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Bernard places his phone against the backsplash, an energetic smile on his face as he claps his hands, the sound echoing throughout the room.
“Alright, today we’re making baked pasta–” he’s cut off by Tim, who raises an eyebrow.
“What are you, a youtuber?” He asks, smirking. Bernard stares at the phone.
“Yes. Now anyways–” it’s Kon who interrupts him this time.
“Awh, you’re being so omegan!” He jokes. Bernard groans at that.
“I’m literally not even–” he doesn’t bother finishing that thought. “The technical name for this is baked ziti, but I forgot to get the right noodles so we’re using elbow pasta and we’re gonna hope for the best. First we have to boil the water–”
“Wait, am I supposed to be following along?!” Tim jolts up from his spot where he was laying on his bed. Bernard freezes, glaring at his camera with the worst death glare he can muster.
“If you interrupt one more time, I will hang up,” he threatens, although all three of them know that it's an empty threat. Kon and Tim go quiet. Bernard takes a deep breath and continues. “You first have to boil the water. Once it reaches a steady boil, you add in the noodles and cook them until they’re almost cooked, since they’ll finish while they’re in the oven.” Bernard silently watches the water boil, quieting as he goes through the familiar motions– the only dinner he makes, really, especially when his parents are too busy to feel him.
~~~
Bernard lays on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of Tim’s keyboard clacking floating through his phone’s speaker. Kon is working on the farm today, and Ma got mad at him last time he called while doing his chores, which Bernard thinks is dumb, but he supposes it makes sense. Regardless, it’s just him and Tim today. He’s bored, as per usual, and Tim, also as per usual, is writing or doing schoolwork or whatever it is that he’s always doing on his computer. The one time that Bernard asked, Tim said something about his neighbors company? He doesn’t remember but it also doesn’t really matter– it’s not like neither him nor Kon would know what that company was, given the fact that Tim is in Gotham, Kon in Metropolis, and Bernard in Florida.
Kon and Tim are nearly an entire day of driving apart from each other (22 hours) and Bernard and Tim are almost 17 hours apart– not as much, but still a long drive, given that Bernard lives in the middle of nowhere.
Tim is secretive, nonetheless, and refuses to elaborate. Bernard doesn’t really care; he can tell Bernard whenever he’s ready. Regardless, they sit in silence. Parallel playing, even, except Bernard is doing absolutely nothing. Tim lets out a sound of interest, glancing at his door. His eyes widen after a moment, the door opening and Tim yelping in surprise. Bernard, oddly enough, feels the surprise as well, although that isn’t abnormal. He was just startled, probably.
“Mom! I thought you weren’t going to be home for a few more hours?!” Tim exclaims, breathless. When Bernard looks at his screen, he sees that Tim’s camera is face down, likely because he doesn’t want his mom knowing about him, which, valid. He mutes himself, just in case something makes noise. Tim’s mom makes a disproving sound.
“Timothy, what are you doing? Is that schoolwork? It looks far too unorganized.” There’s a sound of meta hitting metal– likely Tim closing his computer– before he responds.
“Timothy?” Bernard whispers to himself, a grin wide on his face. What a silly name.. he will never let Timothy live this down, of course. (Not too obnoxious though… maybe just bring up his full name ever once in a while. Bernard can’t have the only old-person name in this friendship).
“Yeah! It’s extra credit for my business professor,” Tim explains, clearly lying. His mom audibly raises an eyebrow.
“That looks a little complicated for you.” She points out, Bernard furrowing his brows to figure out what she means. Tim scoffs.
“I know that you’re still mad that I didn’t present as an Alpha, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t do tasks like this.” He states coldly. Bernard mouths the word ‘oh’, slowly nodding in understanding. He does get it, though; his parents all but rejoiced when he himself presented as an alpha, stating that he can take over the company and run it ‘competently’, as if, were he to be an omega, he’d be any less valuable to them. They’d probably kick him out, he admits to himself. He’s thought about that a lot. He shakes the thoughts away and tunes back into the conversation happening.
“Alright, Timothy. Just stop making a ruckus. Your father is trying to make some calls for work.” Bernard doesn’t understand what ‘ruckus’ Tim was making. Was it the sound of him typing? Tim has clearly dealt with this before.
“Of course. Sorry, I’ll be quieter.” He responds questly, clearly annoyed, as the sound of his door clicking shut echoing throughout the room. “Dude, why is she mad about me doing homework? Obviously it isn’t actually homework, but still. Dad can make calls literally anywhere else in the house, but whatever, I’ll stop typing so loudly.” He rambles, rolling his eyes as soon as he’s in view of his camera again. Irritation flashes in Bernard’s stomach, which is even more odd, because he just thinks that this is funny, but he pushes the thoughts away, nonetheless.
“Your mom is literally terrifying,” Bernard says as soon as he unmutes himself. Tim rolls his eyes again. “Hey, you shouldn’t do that, your eyes are gonna get stuck there,” Bernard smirks widely.
Tim stares at the screen before hanging up. Bernard gasps dramatically, calling him back. Tim picks up within seconds, looking at Bernard expectantly.
“Hey!” Bernard exclaims, quietly enough so as to not signal his parents, but loud enough to be picked up by the microphone on his phone.
“Shut up.” Tim states, and Bernard wisely obeys, forgetting about the shared feelings from earlier.
~~~
Bernard stares at his ringing phone, anger filling his gut despite having nothing to be angry about. He doesn’t really feel like answering his phone, he’s too tired to deal with that, but… Kon needs him. Kon never initiates calls, it’s usually Bernard and occasionally Tim, so he picks it up despite his reservations.
“I’m so– ugh!” Kon exclaims angrily. Bernard raises an eyebrow, already feeling better when he locks eyes with Tim, trying to hold down their giggles.
“What’s wrong, Kon?” Tim sobers and asks. Kon huffs.
“My dad– not the one with the farm, the rich one, keeps trying to convince me to go to this, like, massive charity gala in Gotham in a few months and he’s being so pushy and like, I don’t want to go! I’m so tired of him trying to shape me into an ‘heir’ to his unethical and, quite frankly, evil company because I want to go into journalism like my other dad, but does he like that? No! So he keeps forcing me to do this crap, and Dad is telling me that I don’t see him much but– Dad has custody for a reason, and–” he cuts himself off with an angry scream. He’s pacing, Bernard can see that through the shaking of the camera and the blurring backgrounds.
“My parents do that too, when they’re in town.” Tim sympathizes. Bernard lets out a bitter laugh.
“We’re all rich kids, aren’t we?” He jokes. Tim and Kon both laugh at that.
“You’ve been to galas too?” Tim asks. He rarely opens up about anything about his laugh, he’s, again, very secretive. They know his first name and that’s about it. Internet safety, and all that, but… Tim’s been opening up more. He’s been sharing more about his work and his daily life, which is something he would never fathom sharing a few months ago and Bernard, despite never having such reservations about not dozing himself, feels like he can start sharing more about himself, too. Granted, the three of them have been friends for almost three years now but they only really recently started getting close.
“Yeah, when we used to live in Gotham when I was really young, I’d attend them with my parents. Was more a trophy than anything, of course, but y’know.” Bernard nods along with his own words, the anger loosening in his chest, almost entirely gone by now.
“At least that’s one thing we all get.” Tim smirks.
~~~
Bernard feels sadness rooted so deeply in his chest the moment that he wakes up. He lays in bed for nearly an hour, trying to gather the energy just to grab his phone. He hasn’t felt anything like this in a long time, and he doesn’t like it. He has felt sad, yeah, but this? This heavy grief that plagues his every breath, making it hard to even fill his lungs? He hates it so badly, and he hoped, no matter how naively, that it wouldn’t return.
Things have been going good, too; he had no reason to feel this way, not again. He can’t go through this again, with his parents telling him that he’s faking for attention and his teachers being disappointed in him because his quality of work is decreasing… he just can’t. He reaches blindly for his phone, grabbing it but not bothering to look at the screen. His mom yells something at him from downstairs, but he can’t find it within himself to get up, or even respond.
His mom marches into his room angrily.
“Get up, Bernard. You have chores to do today.” Bernard merely hums in response, his eyes blank as he stares at the ceiling tiredly. His mom scoffs. “Not this again,” she rolls her eyes, blessedly leaving the room and letting Bernard wilt in his own sadness.
His phone vibrates in a familiar pattern, but he’s too tired to pick it up again. He lets it ring out, just as he does for the next call, and the one after that, and every one following that one. He lost calls ago, but he does know that the sun has visibly changed position, which means it had to have been at least an hour.
He’s too tired for this. He closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep, ignoring the worry that comes from the other side of his bonds/
(He faintly registers that he shouldn’t have those bonds, but he falls asleep before he can fully process that thought.)
~~~
Bernard’s mom bursts into the room once more, holding her phone in front of him with anger drawn all over her face in black ink. Bernard squints at the number, the familiar strings of numbers, that he shouldn’t be seeing on his mothers phone because he gave them her number for emergencies only. He snatches the phone, stumbling into his bathroom and leaving his mom in the dust.
“Why are you calling my mom?” Bernard hisses, eyeing the door. Tim lets out a clear, manic laugh on the other side of the phone.
“You’re okay, you’re alive,” he lets out a relieved sigh.
“What?! Of course I’m alive, what is wrong with you?!” Bernard’s words turn to ones that are more of annoyance than anger. Tim pauses.
“I could feel it in our bond, I was so scared, you were just so sad–” he chokes out, his words cut off by himself.
“What bond?” Bernard asks, confused. Tim pauses again, gulping audibly.
“Can you,” he takes a breath, “can you not feel it? All of our feelings were muddled and Kon was worried so I called your mom and…” he trails off, and, yeah, Bernard remembers now.
The anger, the surprise, the concern, it all adds up, but… how did they form a bond, one usually only formed through scenting and time together, without ever having met each other.
He didn’t even know that was possible. His mom yells at him through the door. He can dwell on this later, for now, though, he has to explain (read: lie) to his mom to hopefully calm her down.
~~~
Bernard listens to his parents chat about something or other, the Gotham streets blurring at the speed that their car is going at. The tie that sits around Bernard’s neck is suffocating, but his dad said that it’s supposed to feel like that. Bernard doesn’t think that’s right, but he doesn’t loosen it, nonetheless. They pull up at the extravagant venue, security littered around the entire perimeter, asking for proof of invitation before allowing anyone through. He doesn’t think that it’ll help keep them safe, especially in Gotham, but granted, he hasn’t been here in over ten years. Maybe it’s changed, he doesn’t know.
(It hasn’t; Tim has attested to that face various times throughout their years of friendship.)
The lights are gentle on Bernard’s eyes, much different from the usual, fluorescent lights that typically illuminate the venues. Bernard finds it far more enjoyable, but, granted, this is one of the biggest events of the year, so they aren’t scrimping on the decor and venue. The room itself is filled with gentle chatter, waiters floating through the room with hor d’ourves and champeign, a bar settled in the very corner beside a dessert table.
Ah, yes, the best part of every gala: the food. Bernard eyes the sweets they have set up at this one, spying mini cheesecakes and delicious looking cupcakes. He will, in fact, be gorging himself tonight, that’s for sure. His mom elbows his side, her way of telling him to stop making heart eyes at the food. Bernard sighs, but relents nonetheless.
His mom drags him across the room to talk to some ‘old friend’ of theirs. the older lady pinching Bernard’s cheek and telling him how much he’s grown up.
“My, I remember when he wasn’t even to my hip! He’s just so tall now! And so well groomed, I’m sure you're proud of him,” the lady lightly laughs. Bernard’s mom smiles, the action strained, but a smile regardless, as if she didn’t have to wrestle him into the suit just a few hours prior.
“Yes, he’s such a well behaved child. We are so proud of him,” his mother lies through her teeth, yet another thing that Bernard hates about galas. There’s so much lying; you truly cannot trust anything that anyone says, here. Bernard’s eyes wander, his eyes locking with an eerily familiar form. He knows that stature, that hair, but there’s no way…
The figure turns around and finds Bernard’s eyes with a gasp.
“I’ll be right back,” Bernard absent-mindedly tells his mother, not waiting for a response before bolting across the room.
“Bernard?!” Tim exclaims with a bright smile. Bernard doesn’t respond, instead all but jumping into Tim’s arms, their bond snapping into place the second that Bernard detects the slight scent of his online best friend, who’s not his not-so-online best friend.
“You’re here, you’re actually here,” Bernard breathes in deeply. Tim nods, just barely melting in Bernard’s grasp. People are watching, Bernard can feel the eyes on his back, but he can’t find it within himself to care.
He has Tim, Tim!!, in his arms. The only thing that could possibly make this day better is if he was able to meet Kon. Bernard pulls away, blabbering on about something or other, excitement muddling his words, Tim listens, enraptured by what Bernard is saying. He feels like a character in the Sims, but he doesn’t care.
The entire room goes silent, and Bernard, confused, follows suit to glance at the door, where Lex Luthor appears with someone who looks oddly similar to Kon.
“No fucking way,” Tim whispers, nearly startling a laugh out of Bernard, but he’s too shocked, himself. Kon’s eyes lock with the other twos, a grin growing on his face as he abandons Lex to run over to them.
“I was wondering if y’all would be here,” he greets excitedly, taking both of their hands in his own as the three’s bond finally cements itself.
“You… thought so?” Bernard asks, confused. Kon nods, rapidly.
“‘Cause Tim lives here and you mentioned going to one soon. More just a hope, but like, we’re here now!” Kon explains, swinging their hands back and forth. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots his mother, steam practically coming out of her ears. Bernard purses his lips.
“Let’s go out to the garden, before my mom, like, tries to kill me,” when the other two nod, Bernard speed walks out of there, ignoring his mom’s shouts.
The moment that they step outside, the sounds of the gala are muffled as the scent of nature reaches their noses through the thick, Gotham air.
Their hands are still linked as they wander through the gardens, chatting about anything and everything, happy to be in each other’s company, their scents mingling with others as their bonds finally settle.
~~~
They sit in the grass, trees looming above them as content flows through their bond. They decided that, before Bernard and Kon head back to their respective states, they should hang out once more. Bernard left the hotel before his parents woke up, and he knows that they’ll get so mad at him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll do a lot for Tim and Kon.
Regardless, now they sit on a blanket, the sun beginning to set with gentle light. Their bodies are tangled together, warmth covering their skin to ward off the cold Gotham air.
“I don’t wanna leave,” Bernard mumbles, causing the other two to laugh.
“I don’t think either of us do, either.” Kon chuckles, amused. Bernard huffs, faux annoyed.
“You’re so mean to me,” he whines playfully, pushing himself up and positioning himself to be right in front of Kon’s face. Their breaths mingle together, the temperature seemingly dropping several degrees.
“Hi,” Kon breathes. Tim snorts, but Bernard narrows his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” Bernard asks rather suddenly. Kon’s breaths stutter.
“Yeah,” he responds. Their bond happily charges, electricity running between them. He feels Tim’s bond twinkle as well, a variety of feelings fluttering across.
“I am literally right here,” Tim states monotonously. Bernard pulls away, his eyes moving to meet Tim’s with a smirk.
“That you are,” Bernard mumbles before connecting his lips with Tim’s, the sound of everything else fading away and he relishes in the other two’s touch.