[Warning for a very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, underage smut, and violent sex ft. spit and bondage and burning with a lighter. Also please note that this takes place earlier in the series, when Jason and Tim had an unhealthy relationship; everything is still consensual. Cross-posted on a03 as a standalone]

---- From chapter 17, Left On Read ----

T: man isn't it crazy that you and Robin have the same haircut
J: hahah y eahh...
T: and hair colour
J: y... ye..... Ah
T: and eye colour
J: ......yes
T: and voice
J: yes????
T:
J:
T:
J:
T: anyways, did you do the homework

----

Tim lazily photoshopped two hollow diamonds over a truly terrible press photo of Jason from four years ago, adding the text "canonically the same bitch?? 🤔🤔🤔" above the image and saving it to his Twitter drafts. He had several other drafts like it, ready for the day Jason's idiotic ass eventually revealed his own secret.

Outside his window, Damian was angrily slicing Alfred's carefully trimmed hedges widely with a katana, yelling about gender and honour and how it's dad is Batman.

Tim switched apps, opening his locked messenger convo with Jason, ignoring the fact that the last six messages were from him, left on read.

He just wanted a response.

T: man isn't it crazy that you and Robin have the same haircut

He waited. The message stayed on Delivered. He closed the app to his home screen, opening Neku-Atsume in a panic when he saw his background, him and Jason, angrily gripping each other, screenshotted from a blurry video of them fighting that had gone around their school.

He dissociated into the game until a banner dropped down. He reread the message, again and again, struggling to conceptualize it as real until he opened the messenger app.

J: hahah y eahh...
T: and hair colour
J: y... ye..... Ah
T: and eye colour
J: ......yes
T: and voice
J: yes????

He needed it like that, needed it to be easy to pretend they were the same person. That Robin was getting the same thing Jason wanted, that they both needed the combo move of repressive, violent hate fucking- they weren't healthy enough that Tim could cope without Jason walling down on him, putting the sting in his hips that he needed to feel stable without the psychological relapse of self-harm- and the tender, careful embrace disguised as sparing that Tim threw himself into every night.

Threw himself into it like fucking Scrooge McDuck into his pit of coins- repeatedly, flailing, desperately, even though the landing hurt his ass every time.

Jason wasn't the only person putting a mask on to climb up onto their rooftop.

T: anyways, did you do the homework

It wouldn't have been fair to be upset about it; Tim wasn't the same person either, and he certainly wasn't a real, honest person at any given moment. He wished he could be the person Robin made him- quiet, reflective, funny- but that version of him was buried the deepest at any given moment, it took a superhero to dig through all the shit before even the smallest bit could shine through.

He stared at his phone while Jason typed, watching the three dots until it became a message, unable to look away. He consumed Jason's attention like a starving man being offered a gold-coated harvest. Even when it was harassment, especially when it was degrading, he hunted Jason for sport, pinning him down and performing for him, doing so much more than he should, being obvious.

It was obvious when he started taking care of himself, when self-care became looking good for Jason, when he internalized the idea that if he was better, Jason would be honest with him all on his own.

It was obvious when he left the window open behind him, inviting Robin inside.

J: Why would I waste my valuable time doing something I already understand fine so you can learn like a parabola a is

Robin will, Tim thought, knew Jason had brought a textbook home Friday, but flushed anyway, squirmed in his seat.

T: I'll pay you

Paying for porn in God's year 2022? He was so far gone.

J: You're a super genius, stop being a fucking idiot
T: Bet

He held his breath.

Jason left him on read for several minutes. Tim didn't look away.

Poverty was a beast that had left hooks deep in Jason's brain. Money danced all over it, daring him to bite down on it again; bait.

J: Bet

Tim exhaled, his phone screen going dark before he could type a response. He started at the sight of his own face, reflected back at him in darkened light, startled like a trained animal at every notification, both overstimulated and bored, lethargic and jumpy, waiting for the next bit of validation, of Jason, with the same sickly excitement and fear as a gambler at the table. A suicidal man with a gun.

Tim dropped his phone in the sheets, letting it disappear. Waited for Jason to appear in his doorway, didn't breathe until he saw him again. Thought about Robin ducking out the window, sliding it shut behind him. Tim laying in bed with his eyes open, staring at the same spot in the ceiling he'd blearily gazed at while Jason lit his psyche alight, listening to Jason's muffled footsteps on the ceramic shingling, walking a few windows down, then slipping into his own bedroom with a small thud.

----

Tim squinted at the page in front of him. He was tired. He wanted out. He wanted it to be the middle of the night. He wanted Robin so badly.

Looking up from the page, his eyes landed on Jason's slumped shoulders. His blazer was just short of bursting over the rocky line of his strong shoulders. It was close enough to winter- when they would all get re-tailored uniforms regardless- that Jason had apparently decided to just wait it out.

Still, the seams strained against his arms like they couldn't contain the energy Jason radiated any longer. Like all of it might just burst out into a puddle of potential and success on the floor. Whatever marble Jason had been carved from had been Hercules-shaped first.

He'd been ignoring him since that morning.

It took more willpower than it should have to tear his eyes away from Jason and look to the front of the room. Their teacher had buried himself under a pile as he graded papers.

He didn't bother raising his hand and instead nervously called out, "Um, sir?"

"Shut up," Jason said, just loud enough for Tim to hear.

Tim blinked slowly, astounded and so very, very turned on, scowling at Jason's back as his face glowed red.

Part of him wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, the building to burst into flames, his sudden and instant death, anything that would get him out of the situation he was in now. The other part of him was still thinking about Jason's low, rumbling voice.

He stood up at his desk, grateful for his long hoodies, and slipped out of the room, barely noticed even by the peers he passed.

He dissociated through the halls till he was shuffling inside the nearest bathroom.

It was minutes until Jason arrived, appearing suddenly, his hands already on Tim, shoving him backwards, into the closest stall and slamming it shut behind them.

Jason's hands landed on his chest, pushing him back against the wall, Tim thought of Robin's hands, holding him, playing with his chest lazily as he forced Tim to hold himself up over his cock, only letting him take the head and taunting him with the rest, his thighs shaking.

Jason didn't play games like that, Jason wasn't fucking him to inspect his psyche, to call him baby and help him cope. Jason was fucking him because he was tight. Mentally.

Tim didn't breathe again until Jason had turned him around, his arms didn't come up in time, he just barely turned his head, his cheek getting the full fore of Jason slamming him against the gross stall wall, hard enough some of the graffiti smudged across his cheek.

He cried out.

"Shut up."

"It hurt."

"I don't care."

Robin cared. Robin fucked him gently. Robin fucked him in his bed, the pillows soft and warm around him, the blankets thrown over them, Robin on top, safe, an easy headspace to slip into.

Tim really didn't have a preference, even if he wanted Jason to think he did.

He scowled against the cold, dirty stall door as Jason wrestled with his belt.

"I'm pissed at you," Jason said angrily, tearing his belt open and sliding it out of the loops in one smooth motion. He forced Tim's mouth open, pulling the belt taught around Tim's head, the wide piece of leather uncomfortably digging into his molars, forcing his tongue down and his mouth open. Tim listened as he slipped the belt through the buckle and secured it shut.

"I don't want to hear you're fucking voice again."

He shoved Tim's pants down around his thighs, gripping his hips and forcing him to step away from the wall, pressing down on the base of his back until Tim was bent down, his forearms based against the wall and his legs trapped with Jason between them.

Jason had been planning something this morning, Tim knew because he left a plug in Tim and was very aggressive in fucking Tim until he agreed to behave and keep it in. It was why Tim had been ignoring him, sure he wouldn't be able to cope with anything that required enough care it had to be planned, not from Jason, not after he fucked him in his bed.

Of course, Tim's first move had been to take it out- anything to piss of Jason, to ensure he never got kindness from him before something else.

Jason's hand tightened around his hip when he realized Tim hadn't listened, his movements pausing for a moment as he controlled himself, reeled in whatever violent urges he compulsively acted on whenever it came to Tim.

Jason's fingers pulled back. Tim squirmed desperately, pushing back against him insistently- making Jason mad enough he wouldn't fuck him was not the plan, and by far scarier than anything else Jason could do to him- angrily mumbling against his gag.

Jason retaliated with one hard slap to Tim's ass, the sound echoing through the gender-neutral bathroom around them. Tim wondered passively if Jason locked the door or not.

Jason flicked a lighter out of his back pocket, lighting it to the side of Tim's head so he could watch the flame as the metal lip grew hotter, and hotter until it was red, then disappeared as Jason took his hand back.

Tim drew a breath, tensing his whole body in Jason's hands, waiting to feel the first licks of pain, followed by the torrential wave of it against his skin. Jason didn't wait long, didn't want the metal to cool, before he tucked it under the waistband of Tim's boxers, holding it against the dip of his hips, fucking him into the burning pain as the skin under sizzled.

Tim had been tortured before, either by his parents or that time he was kidnapped when he was four, but nothing hurt the way Jason's whims did.

He didn't get a chance to cry out, Jason's belt grabbing any noise louder than a whimper and stuffing it back down.

When the lighter was cool, he pulled back and did it again, and again, and again, until Tim was crying and, realized through sobs, that not only had he finished, but Jason still hadn't pushed in past the tip.

He whined, knowing Jason would know to interpret it as fuck you, as Jason started to press in, hands gripping Tim's seared, stinging hips.

Jason fucked him until he came, even when Tim went limp, his forearms banging softly against the wall with every thrust, the pressure and the stinging on his hips pushing him in and out of dissociation, his body shuddering occasionally with waves of pleasure, keaning up and against Jason's chest suddenly when Jason reached around him, stroking his dick fast enough that Tim built his way to another orgasim- one he was properly conscious for.

He made the mistake of nuzzling against Jason's hand as he undid the belt, pressing his cheek against the rough pads of his fingers, sighing softly before he caught himself and drew back, neither of them addressing it, or saying anything until Jason angrily asked, "And?"

Tim's hatred returned, swallowed him whole, and he was immersed in it again. Jason would never let him have anything nice. He was too unbearable.

"I've had better," Tim scoffed. It was petty, childish, especially considering he had several pairs of jeans with cum stains on the insides from it running out down his thighs after Jason did exactly this.

The bell singling the end of class rang loudly around them. He had no time to react before Jason's hand was around his throat, his foot already coming up to kick both of Tim's knees. They went numb under him, giving out and leaving him hanging, suffocating, from Jason's hand.

Jason dropped him without regard, a firm hand on his shoulder pressing his aching knees into the hard shitty tiles.

Slowly, that hand moved, became a thumb and forefinger prying his mouth apart. Jason loomed over him, glaring at him for a moment before leaning forwards slightly and spitting in the general direction of Tim's mouth.

Most of it landed on his face, but Tim didn't blink, refused to close his eyes or look away from Jason.

Jason didn't look at him at all, not until he paused in the doorway, holding the door open into the busy hallway, "Sit there for ten minutes, then answer my fucking texts."