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Too loud. Everything, all of it, it was too loud, and the pressure kept building and building and building in Tim’s ears until he was sure his head would explode with the force of it.
He ducked out of the kitchen where his family was eating dinner, in the middle of a hearty discussion over something, he couldn’t remember what – hadn’t been able to process individual words when the noise of it all was just so much.
He made it out of the kitchen, out of their line of sight, before he quickened his pace. His hands shook as his footsteps pounded down the hallway, the carpeted floor a blessing that muffled but still failed to hide the thump thump thump of his feet as he ran. He had to move, had to keep moving, had to get somewhere quiet and safe so he could hear himself think –
He burst through one of the doors to his right with a stifled sob, even his own voice grating against his brain. The bed and dresser of one of the guest bedrooms registered dimly in his mind as he dropped down in the back corner, leaving the lights off and reaching up with unsteady hands to cover his ears.
You’re okay. You’re fine, it’s quiet here, just take a breath.
His skin felt too hot, itchy and uncomfortable, his lungs not seeming to get enough air even though he was forcing himself to take deep breaths.
He could hear them calling for him, hear voices that rang out like alarm bells in his head. He ducked his head down against his knees, trying and failing to block out the noise.
“Stop,” he whispered, but they didn’t hear him. Please.
“Timmers! Where you at?”
“Tim! Dude, not cool, come on!”
Tears slipped hot and heavy down his cheeks, the scratching of his sleeves against his skin feeling like pinpricks as they continued to call out for him. He knew they were worried, knew he should respond to them, let them know he’s okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to add another noise to the fray.
“Drake?” A soft voice called, closer than the others. He looked up to see Damian standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.
Tim flinched at the sound of his voice, and Damian straightened. “Hmm.”
Tim shook his head, turning his face away so Damian wouldn’t see him cry and waiting for the snide remark he knew was coming. To his surprise, Damian said nothing, just disappeared from the doorway without a sound. A moment later he returned, shutting the door carefully behind him, turning the knob to avoid the click. His footsteps were silent as he crossed the room, holding out Tim’s noice cancelling headphones with a single raised eyebrow.
Tim took them gratefully, slipping them over his head and immediately feeling fresh tears well up at the silence he was met with.
“Thank you,” he signed shakily. Damian nodded once, his green eyes unreadable as he sat cross-legged in front of his older brother. “Everything was –” he paused.
“Too loud,” Damian finished, small hands expertly forming the signs. “I know.”
Tim exhaled, the pressure behind his eyes starting to alleviate now that he was safe from the endless stream of noises all around him. The headphones didn’t cancel everything – if Damian was to say something out loud, Tim would still be able to make it out – but they filtered out the background noise, the voices downstairs. They let him start to recover the fragmented state of his mind, and even though his skin still felt like it was covered in ant bites, he felt better.
“I will tell them,” Damian signed. “Stay here?”
Tim nodded, wiping at the last of the wetness on his cheeks and uncurling a little from his spot on the floor. Damian stood fluidly and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Tim wasn’t sure what exactly Damian said to the rest of the family, but when he returned, Bruce followed along behind him, concern for his son evident in his face and a blanket folded over his arm.
Tim stiffened, waiting for the noise to come back, for Bruce to ask him to take the headphones off and say something, but their father simply knelt in front of him and signed instead of speaking. He was rusty at it – Cass hadn’t lived in the Manor for a while and Tim hadn’t had an attack this bad in ages – but he still knew enough.
“You okay?”
Tim gave him a thumbs up, trying to muster a smile. Bruce exhaled, grabbing the blanket slung over his arm and holding it out to Tim, who eyed it warily.
Weighted, he thought, noticing the exaggerated slouch in the folds of the blanket. Will it help or hurt?
Help, he decided, reaching to take the blanket from Bruce, who helped him wrap it around his shoulders. Tim pulled his knees back up to his chest and rested his chin on them, letting the warmth and weight of the blanket envelop him. It helped settle his skin and ease some of the panic in his mind, a hug without having to be touched. He rocked gently back and forth, expelling some nervous energy and feeling the comfort that came from the familiar motion.
Damian signed something to Bruce, something Tim didn’t catch, and their father nodded.
“Take your time,” he signed to Tim, standing slowly and moving back towards the door. Damian, in contrast, settled in next to Tim, crossing his legs and flipping open a book he pulled from seemingly nowhere.
Tim closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the blanket around his shoulders, the feel of the headphones over his ears, his brother’s quiet presence in the room with him. After a while he slumped over, resting his head carefully on Damian’s lap, and his little brother simply adjusted to read his book over Tim’s hair.
Jason came to check on them once the rest of the family had finished dinner and found both boys fast asleep, Tim’s head still on Damian and Damian’s chin resting on the arms he’d folded over Tim’s shoulder. Jason grinned and left them there, not daring to disturb Damian while he was so obviously standing guard over Tim. And if he snapped a picture of them together, adding it to the album on his phone labeled “Blackmail” before he shut the door, well, that was his business.