"Hey, Dad. Mum." Tim said, sitting down in front of their graves. "It's- It's been a while, hasn't it?"
He let out a sigh, this would never feel normal, would it?
"You can't exactly respond, can you?" He let out a small huff of laughter, "No..."
This silence; it felt sickening.
"So, my hair's starting to get long I suppose. I've been too preoccupied to get it cut. Besides, it's starting to grow on me." He smiled a little, "You'd probably tell me I look like a college drop out. Heh... It's funny, isn't it? We seem to talk more now than we ever did before."
Silence reigned once again. It felt so... Consuming. Overwhelming.
It was as if silence had managed to fall upon the entire planet. Just at this one moment.
Just while he needed noise.
While he needed to hear another voice.
Tim looked up at the sky. Dark grey clouds blocked out what would have been a bright blue. It seemed fitting.
His eyes trailed down to stare at the two black marble slabs. They were pretty much all that was left of his parents now.
He wished they could just come back.
"I met a guy." Tim said, "That sounded weird... I mean, I have a new friend." Yeah, that sounded better, "He's a nice guy. His name's Mathias. He's very different to you two."
He always comes back, Tim wanted to say. But of course, he couldn't. That wasn't fair.
They didn't choose to be sealed beneath tonnes of earth, nothing more than marble headstones stating that they're there.
Tim swallowed and looked away.
He had to try and bury his feelings, even if it meant he'd never be happy.
There was a line of trees to his left. Tim could see the leaves rustling in the breeze, birds dashing in and out of their homes. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be a bird, a real bird. To have the ability to just fly away from all your problems and not have to look back.
But he wasn't a bird.
And even birds couldn't leave behind all their problems. After all, these birds lived in a place of complete sorrow. In the trees that separated the buried and the cremated.
They lived in one of the saddest places in Gotham and were completely oblivious to it.
Maybe that would be the best part of being a bird.
The obliviousness of it all.
"Mathias is a lot luckier, I suppose you could say." Tim said, not looking back at the graves.
Mathias wasn't really that lucky. That journal... It wasn't exactly a journal.
It was a list of deaths spanning from 1695 to 1701. Every page had about seven or eight deaths on it. This book really helped Tim understand how Mathias only looked about thirty.
The handwriting in it was sloppy and hard to read in parts. The spelling wasn't the best either.
How young was Mathias technically when he wrote it? It wasn't mentioned in the book...
Tim presumed that Mathias died in the Great Fire of London in 1666. It made sense, he was dying of the plague and then got caught in a fire. Not to mention the fact that he climbed out of a hole in the ground. Common practise for large masses of the dead back then.
Plus when Tim really annoyed Mathias, everything he'd say would come out with an English accent to rival John Constantine's.
Well that, and his fucking son was Jack the Ripper.
And both his first and last names were popular back then.
Oh, and some of his mannerisms. Mathias would say certain words sometimes that just made Tim think of old England.
How much attention was Tim actually paying to this guy?
"Well, lucky isn't the right word... But what else works really?" He smiled a tiny bit, but it immediately fell, "I think Bruce is mad at me. He doesn't really like Mathias. I probably didn't help the matter when I fell asleep at his."
Tim sighed, "This is so stupid. I'm talking to two slabs of rock." His eyes fell on them, "It isn't helping me. 'Maybe you should visit them', Bruce said, 'It might be good for you'. Yeah right. I look insane. I feel insane. I know you two are never coming back so why do I bother with this?" Tim's eyes were starting to fill with tears, "There's nothing after death! I'm just speaking to air! You two aren't here! You weren't in life so why would you be now!?" Tears dripped down his cheeks, falling off of his chin and landing on the back of his hand.
"You're never coming back..." He whispered, "It doesn't matter how many other people do. You're not."
His shoulders shook as he took shallow, shaky breaths.
He let out a severed sigh, this would never get easy, would it?
It didn't feel like it...
Tim was alone. He was always alone.
He could have a million people around him, but without his parents, he was alone.
He wiped his face with his hands. Why did this loneliness feel so bad? His parents weren't around before. He's always been lonely.
So why did this hurt so bad?
He blinked, rubbing his reddened eyes with the base of his palm. This pain, it wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to feel this way.
It isn't something he'd even wish upon the Joker.
Because this, this was the definition of hurt.
Tim wiped his eyes again and stared over at the trees. He could faintly hear the birds chirping now.
What Tim wouldn't give for that kind of bliss...
