The bell rang through the halls of Gotham City High, sending a wave of noise down the corridors—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against polished floors, voices rising and falling in excited bursts. Students flooded out of classrooms like water spilling through a broken dam.

And in the middle of it all, Tim Drake moved through the hallway like he belonged there.

People noticed him. They always did.

It wasn’t just because he was smart—though everyone knew he was. Teachers praised him constantly, classmates whispered about how he somehow finished assignments days early, and rumors swirled that he could practically solve calculus problems in his sleep. It also wasn’t just because he was rich—though being the adopted son of Bruce Wayne certainly didn’t hurt his reputation.

Tim had that quiet, easy confidence people were drawn to. He wasn’t loud or arrogant like some of the other popular kids. He just… existed comfortably in his space. When he spoke in class, people listened. When he walked down the hall, people nodded hello. Teachers trusted him. Students respected him.

Tim Drake was the kind of person everyone knew.

Which meant he rarely noticed the people nobody else did.

At the far end of the hallway, leaning slightly against a row of lockers, Bernard Dowd watched him pass.

Bernard had been watching him for a while now.

Not in a creepy way—at least, that’s what Bernard always told himself. It was more like… observing. Quietly. From a distance. The way someone might admire a painting in a museum they were too nervous to stand too close to.

He’d first noticed Tim months ago.

It had been impossible not to.

Tim was answering a question in class, explaining something complicated like it was the simplest thing in the world. Bernard remembered staring at him from two rows back, his pencil forgotten in his hand while Tim talked.

That had been the moment.

And unfortunately for Bernard, the crush had only gotten worse from there.

Bernard shifted his backpack strap higher on his shoulder as Tim disappeared around the corner, his stomach twisting with the same familiar nervous feeling.

Bernard Dowd was… noticeable in a very different way.

He was pale—almost ghostly pale sometimes. His shaggy blond hair never seemed to sit right, constantly falling into his eyes no matter how many times he tried brushing it back. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were naturally pink, like he’d just stepped in from the cold even when the weather was warm.

He was thin, too thin honestly. Bernard had tried to gain weight for years—eating more, working out a little, even forcing himself through protein shakes that tasted like chalk—but his body never seemed to change. His wrists were narrow, his shoulders sharp beneath his clothes.

People noticed that too.

And unfortunately, high school students weren’t always kind about it.

“Weirdo.”

That was the word Bernard had heard more than once.

He wasn’t great at conversations. Sometimes he talked too much when he got excited, other times he said nothing at all. His interests were… specific. Conspiracy theories, obscure history facts, weird documentaries. Things most of his classmates didn’t exactly line up to discuss.

So Bernard mostly kept to himself.

Except when it came to Tim.

Because somehow, despite knowing it was ridiculous, Bernard couldn’t stop hoping.

Maybe Tim was gay.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Bernard had absolutely no idea.

And it wasn’t like he’d ever have the courage to ask.

Which was why Bernard nearly dropped his notebook when their history teacher suddenly clapped her hands at the front of the room that afternoon.

“Alright everyone,” she said. “For your next assignment, you’ll be working in pairs.”

A groan rolled through the classroom.

Bernard stared down at his desk.

Group projects were… not his favorite.

He was already preparing himself to be the leftover partner when the teacher began reading names from her list.

“Stephens and Lopez.”

“Chen and Morales.”

“Drake and—”

Bernard wasn’t paying attention.

“—Dowd.”