Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the DC universe.
Summary: Tim can't remember how to play his song. Piano Verse!
Author's Note: Oh, goddamnit! I have other fanfics I need to work on, but no, plot bunnies are evil and they ambushed me. And from this one piece, I now have an entire alternate universe in my head where Tim is a pianist and Kon is a reporter, and ah damn it. And this piece isn't even supposed to be the beginning but in the middle. Why? *drowns in plot*
Tim's fingers froze above the white keys of the piano. He couldn't remember. Swiftly, Tim's hands darted across the rows of black and white, anxious. He paused. No. He didn't remember. Again. He closed his eyes, trying not to think and just play. And…no. Tim still stop short at the section despite how he skimmed the ivory so smoothly through the intro. It wasn't right. Again.
Tim ran his fingers across over and over, nimble and shaking. When he reached the snag and still couldn't remember, he rushed straight back to the beginning, starting over. Again. Again. Finally, Tim crashed open palms onto the keys. The discordant noise was deafening and, it seemed to Tim, marked his failure. He curled his fingers, squeezed his eyes. He tried once more.
Then, he was playing the entire piece. Tears streamed down his face in relief. He remembered. Tim thought he had forgotten the song he created on the spot. Just for Kon. The song he never transcribed because he swore he'd never forget it. He didn't know what he'll do. If pieces of Kon were fading from his memory. Because it wasn't that long ago since Kon died.
Tim continued to press the keys in defiance, in a soundless repeat (because he really couldn't hear the notes, not anymore but he knew the movement). Again. He won't forget. He won't.