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Trying to sleep is when it’s the hardest.
At least when he’s up and moving there are distractions. Positive experiences to flood his senses, to take his mind off of things. There are things that need his attention, things that require both his mind and body to be fully engaged.
He can’t spiral down the rabbit hole of his thoughts when he’s patrolling, nor when he’s working tirelessly on a report for Wayne Enterprises. His brain has no time to dwell on his insecurities, his doubts, his fears. Not when he’s so preoccupied.
It’s the same when he’s with Kon. He doesn’t feel the darkness the same when he’s kissing him, when he’s tangled in the bedsheet, panting out nonsenses and praises like a litany. When they’re playfully arguing, casually watching tv, or even just studying together.
No. During all of that he can push everything away. He can pretend that he feels perfectly happy and normal as everyone else does, can plaster on his facade of being ok, can make everyone believe that he is- and sometimes, he almost believes it too.
It’s just… at night. When Kon’s fallen asleep with his arms wrapped protectively around him, his soft snores tickling the hair on the back of his neck. When the room is silent and dark and oh so still, the only company for him being his own whirlpool of thoughts.
That’s when it’s bad. When the waves crash higher and higher, the sinking pit in his stomach growing unbearably big. That’s when his chest caves in on itself, his skin prickling with panic- all of his own emotions too large for him to handle, everything so big that he swears he’s about to be crushed under the weight of it all.
That’s when his ghosts come out to play. Things that he dreads, things he pretends he doesn’t think.
Like how no one will ever truly love him- he doesn’t think it’s possible for them to. When he evaluates himself as a whole, when compared to every other person on this goddamn world- he’s mediocre at best. He’s not exceptionally nice. Or funny. Or loving or attractive or cunning. He’s too stubborn, too pushy. He lacks boundaries and can sound awfully cold and calculated, even when he doesn’t mean to.
He’s more machine then man.
Kon shifts beside him, turning slightly and releasing a fraction of his hold on Tim. He takes a lot of his warmth with him in the small movement, the new space between them suddenly feeling disproportionately large. Even with Kon’s arms still around him, he feels as though he is slipping away.
Tim bites his lip, willing away the tears that begin to pool in his eyes.
He needs to get out. Needs to pace and pace and pace until he’s worn his body into exhaustion, his vessel nothing more then a means to an end.
Kon’s arms suddenly feel like a prison. Restrictive. Too tight. The longer Tim feels his warmth on his skin, the more bitter Tim’s mouth begins to taste, acid rising in the back of his throat.
He feels like a fraud. A cheat. Like he’s scamming Kon just by laying in his arms, by pretending he could ever be good enough for him.
Kon is the sun, impossibly bright, exuding warmth and affection and positivity on anyone and everyone. The world is better for it. Kon is summer, he’s the breeze blowing between the trees. He’s cool rain on a hot day, he’s fire in the midst of winter. He’s everything pure and perfect and good in the world.
And in comparison… Tim just doesn’t add up. He’s the frigid winter, the dark new moon. He’s a downpour during fall, the icy rain that makes you shirt cling to your skin, makes you desperate for a roof over your head. He’s the late frost that chokes the blooming flowers, the harsh wind that takes the fall leaves from the trees much too soon.
He feels like he’s lying to Kon. Which is stupid, seeing as Kon knows about all of his mental struggles. He knows about the medications he takes on occasion, knows about his aversion to therapy- therapy that could very much help him, or so he’s been told. He knows about his bad days, days when the screaming voices in his head get to be much too loud to handle.
He’s been there on Tim’s absolute worst days, when he’s crying and shaking in his room and he can’t fucking stop, because his emotions are too loud, too big, too heavy. When the voice inside of him turns into a scream, shouting at him why he doesn’t deserve any of the good he has in life, why he doesn’t deserve to keep on breathing.
He knows about Tim’s desperate attempt to silence the voice once and for all, after Kon had died. He knows how close Tim was to joining him, had it not been for the intervention of his elder brother.
He knows that he was almost too late, too.
He knows, and he stays anyway, Tim reminds himself.
The thought backfires. Instead of reassuring himself, he’s only succeeded in making himself feel even worse.
Why does Kon stay? Why does he put up with Tim’s pathetic moods, his paranoid thoughts? Surely Tim’s dragging him down, keeping him from the prospect of truly being happy. He’s keeping him from his own potential, keeping him locked and tied down to a hollow shell of a boy who doesn’t exist anymore.
He’s being so goddamn selfish.
Tim turns to face the form beside him. He watches through blurry eyes as Kon sleeps, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
He’s ethereal. His golden skin, darkened by the moonlight. His luscious lips, his sharp jaw. His perfectly sculpted body. His hair, his nose, his wonderful hands. And though he can’t see them, he knows how beautiful his eyes are. He could stare into them for hours on end and never tire of the view.
And inside, Kon is just as beautiful. He’s everything a hero was meant to be- loyal, honest, just. He’s determined and hard working, fearless and brave.
Tim is vermin in comparison. He’s like a washed up rat being compared to a lion, like a trash filled street compared to the ocean.
He hates it. He’s sick of it. He’s so so sick of himself. Sick of his worn thin patience, of his bitter tongue, his harsh words. Of his unkept appearance, his unwashed hair, his self inflicted scars. His pathetic excuse of what trying looks like.
More than that, he’s sick of how he feels. Sick of his selfishness. Sick of how he drags Kon down, down, down, never once thinking of the other, never having the guts to go beyond just considering how much better it would be if he was just gone. If only he weren’t so selfish, if he could just find it in him to up and leave at the very least, to free Kon from the terrible, awful hold that he has on him-
He’s having a hard time breathing. His skin feels horribly prickly, like miniature creatures are crawling across his skin and burrowing in his flesh. His chest is too tight, his body too warm and too cool all at once. He scrambles out of Kon’s loose grip, shifting away on the bed as he tries to calm down, tries to breathe, just fucking breathe-
“Tim?”
Shit. Of course he woke Kon up. Dragged him from his much needed sleep and into his bottomless hole of needing.
He’s so fucking useless, so fucking pathetic-
“Wha’s wrong babe?”
Kon’s voice is slurred with sleep, his tone deep and rich. Tim can’t see him- he’s buried his face in his arms, curled his body into a ball.
He can’t stop shivering.
“G-go back to sleep. ‘M fine.”
He feels the bed dip beside him. Feels a sturdy arm drape over his back, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.
“Hey- hey babe, you’re ok. You’re ok.”
He’s not ok. He’s pathetic.
Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic-
“Breathe for me babe. Come on, nice breath for me.”
Tim tries. He gasps in a breath in between sobs when did he start crying?, his chest shuddering as he tries to take in another.
Gently, Kon wraps his other arm around Tim, holding him in a loose sort of embrace. The pressure feels nice. And then Tim hates himself for thinking so, for enjoying it, for letting himself take and take and take from Kon, never giving a damned thing back-
“What’s going on babe? What’s happening in your head right now?”
Kon is too good for him. Too nice, too sweet. Too caring and considerate and-
“What do you need right now?”
And those words do it. They’re the nail in the coffin, the push off the cliff.
Tim breaks. If he wasn’t already broken, that is. He shatters into a million pieces, looses himself completely beneath the waves. He can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t feel.
He wants to push Kon away. He wants to melt into his embrace.
He settles for a detached in between. He doesn’t move- not closer, not further away. He lets Kon’s hands work their magic, lets his touch breathe life back into his veins, slowly but surely washing away some of the panic, some of the despair.
He sits until he feels nothing at all. His tears run dry, his shoulders stop shaking. Kon’s hand still moves across his skin, his arms still hold him tight.
Tim feels empty. Like the shell of a man. A crumbling husk, one harsh breeze away from tumbling away, and then he’ll be gone, gone, gone.
Kon moves his hand to his hair, threading his fingers between the strands. Petting him softly, gently.
“I love you Tim,” he says carefully, like he’s worried he might spook Tim if he’s too loud. “So, so much.”
His words linger in the dark space. They stab at something deep inside of Tim’s chest, something cold and dark and shriveled.
“You shouldn’t.”
His voice sounds hollow. Dead.
Kon’s hand on him falters. Just for a second, and then he’s wrapping both arms more firmly around Tim, pulling him tightly to his chest. Crushing him in his hold, though somehow, Tim doesn’t feel trapped this time.
“Babe,” Kon whispers, his voice thick and heavy with emotion. Tim suffers under its weight. “Oh Babe- baby please don’t. Please don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” Tim says, hating himself all the while. He knows his words are hurting Kon, knows that they stab like a knife at Kon’s heart. He knows that it activates Kon’s desperate need to fix things, that they’ll just make Kon feel like he’s failed Tim.
He knows it, and he can’t stop.
He can’t keep pretending. Even if it means tearing out his lovers heart, carving a hole in his own chest, just to set the words free.
“It’s not Tim. It’s not.”
Tim lets his head rest against Kon’s chest, everything weighing him down inside. He feels like he’s just run a marathon, like he’s just climbed a mountain.
He feels dead.
“I’m not worth loving, Kon. Please-“
His voice cracks, ending his sentence early. A single tear slips down his face, though he’s not sure why it’s even there.
And then there’s a wetness on his forehead, a single drop that’s hit and-
Oh.
Kon’s chest shakes slightly as he cries, his arms hugging tightly to Tim. “You’re so worth it Tim,” he whispers shakily in between breaths. “God, you’re so worth it.”
You’ve ruined him, a voice hisses in his head. Do you see what you’ve made of the Kryptonian? He’s stronger than any mortal, yet you’ve broken him down with just your words.
Tim shakes his head, willing the voice to stop, to stop and go away, to leave him alone-
“You’re my sunlight Tim, you know that?”
Tim stops pulling at his hair. He hadn’t realized he’d even started.
“What?” His voice croaks. He feels foreign in his own body.
Kon sniffles once, his hand resuming its petting in Tim’s hair. He can hear the tears in Kon’s voice, though no more fall to wet his head. “My sunlight.” He sniffs again. “You know how Kryptonians need the sun? Well, that’s what you are for me. You breathe life into me, just by existing.”
Those words weigh heavy in the air. Tim tries to sort them in his analytical mind, tries to find a home for them in his database of past knowledge.
He compares them to the voice in his head, and what that particular version of Tim believes to be true.
It doesn’t fit.
“I need you Tim,” Kon says, his voice soft and raw with emotion. “I’m not sure you realize just how important you are to me.”
“But I’m broken,” Tim says before he can stop himself. He says it without any emotion in his tone. He’s just stating a fact.
Kon kisses the top of his head. “We all are. But I’d love you no matter how you were Tim. I’d love you at any possible high or low you could work yourself into.”
Tim doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say- it all feels like a lie, but he knows Kon wouldn’t lie.
Which means that his guilt is back, the sense that he’s tricked Kon somehow, that he’s manipulated him into loving him, into caring for him-
“Stop,” Kon says suddenly. “I can feel you spiraling. Please babe-“
Hands push Tim back slightly, positioning him to look Kon in the eyes. Tim doesn’t like what he finds- concern. Care. Love.
He hates to see it all there, resting in Kon’s dark blue eyes, shimmering like the ocean.
He hates it. He loves it.
“You’ll always be worth loving Tim. Always,” his hand reaches up, cupping Tim’s cheek. He runs his thumb gently across his skin. “Your heart, your tenderness. Your cleverness, your wit. You’re the smartest man I know, and you’re more determined then I’d thought was possible.”
Tim feels tears threatening in his eyes again, but these ones don’t feel so wretched.
“There isn’t a problem I can think of that you can’t solve. And when you love something, someone, you do so wholeheartedly. You’re loyal beyond anything I know.”
Now the tears all falling, his lower lip trembling silently as he holds Kon’s earnest gaze.
“You don’t quit, not even when everyone around you has. You feel so passionately for the things that you care about.”
Tim starts hiccuping, his body finally reaching its max of what it can handle for one night. Kon wipes away the tears from his cheeks with his thumb.
It’s a lost cause- they just keep falling.
“Above all Tim, you’re strong,” Kon continues earnestly. “Just to keep existing every day with the hell you go through in your mind is astonishing enough. But to know that you kept things to yourself for so long, that you managed to keep yourself going and managed to keep going about life as normal- that takes incredible strength.”
Kon gently cups his cheek. Tim lets his face lean in to his touch, his eyes slipping closed as he soaks in the warmth. He doesn’t feel strong- he just feels tired. So, so tired.
“I’m glad that you finally opened up to me and your family about what’s going on. No one deserves to carry that weight alone Tim.”
Tim doesn’t give a reply, but he isn’t sure that Kon is expecting one anyway. Just as well- because Tim’s whole body is drooping from the effort of still sitting upright.
Kon leans in then, pressing a soft kiss atop Tim’s temple before pulling him in to a lose embrace. Tim lets himself melt into his arms as Kon lays himself back down onto the bed, pulling Tim with him. He snuggles himself close to Kon’s warmth, his ear pressed against his chest so that he can hear his steadily beating heart.
“You carried it all for so long Tim. And I’m so proud of how you pushed through to be here today. But let me help carry a bit of the burden, even if all I can help you lift is a little bit.”
Kon rubs a gentle hand on his back. Tim closes his eyes, exhaustion weighing him down like a deadly disease.
“Let me love you Tim. Let me love every part of you, even the parts that you don’t think I should.”
His words sink right into Tim’s very soul, the very core that makes him him. They flow like lifeblood in his veins, pounding in his heart, filling his lungs with air.
Then, just as quickly as they’d come, some of his mangled up feelings begin to dissipate. They twist and slither away, leeching out of him like smoke, like his body bleeding out.
He doesn’t feel much of anything now. He feels cold. Alone, though Kon is right beside him.
He just feels empty. His chest is a hollow thing, his heart deflated.
He wants to stop feeling.
“Let me love you Tim. Please.”
Tim sucks in a breath, then another. He’s so goddamn tired, so completely exhausted with being himself. He wraps his arms around Kon’s midsection, his fingers digging into his flesh as he holds on tight- tight enough to bruise, were Kon any normal man.
“Ok,” Tim replies hesitantly, his voice barely a whisper in the cold air. And with the departure of the word from his lips, he senses a peculiar sort of importance in the moment. It were as though he’d made a vow, one that bound him tightly to the man beside him.
He sucked in another breath. And then another. His body felt like it was made of led, his chest filled with sawdust and his mind full of dough.
I love you, Tim thinks, though he’s too worn down to utter the words. He figures that Kon already knows them anyway.
And with that, he gives himself up to the lulling pull of sleep. He lets his mind crash beneath the waves of nothingness, his body tethered tightly to the one thing in the world that could keep him on this earth.
He just lets himself be.
And more importantly, he lets himself be loved.