for himself, like he should be, but for Tim. “You know what you’re doing is living for me. And I hate it. I hate you a little bit for this. For not loving yourself enough to live in a world that hurts so much in an undeniably real way.”

“Kon, I’ve already decided,” Tim’s throat hurt. His heart thumped heavily in Kon’s ribcage. “Please just live with me here. We could be so happy.”

If he left this place, then this Kon would die. Everything they’d created would die. Kon grabbed him by his shoulders and Tim wondered when he’d started crying again. Like a leaking faucet that just wouldn’t stop. “You have to grieve me properly. You have to live, Tim, and this isn’t any life.”

It was. It was a life more than anything else Tim had lived had been. “There is no wrong way to grieve. Right? I’m allowed to destroy myself over this. Kon, I’m allowed to destroy my life with this grief because that’s just how grief is.” He was begging at this point, eyes glued to this boy who wouldn’t let him fool himself.

“No, it isn’t,” Kon shook his head, firm and stubborn. “Tim, I’m not real. I hate it so much, but I’m not Kon.”

“You are,” Tim needed him to understand this. That no matter what, he had been real to him. So beautifully real. “Don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t say that.”

“Okay,” Kon said, because he always bent to Tim’s whims. He always looked at him like he was perfect, even when he was ruining the both of them. “Fine. What we had was real. Those moments we had were real. But Tim, I want you to leave. You want me to be happy, right? Well, I can’t be if you choose to stay here. No matter what that creature makes me say or however it changes this world to be, you have to know that you being here makes me miserable. If I smile at you and tell you I love you, just know that it cannot be true in this world.”

Tim felt like he was dying. Like this was the punishment for all his greed and mistakes. All of it culminated in this look in Kon’s eyes and the fear he heard him try to hide in his voice. “I don’t want you to die all over again.”

“Birdie,” Kon said, a long-unused nickname. A reminder and a dagger. He swept Tim’s hair off his forehead and kissed it like he knew he was shattering Tim. “Stop trying to bring me back. Move on.”

And Tim shattered. He gathered Kon up in his arms and broke like messy pottery, and the world around them broke with him. Glowing cracks burst through everything, and they floated in the ruins. Tim pulled back to see that cracks were spilling all over Kon’s skin and he sobbed. “I’m hurting you.”

Kon grabbed his hand and pressed it against his cheek. The cracks crumbled beneath his touch, but Kon just leaned in further. “Don’t let this grief consume you. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I don’t want there to be a clone of me taking my place. I don’t want the Lazarus Pit to drag me back to life. I don’t want me as I am now, a part of a false world that traps you in its glass walls.”

“Kon,” Tim knew then, that he would stop. That this was the end. “I want you, always.”

“Then don’t let this be about what you want,” Kon pressed his lips against Tim’s palm, and it burned like acid. When he spoke, feathery movements tickled his hand. “Let this be about what I want.”

Tim had been selfish for so long. It only made sense that the one person he’d stop for would be Kon. “Okay,” it broke him to say it, but he did. “Whatever you want.”

Kon smiled, and it was sad. It was frightened. When he spoke next, it was in a whisper. As if he was scared of what the answer would be. “Did you love Kon or did you love me?”

There was no or. There had never been. “You know the answer to that.”

The ceiling began to disappear. The cracks were consuming everything, turning the world into a mass of glowing abyss. They floated, and Kon nodded. Once. “I do.”

“I don’t know how to get out of here,” Tim told him, and time seemed to stretch.

“Your heart,” Kon pressed his hand against his own chest, and Tim’s breath caught in his throat. “You need it back.”

“But it’s yours now,” Tim said stupidly. “It always has been.”

“And I’m giving it back,” Kon’s face was hard to make out now. More glowing shards than handsome features. “For you to keep safe.”

“What is happening here?” the deity appeared once again, furious and disbelieving. It took in the shattered remains of the false reality, and its halo pulsed blindingly. “What have you done?”

Kon ignored it, even as it bore down on them. He had only eyes for Tim as he reached into his chest with a glowing hand that seemed to slip right through his flesh and bones. Right to the heart that Tim had given so willingly. “Tim,” his voice trembled a little. “Move on. But please, don’t forget me.”

Tim thought of the first time they met. Of the beach just a day ago. He stared at the heart Kon was slowly dragging out of his chest. “I can’t forget you.”

Kon plunged his heart into Tim’s chest, and Tim screamed as the deity tried to cut between them. Everything felt suddenly so much more vivid, more terrible in its sharpness. His heart hiccupped and beat painfully within him, rattling against his ribcage as if desperate for freedom. Yearning to go back into Kon's chest, where it so rightfully belonged. Tim felt alive for the first time in months, and he hated it so much that his spine bent under his sorrowful anger.

The deity was howling something, desperately trying to hold together the false reality. It was too late. The world around them exploded, and Tim reached for Kon as the deity shouted in rage.

“My Kon,” Tim gasped out through the pain, through the tears streaming down his face. “You were everything.”

Kon was disappearing, and Tim only caught a glimpse of his brilliant smile as he faded in front of his eyes. “Live. For you.”

He was gone, and Tim’s eyes shot open as his body convulsed. Confusion clouded his vision for a moment, and his frantic gaze darted over the sky that loomed over him. It was cloudy, dark blue, and so undeniably real that bitter tears leaked from his eyes.

“Tim?” Bruce’s voice rumbled over him, and Tim allowed himself one second to understand all that he’d lost. Then he painfully turned his head to Bruce, exhaustion filling him at the tiny movement.

Bruce was dressed in his Batman uniform, although his cowl lay crumpled next to him. Tim’s head was lying on his lap, hair brushed out of his face. Fierce blue eyes look at him with concern disguised with professional detachment. “You’ve been missing for a week. I traced your steps here and found you unconscious next to this altar. You started speaking to me about some dream, and I tried to wake you up. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be a 652177 situation.”

Bruce’s clinical tone settled something in him. Like habit. “It was. You were right. A deity trapped me in a different universe. Or a dream world. I don’t know.” He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to weep or to rest. “There are other people still trapped in their own fake worlds.”

“Okay,” Bruce took him at his word, fingers combing through his hair. “We’ll deal with that. Later.”

Tim knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew, but there was some masochistic part of him that needed an answer. “Is Kon alive?”

Bruce’s expression didn’t falter. Didn’t so much as budge. But Tim saw the pity in him nonetheless. “No, Tim. He’s not alive.”

“Alright,” Tim breathed. “Okay.” His mouth twisted and his heart pumped in his chest and he closed his eyes tight. “He’s dead.” It was the first time he’d ever said those words. The first time the admission dragged free a weight he’d been carrying around ever since Kon had died. He turned his face against Bruce’s lap and curled up like a little boy. “Kon’s dead and he’s never coming back.” The words ripped a hole through his chest, but it was a necessary one. It was a hole that allowed all the misplaced anger and grief to finally slip free. It freed him and it hurt him and it bled like all fresh wounds did. Like it might never stop.

“Let it out,” Bruce didn’t question his sudden declaration. Just patted his back and let him choke out small, pathetic little sobs. “Let it all out.”

And he did. He cried and broke and all those days of losing his mind without fully grieving finally snapped. Washed away by the tide of his pain.

Oh, Kon. Beautiful and selfless and scared and unforgiving. Tim would never forget him. Not as long as he lived. But for the first time, Tim found himself starting to let him go. Because one death did not have to equate to two, and if Tim could not yet live for himself, he would still live for Kon.

Bruce held him and Tim clung to him and they would deal with the deity and the souls lost to their wonderfully false realities later. Tim would confess everything and Bruce would scold him and then he’d help him and then Tim would learn to move on.

But for now, Tim thought of the boy he’d lost twice and grieved forever. He stopped trying to fix everything and allowed himself his pain that had been consuming him endlessly. Because he loved Kon and he would never stop, and to love was to die a little when they died.

And to live was to forgive them a little for dying.

***

When Kon hadn’t visited him for the first two days Tim was hospitalized, he knew the super was upset. “He just lurks in the waiting room,” Cassie informed him, like it was funny.

“He probably feels bad because it was his fault you almost died,” Bart added, unhelpfully. He tilted his head. “Or maybe because I caught you faster than he could when you fell. Can’t outrun a speedster. He didn’t seem to appreciate me telling him that, though.”

It was only the third day that Kon slunk into his room. He cut his gaze around the room, seeming unable to look directly at Tim. He shuffled to the chair set up next to his cot, sitting down and finally meeting Tim’s pointed stare. “Hi. You look alive.”

Tim crossed his arms. “Yeah, you would know this if you came to visit sooner.”

Kon looked uncomfortable, fiddling with his jacket as Tim waited him out. “I thought that you might be mad at me. Like, maybe you wouldn’t want to see me for a bit.”

Just like that, all of his annoyance drained from him. He sighed, tight shoulders slumping as he sat up straighter. “I’m not mad, Kon. And even if I was, I’d want you to see you after a fight like that.” It’d been killing him not to be able to see everyone’s state in person. The battle had been bloody and closer than it had any right to be. “Alien invasions always come with their casualties. You know that, Kon.”

Kon tensed at his wording. “You’re not dead, Tim. Don’t say casualty.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Kon. I’m not going to die on you. I’ve got too good of a team for that.”

“I’m the reason you’re in this hospital room,” Kon pointed out, unhappy and obvious about it. “You might not have died, but what if you do one day? What if it’s my fault?”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Tim snaked out a hand and wrapped it around Kon’s wrist. Insistent that he look him in his eyes. “If you ever let my death weigh you down like that, I’ll come back to haunt you. Got it?”

“Promise you won’t die,” Kon’s eyes were intense, frantic with something Tim didn’t understand. He wrapped his fingers around Tim’s wrist in response, and they sat there, clutching each other like they were afraid to let go. “Promise me, Rob.”

That wasn’t a promise vigilantes could make. It only invited heartbreak. But Tim looked at Kon’s frightened gaze and knew there was only one right answer to give. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Kon exhaled, like that had taken a weight off his shoulders. He deflated, laying his head down next to Tim, eyes falling shut. “Okay. Remember that, Tim. I’m holding you to that promise.”

Tim felt the way his hand shook and responded with a gentleness he hadn’t known himself capable of. “I’ll remember.”

He tangled his fingers in Kon’s hair and a peace that was rare for their line of work settled over the room. Like they were just kids making promises they couldn’t keep.

Tim should’ve made Kon promise as well. He should’ve shaken him awake and told him how much he cared, how scared he was every time Kon flew headlong into battle. He should've held onto him that day and never let go.

But only Tim made the promise and only Tim lived and only one of them would ever make it past their foolish youth.

***

Love me. Tim tore his pulsing, bloody heart from his chest and presented it like a plea.

Love me. Tim took the air from his lungs and tried to breathe life into what breathed no more.

Love me. Tim ripped off his fingers one by one and used them to hold Kon’s ribcage together.

Love me. Tim pried through his chest and came up empty.

Love me. There was nothing left. How could there be nothing left?

L ov e m e.  Kon wanted to love him and he wanted to be young and he wanted to tell him those words that had always been caught between uncertain lips.

Kon died. He stayed dead.

Oh, how he’d always wanted to be so much more.

Love you.