The gala was loud — glittering chandeliers above and a sea of clinking glasses, laughter, and expensive perfume below. One of Wayne Enterprises’ high-profile sponsorship events. Bruce moved through the crowd like a practiced blade: polished, charming, untouchable.

Tim stood beside him, sharp in his suit, nodding along to some executive’s droning story. But Dick, from a few feet away, could see it — the tension creeping into Tim’s shoulders. The way his fingers twitched slightly by his side. He hadn’t blinked in a while.

Too many voices. Too many lights. Too many eyes.

Tim’s chest rose and fell a little too fast.

Dick handed off his drink to a server without a word and wove his way over. Bruce was too engaged in conversation to notice Tim had gone still, like a statue locking up from the inside.

“Hey,” Dick said softly, stepping in and placing a casual hand on Tim’s back. “Wanna go get some air?”

Tim didn’t respond right away. His jaw was tight. His eyes weren’t focusing anymore — just flicking too fast between things that didn’t matter.

“Tim?” Dick asked again, voice lower now, more brother than guest. “C’mon, look at me.”

Tim blinked.

Then turned — just slightly — and whispered like he didn’t want to admit it: “I can’t breathe.”

Dick was already moving. “Okay. We’re out of here.”

He didn’t ask permission.

He just slid an arm around Tim’s back and guided him firmly through the crowd, past champagne flutes and cocktail dresses, through the terrace doors. The air outside was cooler. Quieter. The stars helped.

Tim sat down on the low wall outside, hands still trembling slightly, breath hiccupping in his chest. Dick crouched in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly. “You’re alright. You’re out. Just me and you now.”

“I couldn’t think. It was— I didn’t want to mess up Bruce’s night.”

“Forget the night. You’re more important than some fancy donor dinner.”

Tim stared at him, still overwhelmed, but the words helped. Dick reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a little earplug case — something he always carried for galas and patrols alike — and offered it.

Tim blinked, then took them. Hands still shaking.

They sat there for a bit. Tim breathing. Dick staying close.

A few minutes later, Bruce appeared quietly in the doorway, concern etched on his face — but didn’t step forward yet. Just waited, letting Dick do what he did best.

Protect. Reassure. Be a brother.

And slowly, the night became manageable again.