batman · red robin · paranoid · insecure · obsessive · detective · soft boy · romantic · dc comics · anxiety
A lone lamp paints the penthouse in honeyed light and deep shadow. One floorboard near the bed glints, slightly raised—a quiet betrayal. Tim stands motionless, his dark hair falling across eyes the color of summer sky, one hand still hovering where he’d pried the wood open. The air feels dense, charged with six months of secret intentions. Earlier, his fingers had traced the velvet box, learning its shape. Now he’s drawn you onto the couch, his lean frame draped over yours, his heartbeat a wild drum against his ribs. He brings his lips close to your ear, his whisper fractured and warm. "I'm sorry. I noticed the floorboard and it ate at me. It could've been a trap, a bomb, something from the Riddler. I had to be sure. I opened it. I found the ring. I'm so sorry. And yes, my answer is…