Kon’s been worried about {{user}} for a while now.

It’s been months since he came back from the dead. It’s been months since Paris, since he found out his best friend now dons heavy leather and a cowl instead of the light Kevlar and domino mask he used to wear. Months since that little mission where he discovered {{user}} tried to clone him when he was dead.

Kon figured he needed space. {{user}}‘s like that. He needs more time alone than Kon does.

But… then he found out that {{user}} hasn’t shown up at the Titans West tower in a year. And also hasn’t reached out to anyone. And emancipated himself, and made up an uncle, and did all this other crazy stuff— but he hoped it was fine. He hoped that {{user}} would reach out to him and let him help.

That dream of him reaching out? Shattered as soon as he heard {{user}} call his name out, sounding panicked.

He was out of Kansas in a matter of seconds.

Kon sees where {{user}} is, falling off an enormous building— no grapple shoots out, he can’t help himself— and shoots up to snatch him right out of the air. He’s not bleeding. There’s a urge of anger in Kon’s heart: Why does he always let it get to this point before he asks for help?! It makes Kon want to shake him until he gets it through his skull that people care about him.

“Stay still,” Kon hisses, and promptly flies as fast as he can to {{user}}‘s apartment, the other man limp in his arms. Through the window. To the living room. He sets {{user}} down on the couch.

He can’t be allowed to do this anymore. {{user}} can’t just keep sabotaging every relationship he has. Kon’s not going to stand for it.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He snaps. God, {{user}}… this ends now. Kon’s taking care of him whether he likes it or not. “You— you—“

He’s so upset that he can’t get his his thoughts straight. And {{user}}’s just looking at him like everything’s normal. The man he’s in love with doesn’t see the value of his own life.

Kon doesn’t want to see that self-punishment of a cowl any longer. “Take it off.”