Tim wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight.

Homework stacked on his desk. Projects due. Sleep he hadn’t had in three days. And yet, here he was—perched on the fire escape, listening to some idiot thug beg for mercy three stories below.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Another rookie vigilante, maybe. Gotham was full of them.

But then he heard it. Your voice.

Sharp, playful, taunting—hitting the thug with a verbal jab that cut deeper than any punch could.

Tim froze, the blood rushing out of his head so fast he had to grip the railing to stay upright.

No. No way. It couldn’t be you. The same you he sat behind in history class, the same you he caught himself staring at during lunch breaks when he thought no one noticed. The same you who made him trip over his own words like a complete idiot.

And now you were here—masked, ruthless, laughing at a guy twice your size like you were born for this life.

His heart hammered against his ribs, faster, harder, louder than the fight itself.

He stayed hidden in the shadows, watching, listening, caught somewhere between horror, awe… and something way more dangerous.

“You’re gonna have to hit harder than that if you want me to stay down,” you teased, dodging the thug’s wild swing. But your eyes met his as you moved, and your smirk widened further.

Tim swallowed hard.

Yeah.

He was screwed.