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2025-07-22
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Dear Dad,

Summary:

Basically Tim Drake's suicide letter. Could be better. I'm really fucking tired.

Update : I reread this after a few weeks and it’s so bad chat… READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Dear dad,

 

       If you're reading this, it means I've failed you. Failed you in I way I knew would be inevitable.

       Don't try to save me, you can't. Trust me, I've tried, over and over. It'll be too late by the time you're reading this anyway. I'm not sure how much of life I'll miss, but I'm sure I'll miss you, despite it all. Although, I don't think I'll miss the way you never called me by my name; Robin, Timothy, Jason. Never Tim. Never Tim Wayne. I won't miss the way you first looked at me when I became Robin. Granted, I forced my way into the position but I've learned from my therapist that children, whether 10 or 15, deserve to be treated like children. 

       You don't know how it felt to be 13 and meeting your hero for the first time, only for him to ignore you. Ignore you like your parents did. Do you know how much it hurt? To be that small, that hopeful, that wide-eyed and trying to keep being all that even after you were thrown aside. Told you could never replace the one before. I know I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, but I was trying to help you, dad. I was trying to be there for you, even though nobody was there for me. Alfred's cookies could only heal so much hurt, and you seemed to be relentless when inflicting it.

        I don't have it in me to write more than one letter so Dick, if you're reading this, I love you. I love you for everything you've ever done, I forgive you for everything you didn't do. And, you know, feels like I have to say this so you don't make it about yourself but, this isn't  wasn't your fault. There were no signs, there was no odd behaviour, I've always had mood swings. No one could've known because I made sure of it. I made sure your minds would be clear and it wouldn't be too devastating because you couldn't have known. It can't be your fault anyway, remember how you would kiss me where the tears dried after a particularly bad nightmare and tell me how it would be alright, that we would get through it, reach days where the sun burns brighter and their voices grow duller? I remember. I'll never forget.

       Please, please someone tell Jason how much I loved him, love him. Someone tell him how much I cherished him, how close he was to my heart, both as Robin and Redhood. Tell him he was my favourite, tell him he kept me going when all else was pulling me back. Tell him that even after what he did, I never blamed him. Tell him the things I won't get to. Tell him I would lay awake at night thinking of him, when the emptiness of the Drake Estate was suffocating and even the sun couldn't cast away it's darkness, dreaming of the serene possibilities of tomorrow with no regards for the burdens of the present. How I would dream of capturing the perfect photo, silently parading it around for all my stuffed animals to see. Tell him how for years after that, the only photo encompassing my mind was the image of him digging his fingers into my open wounds to write on the walls with my blood. Tell him I forgive him, dad. Please.

      I don't know....should I speak in past tense? Is love eternal? Are my feelings? I don't know. Well, I find comfort in the fact my feelings won't be eternal, I hope. Or else, this was kind of all for nothing, right?

      Please, don't question why or don't spiral, if you even will in the first place but...would you? Would you act the same way you did when Jason died? Would you care? Would you cry? I'm not even sure. That's the fucking problem, isn't it? I give my heart out to everyone I've ever known, my blood runs thin with worry, my bones ache with fear, and yet I still don't know if anyone cares for me, loves me, as much as I do them, B.

      Kon is dead. My bestfriend, the one man who meant the world to me, gone. I went mad trying to bring him back, B. He's just gone, and there's nothing I can do about it. Nobody to help me through it. Steph faked her death and didn't tell me. No one believed me when you were stuck in time, Bruce. Dick left. Jason hates me. Damian has tried to kill me more than once, although once is one time too many. You don't have time for my shit, I know that. I know that because you said it when I asked you to take over at WE for a few days. You said, "I don't have time, lad. Ask one of your siblings." Awesome, right? Your own fucking company and you still couldn't give a shit. If you're so indifferent when it comes to your parents legacy then how indifferent are you towards the bright-eyed boy who did nothing but impose. I'm dead by now though, so jokes on you, you have no one to run your company. Maybe you should've found the time.

      This is it, I suppose. There's more to say, more to get off my chest, more words that hurt to write, but I want to get this over with. I want to stop feeling like I'm a fucking burden to everyone. When I jump, I want to pretend, for just a second, that you'd be proud of all I've done, that you'll remember me as your son, The Third Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne. 

      I hope, with all that I am, that you won't remember me for what I could've been, for what I could've done, but for who I am. Who I was. 

      I love you, Kon. I love you, Dick. I love you, Jason. I love you, Alfred.

      I love you, dad.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!! <3