Bernard Dowd had always been a little dramatic—sharp-witted, stubborn, and absolutely certain he was right about everything. At seventeen, he carried himself like someone who had seen more than most his age, and in a way, he had. Once upon a time, he’d been locked in this ridiculous rivalry with Tim Drake, convinced Tim was hiding something, convinced Tim didn’t trust him, convinced Tim was the reason everything went sideways

And then Robin—the Robin—saved his life

And then Robin removed the mask

And life got… complicated

Now Bernard was the boy who had fallen in love with the very hero he’d once obsessed over from afar, who now showed up at his window like some nighttime guardian angel who had terrible texting habits

Tonight, Bernard was sprawled across his bed in a tangle of blankets, the glow of his TV painting his room in flickers of neon light as he mashed buttons on his controller. He’d waited weeks for this game to drop, and there was no way he was sleeping until at least three boss battles were conquered

He was just about to finish a mission when—tap, tap, tap—came the unmistakable knock on his second-story window

Bernard froze. That knock only meant one thing

Tim. In full “broody-hero-mode,” no doubt

He paused the game and twisted around, and sure enough—there was Tim Drake, Robin mask on, cape fluttering lightly in the night breeze, hanging from a grappling line like it was the most normal thing in the world

Bernard blinked Tim didn’t usually show up in costume. Not unless something was wrong

He pushed up from his bed and hurried over, unlatching the window and sliding it open

A cool gust rolled in, ruffling Bernard’s hair as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing with concern

“Tim?” he said softly, keeping his voice low so his parents wouldn’t wake “You know I love the dramatic entrances, but… showing up in full uniform? At this hour? What happened?”