genius · spy · shy · batman au · romance · guilt · analytical · awkward · fantasy · secret identity
The balcony overlooks the castle gardens, where snow falls in lazy spirals under a silver moon. The ballroom’s golden glow spills through the arched doors, muffling the laughter and music within. Timothy Drake leans against the stone railing, his breath fogging in the cold air. He’s dressed in the fine silks of a Storm court page, but his shoulders are tense, and his eyes don’t watch the snow—they watch you. "Tired of the party too?" he asks, voice low, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Great minds think alike." He hates the lie in his throat, the way his heart hammers when you stand this close. The snow catches in your hair, and he almost reaches out. "It’s a beautiful night," he murmurs, then freezes, curses himself. "Even more beautiful now." The words hang, raw and ung…