The Musicians (Damian Wayne x reader)

77. How you met Timothy Drake

~~~Your point of view~~~
You stared at the low fog covering the gardens outside your window, not bothering to pay attention to anything else. You let yourself slip into a distracted, peaceful trance. The lights in your room were off, allowing for the early rising sun to stream in through the glass. It was going to be hot out later, but you enjoyed the cool mornings. Someone knocked at the door before slowly opening it. "Hey (Y/n)," Tim mumbled groggily. He was clearly not pleased with his early rising. He was dressed in a pair of black shorts and a green t-shirt and his hair was wet from a shower.
"Good morning Tim," you focused your attention from the window to him. "What has you up so early?"
       "Oh, I didn't sleep well," he grumbled, slowly making his way over to the window seat and sitting across from you.
       "Used to be you wouldn't sleep at all," you laughed lightly.
       "Yeah, before you came to the manor," he chuckled tiredly.
       "Nightmares?" you asked, guessing why he didn't sleep well. He nodded quietly, his cold wet hair dripping as he did. You sighed and got up to retrieve a fresh towel. You sat back down in front of him and started drying his hair as gently as you could. "Wanna talk about it?" Tim thought for a moment.
       "It's about when we met," he started. You continued to work on his hair as you listened. "What if I hadn't been able to change your mind? You could have turned out much worse." You paused from drying his hair.
       "Oh," you whispered. You stared at Tim as his eyes held back tears. "Hey, it's ok. You did change my mind. You're the reason I'm here."
       "Do you remember?" he mumbled, staring at the fog that was slowly rising.
       "Like it was yesterday," you stated quietly, turning to look in the same direction as him.

~~~memory~~~
       You hid just under the window of Tim's room. You assumed he would be eating dinner with the rest of his family due to the hour of the day. Most people ate at this time of evening. You weren't one of those lucky people. You had a job to do for the Riddler and if you made it out alive you might get lucky and get rewarded with some money to buy dinner. You peered into the window and noticed the room was empty. There were clothes and some books scattered around the floor. You slipped inside, wearing your boys' academy uniform. Glancing around, you looked for anything of value. You had found some money hidden in a drawer and a really nice watch that looked far too big to belong to a kid. You were about to explore the other rooms when you heard footsteps. You panicked, looking for a place to hide. You climbed into the open closet and pulled the door shut. It was dark and your crouched down, pulling your legs to your chest in an attempt not to bump the clothes hung up. You could hear the person wander around a little. The footsteps were light and obviously belonged to the kid whose room you were in. "I left dad's watch right here," he mumbled. "He's not gonna be happy that I even took it in the first place." You stared at the watch you had strapped to your wrist. "I was so close to getting the secret out too." He grumbled. You could hear him approach the closet. You were caught. A small tear slipped out of your eye as you prepared to be sent to jail. The door opened and a sliver of light came in. "What on earth? Why are you in my closet?" The black haired boy stared at you with curiosity and anger. "Is that my watch?" You pulled your wrist closer to you. You prepared yourself to fight him, even though you really didn't want to hurt him. Despite your wishes more tears slipped from your eyes. "H-hey, are-are you okay?" He reached out towards you and you backed further into the closet. "I won't hurt you." He tried to reason with you. He looked you up and down. You must have looked like you were starving because the next thing he did was offer you food. "Do you want to eat dinner with me?" You stared at him blankly. "We can get you a plate." You nodded. "All you have to do is give the watch back. You can keep anything else. I just want the watch." You nodded slowly and slipped the watch off, handing it to the boy. His blue eyes sparkled. He helped you out of the closet. "I'll tell my parents I have a friend over. Let's go." He led you down the hall to a dining table where three plates were set out. "Mom?"
       "Your parents aren't here Tim," a female voice called.
       "Oh," he sighed sadly. "Set out one more plate anyway! We have a guest."
       "As you wish," the woman went and set another place setting. You sat down across from the boy apparently named "Tim".
       "So what were you doing in my room?" he asked as the lady returned with a bowl of white puffy food and a pan with something that smelled delicious. She left and returned with another bow filled with broccoli and a small dish with a spout. You stared at all the food. You'd never seen or smelled anything that seemed so delicious in years since your mom died. You stared curiously at the bowl with the white whipped food.
       "Is this mashed potatoes?" You whispered hoarsely.
       "Oh—uhh—yeah?" he stared at you with a confused look. "Have you not had it before?"
       You shook your head sadly, "Not in a long time."
       "Have you had meatloaf?" He gaped at you. "What about gravy?" You shook your head again. You didn't have time to cook such a nice meal. You also didn't have a family to share it with. "When's the last time you ate a decent meal?" You started counting on your fingers. "Three days?" You shook your head. "Weeks?" Tim's eyes began to grow wide as you shook your head again. "Months?" He sounded slightly hopeful, but his face fell when you shook your head once again and looked away from him. "Years?" His voice cracked as he frowned at you. You nodded slowly, ashamed of your situation. Tears pooled in your eyes. "Please don't cry! If you haven't had it in so long then I'll just make sure to fill you up this time. Plus I'd be happy for you to come around again. My parents aren't here much so it won't matter." He seemed kinda sad or maybe lonely? He stood on his seat and reached over the table for your plate. He scooped a heaping pile of mashed potatoes and two slices of meatloaf onto your plate. He poured some brown liquid over the potatoes and added a smaller side of broccoli. He carefully placed the plate back in front of you. You stared at it in wonder before picking up your fork and trying some of the potatoes with gravy. Your eyes widened.
"It's delicious!" you gasped, ready to stuff your face more. You quickly shoveled all the broccoli and some of the potatoes and meatloaf into your mouth. You gesture towards the broccoli to ask if you could get more. Tim made a disgusted face, but nodded. "What?" You looked at him. His plate had very little broccoli on it.
"You like broccoli?" He asked with a slightly worried face. You shook your head violently. "Then why are you getting more?"
"It's not often I get fresh cooked vegetables," you shrugged. "My mom always told me it was good for me so I eat it when I can."
"Wait I entirely forgot!" Tim freaked out, standing on his chair. "Are your parents going to wonder where you are? Are they looking for you?" You shook your head sadly. "Do you have parents?" You thought for a moment before shaking your head. "Oh," Tim looked at you as your tears gathered again. "Hey! Don't cry!" He climbed down and ran around the table to you. He wrapped his arms around you.
"What are you doing?" You asked nervously, not quite comfortable with your current position.
"I'm hugging you!" he grinned at you. "Don't you get hugs?"
"No," you answered bluntly. Tim looked at you, his smile fading slightly.
"Oh, should I stop?" he asked. You went silent. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. You missed when your mom was still with you and held you.
"No," you shook your head. "You don't have to stop." You slowly lifted your arms and wrapped them around him hesitantly. "Am I doing it right?" You asked nervously.
"Yep," Tim giggled goofily. The two of you stayed like that for a while before you released each other and finished dinner. When you finished, you glanced at the wall clock. You stood abruptly and headed back to Tim's room in a hurry. "What's wrong? Where are you going?" He called out as he followed you. He grabbed your hand before you jumped out the window. "Is that how you got in here?" You nodded. "Why were you trying to steal my watch?"
"My trainer asked me to," you mumbled.
"Why did you listen?" Tim asked. "You could have said no." You shook your head.
"You don't understand," you grumbled. "If I said no, the Riddler would have hurt me or my dad."
"Wait! I thought you said you didn't have parents!" Tim realized. "Did you lie to me?" He seemed hurt.
"My mom died three years ago," you cried. "My dad works for the Riddler. He goes and does horrible things, then he gets drunk and comes home and hits me. Does that sound like a parent?"
"No, I'm sorry," he looked down, letting go of your hand. "My parents are rarely around. They're very successful business people, but they're always away."
"I'm sorry too," you sighed. "I have to go Tim. I don't want to get in too much trouble."
"Wait! You never told me your name," he stopped you again, looking into your eyes.
"Don't worry," you smiled slightly. "I'll visit you again. If you ever want to see me, just press this." You handed over a small keychain with a silent signal on it. You pulled yours out and demonstrated. His buzzed quietly in his hands. "I won't always be able to come, but I'll try."
       "Promise?" Tim asked cautiously. You took his hand and made a fist, extending his pinky. You linked your pinky with his.
       "Promise," you nodded. You released his pinky finger and slipped out the window and started running back to your dad's apartment.