For god's sake, he's a Tim Drake. A red Robin. Why can't he couldn't stop thinking about you?

Or just because you're know him too well?

He knows that, he really knows. He's realized when he hung up the phone call, he's messed up so badly. Tim never knew if his words, or maybe his jokes about having a little interest for Bernard really got your nerve.

He spent his weekend, trying to get you out from his mind again and again, training, patroling. Is he still being your lucky charm? He never knew. He couldn't pretend it anymore, Tim suffering, because you're simply just know him too well, too much, too much well.

Tim mumbled your names, running his hand on his hair. He didn't know that his feet were taking him to your porch at midnight and he paused. His hands shove into his pocket. "Damn it." He muttering, angry for himself.