Tim did not know what it meant to love someone or what it felt like to be loved. He had read every textbook definition of the word, and he could recite poems so profound and heartfelt that they would bring tears to people's eyes. Even so, he does not know what it felt like to love someone or to be loved. He has read that it is the feeling parents have for their children. That had confused him the first time he had read it. His parents had never loved him. And that was a fact, not some teenage angst. He knows this is a fact because his parents had told him. He can still vividly remember the first time his mother had told him that she did not love him.
He was seven years old and it was on Christmas.
Christmas had never been a happy time for his family. His mother and father were never home by choice, but because it was socially expected of them to be. It was the longest time all year that the both of them were home. From December 21st to January 4th they would be stuck inside the house with each other. They would much rather have been traveling or going to parties. The day of Christmas had always been the worst. There were no parties to go to and everywhere was closed. And Tim knew his parents hated it. He could tell by the harsh words and glass objects that the threw.
But the first time that his mother had said she did not want him had been different.
His father had been downstairs watching some sports program. While his mother and he had been in their library. It was sometime in the afternoon, he was not really sure. She had been sitting on a couch they kept in there, reading some book he had long since forgotten the name of. And he had been sitting at he feet, reading a book far too large for his tiny hands. But when she had said it, she had spoken in a tone so cold and cruel. The voice that she had used to tear he enemies apart and bringing grown men to tears.
"I never wanted you," she had stated as though it was something small, her eyes never leaving her book. "Jack was the one who wanted children. I would have been better off never having you." Tim did not cry when theses hurtful words left her mouth. She was just confirming what he already knew.
The first time his father had told him he did not love him was very different from his mother.
It had been a few months after his mother's death. He not sure whether or not his father ever mourned his mother. It had seemed as though he was relieved after her death. Tim thinks that maybe why he had moved on so quickly.
It was June 3rd when it had happened.
His father had walked into his room holding a football under his arm and had a large grin on his face. Tim can no longer the exacted words that had been said or how it had started, but they had started to fight. And it had ended with his father glaring at him and angrily spitting, "Having you was a mistake." Before leaving his room and slamming the door behind him. They had not talked much after that. His father had died a few years after that and he had gone to live with Bruce.
Now Bruce was a whole other story. Bruce had never loved him. Bruce unlike his parents, had never outright told him. Brue had never been one for words he had always spoken through his actions. And Tim could tell, it was in the way that Bruce could not get his name right for the first month of him being Robin. It was in the rigorous training that he was put through that was never enough, were he was never good enough. In the way, that everything he did was a mistake. In the way that he was never 'son'. It was in the way he was treated as tho he was a tool for convenience. And that was made clear when he was essentially blackmailed into giving up Robin and Bruce did not say a single word of protest or lift a finger to stop him. Instead, he had someone else in the Robin costume the next day.
He had never resented Stephanie for that. He can understand that it was an opportunity that could not be passed up. He wants to say that he loved her, but as much as he wants to he can't. He knows he did not love her like she had loved him. He could tell by the numb feeling he got when he held her, or when he kissed her. He did not know what love was, but he was sure that this was not it. Now it wasn't that he was not physically attracted to her, but that was more of hormones. In the end, they had a mutual break-up.
Cassandra and he would never love each other. But they had an understanding. They were colleagues, they worked together and that was it.
He knows that Dick did not love him. It showed when he took Robin from him and called him crazy when he said Bruce was alive. It was in the way he never defended him whenever Damian threw harsh words at him.
Barbara and he had never really talked outside of Oracle and Robin.
Jason and Damian were not even a question. They hated him and he was reminded of that each time they tried to kill him.
Sometimes when Tim is alone with his thoughts he wonders if he was in love with Conner. He knows that how he acted after the others death was not by any means normal. He had not gone that far off the edge when Bart or Stephanie had died. And he was much more happy to see Conner again. Don't misunderstand he was happy when he had found out Bart, Stephanie and even Bruce was alive. But after everything had calmed down and he had seen Conner again he could not hold himself back and gave the other a hug. Tim had never been one to initiate any form of physical contact. And when he had looked at Conner's face he felt as though he was flying.
Sometimes he wonders what Conner thinks of him. He supposes it is like a friend.
Even so throughout all this he does not resent any of the people in his life for not loving him, or really even caring. Because how could he expect other to love or care for him when his own parents could not.
He wonders if that is what got him to where he is now.
Alone in some dirty back alley, bleeding out on the concrete.
He knows that this is the end.
He knows he is going to die.
It is just another fact.
He wants to resent them though. He wants to hate them for not loving him, for not caring enough to be here. He wants to curse them with his dying breath for letting him die in some filthy alleyway alone. But no matter how hard he tries he can not. He can't bring himself to truly hate them.
Maybe this was what love was.
The unconditional will to protect someone no matter what.
Either that or he was crazy.
He does wonder if anyone will miss him. If anyone will mourn his death. If any tears will be shed for him. Or if anyone will even notice. He hopes someone will notice. He does not want his corpse rooting in this alleyway.
His vision is getting blurry now.
He is not really sure why, but Conner's face keeps popping up in his head. He wants to see him. He does not want to leave without telling him goodbye.
Everything is hazy now. Somehow this is worse then his vision was only blurry. Everything in spinning and he can't seem to think straight.
He knows he does not have much longer.
He takes a sharp intake of air. The wound on his side burns with the movement.
" 'm sorry Kon." he rasped.
And then everything goes black.