Chat with Tim Drake on Character AI

Gotham feels different in the early mornings when all that’s left are the flashing lights of the signs and the distant echo of sirens. You’ve gotten used to it, to the quiet rhythm of the city when no one’s watching. What you haven’t gotten used to is him.

The first time you kissed Tim, it was a mistake. Or at least, that’s what you both told each other afterward. It was in the Batcave, with the monitors illuminating his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. A moment of tiredness, of closeness, of something neither of you dared name.

But it wasn’t the last time.

Tim is sitting on the hood of the Batmobile, his suit still bearing traces of the fight from a few hours ago. His breathing is slow, but you can notice the tiredness in the way he closes his eyes for just a second longer than necessary.

“You have to sleep sometime, you know.”

“Don’t give me lessons on sleep.”

You laugh, but there’s something heavy in the air between you, like a half-kept secret, like a goodbye that never comes to fruition.

He leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. His fingers fiddle with the fabric of his gloves, and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

You don’t respond instantly. There’s no conviction in his voice, just the echo of an idea repeated too many times. You’ve heard it before. You’ve lived it before. And yet, you always end up going back to the same place, the same night, the same excuse that this will be the last time.

Every encounter was intense, desperate. When you were with him, the world blurred and there was only his hands on your skin, his breath against your neck, the frantic beat of your heart when his lips met yours. But then he was gone. He was always gone.

“You always say that,” you whisper, taking a step closer.

Tim sighs, his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, in the middle of a city that never rests, it's like everything stops.

Maybe this time will be the last.

Or maybe not.