Chapter Text
Kon couldn’t help falling in love with Tim. That’s what it all came down to. If someone asked, decades in the future, “What happened? What caused this?” Kon’s answer would always be the same: Tim.
It wasn’t a love at first sight thing, though. They’d fought, and argued, and rolled their eyes. Tim felt too controlling, seemed too detached. Soon, though, Kon knew better. Tim wasn’t controlling—he just cared too much. And he certainly wasn’t detached. He was just careful.
Tim was always careful.
Maybe that’s the real problem. Maybe when historians ask what happened, Kon will admit that Tim was always careful, and Kon had never learned how to be.
Either way, eventually those long arguments turned from something sharp to something soft.
“Kon,” Tim warned, as Kon ran through the simulation for the third time. “You’ve got to tighten your corners. You can use temporary displacement to your advantage, but you need to be smart about it.”
It was training day, which was always grueling. But Tim insisted on it, and since they’d begun, the team had had a lot more successful missions. So everyone followed along. They complained about it, of course, but they also did as they were told.
“I’m trying,” Kon insisted, annoyed. The simulation kept cutting him off at that stupid corner, and Kon really just wanted to go home and hide under his blankets. He couldn’t explain why failing, specifically around Tim, made him so embarrassed. But he knew he hated it, and it made him shy, and whenever he felt shy he got snappy.
But Tim never minded.
And Tim never seemed to judge him when he failed, anyway.
“Here,” Tim reached out, his hands holding Kon’s waist gently. His palms laid on Kon’s front, just above his hips. “This is where you want your focus to come from. Your need to build your agility and your speed around keeping your midsection safe—it’s the biggest target.”
Tim said a bunch of stuff after that, for at least thirty seconds. But Kon couldn’t really hear it over the buzzing in his ears. His abs shivered where Tim’s fingertips grazed them, and weirdly he longed to be closer to his friend.
Robin was, objectively, beautiful. Tim would never agree aloud, but Kon was sure he knew. His blue eyes, so very striking against his pale skin. And his dark hair, always falling so naturally against the temples of his head. There was something soft and fragile about him, like a ballerina, maybe. But then Tim would do a combo move that would bring four bad guys to their knees at once and Kon would be forced to remember that Tim was really not so fragile at all.
“Alright,” Kon said, after Tim’s mouth stopped moving, even though he still couldn’t really hear the words.
He did try, though, to fly tighter, protect the core of his stomach first.
Two more attempts later, it finally paid off, and he completed the move they’d been drilling.
Tim smiled, wide and proud, and Kon’s heart swelled.
“Good job, Kon,” Tim praised, and Kon blushed like an idiot. “Alright, who’s next?”
They had been just friends at the time, which Kon never minded. Any piece of Tim was enough for him. But one day it went from just friends to best friends, which was awesome because that meant seeing Tim almost every day, and hugs and Tim falling asleep next to him sometimes.
To be fair, Tim slept anywhere. He fell asleep on a rollercoaster once. But whenever the team had a movie night, it was Kon’s shoulder that Tim would lean toward as his eyes closed.
“I…I sleep better, next to you,” Tim admitted when they were alone at the tower. A while after they’d lost Aquagirl. Oddly, the admission made Kon feel a little bit like crying. He’d long since given up flirting with other people. It felt wrong, a weird sort of manipulation, to flirt with people he wasn’t actually interested in. But it was also too scary to flirt with Tim. The heart is funny that way.
“Yay,” Kon replied stupidly. “You can sleep next to me whenever you like.”
And Tim did.
It started small. Lying on his shoulder on movie nights grew to full on cuddling.
Then Impulse died. He’d been on his own in Central City. Kon had been off-world helping Superman. The team grieved as one, though. There was no-one to blame but the rogues.
A few nights later, somewhere around midnight when Tim finished typing his report on the battle earlier that day—harder without Bart—he came into Kon’s room.
“Can I sleep here?” Tim asked, looking too small and shy, wrapped in a blanket from his bed. Kon had just been doodling; it helped take his mind off things, sometimes. He didn’t say a word, just opened his arms. Tim crawled into the bed and laid his head on Kon’s chest, and it was the best Kon had felt in a long, long time. Tim was asleep within minutes.
After that they rarely slept in separate rooms. Even when they didn’t have missions, Kon would steal Tim away from Gotham, and they’d fall asleep at the farm. Ma and Pa kept quiet, even though Kon was sure they noticed. He was endlessly grateful, because even though it wasn’t exactly best friend behavior, Kon had a feeling that if he addressed it, the moments would slip through his fingers like sand and disappear forever.
And anyway, Kon liked hearing Tim’s heartbeat so close to him. Like a dream he could grasp and hold in his hand.
Scary fights still happened, sometimes, and Kon always kept one eye on Tim specifically. But Tim was strong and quick and clever and he never seemed to need more than Kon’s regular help; the kind of help they trained for.
One day, as they were getting settled in each other’s arms, Tim kissed him goodnight, leaning up to reach the bottom of his jaw. Kon was pretty sure it was accidental, instinct more than anything, based on how quick it was and the way he felt Tim tense up.
Kon placed a kiss on his hair in retaliation. Tim relaxed in his arms so quickly that Kon couldn’t help but place one more. And then they fell asleep.
They didn’t talk about it, because it still felt like Tim was a butterfly in his palm that he was afraid would fly away. But suddenly they were kissing.
Well, sort of.
Kisses on Kon’s temple as he filled out reports, hunched over his desk. Kisses on Tim’s knuckles as Kon wrapped them after he’d thrown one too many punches. Kisses on Kon’s jaw and cheek, and on Tim’s nose and forehead as they fell asleep tangled together. Not on the lips, though.
Which, again, was fine with Kon. It really, really was. His skin was fire wherever Tim touched it, and he was quickly learning he’d happily take whatever Tim was willing to give him. Like a puppy, desperate for attention. For Tim to be close to him.
But one day he found Tim in his room---Kon had been seeking him out with takeout in one hand to share---when he found Tim just…staring at the wall. The sort of distant gaze that gave Kon the feeling he’d been doing it a while.
Kon asked what was wrong, and Tim just shook his head, and smiled like it didn’t matter. Kon let the takeout get cold on Tim’s bedside table, and climbed into bed. It was the first time Tim didn’t stay lying in his arms. Instead, Tim straddled Kon, like a koala hanging to the root of a tree, his arms wrapped tightly around Kon and his face buried in his neck.
“I always wanted a little brother, you know,” he said quietly. “But now he’s here, and I’m pretty sure he is trying to kill me.”
That was the first time Kon had heard of Damian, who’d arrived just a few days before. Which sucked, because Kon already didn’t like Jason. And now he had to dislike two bats.
“He sounds dumb,” Kon grumbled, annoyed at a kid he hadn’t even met yet.
“No,” Tim argued in a sigh. “He’s so smart. He’s only eleven, and he can speak ten billion languages and crack codes and wield a sword like it’s a hand.” He tucked himself further into Kon’s arms. “And he hates me. Like Jason.”
Kon decided he firmly hated them both.
“Maybe they’ve got the right idea,” Tim whispered. “Maybe I’m unloveable.”
Kon pulled back in surprise, the revelation zapping through his body like lightning. Rage on fire, worry sewed into his bones.
“Wrong,” he growled. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”
Tim’s eyes widened and Kon ignored them.
“You’re easy to love,” Kon said, because it was the most true thing in the world. And Tim smiled, and Kon glowed because he’d been the one to put it there.
That was the first time they kissed.
Damian did, in fact, try to kill him a week and a half later. Kon was by his side the whole time he was healing.
Sometimes, privately, Kon would wonder if he was enough for someone so…perfect. Which he knew wasn’t fair to Tim, because Tim would never string him along if he didn’t really love him. But come on, what was a clone, an echo of the great Superman, compared to the world’s actual greatest detective?
They kissed more, after Tim healed. Around their friends, too. What was left of the team teased them, sometimes, but Tim just rolled his eyes and leaned into Kon more. It never failed to make Kon overwhelmingly happy. This was the best their complicated, messy life could ever be, he decided. One day Tim called Kon his boyfriend, then realized a second too late.
“Yay,” Kon screeched, like he had a year before, but much less careful. Tim smiled and rolled his eyes, and Damian tried to kill Tim again later that day and Tim said he didn’t even mind because it meant he got Kon all to himself.
Kon minded. But whatever.
It wasn’t all soft and fluff, but it was pretty close. Sometimes they argued, but when they weren’t, their banter was always top tier, too.
And then came their worst battle yet, with a version of Toymaker practically on steroids. One of those scary ones where Kon always kept half his attention on his boyfriend.
Someone got a lucky shot at Tim.
Kon dived.
He wasn’t hurt, but he’d abandoned the three robots he’d been fighting to take the hit instead of Tim, and those bots immediately went for Arrowette instead. Kon had barely circled back in time to help.
But he did! And he hadn’t meant to make a choice, then. Hadn’t seen how close Cissie was, hadn’t seen the possible repercussions.
Oh, if only he’d seen the repercussions.
Cissie said it was no big deal. In fact, she hugged Kon and agreed that he’d made the right call. Kon was invincible to the laser that would have hurt or even killed Tim, or Cissie, if she’d gotten there to help first. But Tim wouldn’t look at Kon. Mouth in a straight line, eyes glued to the floor, angry in a way he never is, with Kon.
“Tim?” Kon asked, once everyone else had migrated from the room. Tim blinked at nothing, brows furrowing even deeper.
“If it had been a different kind, the kind of laser that could hurt you, would you still have dove?” Tim asked, without looking at him.
“Yes,” Kon answered, realizing a second later that maybe he should have hesitated or lied, because Tim had finally turned to him and it was a look he couldn’t decode.
He looked angry, or disappointed, or afraid. Or maybe all three.
“We’re done.”
It was so sudden, so firm, that Kon’s brain skidded to a stop. He literally flinched back.
“What?” He asked, more confused than anything. Because Tim couldn’t possibly mean—
“We’re breaking up. I’m breaking up with you.”
“What?” He asked again, because Kon was pretty sure he was choking on nothing, unable to breathe or think or exist. He felt like he was slipping from life or reality or everything at once.
But Tim only shrugged. “What more is there to say?” He replied, voice cold and closed off. Kon took a desperate step toward his boyfriend, needed to be closer to him, needed to breathe his air in order to breathe at all, but Tim took a step back.
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Kon said, frozen in place, half a step toward Tim and still as far as he’d been before. “Why—why? Cause—why? Because of today?”
“There’s a lot of reasons.” Tim responded, face betraying nothing. Did he not love Kon anymore? And Kon didn’t mean to, he really didn't, but he couldn’t stop the tears that gathered in his eyes.
“But I, I love you,” he said, like that could fix it, undo it, bridge this gap that had suddenly appeared between them. He hiccupped, annoyingly, and couldn’t stop crying, and, fuck, why couldn’t he stop crying?
Tim didn’t answer. Didn’t so much as blink. Kon’s heart cracked, shards dropping to his stomach, piercing his lungs, pouring out of him. His heart was bleeding out on the floor and Tim didn’t even react.
“You said you loved me,” Kon cried, voice broken and shaking, like the rest of him. “You said—you said—but I love you,” he insisted.
Tim turned away.
“Please, Tim, I can’t,” Kon begged, even though he knew at this point, there was nothing he could do. Once Tim made his mind up, there was no changing it, and apparently his mind had decided to stop loving Kon. “I love you, I can’t—please don’t leave. I would die for you, Tim.”
“That’s the problem,” Tim mumbled.
And then he left.
Kon crumpled to the floor.
It was amicable, he said later, to soothe their teammates. We’re better as friends.
Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t better. He cried all the time and hated working and hated leaving his bed and he didn’t bother sleeping anymore because he couldn’t do it on his own.
Tim seemed unaffected. Which of course only made it worse. Nearly two years of their careful dance, of cuddles and then hugs and then kisses and then admitting to their love. Two years, and it was like Tim didn’t even care. Kon was pretty sure it was making him lose his powers, because he was slower than ever and he couldn’t get around those corners anymore. And Tim corrected him, and drilled it until he got it right, but he wouldn’t touch him anymore.
Blue Beetle drowned on a mission. They’d been forced to leave him there. But Tim never came to Kon’s room, and Kon’s skin burned more than ever. He felt like he was dying in slow motion.
Except one day, finally, finally. He caught Tim in his lie. He had his head buried in his arms, sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sobbing so quietly that even with his super-hearing, Kon could barely make it out.
“Tim?” Kon asked, and Tim snapped up. He straightened, and his tears stopped three seconds later, but his nose was still red and his eyes puffy.
“Thought you were at the farm,” he said coolly.
“Came back early. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Tired.”
Sleep at my side, Kon wanted to say.
“What’s wrong?” Kon asked again.
“Nothing,” Tim insisted, standing, meaning to walk away. But Kon couldn’t—he couldn’t let him go. It was the most they’d talked outside of work in too long. The tradition of movie nights had died with their fallen friends, so team bonding existed only in training, these days. Kon grabbed his wrist, too fast but still soft.
Oddly, Tim started to cry again. He looked down at the ground.
“Let me go,” he said, but it was shaky and all Kon wanted was to hug his best friend and cheer him up. To make him smile the way he always used to be able to do.
“I can’t,” Kon whispered.
Tim forcefully pulled back, and Kon had to let him so that he didn’t get hurt.
“Please,” Kon said, although he didn’t know exactly what he was begging for.
But Tim just shook his head.
“No,” he said, forceful and firm. “No,” he seemed to snap himself out of whatever he’d been feeling, and that horrible blank face returned. “I won’t lose anyone else. I refuse.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Tim, who’d been staring at the ground, finally snapped up to meet Kon’s eyes.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me, you know. For breaking up with you.”
“I can’t be mad at you just because you stopped loving me,” Kon replied tiredly. He’d come to that decision about five minutes after the breakup. That’s why he’d told everyone it was mutual. He didn’t want anyone picking sides.
“I,” Tim’s voice cracked. “Kon, of course I never stopped loving you.”
Kon’s world slowed to a stop. “What? Then—then why?”
“You’re too reckless, Kon. You will die trying to protect me, and I won’t allow it. I refuse.”
“What?” Kon gasped. “That’s why we’re broken up? That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard!”
“No, it isn’t,” Tim snapped. “You dove, Kon. You dove and we didn’t know if it would hurt you, yet. What about the next time? Or the time after that?”
“It’s worth it,” Kon answered.
“No it’s not! No, it’s not. I don’t want to scrape you off the pavement. I don’t want to be the reason you lose control.” Tim took another step back. “You are reckless and I’m careful and I refuse. You will get yourself killed, and I will not allow it. So I let go. I gave you up.”
“That’s—”
“The best decision I could have made. You think I didn't notice you constantly checking on me during our battles, only half paying attention to your own? I can see it all happen from here. You would rather die than take your eyes off me. You would rather die than let me get hurt. And I would just have to watch, because you’re too fast and too selfish to see why that’s a fucking problem.”
“But I love you. Of course I would die for you,” Kin insisted.
“I never asked you to do that!”
“You didn’t have to!”
Tim closed his eyes, exhaling like it hurt him.
“We already lost Bart. And Ted, and Tula. I won’t do it, Kon. I won’t let you die. Losing you would kill me. Your sacrifice would be pointless.”
“Saving you would never be pointless!”
“I’d be dead anyway!” Tim argued.
Kon started crying again. He hated that. He hated it even more when Tim spun on his heel and left the room.
There were more drills, after that. Kon had a sneaking feeling that Tim was inhabiting Bruce’s paranoia. But he never complained, because it was one of the only times he got to see Tim outside of battles.
And then Superboy Prime came along.
He attacked the team.
He aimed for Tim.
And Kon dived. Tim’s scream was loud enough that Superman arrived, and brought the Justice League, and they fought Superboy Prime off.
But the damage had been done. Tim had been right, in the end. Kon couldn’t move, and each breath was painful, and blood was dripping from his ears and his mouth.
“No,” Tim whispered, pulling Kon into his lap. Kon ignored the pain of being moved in favor of appreciating his new position. Who said dying didn’t have perks? “No, no, nonononono—“
“You’re okay,” Kon mumbled through the blood. Tim looked beautiful, as always. Sweat complimented his smooth, pale skin. Tears like an accent in his deep blue eyes.
“Please, no,” Tim begged. His hair was longer now, Kon noted. It flopped, framing his face, as he looked down at Kon.
Kon was very content in his arms.
“Will you—” Kon choked, on the blood in his throat, probably. “Will you say it, just this—just this once?”
Tim smiled, a shaky, broken thing.
“I love you,” Tim promised, and Kon smiled. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’m sorry—I love you. I love you. I love you.” Tim kissed his forehead.
“Yay,” Kon said simply, and Tim laughed, a little, as he cried. Kon was pretty sure the rest of their team was nearby, and Clark was kneeling by his side. But Kon couldn’t pay attention to anything but Tim.
Tim, who kissed his nose, and his cheek, and his jaw. He kissed that spot on his jaw, just as he had, that very first time.
“You’re worth it,” Kon mumbled, even though he could feel himself slipping away. “I’d always dive for you.”
“Selfish bastard,” Tim teased, and Kon hiccupped even though he meant to laugh. “I love you.”
Tim’s pretty blue eyes were the very last thing he saw.
Historians will ask why, and Kon will always say, Tim.