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Tim had almost said no.
In hindsight, he probably should have.
It wasn't the concert itself. He loved the main band and he knew the second supporting band enough for him to at least sing along. Dick had spent weeks talking Jason into coming, Damian had declared concerts "an inefficient use of time" before somehow ending up excited anyway, and Bruce had somehow cleared his schedule.
Tim didn't want to ruin that.
He just... hadn't been doing great lately.
The hotel room had been too small. There hadn't really been anywhere to decompress without someone else being there too.
The drive had been worse. Hours pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the car, conversations he couldn't escape, the constant vibration of the road.
Food hadn't helped.
Jason had gone out of his way to find cereal Tim would actually eat for breakfast, but lunch had been whatever they could grab while sightseeing, dinner had turned into "we'll eat after the concert," and Tim had smiled and said he was fine because everyone else looked so excited.
He wasn't fine.
He was running on one bowl of cereal, too much caffeine, and the increasingly desperate hope that if he could just make it through tonight he'd finally get to be alone.
---
The first note wasn't loud.
It was physical.
The bass wrapped around his ribcage.
Every drumbeat shoved against his lungs.
The crowd screamed.
Fifteen thousand voices became one.
Another drumbeat.
His teeth clicked together.
The floor vibrated beneath his trainers.
The bass settled somewhere behind his sternum and refused to leave.
---
The noise-cancelling headphones dulled the sharp edges.
They didn't stop the sound.
It leaked through anyway.
Through the padding.
Through his skull.
Through his bones.
Help.
He should say something.
Jason was right there.
Just—
Speak.
His throat locked.
---
Tim keeps adjusting his headphones.
He's pressing his palms against his thighs.
He flinches every time the crowd screams.
Jason notices...
...but he assumes Tim's just uncomfortable.
Then when Tim goes completely still—
Oh.
Tim isn't looking at the stage anymore.
He's staring at the floor.
Hands clenched.
Breathing too fast.
Tim isn't blinking.
That's worse.
Jason feels his own heartbeat stumble.
"Hey."
No response.
"Little Wing?"
Still nothing.
"...Tim."
---
Dick is halfway through enthusiastically singing the chorus before he realizes...
Tim isn't singing.
Weird.
Tim always mouths the lyrics.
Dick reaches over to bump Tim's shoulder like he has three times already.
This time Tim recoils.
Dick's stomach drops.
---
"Do you need water?"
Tim doesn't answer.
"Tim?"
Nothing.
Bruce is already listing solutions.
"Water. Food. Outside. First aid."
Jason cuts in.
"Bruce."
"What?"
"Stop talking."
With all of the commotion between Jason and his father, Damian finally notices that something is off with his adoptive older brother.
"...Drake?"
...
"...You're crying."
"Does Drake dislike loud music..?"
"No." The three practically speak all at once.
"...Then why is he crying?"
"We need to leave."
Bruce glances toward the exits.
"...No."
Jason almost punches him.
"If someone photographs me leaving with Tim crying—"
Jason's expression hardens.
"I don't give a damn about headlines."
Bruce shakes his head.
"Neither do I."
Jason stops.
"I care that tomorrow every article becomes 'Wayne Heir Breaks Down At Concert.' He deserves one bad day that isn't public property."
...
"...He deserves privacy."
Damian gently tugs Dick's shirt and gets him to crouch slightly.
"Yeah little bat?"
"The music is objectively too loud."
"I dislike it now as well."
Jason just stares.
"...What?"
Damian folds his arms.
"Drake dislikes it."
"..."
"Therefore I dislike it."
Dick smiles before gently making him let go.
"You stay with Tim for a little bit, me and Jason need to speak privately okay little bat?"
Damian huffs something under his breath before hesitantly stepping over to Tim and wrapping his arms around Tim's waist to try and distract him as the two birds slip away to the side.
"You are trembling."
...
"This environment is unsuitable."
---
"I should've noticed sooner."
Jason just looks at him.
"You noticed."
"..."
"You didn't ignore him."
"..."
"There's a difference Dick."
"I know.. It just doesn't feel that way."
"You know why you caught it before everyone else?"
Dick doesn't answer.
"Because you know what Tim looks like when he's happy."
---
Dick spent weeks planning this. Jason actually came. Damian was excited. Bruce took time off. And now—
"I'm so sorry. I ruined this whole trip."
"No."
"I wasted the tickets."
"No you didn't."
"You all wanted to come."
Jason just sighs.
"Tim."
"..."
"Do you want to know what really ruined tonight?"
Tim looks away.
Jason shakes his head.
"The fact we didn't consider your needs properly, the fact we just assumed it would all be alright. Not you. It was our fault, you didn't choose this."
"..."
"You didn't decide to have a bad day."
"..."
"You didn't wake up and think 'you know what would be fun? Crying in front of fifteen thousand people.' did you?"
Jason sighs.
"I've cried in stupider places."
Tim looks up, unconvinced.
Jason shrugs.
"Bathroom at IKEA."
Dick snorts.
"You said we were never telling anyone about that."
"I'm lying to make him feel better."
Tim lets out one pathetic laugh.
Jason smiles.
"There he is."