p.

Pairing: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Summary:

OTP Prompt #23 - “Why did you spare me?”

OOH! LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO

The sun, when it sinks below the horizon, the way the water turns to                                                fire.

Your hair in the mornings, uncurled and messy, sticking up in tufts, curling over your eyes. My hands itch with something I can’t put my finger on, but i’ll figure it out soon, sometime, maybe.

(I want to run them through your hair, over your face, light spilling everywhere and it’s red red red and isn’t that just–)

Cherries, your favourite, sweet and small and pitted in the centre, pitted in the parts you can’t see, the parts you spit out and throw away. Those aren’t red, they’re brown - dark, painful to bite into. But cherries are red, and

So I tried to say that, so I tried giving you an answer that wasn’t               something you couldn’t hold.

But I couldn’t, and you were waiting, so I said,

“Blood, I guess.”

I can’t seem to recall the tone of your voice, when you said my name.

My mother tells me I can’t live in the past, but a future without you is too lonely to bear, and the present is painful, monotonous.

You weren’t the only colour in my life, but I like to think you were the one who taught me how to look at the sky and not think ‘empty’.

Your eyes were a shade of green I could never hope to find again.

Tonight I dream not of you, but of bubbles, iridescent, shimmering in late afternoon sunlight. In this dream I am going on a very long journey, I am alone, I am saving the world.

(In this dream you don’t exist, but your laugh lives in every bubble, your smile in the sunflowers that line the road.)

You always said I had a hero complex; maybe you were right. Maybe I was waiting for you to be my hero, but I ended up saving myself, and you ended up-

I cannot fathom what made me fall so hard, so fast, for you Maybe it’s the way you talk How your eyes dance, how you can make me feel like I’m your everything, like we’re fated, or something else, something equally childish and romantic

A clearing in the woods, a chapel empty, glowing in the wintry mid-morning sun, the mansion’s library and the piano inside, how you used to play but hated it.

You are gone now, and so am I.

Tell me, can you hear me? Can you hear my thoughts and my voice, thinking about you here in Heaven?

There are so many things I want to say - did you love me, or do you think demons get second chances, or I would have chosen you, definitely, always, if only you’d given me the chance.

it is not unlike your love leaving new scars to heal old ones

if you are fire then i am oil and we will destroy each other, we will burn brighter than the sun in the sky

jotakak aesthetics