Three stories in, he realizes it. He's not without friends.
The first is Conner, with something predictable. Probably a tale picked up or overheard from school. And then Bart gives a story from another country, before Cassie shares something surprisingly twisted.
Three stories grow, four five six seven. Almost weightless and aware that it's his turn. They all seem to look at him as if expecting his reaction to be the one to capture. He wants to tell them that he's breathed in fear gas before.
Maybe that's why he's so breathless.
His story is a fall. With brick rushing by and the belated concern over what his body will do if it skips off of a fire escape. Three stories already and he's alone.
Nothing predictable comes next, like steel stopping him with an uncanny gentleness. There's something special in the classics, even if they're not told exactly like the original. He wants to tell Conner that it's the little differences that he'll react to.
Be that way with pride.
Stories rushing, almost as fast as he imagines Bart tearing through them. All the pages, fluttering like the wings of a bird. He doesn't have wings. In his story, he doesn't have wings.
And something twisted. The startling impact of a surprise ending. He can't avoid the chill down his spine when Wonder Girl properly applies the jarring close. That's it, there is no more. Certain doom for the characters, and he's going to run out of stories.
His turn. All about the levels that rush past because he can't fly, and he's not as fast to keep himself on the roof in the first place. A blink is all it takes, and then it's three stories before he realizes…He's not going to break into the concrete at the bottom. Three stories in.
He's not without friends. Today. Today he's not.
Tomorrow, though…
As their eyes lock on him across the fire Tim calmly tells the story of how he's just a hop and a step away from being a story in and of itself.
And it's still his reaction they're looking for.