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Conner Kent was halfway through his third slice of pizza when Bart dropped the bomb.
“Dude, did you see? Tim’s retiring. Like, actually retiring. Says he wants to spend more time with his partner.”
The words landed like a sucker punch. Conner froze mid-bite, cheese dripping onto the cardboard box. Around the table in the Titans Tower common room, the usual chaos continued, Cassie arguing with a game controller, Bart already halfway through his fourth slice, but everything else faded into static.
“Retiring?” Conner echoed, forcing a laugh that sounded wrong even to his own ears. “Come on. Tim doesn’t retire. He probably just needs a break after that mess in Gotham last month.”
Bart shrugged, scrolling on his phone. “Nah, it’s official. Posted it on his civilian socials and everything. ‘Grateful for the years, but it’s time to focus on the people who matter most.’ Classic Tim wording. Kinda sweet, actually.”
Sweet. The word tasted like ash. Conner set the pizza down, appetite gone. Tim Drake, Red Robin, the guy who ran on spite, caffeine, and contingency plans, didn’t just walk away. Not without a damn good reason. And “spend more time with his partner”? That had to be code. Maybe a deep-cover op. Maybe Bruce strong-arming him again. Maybe,
His mind kept circling back to the same impossible conclusion, and he hated how much it stung. He made an excuse about patrol and left before anyone could read the look on his face.
Flying always helped. The wind roaring past his ears, the city lights blurring beneath him, the effortless power in every beat of his TTK. But tonight the sky felt too big, too empty. Conner pushed higher, faster, until the air grew thin and cold. He needed to think.
Memories came uninvited.
Tim at sixteen, sharp-eyed and bruised, directing a mission like he’d been born for it. The way he’d looked at Conner after their first real win together, like they were unstoppable. Late nights on rooftops, trading stupid jokes while the rest of the world slept. Tim’s rare, tired smiles reserved only for the people he trusted. The way his voice would soften when he said Conner’s name. Kon.
There had always been something there. Something Conner had never let himself name. Easier to call it friendship. Easier to date other people, flirt with civilians, throw himself into the hero life and pretend the ache in his chest was just adrenaline.
But now Tim had a partner. Someone important enough to make him hang up the cape.
Conner banked hard toward Gotham, jaw tight. It didn’t add up. Tim didn’t do normal. He did shadows and secrets and saving the world before breakfast. If he was really stepping back, something had to be wrong. Blackmail. Mind control. A clone plot. Anything but the idea that Tim had simply… chosen someone else.
The apartment building came into view faster than he expected. Sleek, secure, in a quiet part of the city that still felt too exposed for someone like Tim. Conner landed lightly on the rooftop, boots barely making a sound. His heart hammered harder than it had any right to.
Just check, he told himself. Make sure he’s okay. Talk some sense into him. Then leave.
He took the stairs down instead of floating, gave himself a few more seconds to rehearse what he’d say. Hey, I heard the news. What’s really going on? You can tell me. Casual. Supportive. Not desperate.
The hallway outside Tim’s door was quiet. Too quiet. Conner stood there for a long moment, fist raised to knock, listening to the faint sounds of life inside. A low murmur of voices. The clink of a glass. Normal sounds.
His stomach twisted. He knocked. The door opened.
Not to Tim.
A blonde guy stood there, tallish, lean, wearing a soft gray hoodie and jeans like he belonged. Like this was his apartment too. He looked friendly, a little surprised, but not hostile. Just… normal.
Conner’s brain short-circuited.
“Uh… hi,” the guy said, blinking. “Can I help you?”
Conner stared. His mouth felt dry. “I’m looking for Tim. Is he home?”
The blonde, Bernard, some distant part of Conner’s mind supplied from old briefings, glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah, he is, but we’re kinda in the middle of something right now. Can you come back later?”
Middle of something. The words landed like lead. Conner’s eyes flicked past Bernard’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of the living room: dim lights, two mugs on the coffee table, a blanket rumpled on the couch. Domestic. Intimate.
He forced his gaze back. “Are you… his partner?”
Bernard’s expression shifted, cautious now, a little wary. “Yes. I am.”
The confirmation hit harder than any punch Conner had ever taken. His chest tightened, a sharp, twisting ache blooming right behind his ribs. This was real. Tim had a boyfriend. A kind-looking, blonde, civilian boyfriend who answered the door in hoodie and socks like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Conner swallowed. “Did he quit because of you?”
The question came out before he could stop it, raw, accusatory. Bernard’s eyebrows shot up, confusion flashing across his face, quickly followed by something that looked a lot like offense. “Look, man… I don’t know who you are, but maybe you should come back later,” Bernard said, voice carefully even. “This isn’t a great time.”
Conner stood there, stunned silent. He wanted to argue, to push, to demand Tim come out and explain. But his throat had closed up. All he could do was stare at this guy who had what Conner hadn’t even let himself want.
Bernard gave him one last uncertain look, then gently shut the door. The soft click echoed like a gunshot.
Conner didn’t move. Couldn’t. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. Tim has a partner. The thought kept looping, louder and louder. A normal dude. Someone who could give Tim quiet nights and coffee tables and blankets instead of rooftops and bruises and near-death experiences. Someone stable. Someone safe.
Not like him. Not the loud, impulsive clone with piercings and a leather jacket and the weight of a dozen failed origins on his shoulders. Not the superhero who flew too fast and loved too hard and never quite knew where he fit.
He loved Tim.
The realization crashed over him all at once, undeniable and devastating. He’d been in love with Tim Drake for years and had buried it so deep he’d almost convinced himself it wasn’t there. And now it was too late.
Conner turned on his heel, legs heavy. He made it to the edge of the roof before the ache became unbearable. He launched himself skyward with everything he had, speed, power, desperation. The sonic boom that followed rattled windows and shook the ground below like a small earthquake.
He didn’t look back.
Bernard closed the door softly and stood there for a second, hand still on the knob. That had been… weird. The guy at the door had looked genuinely gutted, like Bernard had kicked his puppy. Tall, dark hair, leather jacket, intense blue eyes. He’d seemed familiar, but Bernard couldn’t quite place him.
He padded back into the living room. Tim was still on the couch, legs tucked under him, laptop balanced on his knees even though they’d promised no screens tonight. The blanket they’d been sharing was half on the floor now.
“Hey,” Bernard said, keeping his voice light. “So… that was interesting.”
Tim looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What was interesting?”
Before Bernard could answer, the floor trembled faintly beneath them, a low rumble, like a truck passing too close or a very localized earthquake. The mugs on the coffee table rattled.
Tim’s expression changed instantly. He set the laptop aside. “Ground shake?”
“Yeah. Right after I closed the door.” Bernard dropped onto the couch beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “There was a guy here looking for you. Tall, kinda built, dark hair. Leather jacket. Piercings. He seemed really thrown when I answered.”
Tim went very still. “Conner.”
The name carried weight. Bernard had heard it before, stories, vague mentions, but never with that particular tone. Concern. Guilt. Something softer underneath.
“Superboy?” Bernard asked, tilting his head. “He didn’t introduce himself. Just asked if you were home, then if I was your partner. When I said yes, he asked if you quit because of me.” He let out a small, disbelieving huff. “Seemed pretty upset. Then he left and… well, you felt the ground shake.”
Tim rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “Conner doesn’t get upset like that. Not really. He’s the guy who laughs through fights with supervillains. If he’s shaking the ground on takeoff, he’s… I don’t know. Hurting.”
Bernard watched him carefully. Tim’s shoulders were tense, the easy relaxation from earlier gone. He reached over and threaded their fingers together. “You two have history,” Bernard said. It wasn’t a question.
Tim squeezed his hand. “Yeah. A lot. We’ve been through some insane stuff together. He’s… important to me. One of the few people who’s seen every version of me and still stuck around.” He paused, eyes distant. “I should’ve told him myself. About retiring. About us. I just… thought he’d hear it through the team and be fine. He’s always bouncing between his own things.”
Bernard nodded, processing. He wasn’t jealous, Tim had been honest about his complicated past from the start, but he could feel the shift in the room. The quiet evening they’d been building felt suddenly crowded.
“You gonna call him?” Bernard asked after a moment.
Tim stared at their joined hands. “I want to. But if he flew off angry. Giving him space might be better. Conner processes big feelings by flying until he calms down. If I push right now, he might just shut down.”
Bernard leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Tim’s temple. “You’re allowed to have people who matter to you, Tim. Even if they shake the building when they leave.” His tone was gentle, teasing at the edges. “Just… talk to him when he’s ready. I don’t want to be the reason one of your best friends is out there thinking you ditched everything for some random blond guy.”
Tim huffed a quiet laugh and turned, resting his forehead against Bernard’s shoulder. “You’re not random. You’re the reason I finally feel like I can breathe outside the suit.”
They stayed like that for a while, the TV murmuring forgotten in the background. But Bernard could feel the tension lingering in Tim’s frame. And somewhere high above Gotham, he suspected Conner Kent was flying like he could outrun whatever truth had just hit him square in the chest.
Conner didn’t stop flying for a long time.
He pushed east over the Atlantic, then north, chasing colder air until his breath fogged and the stars sharpened overhead. The speed helped at first, the roar of wind drowning out the echo of Bernard’s voice, the click of that door, the image of two mugs on a coffee table. But eventually even that wasn’t enough. He slowed, hovering high above the dark water, and the feelings crashed back in.
He has a partner.
The words kept repeating, vicious and unrelenting. Conner pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw sparks. He loved Tim. He was in love with Tim. The realization wasn’t soft or gentle; it was a jagged tear through every defense he’d built. All those years of playful punches, shared secrets, quiet moments where their shoulders brushed and neither pulled away, Conner had told himself it was brotherhood. Team. Nothing more.
What an idiot.
He dropped like a stone, catching himself at the last second before hitting the waves. The splash still soaked his jacket. Salt stung his eyes. Good. Maybe it would wash away the ache.
Why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he dated other people, flirted like it didn’t matter, pretended he was fine watching Tim throw himself into danger night after night? Because he was scared. Scared that if he admitted it, Tim would pull away. Scared that a clone with a dead mentor’s DNA and a history of identity crises wasn’t enough for someone like Timothy Drake.
And now? Now Tim had chosen normal. Chosen quiet nights and someone who didn’t come with super-strength, Kryptonian baggage, or the constant threat of the world ending. Bernard seemed… nice. That was the worst part. He hadn’t been rude. He’d just been there, in Tim’s space, answering Tim’s door like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Conner’s chest hurt so badly he wondered if he’d cracked a rib. He flew back toward land, aimless, until familiar lights appeared below. Smallville. The Kent farm stretched out peaceful and dark under the moon. He landed heavily in the back field, boots sinking into soft earth. The impact left a shallow crater. He didn’t care.
He sat on the old wooden fence, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.
A soft crunch of boots on grass pulled him out of his head. Clark landed a respectful distance away, cape settling around him. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat on the fence beside Conner, quiet and solid, the way he always did when one of his kids needed space.
“Bart called,” Clark finally said. “Said you left pretty fast after hearing about Tim.”
Conner let out a bitter laugh. “News travels fast.”
Clark waited.
Conner stared at the ground between his boots. The words built up until they spilled out, rough and jagged. “He’s with someone. Some normal guy. Blonde, hoodie, answers the door like he lives there. And Tim’s retiring. For him. I went to check because I thought it was bullshit, some cover story, some mission gone wrong, but it’s real. And I… I asked if Tim quit because of him. Like a jealous asshole.”
He swallowed hard. “The guy wasn’t even mad. Just confused and a little offended. Then he closed the door and I… I lost it. Shook the whole block when I took off.”
Clark nodded slowly, expression somber. “Sounds like it hurt more than you expected.”
Conner’s voice cracked. “I love him, Clark. I’ve been in love with him for years and I was too chickenshit to do anything about it. I kept telling myself it was just team stuff. Just really close friendship. I dated other people. I flirted. I pretended the ache was nothing. And now he’s got someone steady. Someone who can give him quiet nights and normal mornings and… not this.” He gestured sharply at himself, leather jacket, piercings, the faint hum of TTK always under his skin. “Not a clone who still doesn’t know exactly who he is half the time. Not someone who flies too fast and loves too hard and breaks things when he gets upset.”
Clark was quiet for a long moment, letting the words settle. His hand rested warm and steady on Conner’s shoulder.
“Love like that doesn’t just switch off,” Clark said gently. “It’s going to hurt for a while. That’s okay. You’re allowed to grieve this, Kon. You’re allowed to be angry at yourself, at the timing, at the fact that you waited too long. But Tim made his choice. He’s building something with someone else, and you have to respect that. Even when it feels impossible.”
Conner’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I just… I hate that I waited until it was too late.”
“You can’t change the past,” Clark said. “But you can decide what comes next. Give him space. Give yourself space. Don’t rush into trying to be his friend again before you’ve had time to process. Fly. Yell at the ocean. Stay here for a few days if you need to. Ma would love to have you. And when you’re ready, you’ll figure out how to carry this without it destroying you.”
Conner nodded numbly, throat tight. “Thanks, Clark. I… I really needed to hear that.”
Clark squeezed his shoulder once more before standing. “You’re stronger than you think. This won’t be the end of you. It’ll just be another thing you learn to carry. And you won’t carry it alone.”
After Clark flew off, Conner stayed on the fence until the sky began to lighten. He wouldn’t call Tim. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. The last thing he wanted was to make Tim’s happiness harder than it had to be.
But as he took off again, slower this time, one thought followed him all the way back to Metropolis:
He didn’t know how to stop loving Tim Drake.