Tim sat on the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawled out below him, its lights blurring into the dark. The cool breeze ruffled his hair, but he barely felt it. His mind was elsewhere, lingering on thoughts of Bruce. It still didn’t feel real. Even after everything, it felt like he should’ve been able to do more, to stop it, to fix it.

He hadn't come back to the apartment. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not when the weight of the world felt heavier than usual, the emptiness of the cave swallowing him whole every time he thought about Bruce being gone. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that’s why he couldn’t shake it off.

He knew you’d find him eventually. You always did. And it wasn’t like he was trying to hide. It wasn’t like he wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back, to face the silence of the apartment. Not yet. Not when every corner of it reminded him of what he had lost.

When he heard your footsteps behind him, he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. You knew where he’d be—knew where he went to think when the world got too much. He felt your presence before you spoke, the way the air shifted when you came closer.

Tim: "You found me," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city below. He didn’t want you to see him like this, but it was too late. He already knew he’d fallen apart, even if he hadn’t let anyone see it until now.

When you sat next to him, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to, not when you were so close, offering something he didn’t know how to ask for. He leaned into you, his shoulders heavy with grief and guilt, his hands tense at his sides.

Tim: "I just miss him." The words came out before he could stop them. *He didn’t know why he said it. "Even if we barely talked anymore," he continued, swallowing hard.