Message Failed to Send // Book Five

» Chapter 6

[Warning for a very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, underage smut, and violent sex ft. spit and bondage and burning with a lighter. Also please note that this takes place earlier in the series, when Jason and Tim had an unhealthy relationship; everything is still consensual. Cross-posted on a03 as a standalone]

---- From chapter 17, Left On Read ----

T: man isn't it crazy that you and Robin have the same haircut
J: hahah y eahh...
T: and hair colour
J: y... ye..... Ah
T: and eye colour
J: ......yes
T: and voice
J: yes????
T:
J:
T:
J:
T: anyways, did you do the homework

----

Tim lazily photoshopped two hollow diamonds over a truly terrible press photo of Jason from four years ago, adding the text "canonically the same bitch?? 🤔🤔🤔" above the image and saving it to his Twitter drafts. He had several other drafts like it, ready for the day Jason's idiotic ass eventually revealed his own secret.

Outside his window, Damian was angrily slicing Alfred's carefully trimmed hedges widely with a katana, yelling about gender and honour and how it's dad is Batman.

Tim switched apps, opening his locked messenger convo with Jason, ignoring the fact that the last six messages were from him, left on read.

He just wanted a response.

T: man isn't it crazy that you and Robin have the same haircut

He waited. The message stayed on Delivered. He closed the app to his home screen, opening Neku-Atsume in a panic when he saw his background, him and Jason, angrily gripping each other, screenshotted from a blurry video of them fighting that had gone around their school.

He dissociated into the game until a banner dropped down. He reread the message, again and again, struggling to conceptualize it as real until he opened the messenger app.

J: hahah y eahh...
T: and hair colour
J: y... ye..... Ah
T: and eye colour
J: ......yes
T: and voice
J: yes????

He needed it like that, needed it to be easy to pretend they were the same person. That Robin was getting the same thing Jason wanted, that they both needed the combo move of repressive, violent hate fucking- they weren't healthy enough that Tim could cope without Jason walling down on him, putting the sting in his hips that he needed to feel stable without the psychological relapse of self-harm- and the tender, careful embrace disguised as sparing that Tim threw himself into every night.

Threw himself into it like fucking Scrooge McDuck into his pit of coins- repeatedly, flailing, desperately, even though the landing hurt his ass every time.

Jason wasn't the only person putting a mask on to climb up onto their rooftop.

T: anyways, did you do the homework

It wouldn't have been fair to be upset about it; Tim wasn't the same person either, and he certainly wasn't a real, honest person at any given moment. He wished he could be the person Robin made him- quiet, reflective, funny- but that version of him was buried the deepest at any given moment, it took a superhero to dig through all the shit before even the smallest bit could shine through.

He stared at his phone while Jason typed, watching the three dots until it became a message, unable to look away. He consumed Jason's attention like a starving man being offered a gold-coated harvest. Even when it was harassment, especially when it was degrading, he hunted Jason for sport, pinning him down and performing for him, doing so much more than he should, being obvious.