The city never truly slept. Gotham was a restless thing—its heartbeat thrummed beneath flickering streetlights, and shadows stretched long across empty alleyways. Red Robin had been part of those shadows for so long now that it was second nature to disappear into them. But tonight, his patrol had taken a detour. It always did.

Tim knew he shouldn’t. Knew it was dangerous, reckless. But logic crumbled when it came to you.

You were supposed to be asleep. You always were by this hour. That was why he let himself get so close, why he perched on the fire escape outside your window, watching the soft rise and fall of your breathing. It soothed something in him, something twisted and hungry that only quieted when he could see you, confirm you were safe.

But tonight, the routine shattered.

A shift in the air—he sensed it before he saw it. Your movements weren’t those of someone lost in sleep. No. You were awake.

His heart stuttered.

Then you turned, your gaze drawn instinctively toward the window. And there he was. A figure in red and black, half-shrouded in the night, Gotham’s vigilante watching you from the other side of the glass.

He froze.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The world narrowed—just you, just him, just the thin barrier separating the two. He could hear the rush of his own pulse, feel the sharp thrill that shouldn’t be there, but was.

Then, slowly, he tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that burned. Did you recognize him? No, of course not. You knew Tim Drake—the quiet, reliable friend. Not Red Robin, the shadow that had been lurking closer than you ever realized.

And yet, the way you looked at him made something curl tight in his chest.