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versus
kon-el & tim drake // ~3k
> piece for Third Time's the Charm: A Tim Drake Zine; Pre-New 52
The timing is coincidental. Bruce and Damian are off-world and Dick is in Bludhaven. Cass is in Malaysia while Stephanie is spending a week in Chicago for a university conference. Jason is on patrol duty tonight, insisting that he can cover everyone’s territory for the meantime along with Barbara. With the dance fundraiser that his university organization is hosting looms over, and with all these facts laid out in front of him, Tim realizes that he should just take advantage of the situation.
So he invites Kon over to Gotham to go with him to the event.
There’s nothing about the fundraiser that makes it stand out from other student-run events; there are no fancy function rooms or champagne fountains, small talk with adults of high status and monkey suits that can’t be in anything but their original pristine condition throughout the night. In fact, they’ve only been here for two hours and Kon has already loosened the first button of his polo and rolled up his sleeves without any sense of finesse. Tim can’t really complain when at least Kon’s making an effort to keep the suit clean as he gorges on the platter of food he snagged from the buffet table.
“This is good,” Kon says, cheeks full since he isn’t finished chewing. He’s too engrossed in his food to care that Tim has his phone out and he’s recording the moment to send it to Bart, who wanted to go with them but couldn’t because Tim can’t afford the risk of taking two superpowered friends with him. Bruce’s no metahuman rule will always be a pain to deal with. “Is this how it is in all dances? Maybe I should’ve attended my prom instead of ditching it.”
Tim sets his phone down. “I wouldn’t know. I never went to mine.” Steph goes to a lot of these dances and always complains about how catering is the worst part though, so the good food Kon’s enjoying now is either a testament to his taste buds or how much effort the committee put into making this dance go as successfully as possible.
“Really?” Kon raises an eyebrow before swallowing. “What, too lame for you?”
“Bad timing.” Tim didn’t attend his own prom because Harley Quinn broke out of Arkham. Then he got invited to a high school dance of a peer he met in a Wayne function, but had to call it off last minute because he got a concussion during patrol. Three months later, he was asked by Cissie to accompany her as a “plus one”; in the end, neither of them went because of a week-long mission. “It’s not that different from the galas Bruce hosts, but this is still a first.”
The theme is Van Gogh’s Starry Night, so the decors mimic his art style. The golden fairy lights compliment the rich blue curtains, and the tints of muted green make the entire aesthetic look more vibrant. There’s food and chatter, indie music echoing in the room and people slow dancing at the cleared center. It’s slightly chilly because the dance is being held at a party tent right in the middle of the campus’ open soccer field. It could be worse, Tim thinks, because it could’ve been the Gym.
“What do you do in places like these?” Kon asks.
“What do you think people do here?”
“I don’t know. It’s my first time.”
“It’s my first time too."
“Yeah, but unlike you, I haven’t been alive that long.”
If Bart was here, he’d say something like too soon, but Tim doesn’t react. He’s not sensitive about Kon’s death in the way others assume; he’s relieved, actually, because Kon’s back, and it’s a reminder he doesn’t mind returning to. It’s why Tim invited him over to Gotham despite Bruce’s rule—to catch up with his best friend and give them a moment of normalcy, away from the missions and life-or-death scenarios, even just for a night. Chances like these don’t happen often for people like them, and that’s because they have to make it, not wait for it to miraculously fall into their laps.
It may be a selfish move, but Tim thinks he can afford to be selfish every once in a while.
“I was under the impression that Cadmus gave you common sense when they created you, but maybe it wore off.” Tim easily dodges Kon trying to kick him from under the table. “It’s just the usual. People talk, eat, dance.”
“Sounds boring.”
Tim leans on his chair. “Life is boring when you’re not a superhero.”
“Huh,” Kon hums thoughtfully. “Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?”
Tim doesn’t answer. From the corner of his eye, he spots a couple he doesn’t recognize making their way to the dancefloor. When they start dancing, moving to the slow music the DJ plays, Tim thinks about how ordinary it looks, and how it must feel special to them regardless. He has no interest in dancing, but when he looks at the boy and girl swaying together, he can’t help but feel a large gap between them, like these are people from another universe. Tim’s life is a wild ride of broken bones and losses, slipping on the mask to deal with gruesome crimes even though in truth, the real mask is when he pretends he’s ordinary and doesn’t have any lingering secrets locked in the back of his closet. It’s the same for Kon, or even more so, because he came into the world only knowing what it meant to be different from the rest rather than learning to fit in like everyone else.
These are things other people wouldn’t understand, those who live in their personal bubble of safety and have never been exposed to Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin or watched a friend die even if they knew they could’ve done something about it if they were just quick enough, smart enough, just enough. And Tim has always known this, knew what he’d be sacrificing the moment he asked Bruce to give him the Robin mantle, and he’s never resented the very people he’s sworn to protect.
But it doesn’t mean he can’t try to grasp for what others have too.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try and have at least one moment where he and the people important to him can just be ordinary. Chances don’t miraculously fall into one’s lap, after all. Tonight, they wear no masks or capes, brandish no weapons, and activate none of their powers. There is no bad guy and no civilian in need of saving. There are no stakes or life-changing problems to solve. It’s just two friends, attending a dance and attempting to find enjoyment in it.
Kon’s question is too loaded for Tim to answer that easily. Judging from the look in Kon’s eyes, he understands this, because he drops it and their conversation shifts.
Three hours in, Tim begins to notice how Kon’s eyes wander away to a girl neither of them know. It probably only takes Tim around half a minute to put everything together.
“You should ask her to dance,” he interjects, cutting midway into Kon’s retelling about Bart arguing with some suburban moms during last Wednesday’s grocery run.
Kon stands up, empty plate in hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tim quickly follows after him as they return to the buffet table so Kon can get another serving. “Her name’s Lilah Wesley,” he offers. “She looks exactly like Cassie, doesn’t she?”
Kon groans. “Why’d you have to mention her?”
It takes some effort on Tim’s part not to smile. For a breakup, Kon and Cassie separated on surprisingly good terms. “Lilah and I aren’t friends, but she’s in my History class and I doubt she came with a date,” he continues. “It would really make her night if someone asked her for a dance and tried to get to know her better.”
“Yeah, because every girl attends formal dances to wait for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet,” Kon dryly remarks. “Is Bart forcing you to binge watch princess movies with him again? They’ll rot that big brain of yours, I swear.”
Tim ignores the jab. “Are you implying that you’re good-looking enough to be her Prince Charming?”
“Cassie would strangle you with her lasso if she heard you say that.”
“Now who’s mentioning her.”
Kon elbows him for that. He returns his focus to the row of food and picks up what he wants with the tongs, but his ears are slightly red in embarrassment. Tim wonders if he should remind Kon that he doesn’t say these things without reason. Tim and Lilah definitely aren’t friends, but he’s overheard conversations she’s shared with her friends in their shared class about her type of guy and how Superman is her favorite.
In truth, it’s not really that deep. It’s just a dance. Kon, who has never danced before and has never had the Cadmus programming to learn the skill, could suck at it. But he could also enjoy it too, and that’s what all this is about. And Tim’s good at reading people; he doesn’t have to know Lilah well to know that she’s an easygoing person, the kind who would take Kon’s awkwardness and blunt words in stride and even find it charming.
They would have fun together, even if it won’t last past tonight. Still, it’s all Tim wants for Kon, because his life has been nothing but crazy and fast-paced and he needs a moment to stop and take it all in, to remember that there’s merit to coming back besides reuniting with his superhero friends and family and continuing the superhero shtick like it never killed him in the first place.
Besides—
“Hey,” Tim starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and Kon loiter by the dessert area. “Remember that thing you told me you wanted to do before we fought Superboy-Prime?”
Kon stops, hand hovering over a cupcake. “I died, I didn’t contract amnesia.”
Tim watches Kon put the pastry on his plate. Back then, Kon said that he wanted to have a night out to enjoy himself, no hero business; to do something mundane and something he hadn’t been programmed to do as a weapon, but as a person instead, curious about life and all its small happenings. Those little things that made people look forward to their days even if they knew they’d never wake up special.
Loaded words, just like the question he posed to Tim earlier, but at least this one, Tim knows the answer to.
Tim has never forgotten Kon’s wish. It was something he clung onto, something he told himself he’d make sure Kon would be able to do when he came back.
“I’m not forcing you to do anything though, if you really don’t want to do it,” Tim adds. “I’m just saying that there’s nothing stopping you.”
“The fear of rejection is,” Kon points out, turning his head to where Lilah is. She’s across the room and sitting down alone at one of the tables, a drink in hand as she watches everyone else. She and Kon meet eyes, but Lilah’s the one who looks away first, flustered. “But I guess that’s stupid.”
“Definitely,” Tim agrees, but he picks up a glass of punch to cover his grin when Kon flips him off. “But that’s the fun of it, I think. Getting worked up over something that’s only stupid to us because there are so much worse things to care about. So we should make the most out of it, because we’ll probably never get something like this again.”
“I hate it when you say things like that,” Kon almost complains. “Like everyone else is far away from where we are and it’s all about breaching the gap or something. It’s depressing as hell.”
That’s because it is, but Tim doesn’t say that. He doesn’t, because now Kon’s expression is pensive, like he’s mulling over Tim’s suggestion and if he should do it.
Kon is about to say something, but then Tim’s phone abruptly rings. It’s a text message from Jason, asking him to call, which is odd.
“I’ll be back,” Tim tells Kon, before leaving the party tent. When he hits the call button, he presses the phone to his ear and says, “What?”
“Chill, Replacement. I haven’t talked to you all day,” Jason deadpans on the other end.
“Sorry.” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why did you call? Did something happen?”
Jason hesitates. “Sorta,” he allows. “I’m dropping down in five to deal with a drug ring I’ve been tailing for weeks in the East End, but Oracle just told me that Black Mask’s goonies are in the docks to receive some kind of package. There’s a chance it might be an explosive—planning to set them off along the block where Wayne Industries is.”
“Shit.”
“I know. The moment I’m done with these losers, I’m heading there to stop it, but that’ll take some time. Think you could hold down the fort until I get there? Super Junior’s there with you, right? Asking him to tag along would help.”
“No,” Tim immediately says, suddenly struck with panic at the idea of Kon doing hero work when tonight was supposed to be about anything but that. What Jason’s talking about isn’t something to take lightly, but it’s not like Tim can’t handle it himself. He doesn’t want Kon to come with him. Kon just came back from the dead and Tim wants his best friend to enjoy himself. He deserves a moment—a night—to be normal. Tim refuses to take that away from him. “We don’t need him. I can do it myself. I’ll be out in ten.”
“Alright,” Jason replies almost awkwardly, startled by Tim’s response but deciding not to question it. “Sorry for cutting your fun short, Replacement.”
“It’s fine,” Tim tells him, ending the call.
When he slips back inside, Kon is still waiting by the buffet table, looking concerned. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Jason’s just being annoying.” Tim nods at Lilah, still seated down and swinging her legs, looking lonely as she continues to people-watch. “Ready to ask her to a dance?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Kon scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think I remember how to do this anymore. It’s weird, because it’s not hard, but it’s not like it’s easy either. And if it gets bad, it’s not exactly like I can just punch my way out of it, you know?”
“Can’t you?” Tim idly wonders. “Maybe she’d like that. I think she’d like to dance more though.”
“Shut up. I get your point,” Kon says. “But what are you going to do? I’m not ditching you for some girl I haven’t even spoken to yet.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “I can take care of myself, Kon. I’m—” He scrambles for an excuse. “Probably going to head out again to get some fresh air. This place is stuffier than I thought. Might be the monkey suit. And there’s no way I’m going to dance.”
“Shouldn’t you have gotten used to that by now?” Kon teases. “Weren’t rich kids like you born wearing tuxedos and cute little dancing shoes?”
“Go.” Tim takes Kon’s plate from him and shoves him forward. “I might smoke a bit. Pavlovian reflex to talking to Jason.”
“You said you quit. You’re a bad liar,” Kon tells him, even though Tim thinks he’s a great liar, because Kon’s buying everything he says. “When you get back, that tobacco smell better be gone. It makes me want to vomit sometimes.”
“Can’t have that. Lilah won’t forgive you if you barfed on her dress.” Then Tim's voice softens. “Have fun, Kon. Try not to embarrass yourself too much.”
“What are you talking about? I’ll be smooth as hell, dude.” Kon puffs his chest up with newfound confidence, making Tim grin. Kon gives him one last look before making his way across the room to where Lilah is. Three steps in, Lilah has already noticed him. To Tim, it feels like watching that couple from before all over again, entering their own little world he’s not a part of but craves.
Tim finds that he doesn’t mind. He may not be able to breach the gap, but Kon can. It’s the least his best friend deserves. It’s the least Tim deserves, for working so hard to bring him back.
It’s not that life is boring when you’re not a superhero; life is pitiful when you are. It means wanting things you once had but never finding the chance to enjoy until it’s too late.
Kon finally reaches Lilah, and they exchange a few words before she stands up. Tim turns away when she takes Kon’s offered hand, letting them enter into their own bubble of bliss while he readies his mask and takes off. For the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s too late. The timing is just right.
> piece for Third Time's the Charm: A Tim Drake Zine; Pre-New 52
The timing is coincidental. Bruce and Damian are off-world and Dick is in Bludhaven. Cass is in Malaysia while Stephanie is spending a week in Chicago for a university conference. Jason is on patrol duty tonight, insisting that he can cover everyone’s territory for the meantime along with Barbara. With the dance fundraiser that his university organization is hosting looms over, and with all these facts laid out in front of him, Tim realizes that he should just take advantage of the situation.
So he invites Kon over to Gotham to go with him to the event.
There’s nothing about the fundraiser that makes it stand out from other student-run events; there are no fancy function rooms or champagne fountains, small talk with adults of high status and monkey suits that can’t be in anything but their original pristine condition throughout the night. In fact, they’ve only been here for two hours and Kon has already loosened the first button of his polo and rolled up his sleeves without any sense of finesse. Tim can’t really complain when at least Kon’s making an effort to keep the suit clean as he gorges on the platter of food he snagged from the buffet table.
“This is good,” Kon says, cheeks full since he isn’t finished chewing. He’s too engrossed in his food to care that Tim has his phone out and he’s recording the moment to send it to Bart, who wanted to go with them but couldn’t because Tim can’t afford the risk of taking two superpowered friends with him. Bruce’s no metahuman rule will always be a pain to deal with. “Is this how it is in all dances? Maybe I should’ve attended my prom instead of ditching it.”
Tim sets his phone down. “I wouldn’t know. I never went to mine.” Steph goes to a lot of these dances and always complains about how catering is the worst part though, so the good food Kon’s enjoying now is either a testament to his taste buds or how much effort the committee put into making this dance go as successfully as possible.
“Really?” Kon raises an eyebrow before swallowing. “What, too lame for you?”
“Bad timing.” Tim didn’t attend his own prom because Harley Quinn broke out of Arkham. Then he got invited to a high school dance of a peer he met in a Wayne function, but had to call it off last minute because he got a concussion during patrol. Three months later, he was asked by Cissie to accompany her as a “plus one”; in the end, neither of them went because of a week-long mission. “It’s not that different from the galas Bruce hosts, but this is still a first.”
The theme is Van Gogh’s Starry Night, so the decors mimic his art style. The golden fairy lights compliment the rich blue curtains, and the tints of muted green make the entire aesthetic look more vibrant. There’s food and chatter, indie music echoing in the room and people slow dancing at the cleared center. It’s slightly chilly because the dance is being held at a party tent right in the middle of the campus’ open soccer field. It could be worse, Tim thinks, because it could’ve been the Gym.
“What do you do in places like these?” Kon asks.
“What do you think people do here?”
“I don’t know. It’s my first time.”
“It’s my first time too."
“Yeah, but unlike you, I haven’t been alive that long.”
If Bart was here, he’d say something like too soon, but Tim doesn’t react. He’s not sensitive about Kon’s death in the way others assume; he’s relieved, actually, because Kon’s back, and it’s a reminder he doesn’t mind returning to. It’s why Tim invited him over to Gotham despite Bruce’s rule—to catch up with his best friend and give them a moment of normalcy, away from the missions and life-or-death scenarios, even just for a night. Chances like these don’t happen often for people like them, and that’s because they have to make it, not wait for it to miraculously fall into their laps.
It may be a selfish move, but Tim thinks he can afford to be selfish every once in a while.
“I was under the impression that Cadmus gave you common sense when they created you, but maybe it wore off.” Tim easily dodges Kon trying to kick him from under the table. “It’s just the usual. People talk, eat, dance.”
“Sounds boring.”
Tim leans on his chair. “Life is boring when you’re not a superhero.”
“Huh,” Kon hums thoughtfully. “Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?”
Tim doesn’t answer. From the corner of his eye, he spots a couple he doesn’t recognize making their way to the dancefloor. When they start dancing, moving to the slow music the DJ plays, Tim thinks about how ordinary it looks, and how it must feel special to them regardless. He has no interest in dancing, but when he looks at the boy and girl swaying together, he can’t help but feel a large gap between them, like these are people from another universe. Tim’s life is a wild ride of broken bones and losses, slipping on the mask to deal with gruesome crimes even though in truth, the real mask is when he pretends he’s ordinary and doesn’t have any lingering secrets locked in the back of his closet. It’s the same for Kon, or even more so, because he came into the world only knowing what it meant to be different from the rest rather than learning to fit in like everyone else.
These are things other people wouldn’t understand, those who live in their personal bubble of safety and have never been exposed to Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin or watched a friend die even if they knew they could’ve done something about it if they were just quick enough, smart enough, just enough. And Tim has always known this, knew what he’d be sacrificing the moment he asked Bruce to give him the Robin mantle, and he’s never resented the very people he’s sworn to protect.
But it doesn’t mean he can’t try to grasp for what others have too.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try and have at least one moment where he and the people important to him can just be ordinary. Chances don’t miraculously fall into one’s lap, after all. Tonight, they wear no masks or capes, brandish no weapons, and activate none of their powers. There is no bad guy and no civilian in need of saving. There are no stakes or life-changing problems to solve. It’s just two friends, attending a dance and attempting to find enjoyment in it.
Kon’s question is too loaded for Tim to answer that easily. Judging from the look in Kon’s eyes, he understands this, because he drops it and their conversation shifts.
Three hours in, Tim begins to notice how Kon’s eyes wander away to a girl neither of them know. It probably only takes Tim around half a minute to put everything together.
“You should ask her to dance,” he interjects, cutting midway into Kon’s retelling about Bart arguing with some suburban moms during last Wednesday’s grocery run.
Kon stands up, empty plate in hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tim quickly follows after him as they return to the buffet table so Kon can get another serving. “Her name’s Lilah Wesley,” he offers. “She looks exactly like Cassie, doesn’t she?”
Kon groans. “Why’d you have to mention her?”
It takes some effort on Tim’s part not to smile. For a breakup, Kon and Cassie separated on surprisingly good terms. “Lilah and I aren’t friends, but she’s in my History class and I doubt she came with a date,” he continues. “It would really make her night if someone asked her for a dance and tried to get to know her better.”
“Yeah, because every girl attends formal dances to wait for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet,” Kon dryly remarks. “Is Bart forcing you to binge watch princess movies with him again? They’ll rot that big brain of yours, I swear.”
Tim ignores the jab. “Are you implying that you’re good-looking enough to be her Prince Charming?”
“Cassie would strangle you with her lasso if she heard you say that.”
“Now who’s mentioning her.”
Kon elbows him for that. He returns his focus to the row of food and picks up what he wants with the tongs, but his ears are slightly red in embarrassment. Tim wonders if he should remind Kon that he doesn’t say these things without reason. Tim and Lilah definitely aren’t friends, but he’s overheard conversations she’s shared with her friends in their shared class about her type of guy and how Superman is her favorite.
In truth, it’s not really that deep. It’s just a dance. Kon, who has never danced before and has never had the Cadmus programming to learn the skill, could suck at it. But he could also enjoy it too, and that’s what all this is about. And Tim’s good at reading people; he doesn’t have to know Lilah well to know that she’s an easygoing person, the kind who would take Kon’s awkwardness and blunt words in stride and even find it charming.
They would have fun together, even if it won’t last past tonight. Still, it’s all Tim wants for Kon, because his life has been nothing but crazy and fast-paced and he needs a moment to stop and take it all in, to remember that there’s merit to coming back besides reuniting with his superhero friends and family and continuing the superhero shtick like it never killed him in the first place.
Besides—
“Hey,” Tim starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he and Kon loiter by the dessert area. “Remember that thing you told me you wanted to do before we fought Superboy-Prime?”
Kon stops, hand hovering over a cupcake. “I died, I didn’t contract amnesia.”
Tim watches Kon put the pastry on his plate. Back then, Kon said that he wanted to have a night out to enjoy himself, no hero business; to do something mundane and something he hadn’t been programmed to do as a weapon, but as a person instead, curious about life and all its small happenings. Those little things that made people look forward to their days even if they knew they’d never wake up special.
Loaded words, just like the question he posed to Tim earlier, but at least this one, Tim knows the answer to.
Tim has never forgotten Kon’s wish. It was something he clung onto, something he told himself he’d make sure Kon would be able to do when he came back.
“I’m not forcing you to do anything though, if you really don’t want to do it,” Tim adds. “I’m just saying that there’s nothing stopping you.”
“The fear of rejection is,” Kon points out, turning his head to where Lilah is. She’s across the room and sitting down alone at one of the tables, a drink in hand as she watches everyone else. She and Kon meet eyes, but Lilah’s the one who looks away first, flustered. “But I guess that’s stupid.”
“Definitely,” Tim agrees, but he picks up a glass of punch to cover his grin when Kon flips him off. “But that’s the fun of it, I think. Getting worked up over something that’s only stupid to us because there are so much worse things to care about. So we should make the most out of it, because we’ll probably never get something like this again.”
“I hate it when you say things like that,” Kon almost complains. “Like everyone else is far away from where we are and it’s all about breaching the gap or something. It’s depressing as hell.”
That’s because it is, but Tim doesn’t say that. He doesn’t, because now Kon’s expression is pensive, like he’s mulling over Tim’s suggestion and if he should do it.
Kon is about to say something, but then Tim’s phone abruptly rings. It’s a text message from Jason, asking him to call, which is odd.
“I’ll be back,” Tim tells Kon, before leaving the party tent. When he hits the call button, he presses the phone to his ear and says, “What?”
“Chill, Replacement. I haven’t talked to you all day,” Jason deadpans on the other end.
“Sorry.” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why did you call? Did something happen?”
Jason hesitates. “Sorta,” he allows. “I’m dropping down in five to deal with a drug ring I’ve been tailing for weeks in the East End, but Oracle just told me that Black Mask’s goonies are in the docks to receive some kind of package. There’s a chance it might be an explosive—planning to set them off along the block where Wayne Industries is.”
“Shit.”
“I know. The moment I’m done with these losers, I’m heading there to stop it, but that’ll take some time. Think you could hold down the fort until I get there? Super Junior’s there with you, right? Asking him to tag along would help.”
“No,” Tim immediately says, suddenly struck with panic at the idea of Kon doing hero work when tonight was supposed to be about anything but that. What Jason’s talking about isn’t something to take lightly, but it’s not like Tim can’t handle it himself. He doesn’t want Kon to come with him. Kon just came back from the dead and Tim wants his best friend to enjoy himself. He deserves a moment—a night—to be normal. Tim refuses to take that away from him. “We don’t need him. I can do it myself. I’ll be out in ten.”
“Alright,” Jason replies almost awkwardly, startled by Tim’s response but deciding not to question it. “Sorry for cutting your fun short, Replacement.”
“It’s fine,” Tim tells him, ending the call.
When he slips back inside, Kon is still waiting by the buffet table, looking concerned. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Jason’s just being annoying.” Tim nods at Lilah, still seated down and swinging her legs, looking lonely as she continues to people-watch. “Ready to ask her to a dance?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Kon scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think I remember how to do this anymore. It’s weird, because it’s not hard, but it’s not like it’s easy either. And if it gets bad, it’s not exactly like I can just punch my way out of it, you know?”
“Can’t you?” Tim idly wonders. “Maybe she’d like that. I think she’d like to dance more though.”
“Shut up. I get your point,” Kon says. “But what are you going to do? I’m not ditching you for some girl I haven’t even spoken to yet.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “I can take care of myself, Kon. I’m—” He scrambles for an excuse. “Probably going to head out again to get some fresh air. This place is stuffier than I thought. Might be the monkey suit. And there’s no way I’m going to dance.”
“Shouldn’t you have gotten used to that by now?” Kon teases. “Weren’t rich kids like you born wearing tuxedos and cute little dancing shoes?”
“Go.” Tim takes Kon’s plate from him and shoves him forward. “I might smoke a bit. Pavlovian reflex to talking to Jason.”
“You said you quit. You’re a bad liar,” Kon tells him, even though Tim thinks he’s a great liar, because Kon’s buying everything he says. “When you get back, that tobacco smell better be gone. It makes me want to vomit sometimes.”
“Can’t have that. Lilah won’t forgive you if you barfed on her dress.” Then Tim's voice softens. “Have fun, Kon. Try not to embarrass yourself too much.”
“What are you talking about? I’ll be smooth as hell, dude.” Kon puffs his chest up with newfound confidence, making Tim grin. Kon gives him one last look before making his way across the room to where Lilah is. Three steps in, Lilah has already noticed him. To Tim, it feels like watching that couple from before all over again, entering their own little world he’s not a part of but craves.
Tim finds that he doesn’t mind. He may not be able to breach the gap, but Kon can. It’s the least his best friend deserves. It’s the least Tim deserves, for working so hard to bring him back.
It’s not that life is boring when you’re not a superhero; life is pitiful when you are. It means wanting things you once had but never finding the chance to enjoy until it’s too late.
Kon finally reaches Lilah, and they exchange a few words before she stands up. Tim turns away when she takes Kon’s offered hand, letting them enter into their own bubble of bliss while he readies his mask and takes off. For the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s too late. The timing is just right.