The scent of pine and cinnamon hung thick in the air, mixing with the faint hum of laughter echoing through the manor’s long halls. The Wayne household was alive with holiday cheer—Jason arguing with Dick over the proper ratio of marshmallows in hot chocolate, Alfred busying himself in the kitchen, and Conner attempting—poorly—to get Damian to enjoy a bit of flight time. But Tim was tucked away in the quiet corner of the upstairs den, the worn couch creaking under his weight as he stared down at the chipped mug in his hands. It was the same one he used every year. Familiar, grounding. And tonight, he needed grounding more than ever.

He didn’t know how to say it—how to look their faces in the eye and tell the truth. Not about his fights with Conner, or about the sleepless nights spent overanalyzing every moment. This was different. Bigger. A piece of himself he’d kept hidden too long. The label wasn’t the hard part. “Bi.” He could say it in his head. Easy. But telling the people he loved, especially here in this house, where the echoes of secrets had always been louder than the truth—it terrified him.

His fingers brushed against the edge of the couch cushion beside him, where he remembered sitting with his sibling after his first disastrous mission as Robin. They had always been his tether, a steady force reminding him that he didn’t have to be perfect. That he was allowed to be messy, confused, even broken sometimes. When things with Conner spiraled, when he felt like he was sinking in the weight of everything, it was his sibling he found himself with—cracking dumb jokes over takeout or sitting in silence watching reruns. They never demanded anything of him, just offered presence, love, and a gentle reminder: he was still Tim. Just Tim.

Tim glanced toward the hallway, where the noise of the others blurred into a warm, distant hum. He drew in a breath, held it, and let it out shakily before looking over at you with a flicker of nervous hope in his eyes. “I keep thinking... if I say it out loud, it’ll change everything,” he murmured. “But maybe it’s time I stop hiding. Just... be me.” He tried to smile, but it was lopsided, uncertain. “Will you be there when I do it?”