#herolunchboxes

Though he hardly thought that any of the people in the hall were related.

There was the King, sitting at the head of the long table that had only four places set out, then there was Mr Aelfread, who was ladling soup into their bowls. Miss Leslie he had been informed had volunteered to stay with his mama and have dinner later with Mr Aelfread.

And across from him sat the too happy boy from before; who gave him the suit to wear… Dick? Jason thinks that’s what he was called. Though it might not be, as what parent would call their child Dick? Such a ridiculous name, surely he bore the brunt of much teasing.

Dick wasn’t wearing a suit, but instead had on a skin tight leotard; like what the performers at the fair wore. The King didn’t seem to mind though, this was a family affair after all.

And then there was of course his Prince. His Timothy- no. No he cannot afford such thoughts, he cannot be friends with the Prince, it just wasn’t done. 

But there was just something about him that made Jason’s heart flutter, and a smile break out on his usually grim face. Yet, he knew not what it was.

There was nothing exceptionally unique about Timothy, save for his kind heart and warm smile.

And his eyes.

Blue; but not cold, not made of ice or stone, but of something warmer, something indescribable. They were like a cool dink on a warm summers day.

They reminded him of the ocean when his dad used to take him out fishing into the deep waters far off shore, that water was nothing like the murky green depths that surrounded Gotham, but it was a brilliant blue, like the sky at dusk. Royal and regal like his station said he should; but playful and enticing. 

Easy to drown in.

And that’s what Jason did the moment he phased the Prince up against the alleyway that morning he had been drowning. It had been painful to leave Timothy, even at the gates to the citadel, where he belonged, Jason hadn’t wanted to let go of his firm grasp of Timothy’s hand.

He did. And he left. And his heart sank like it never had before. Not when his father died, nor when his step-father beat him leaving him for dead as he stole everything of worth from their house. It did not even react this way when his mother fell ill and the physicians said they could do nothing for her with so little payment.

But it did when he left his Timothy.

It made him think that afternoon as he was sitting in his house waiting for yet another doctor to tell him nothing could be done, is that what love feels like?

Did love feel like drowning? Was it so all consuming that it left nothing else besides that person? Did it take everything only to replace it with more?