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"I... I don't think I do this," the words come out soft and quiet, barely traversing through his tear-clogged throat. The words push past his plush lips, which Tim’s spent nights tracing and kissing to calm his racing heart from the stress every patrol places on him.
Tim swivels in his chair, drawn by the subtle tremor in Bernard's voice. His eyes, filled with concern, scan over the figure of his boyfriend. Bernard sits on their worn sage couch, fingers fidgeting with the loose threads he's absentmindedly pulled, a habit born from countless sleepless nights.
Tim's heart clenches at the sight of Bernard's distress, his work temporarily forgotten as he focuses on his normally cheery boyfriend. With tentative steps, he crosses the room, closing the distance between them until he's standing beside the sage couch, where Bernard sits with his head bowed. He positions himself before the couch's arm, folding his arms atop it before resting his forehead against them, angling his gaze upward to meet Bernard's.
Gently, Tim reaches out, his fingers brushing against Bernard's trembling hand. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft with concern. "Talk to me, Bernard. What's going on?"
Bernard lets out a shaky breath, finally meeting Tim's gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I just... I feel like I'm suffocating, Tim," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tim cocks his head in a way that Bernard would find endearing if not for the nature of the conversation. If not for what was about to come. “What do you mean, bear?” He takes his hand and strokes his knuckles softly. Bernard whimpers at the familiar touch of his calloused finger pads.
“Every time you leave Tim, every time you put on that stupid mask, I feel like someone is choking me.”
“You usually like tha-” Tim jokes, but at the look in Bernard’s eyes, the joke dies in his throat, and he’s back to concerned.
“Tim, I’m serious. I don’t think I do this anymore.” Bernard pulls his hand softly from Tim’s and folds them in his lap. He looks so small like this that it reminds Tim of a caged animal.
Tim shakes his head, “Well, what do you want me to do? How can I help?”
Bernard inhales shakily. Now or Never, he thinks.
“I can’t keep being second to Robin. I can’t keep wondering if you’re gonna come home and, if you do, in what condition. I can’t keep watching you get pummeled on our TV. I can’t keep doing this.”
"You can't ask me to quit, Bernard," Tim's voice is tinged with surprise, his gaze unwavering as he meets Bernard's pleading eyes. "Being Robin... it's who I am. It's what I do."
Bernard's expression softened, a mixture of concern and exasperation etched across his features. "But at what cost, Tim?" he implored, his voice tinged with desperation. "Every night, you put yourself in danger, risking your life for what? For some endless cycle of violence and chaos? No matter how many people risk their lives, Gotham doesn't change."
Tim's resolve wavers, a flicker of doubt flashing in his eyes. "I do it to protect the city," he countered, his voice strained with conviction. I do it to make a difference. I do it to honor Batman's legacy."
"But what about your legacy, Tim?" Bernard's voice rose with urgency, his frustration boiling over. "What about your life? Your safety? Don't you see what this is doing to you? Physically, emotionally... it's tearing you apart. It’s tearing us apart."
Tim's fists tighten. His facade of defiance builds under the weight of Bernard's words. "I... I can't just walk away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Being Robin... it's all I know. It's who I've always been."
Bernard's heart ached at the vulnerability in Tim's words, his own frustration giving way to a surge of compassion. "But it doesn't have to define you, Tim," he insisted, reaching out to gently grasp Tim's fisted hands. "You're more than just a costume. More than just a sidekick. You're Tim Drake, and you deserve a chance to live your own life on your own terms."
The room felt like it was shrinking, suffocating Tim as he squared off against Bernard. His frustration boiled over, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and bitterness.
"You don't get it, Bernard." Tim spat, his voice laced with venom as he advanced on his boyfriend. "You're just jealous because you can't handle the fact that I'm out there making a difference while you sit here, wallowing in self-pity. I don’t exist for you."
Bernard recoiled as if struck, his eyes flashing with hurt and betrayal. "Is that what you really think, Tim?" he shot back, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "That this is about jealousy? Your own ego so blinds you you can't even see how much you're hurting yourself and everyone around you!"
Tim clenched his fists at his sides, his chest heaving with pent-up anger. "I don't need you to tell me what's best for me, Bernard," he snarled, the words dripping with contempt. I'm Robin, whether you like it or not. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you should just leave!"
The words hung in the air like a weight, suffocating in their intensity. Bernard's eyes flashed with hurt and betrayal, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Fine," he bit out, his voice trembling with unshed tears. "If that's how you really feel, then maybe you're right. Maybe I should leave."
And with that, Bernard turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Tim alone with the bitter taste of regret on his lips. But even as the door slammed shut behind him, Tim couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.