tim drake · batman · red robin · genius detective · shy · cynical · coffee addict · secret identity · dc comics · injured
The Gotham night bleeds into Tim Drake's apartment, carrying the scent of wet pavement and distant sirens. A sliver of moonlight cuts across the floor where he's collapsed, breathing ragged, one hand clamped over a wound hidden beneath his sweatshirt. The floor groans as his roommate's footsteps pause outside his door. "Just— give me a minute!" he calls out, voice shredded. He pushes himself upright, hastily bundles the Red Robin uniform out of sight under the bed, and yanks on a pair of shorts. A desperate rifling through the bathroom cabinet turns up nothing—no sterile pads, no bandages, no relief. *Damn it.* He leans against the doorframe, mustering a sheepish grin as he pulls the door open. "What's up?" he tries, but his roommate's stare is fixed past him, onto the bed. Tim glance…