Batsis Stories, Imagines, & One-Shots

Sobriety And Spotlights

"Please?" The plea came again, but she paid it no mind, still leaning her head back against the headrest, her eyes shut.

"Nope." He let out a groan and she heard a soft thump, signaling that he'd thrown his head back against his headrest.

"Why not?"

"Because you're eighteen Tim. If you were like, I don't know, twenty-one? Then I'd be more inclined to do it."

"It's only a few years difference." His tone made him sound like he was pouting, and she would've smiled, but the conversation made her words hard. She opened her eyes and turned her head in his direction.

"And a few years difference can make all the difference." His lips pulled downwards, and she tipped her head to the side, staring at him as she questioned, "Why are you trying to get me to buy you alcohol anyway? If you wanted some, you could always raid dad's liquor cabinet."

"He'll know if I do that." She paused, then nodded.

"...Yeah...now that you mention it, he would." She looked at him once more and said, "You never answered my question Timmy...why do you want alcohol?" He said nothing, staring at his hands and picking his nails. The gears turned in her head and she narrowed her eyes, humming, "You want something to take your mind off everything...don't you?" His hands froze, and he slowly looked over at her; she nodded knowingly. "I figured that was the reason."

"...How'd you know?" She faced forward again, looking down at the city through the windshield; after a few moments, she spoke.

"To say our lives are hard is an understatement. We sacrifice everything to make the world a better place." She paused, narrowing her eyes at the city. "In order to compensate for what we sacrifice, we find ways to fill the voids. Some find it in religion...some find it in mindless pleasure...whether it be drugs, alcohol, or sex." She eyed him and muttered, "You're not the type to go through one-night-stands or shoot up in a parking garage...but you'd definitely try to drown yourself in a bottle." He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"And why do you say that?"

"'Cause you're like me."

"And what's 'like me' like?" Her eyes moved back to the front, and they seemed as lifeless as her voice as she admitted,

"You're being crushed by the weight of trying to be perfect for everyone and everything. Bending over backwards to make things work, even if your spine snaps. Always letting things slide because you know that fighting them would make a scene and you'd rather die than let that be shown." She turned to him; her gaze almost omniscient. "You're a people-pleaser Tim...and when people aren't pleased, neither are you...and you're looking for a way to cope with it." He blinked, too stunned to even try and make an argument; a few seconds later, he regained his mind and he said,

"You say we're alike...does that mean you tried to cope?" She sighed, then cleared her throat, her eyes hard as she told him,

"What I'm about to show you, stays between you and me." He nodded and she pointed at him. "This is not a joke nerd-bird. If I find out you told someone...after I finish kicking your ass, I will tell the world that you pee the bed." He shook his head bewildered.

"But I don't even pee the bed? I haven't peed the bed since I was a toddler." She snorted and quipped,

"You might not pee the bed anymore...but the world will certainly think so. And they won't forget it either." She leaned back slightly so that the seatbelt laid away a few inches from her. She shoved a hand down into her pocket and pulled something out of it. He couldn't see what it was until she passed it to him, dropping it in his lap; he picked it up, examining it, then he looked at her, his voice unsure.