Water is versatile in my hand. It drips off the end of my fingers and for a moment I pretend I have superpowers. Real superpowers. That I'm not just a super-dork, super all-American, as some would say. At least I don't have it as bad as Clark. Now there's an all-American. Kansas boy. At least he has parents. I sigh. The water washes my face clean of traces of shame and tears. I will be cleansed and purified for my little brother. I still have to order pizza.
I was reading when the doorbell rang. My ears perked up in surprise. Who do I know that uses a door? Perhaps one of the tenants… I sighed and considered not answering. I didn't really want to be bothered by the balding men or desperate women with babies who knocked on my door, asking me to watch their children, which I always did. I'd never tell Bruce-he'd make fun of me forever. I wasn't making any noise, so I don't see why they'd be knocking. I trudged over to the door, making sure to check first that I was wearing pants. Wouldn't want a repeat of last week. Sometimes when the eldest of my tenants knocks on the door, I see her lovely veined neck with the soft dangling skin and wonder how it'd feel to sink my teeth into that; to hear the soft moan of age and drink the blood from her body, embracing my vampiric roots. I almost groaned when she left, but regained my composure. I'm disgusting. I wanted to make love to that old woman as though she was the most beautiful woman on earth. For a moment, she was, too. I ran my hands through my thick black hair. It was a trait in the bat family, almost as though inherited. More proof that we were all estranged brothers somehow and really did share the same blood. I suppose that's why Jason was pressured into dying his hair. I never really liked redheads anyway.
I reach the door and pull it open before the person even has a chance to knock. To my surprise, I found Tim there, arm raised, pupils dilated with shock. He put his arm down and my shoulders relaxed as some inner being of mine released the tension that came with acknowledging that this was not a threat. My mind thought to briefly register his facial expression: gaunt, surprised, and ashamed at his surprise. This made me smile. I hoped it seemed warm and welcoming. He seemed to accept this and stepped in, a bit hesitantly, assessing my apartment as though staking it out for potential crimes. I informed him about the pizza situation in a low voice, eyes roaming over his body, looking for flaws, changes. Ignoring the sudden desire that came up as my body pulsated on its own, seeing the way his legs tapered from his slim torso in a combination of jungle beauty and steel muscular strength. I had forgotten my place as a host, and quickly offered him a seat. My sensitive nostrils were assaulted with a new scent. I'd smelled it sporadically on him before.
"You smell like sex." The words came frankly and honestly. My little brother. I could talk to him like this, the way it never was with Jason. I could never show him any affection, nor tell him about the dark parts of me. I couldn't reveal those to Tim either, but at least it was better than with Jason. He distanced himself from the rest of us bats, focusing only on Bruce. And Bruce gave him the same treatment back, certainly not lavishing attention on him yet he did, in a subtle way that only Bruce could do it. He'd touched Jason's shoulder many times, simply as a gesture. But that simple brushing of glove on skin was enough to drive me to Hell and back. It culminated one night as I walked past Jason's room in the manor. I was visiting for Christmas and decided to spend the night. He was not in his room. I didn't need to circle the manor to know where he was. I heard the sounds. My body cringed and drew back, discovering the true jealousy and carnal desire within it. I was disgusted. It's a natural feeling for me, I suppose.
"I don't know how that could be, Dick. I haven't had sex." His words pierced my thoughts and I was grateful.
"I don't know, Tim. But you do." I sat on the couch, glad for a break from the thoughts that plagued me. "Don't be embarrassed" I tried to reassure the boy as he sat uncomfortably. I watched as a strand of straight dark hair fell upon his face like a raven's plume.
"What got you so deep in though just then?" His question barely registered and I seemed to step outside of myself. I saw my hand reach for his face, barely brushing his skin, pushing the hair out of his eyes. They were the same blue as mine. I never thought I'd meet somebody with the same eyes as mine. "Dick, are you okay?" what was that? Oh, concern! He was worried about my. My hand jolted back immediately, and I thanked the bats for my reflexes.
"Yes, of course. I'm fine." I shook my head and focused on the wall behind him instead. "I was just thinking about Jason." I bite my tongue. Why had I divulged that? It brought back the memory of that night when I ran out of the manor from between the panels of Bruce's door, trying to erasing the memories of scent and noise and especially sight with the rain trickling down my face.
"What about Jason?" he asked. I stared at him for a moment, searching his eyes, trying to find a trace of deceit or ill intent in his face. There was none, yet I continued to stare, realizing how very much he resembled and imp, pointed face and pointed noise, the soft straggling hair contrasting the sharpness of the rest of his features. I smiled despite myself and leaned a bit closer unconsciously. Should I tell him?
"You never knew him like I did. I never knew him like Bruce did." I hoped that would answer his question. His curious nature wouldn't allow him to leave it at that. I pulled away once more.
"How did Bruce know him?" I sighed and bit my lip. How? Too well, I wanted to scream. Better than he knew me and I was there first! Jason was the real boy wonder. Favored. Beautiful. I left soon after that night. Still, how do I respond?
"Intimately." Was all I could muster. His face did not register understanding as I'd hoped. He leaned in, and I ran my hands through my thick hair, marveling at how much of it was left considering the stress I'd endured through the years. Truthfully my mind drifted to a sword swallower I saw at the circus when I was younger. The man engulfed steel and death and seemed incomparably superhuman. Nowadays I know people who can turn that sword to dust. Getting older is disillusioning and I wish I were still amazed by that man.
"Dick. To interpret that correctly I should be inside of your mind." He spurned me out of my thoughts yet again.
"Jason was the golden child. The perfect boy who'd snap at any moment." A slight sneer crept upon my features and I tried to eradicate the resentment in my voice. I contemplated putting my hand on Tim's shoulder. Would that be different than Bruce putting his hand on my shoulder? Bruce putting his hand on Jason's shoulder? What's the difference, really? Would I be like Bruce, then? I don't want that. "Bruce loved him" my voice was soft and hesitant, as if admitting it to myself for the first time. Then Tim did something I did not expect. He put his hand on my shoulder. A simple gesture, warm and reassuring. I almost laughed. I would've, if I didn't think I would spit acid. I looked at him with hollow eyes. Is this what I should've done to Bruce? The touch was soothing and scalding at the same time. I shivered as a tingle went from my spine to the tips of my toes. Is this how it felt, Bruce? I wondered silently. The boy in front of me shifted uncomfortably, but his hand remained there. I gave him a weak smile.
"More than he loved me." It fell from my lips in a barely audible whisper, but I knew he heard me. I should not have let this happen, this conversation. Nobody else knew. What kind of weight had I handed to this young boy? What kind of indecision and indescribable agony at seeing his beloved mentor's image come crumbling down around him. I winced involuntarily at the thought. As I watched his face for signs of reaction, the warm hand fell from my form and I was left alone once more. I saw in his eyes the same reassuring care I'd found in his touch. My mind reeled with surprise at the difference between his heart and his mind, his façade and the warmth of his fingertips. There is no shivering of cold as he looks at me with the sincerest of care. My hands stroke his cheek gently, briefly, involuntarily before pulling away quickly, embarrassed. My mind wanders to thoughts of Jason and Bruce, tangled in the dark depths of the innumerable bedroom that always crawled with monsters for me. But Jason had found something other than creatures in that darkness. He'd found the very thing I'd always been looking for and I resented the boy completely. I looked down as the doorbell rang, seeing Tim twitch with surprise. I smiled inwardly, enjoying that he could be surprised. I leaned forward, whispering in his ear: "I don't love Bruce." And with that I got up and answered the door, grabbing my wallet. Pizza. $17. Plus tip. That was the price of getting Tim to my apartment. I sighed with the sadness of that fact.