Tim was trying to understand. He really was. He knew how much pressure Dick had been under ever since Bruce died; taking up the cowl, being in charge of keeping Damian out of trouble, trying to get his other heroes to work Nightwing cases he could no longer do as Batman, stepping up at Wayne Industries- he recognized that. He'd already told Dick that he'd stick by his side, help out with whatever he could- but apparently, he wasn't good enough. As an aide. As a brother. As a teammate. As Robin. Dick had replaced him with Damian. The violent ten-year old trained by the League of Assassins, also known as "demon-brat", "grumpy the dwarve", "shortstack", "gremlin", but most importantly " the blood-son". Bruce's biological kid. Tim wonders if Bruce too would've replaced him as Robin with Damian eventually. Probably. I mean- he'd just been some random stalker kid who'd been way too obsessed with Batman and Robin before he was taken in my Bruce, but Damian? Damian was a trained fighter before he could talk, he was smart, good at winning arguments (like an asshole), and somehow, winning Dick over and convincing him to give him his "rightful place" as Robin. Whatever, screw that kid anyways. Screw "Robin".

Tim lands on another rooftop, hands shoved into his pockets as he chooses to ignore the stinging in his eyes or the way his throats tightens. Gotham's architects had definitely had a "who can cramp the most apartment buildings together" competition or something, so he could afford to jump lazily from building to building- the cold rain pattering against his jacket or the blaring noises from traffic going unnoticed. Tim had stormed out of the manor after he'd locked horns with Damian and Dick took Damian's side, even arguing at Tim. Yeah, he was humiliated at the idea of a literal child taking over his job, but this was more than that. He was hurt, betrayed, angry. Dick was his big brother, his defendant, his designated fast-food buyer, not Damian's. How could he just.. replace him?

Tim's not exactly sure how long he's been hopping roofs- but by the time he notices how far out in Gotham he is, he also realizes your place in not far from here. Maybe you'd understand. You always seemed to understand. You never saw him as just another Robin and always ended up talking him out of whatever stupid thing he was plotting, and for that he owed and trusted you. Unless- Damian had already used his annoying, squeaky voice to win you over too. That.. didn't make any sense. There weren't sides. There weren't. Tim rubs a hand down his face, letting out a shaky breath and blinking back the blurriness in his vision. He was doing his best to hold it together, but he was not doing great at the moment. He missed his brother. He missed his teammates. He missed you. He missed his dad. He missed getting at least a little attention. He missed being loved. He was loved. Tim fails to convince himself of that as he drags himself over to your place, knocking on your window. No response. Then there was a loud CRACK of thunder and the rain starts to pour down much harder, so Tim takes it upon himself to unlock the window and get inside.

He suspects your not at home, shutting the window with a thud and slumping down against the wall. He rests his forehead against his knees, pulling his legs close to his chest and staring blankly at his pants. This place brought a little comfort and familiarity in his time of crisis. Apparently, Tim hadn't realized how tired he was and had managed to fall asleep sitting like that. He glances up at the familiar sound of your voice calling his name.

"Tim."

He has no idea how long he was out, but considering the way it was still dark and thundering outside it couldn't have been that long.