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He could feel the ache in his bones long before winter came. His magic being dragged to try and deal with the tightness in his body, to deal with the ankle that never healed, and the dull ache in his head that refused to go away. He breathed through his teeth, suffering through it. He had been offered a room in the kingdom. He would be a fool to throw that away. A fool to just.. pretend that he was hurt. His magic just took it away anyways… it wasn't a big deal. His parents used to call him a baby for even claiming to need help.
Whenever it got bad, Tim hid in his room. Not like he was out and about much anyway. Most people just left him alone.
While they started to eat dinner, Tim furiously blinked back the tears in his eyes. His back had suddenly exploded with pain that he couldn't think about; he could only feel the fire that seemed to scald down his back. It took him a minute to realise that someone had asked him a question. "Oh, sorry," he muttered, trying his best to sound normal. "What was that?"
Bruce, the king, looked at him with suspicion, and Tim wanted to beg for his forgiveness for doing something—anything wrong. He would do anything to not go back to his family. Anything to not go back home. "Are you quite alright? You haven't been joining in the conversation, and you look pale."
"I'm okay," Tim lied, and it hurt against his throat. But what was he meant to do? Tell the truth. Tell the goddamn king that everything in his soul hurt, and the only reason he was still able to stand and move around was that his magic was working overtime to get him through it. "I'm just a bit tired; may I be excused?" He never liked walking away from dinner. The only time he got to really talk to people. The only time he felt connected
It took a moment, but Bruce nodded, letting him go. "Damian, if you may escort him to his room." Tim took the sharp breath he took and nodded as Damian got up, like a soldier, and walked over to Tim. Tim nodded at Bruce before starting to make his way out of the room. Normally, when he was out of sight of everyone, he would drop the false pretences and stumble about, limping to his room, because it was easier that way. But with Damian right next to him, that was nothing short of a death sentence.
"Are you okay, Drake?" Damian's voice was a startling realisation that the boy was still there, and Time straightened himself up. His nerves were on fire, and every time he tried to use his hand, it burned like hell. Fire had been unleashed on his soul. His magic was draining, and Tim knew it would mean days locked up in his room, pretending to be sick while it recovered, and he couldn't actually move due to the pain. Magic wasn't good at making pain stop; it was good at making it hurt later, making it hurt differently.
He took a step, and god did his hip disagree with that step. He hissed in a breath, and it didn't seem to allay Damian's worry. "I'm fine." He tried to dismiss him; it was so much easier than admitting the fact that he was in so much pain. He didn't want to speak other words because the lies would be so clearly laid on his tongue. He felt ill, the pain searing a hole through his stomach, and he wanted to come undone. But Damian stood right next to him. A presence that was suffocating. Taking the air from his lungs and turning it into ash, pulling him apart at the seams, trying to tear him apart. Trying to make it so that he was nothing but the threads of life that made him up.
He closed his eyes, bracing against the wall as his magic started to fizzle out. A whine left his lips before he could stop it, and he panicked, his ears going shut as his mind started to shut down alongside his body. He couldn't stop it as he fell to his knees and pulled his arm to his chest. The dizziness sent his mind spinning as he looked up at Damian, who was crouched in front of him.
"Drake."
"Damian." Tim muttered, trying to keep any sense of his humanity left, any of his dignity. He wasn't going to give in. Not that easily. He saw Damian's hand and stared at it. "What?"
"It's... a hand?" Damian seemed confused by Tim's reluctance, and Tim wanted to scoff back a laugh. But he took Damian's hand. And then Damian pulled him up, wrapping an arm over his shoulder.
Tim's heart sank through his feet as Damian turned, talking the same diection as they had just come from. He didn't want his family to see him falling apart. A whine left his lips, but then they passed the closed doors, and Tim was too dizzy from the loss of his magic to think much other than holding onto Damian. He blinks dazedly, and then he is laid down on a bed. A bed in their medical wing.
"Why are you in pain?" Tim shrugged; he never questioned his body. It might have been the fact that he used to drain his magic until he had to take it from his body. That would make sense. But his mind was too foggy to really understand. It wasn't like he had a choice back then. But the idea that he had permanently damaged his boy made him sick. Like losing a fucking limb that he would never get back. Grieving a part of his soul.
So he opted to ignore that possibility. "I'm used to it; it happens." He shrugged, and this only made Damian scowl more. "Seriously, Damian, I'm fine."
Damian shook his head, and he sat at Tim's side. "You are not fine, Drake." He huffed, letting his head fall back to the pillows and looking at the roof. "You fell." Tim looked at Damian and blinked. It sounded like concern. Tim had noticed that Damian wasn't someone who showed much concern. Other than with Tim, For some reason, the little kid was obsessed with making sure that Tim was okay. "Why are you hiding this from your father?"
The question felt heavy on his chest as he blinked back the tears that seemed to want to pour from his eyes. "Why—why would I ever tell anyone? It's not like, " Tim bit his tongue; he didn't need to give his new family any more reason to hate his old family. "Nevermind. I'm used to the pain. I can cope with it myself." Tim held a bite in his words that he didn't mean; he wasn't angry at Damian. It just hurt. Everything hurt.
"Because we can help." Damian muttered as he looked over at Tim. "You do know that we can help. Right? That we want to help Drake."
Tim blinked, and it suddenly felt like the world was crashing down. He didn't ever have someone who believed he was in pain. Or he didn't demand a reason that he was in pain and then judged him for not having a reason for being in pain.
He didn't know why he had started crying, but he didn't try to stop crying. He didn't push his emotions down into a cage, which he refused to open because his new family had the key. So there was no point in locking a cage that would be opened.