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Slow indie folk serenaded Bernard from his phone as he hummed around his kitchen. It was his first free night to himself all week. EMT Training was kicking his ass and Tim’s nights off patrol always synced up with his own.
Not that Bernard minded. He loved seeing Tim any chance he got, but a modern enlightened man of the third millenia (as he called himself seriously once and now only ironically to annoy Tim) needed a night to himself every now and then. A night to cook his favorite dish of peanut butter noodles (that Tim would never be caught dead stomaching) while watching the most emotional rom-com.
It was called self care, and tonight was Bernard’s night for it.
Singing along to Keaton Henson as the music echoed off the walls, Bernard took the noodles off the stove and drained them before mixing in the peanut butter.
“Shit, soy sauce!” He said, running to the pantry and hoping that his night-in wouldn’t be ruined by something as trivial as a lack of umami.
It was right next to Tim’s “secret” dark chocolate and almond granola bars in the pantry.
“Score.” He said to himself as Keaton Henson’s acoustic vocals were cut short. His ringtone started playing as Bernard excitedly brought the soy sauce over, mixing it into his concoction. Probably Tim, he thought.
Letting the phone go to voicemail didn’t seem like it was gonna be the end of the world. This was his first decent meal of the day (if decent was a fitting word) and he would call Tim back in a second once everything was ready and cooling. If he took the minutes off patrol to call him, he was sure he could wait a few extra.
Bernard salivated as the phone stopped ringing. Picking up the noodles in such a way as to avoid burning himself, he slowly started maneuvering to his table. He picked up his phone as he walked by only to feel it start ringing again in his hands.
Stephanie Brown
Oh, so not Tim. Weird, but he’d been meaning to talk to Steph for the past week anyways. He hadn’t seen her much since his EMT certification courses began and he wanted to correct it. He almost thought about seeing if she wanted to hang tonight but decided to selfishly indulge in his self-care.
Still, maybe this was the universe guilting him. Bernard moved the bowl onto one hand as he answered the phone with the other.
“What’s up Steph?” he asked happily, a few feet away from the table. The peanut butter noodles smelled delicious and he couldn’t wait to consume them.
“Where are you?” Steph said quickly.
Her voice was shaky. While the words she spoke wouldn’t raise alarm (it was a normal question) her tone caught Bernard off guard and stopped him in his tracks.
“Uh…I’m home?” he said, more a question than an answer. Technically he was right, but he felt like he was being quizzed.
“Bernard, I need you to do me a favor and take a breath before...fuck. I don’t…I don’t know how to tell—“
“Steph, calm down.” Bernard said, a strange twinge in his gut. It wasn’t nervousness so much as fear.
Fear of something terribly wrong.
Fear as if the world tilted ever so slightly off-axis. A dark fear, but Bernard didn’t know why. What was there to be afraid of right now?
Thinking such thoughts didn’t stop the slow buzz from growing in his head.
“It’s Tim.” Steph said, voice cracking on the line, “He got sh—”
Ceramic shards coated in peanut butter and noodles decorated the ground where the bowl shattered. The buzz grew cacophonous in Bernard's head, blocking everything out including Steph’s faint voice from Bernard’s peanut butter coated phone on the ground.
It’s Tim. He got shocked by the finale of our favorite show and he's going to call you any minute to talk to you about it.
It’s Tim. He got show tickets for all of us to watch the new musical that you’ve been wanting to see. It was supposed to be a surprise but I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself!
It’s Tim. He got shortlisted for a Gotham charity award and he wants you there with him because he needs you and can’t do it without you.
Bernard was going to freeze to death. He needed to get warm but didn’t know how and didn’t know if he wanted to. All he knew was that he was trembling all over uncontrollably, his body dry heaving and bile reaching up his throat. Maybe it was good he didn’t eat anything else today, or else he would be vomiting all over his floor.
“Bernard.” Steph’s crying voice screamed out loudly from the ground, still speaking. She didn’t stop speaking. Why? Why couldn’t she just shut the fuck up?
That last part might've been said aloud, but Bernard didn’t care. From ice cold to scorching hot, his body erupted in a violent burning fury. Something needed to be released from his malfunctioning body but he couldn’t throw up. Instead, he screamed. A primal, ear shattering cry of anguish as he stepped on his phone, hearing the crunch of glass under his boot because deep down he knew the truth.
He should’ve been prepared for this. Tim gets injured all the time, and has in all the time they’d known each other. It had been baked into the very fabric of their story long ago when they first met, right next to the suffering that seemed to be inescapable to them.
Where are you going, Drake?
Tim showing up bleeding to their first anniversary because of a stab wound. Having to postpone a dinner because of a gunshot. Hell, he even put himself through the same pain that Bernard had gone through to find him in that pain cult. None of those led to a crying Stephanie calling him.
He knew the truth.
It’s Tim. He got shot.
Reaching down and not even attempting to ease the shaking and trembling in his hand, Bernard picked up the phone, some of the loose glass pricking him and drawing blood. He pressed on another shard as a single tear landed on his phone screen to put it on speaker phone.
“Bernard.” Steph said, openly crying now. “He’s at St. Joseph. He's alive but...fuck...it’s bad and he needs you Bernard.”
“I’m-m-m…”
Bernard bit his fingers to try and stop it from trembling but it wouldn’t work. Back to numb and ice cold again, it would seem. “I’m o-on m-my w-way.”
Bernard hung up, took a deep breath, and with his shaking hands, threw the phone as violently as he could across the room until it he saw the glass explode off the wall, right next to a framed photostrip of him and Tim.
It was taken at an amusement park on one of their first real dates. Bernard threw up on Tim’s shoes. Tim won Bernard a stuffed owl. Bernard took a chance and stole a kiss on the cheek in the photo booth. Tim returned the favor with a kiss on the lips. Their first kiss, forever immortalized in an image.
He spared one glance at it before he walked out of his and Tim’s apartment, blocking out everything around him. Lights, colors, and sounds became muted. When did the indie folk stop playing? Did he lock the door?
Would he be able to kiss Tim again?
These questions swirled in his mind and escaped in the form of small teardrops, each one a promise and a fear, a worry and a hope. Each one holding a memory of their time together and the infinite possibilities of what could be. It was mourning and grief.
“No.” Bernard said to himself, shaking his head as he opened his front door, hoping it would be an easy night to hail a cab. “He’s okay. He’s Tim. It’s probably not that bad.”
Everything was going to be fine, he thought as he stood on the cold sidewalk. Inside him was a blizzard and an eruption. Biting frost and scorching fire.
Everything was going to be fine, he thought as he got into the cab. He used every ounce of energy he had to say the words St. Joseph’s.
Everything was going to be fine, he thought as he looked out into the city streets through kaleidoscope vision, another tear sliding down his cheek.
Everything was not going to be fine, he thought as he looked over to the empty seat next to him and, for a split second, saw a ghost from his past. A girl who had been so important to him and Tim, who had been lost to them in the same manner as he was about to lose Tim.
How much more could he lose?
Day 1
Water might as well have inundated him at the threshold of the hospital because Bernard felt like he was drowning. Groggy steps in the lead up to the white building with the Red Cross, accentuated by sluggish and constricted lungs. Breathing seemed so impossibly far away. He couldn’t make it two steps into the hospital before getting assaulted by the smell of sterilization. Blinding fluorescent lights felt like glass in his eyes. Voices on intercoms and sneakers on linoleum felt like shards in his ear canals, the sound grating. Bernard took one step, and then it all came crashing down.
He was in the hospital, and that made it real. And if it was real, then that would mean—
His legs wobbled and collapsed on the cold tile, all oxygen escaping his lungs as the room shook around him. Bernard clenched his hands to try to grab onto something, but the sleek floor offered no sanctuary. No more sound penetrated Bernard’s ears as a shrill alarm just played from within, blocking the external noise. Everything was so cold and so hot and so wrong, wrong, wrong. Tears streamed down his face, uncontrolled like a river as he shut his eyes trying to will the world away.
“Bernard.” said a wet, shaky voice as something warm and familiar closed around him. Silken hair tickled his nape as he looked up through blurry tearstained vision to see someone he knew. Blonde hair like his and a red and puffy face.
Steph.
Bernard picked his hands up off the floor as he wrapped them around Steph like she was a lifeline, crying into her shoulder. Steph just hugged him harder in return as she let him bury his face in her neck.
“We don’t know much.” Steph got out, voice cracked down the middle. “They’re doing all they can for him.”
Bernard heard the words but they didn’t go in. He didn’t process them. Letting them float around his head rather than deal with comprehending them and merging them into his reality, he focused on his breathing like he helped Tim do often.
Tim.
Come on Bear. Tim’s voice said in his memories, Breathe in for me. Can you do that for me, please? Just breathe in and hold it. That’s it, just like that. One. Two. Three. Breathe out. Can you do it again for me, please? Yes, just like that. One. Two Three. I love you so much. Come on, again. One. Two.
“Three.” said Bernard, breathing out he calmed down, blinking away the tears to get a clearer look at Steph. At where they were. The emergency room was busier than he expected, with people seated all around—
Oh.
Dick, hand in Barbara’s. Their grip on each other's hands was tight. His hand was white as a sheet of paper, while hers looked as thin and brittle.
Alfred, his arm around a sleeping Damian both looking more exhausted than they had a right to be on what was supposed to be a normal night.
Jason, knees up on the seat and his arms wrapped around them. Bernard could see he was shaking as his eyes were closed, shutting out the world.
Kate, an arm around Cassandra who was crying into her hand.
Duke, far away from everyone and staring out the window, away so no one could see his tears.
“Steph. “Bernard said, looking into her tear-stained eyes. “What happened?”
“I’m so sorry.” Steph said, shaking her head. “It was…it went bad. Tim he…he got shot.”
It was worse than that. It had to have been. Bernard wouldn’t have received a call and have everyone at the hospital just for a gunshot wound, not when it was something as common to him as a mosquito bite.
“He was with Bruce on patrol and…it was in the—”
Steph choked on her words, covering her mouth with her hand to try and calm herself. Bernard tightened his hug around her. He looked over to see Dick staring at him, as were Jason's eyes poking out over over his knees.
“In the throat.” Steph spat out, like saying the words would erase the event from the timeline. “It was bad and Bruce…he carried him out and got him here fast. He’s in there with him and they’re just…it’s bad.”
His throat.
How many times had Bernard nuzzled his face in the hollow of Tim’s throat? Tim usually woke up first, but in the mornings when he didn’t, Bernard relished being able to have him to himself.
How many times had he made Tim laugh by tickling him there? Did Tim laugh as he was shot there? He was always so ticklish in that spot…
How many times had he kissed that beautiful throat of Tim’s? Felt his pulse underneath his lips and been so goddamn grateful that Tim was there and with him in that fleeting moment? And alive. He’d never take that for granted again.
Bernard blinked away the sanguine image. In his mind's eye, all his memories of Tim’s throat were now stained crimson. Corrupted. Bernard would find whoever defiled Tim’s throat and kill them.
Steph cried into his shoulder and it cleaved Bernard’s heart in two. When he and Tim had their biggest fight, he had to be the strong one. Now, he had to do that again. He hated that he had that responsibility because he so desperately wanted to collapse into a million fragments in the emergency room. To separate himself out of conscious awareness and wait out the time until the resolution, putting himself back together in case of good news and remaining separate in case of bad…that’s what he wanted most.
But it wasn’t who he was, so Bernard stood up on his shaking knees without letting go of Steph, helped them both to their feet.
Tim was going to be okay, he had steeled himself to think. This was Tim, his Tim. Tim couldn’t leave him.
I’m so happy to have you in my life.
I love you, and I love being loved by you.
I can’t breathe without you.
That last memory stung. If he could give Tim all the air in his lungs, he could. Bernard wasn’t doing anything with it but wasting it. Tim was so much more. Tim deserved everything. Bernard would breathe for him, hoping that his air would float through the atmosphere of the hospital and make it into his lungs, filling him up with love and the knowledge that if Tim died here…
Well, Bernard would find a way to bring him back to life just to kill him again by his own hand. Then, he would find whoever thought to take Tim away from him and bury them far underground. Finally, he would seek out whatever cruel God decided it was Tim’s time and kill him for following the bury your gays trope. Bernard always hated that one.
Bernard laughed to himself at that last thought, Steph staring at him with an eyebrow arched in confusion. That just made Bernard laugh harder. Emotions overflowing within him and just made him more unhinged.
“Come on.” Bernard said, wiping his eye. Another tear fell. Of Sadness? Of Laughter?
Both.
Bernard led her by the hand to two chairs next to Dick and Barbara. Even seated, he still held Steph's hand. It was his only lifeline tethering him to the last shreds of his sanity.
“Bernard.” Dick said, tearfully. To Bernard’s surprise, Dick released Barbara in his hand and wrapped both his arms around him, squeezing him tight. Bernard didn’t let go of Steph, but let himself bask in the comfort. Tim had once told him that there was no problem that a hug from his older brother couldn’t solve. Here in Dick’s arms, he could believe it.
“Don’t say it.” Bernard said, sucking in air through his teeth. He was getting angry again. Everyone needed to stop acting like Tim was doomed when he was gonna be fine. “Tim’s gonna be fine, nothing to get worked up about."
He was! He couldn’t die! Why couldn’t everyone just calm down and accept it?!
“Bernard.” Dick said, voice now commanding enough that it made Bernard wince. Did he say something wrong?
Looking away, Bernard's eyes met Jason. Jason just looked away from him, closing his eyes and burying his face in his knees again.
“You’re right.” Dick’s voice said, capturing Bernard’s attention. He looked over to see Dick…smiling at him? “Tim’s come out through worse. I’m sure he’s fighting right now, knowing he’s gonna have you here for him.”
Was Dick a mind reader?
“He better.” Bernard said, looking away. He couldn’t look at Dick’s face, so earnest and full of admiration like Tim’s. They weren’t related by blood, but their shared expressions was one only brothers could have. It reminded Bernard so much of Tim, bright like the sun. Funny, he thought. Tim always said Bernard was his sun.
Everyone remained silent, distant chatter and the sounds of the doors whooshing open and closed filling the voids of silence. Like surround sound, sniffling occurred all around Bernard. From Steph next to him. From Cassandra nearby. From Duke farthest of all.
And while Jason’s was muffled, he knew it was there. Distant but lingering.
Time hadn’t existed since Bernard walked into the hospital. Bernard could’ve sworn he had been there for two minutes, but his first glance at the clock showed it had been two hours. Two hours of silence. Two hours of empty thoughts. Two hours without Tim.
“Can I see him?” Bernard finally asked, vocalizing the question that had been stuck to the edge of his brain. He knew it would hurt, but he needed that pain. He needed to see Tim with his own eyes. The silence was becoming overwhelming.
“Not until Bruce leaves.” Dick sighed. “None of us are getting in unless he leaves, which he won’t. People aren’t even allowed to be in the ICU with the patient in this state, but Bruce was yelling at them about the donations he had given the hospital and well…the exception was made.”
ICU.
I see you. Tim said in his memories, smiling at Bernard through the mirror, arms wrapped around his waist and gently kissing his cheek as the shower behind them sounded like rain.
“Intensive care unit.” Bernard said, testing out the words on his tongue. He didn’t mean to, but it happened. His body acted of his own accord, betraying his desire not to speak such things into existence.
He had never hated his body more than this moment.
Dick wanted to say something more, mouth open after a deep inhale at realizing his mistake. But, what mistake was there? Telling the truth? Dick bit his lip and looked away, but not before taking Bernard’s hand in his own.
“He’s lucky to have you.” Barbara said, unseen from behind Dick.
Bernard closed his eyes and imagined staring at himself from above, outside his body. At the four grown adults holding hands in the emergency room. Steph. Bernard. Dick. Barbara.
And they weren’t touching, but there was a fifth person. A boy whose broken body Bernard hoped was breathing in his oxygen, letting it into his shredded windpipes. That boy was the most important to Bernard, and in the darkest parts of his mind, he would’ve willingly sacrificed everyone in this emergency room to save him.
Including himself. Always including himself.
......................................................................
Bernard stirred in his sleep as he felt pinpricks of light paint his skin in sunlight. He opened his eyes and saw the dawn, signaling a new day ahead. A new day for him to spend with Tim, the boy he loved.
It was insane to him even still. Since high school, even without realizing it, all he wanted was Tim. And now he had him and his love all to himself. To touch him in the morning. To laugh with him when Tim said something sardonic and obviously funny. To feel a strong sense of pride and adoration when Bernard caught Tim wearing one of his hoodies.
There was no way this wasn’t all a dream that he would wake from. It was too good. Everything with Tim was too good.
Bernard turned around, feeling the presence next to him and knowing who lay inches away. His lips curved upwards already, excited to see and take in the raven haired boy with the secret smile and—
Blood.
Everywhere.
On the pillow. On the bed sheets. On his throat, oh god how it came from his throat.
“Good morning.” Tim said, eyes fixed unbothered onto Bernard, smiling with his blood-streaked Teeth.
Day 3
Coma. That’s what the doctor had finally said twelve hours after Bernard got to the hospital. All he could think about is how if the doctor added one more m, it would be a comma. Bernard had always told Tim that he used too many commas in texts and it would come back to bite him.
Bernard didn’t cry. He hadn’t since he collapsed upon first entering the hospital. He had to be strong, after all.
Dick had contacted Bernard’s EMT class for him because he just knew Bernard wouldn’t. Fair, because Bernard didn’t care. Barbara had said words to him about how they were understanding, but it failed to get through to Bernard’s mind. There was a filter right now, and if the word Tim was not involved, he didn’t want to hear it.
Bernard tried not to sleep, not after he dozed off the first night and saw the first nightmare. He didn’t need any more since he was already living in one. Twenty minutes of being knocked out was enough for him. Tim had survived more waking hours, so he knew it was possible.
It wasn’t until the third day that Steph and Dick had forced him out of the Emergency Room. He refused to move from his seat, only taking one bathroom break a day. Food was an afterthought. Steph and Dick told him he needed to shower and change.
“Do you want Tim to see you and immediately go back into a coma because of the smell?” Dick joked, plastering a smile on his face that was so fake Bernard wanted to punch it. He didn’t.
Steph was gentler, telling him that they’d only be a bit. Bernard didn’t have the energy anymore to argue, and so he relented. The drive back to the apartment was short, and the fact he didn’t have his key was a nonissue. Turns out, Bernard hadn’t locked the door after all.
Stepping back in for the first time since he left hit Bernard with a wave of hurt. Just a few days ago he was walking through the kitchen carefree, glad to have a night away from Tim for some moldy noodles that had since become an orgy of flies on the ground. Steph had called him twice, hadn’t she? Didn’t he ignore the first one thinking it was Tim and that it wasn’t important?
Bernard wanted to travel back in time and strangle himself from days prior.
Leading him in by the hand, Steph dropped him off in the bathroom and checked to make sure he would be alright. He assured her she would. Once she was gone, Bernard tore off the clothes corrupted by the air of the hospital like it was venom on his bones. Arsenic on his skin. He wanted to peel away everything that had been so stained by the pain, but he couldn’t because then he would have nothing of himself left, and then what would there be for Tim to recognize?
He bathed himself under water so cold it numbed him. It felt good to finally have his inside match his outside. When no one was looking, he let a tear fall down his cheek. And a second. And a third. Tricking himself into thinking they were water drops from the shower was easy.
Steph said nothing when Bernard came out wearing a Wayne Enterprise sweater that was tight on him because it belonged to Tim. Bernard said nothing when he noticed his clean floor and Steph’s tear stricken face.
On the ride back to the hospital, Bernard buried himself in the sweater and tried to drown himself in the scent of Tim until it overwhelmed him.
They were hardly through the door before Dick told them that in the half hour they were gone, there was no update. Tim was still in a coma, Bruce stopped responding to texts, and they were all still waiting.
Alfred, Duke, Kate, and Cassandra had gone home but would be by later tonight. Barbara was talking to Damian, a conversation only for them.
“Here.” Dick said, giving Bernard a few dollars. His hand was warm in his and if Bernard closed his eyes he could almost believe it was Tim’s hand.
Almost.
“Get yourself something to eat from the vending machine.” Dick said, “You need to keep your strength up.”
Of course. Bernard was the strong one, after all.
“Thank you.” Bernard said simply.
Steph moved to follow him but Bernard told her he could handle it. It would only be a few minutes, he would be fine.
Truthfully since the moment he had entered the hospital, he had only been sitting down or briefly in the bathroom. Turning the corner to where he recalled seeing the vending machine on his earlier ventures, he stopped dead in his tracks at who was in front of it.
Jason, finally having gotten up out of his stupor, grabbing a snack himself.
Making eye contact with him but saying nothing as he walked past, Bernard took a look at the colorful assortment of snacks. They had a dark chocolate and almond granola bar, the brand that Tim loved and had a secret stash of in their apartment. Bernard didn’t hesitate in hitting D7, wanting to be closer to Tim in even this minute way.
Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Bernard glanced at Jason to see the man blatantly ignoring him as Bernard grabbed the granola bar. A nurse rushed by between them, shoes squeaking on sleek tile.
Bernard didn’t hate Jason, in fact he was fond of him. Even so, he didn’t want to deal with Jason using pompous bluster to hide his emotions. He didn’t wanna deal with a man even more emotionally stunted than Tim who—
It happened again. Warm arms suddenly wrapping themselves around him and wet drops on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw a grey streak breaking up black hair.
Dropping it as fast as if it were burning his skin, the granola bar hit the ground when Bernard wrapped his arms around Jason, the two boys squeezing each other for comfort, trying to keep each other tethered into reality.
“Tell me he’s gonna be okay.” Jason begged, voice smaller than it had ever been. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me he’s gonna be okay.”
A simple request and one that Bernard would easily fulfill. He had to be the strong one. He had to be strong. For himself. For everyone here in Tim’s family. And finally, for Tim himself.
Bernard opened his mouth to say such false optimistic platitudes such as Yes, of course he'll be fine! and I’m sure he’s already okay and just staying in there for dramatic effect.
But he didn’t say those things. As he started saying the word that was on the tip of his tongue, Bernard’s voice didn’t just break. It came fully undone.
“I don’t….I don’t know.” Bernard said, shaking his head into Jason’s shoulder. Salty stinging tears leaked out his eyes against his will and fell onto Jason. The dam broke, a torrent of tears following.
A light jingle played from the vending machine, the only sound as the two men embraced while falling apart.
“I hope he is.” Bernard managed to say, “I really, really fucking hope he’s gonna be okay. I have so many plans for us.”
Jason took a minute to sniffle, hoping to bring the tears back into himself but it wasn’t possible. He knew it wasn’t.
“I wish it was me again.” Jason said, Bernard hugging him tighter, “I suffered already. I know what it’s like to d—to be so hurt you can’t be put back together without losing some of the pieces. Why does he have to? He’s the better of the both of us. I’m nothing and he…”
“He’s everything.” Bernard finished, because saying I also wish it was you instead of him didn’t feel appropriate.
Silence settled over them like a familiar blanket, only to be broken up by the growling of Bernard's stomach. Popped back into the reality that they were in a hospital hallway next to a vending machine, Jason broke the contact first. He turned his face around immediately, wiping his hand across his face as Bernard bent down to pick up his still wrapped granola bar. When Bernard stood back up, he saw Jason had the same one in his hand. They both unwrapped their granola bars and took a bite in comfortable quiet. Looking away from each other, they both chose to fixate on the vending machine as a point of interest.
“What are your plans?” Jason asked, not looking towards Bernard. “For…for you and Tim…”
Bernard saw Jason's face through the reflection in the glass and spoke to that. To this apparition of him. He had never spoken these plans aloud or to anyone for fear of making them unattainable. Perhaps….it would be okay to speak to this not-Jason.
“I want us to get married one day.” Bernard said, fresh tears sliding out his eyes. “In the next few years, I want to stand in front of Tim Drake and make sure everyone knows I love him, and will love him forever. And I want you there. And Steph and Dick and everyone in your wonderful family. I want to grow old with him, maybe start a bakery together if he ever retires from this life. I know Tim loves dogs so I’d like for us to get one, just to see his smile every time our dog is near. I can see it so clearly. I want….honesty any future with Tim. As long as it’s him and me, I'll be happy because that's all I need.”
Jason stayed silent as he continued eating his granola bar, small crunching sounds escaping through his chapped lips. Bernard took another bite and followed his lead, not needing a response. Hopefully, he was speaking his dreams into existence.
“I’ll cry, you know.” Jason said, mouth full of granola,. “At your wedding.”
Bernard smiled for the first time in three days.
Day 4
“Why are hospital chairs so uncomfortable?” Bernard asked, his first words uttered all day. Steph’s eyes widened in surprise next to him, a small uptick to the edge of her lips at hearing Bernard’s voice.
“To incentivize not being checked in, I guess?” Steph shrugged. Bernard smiled a little at that, a first taste of normalcy after the hellish few days.
A shadow passed over Steph’s face as Bernard felt a powerful presence to his other side. Turning, he was caught aback by the strong jawed stranger with a ghost-like gaze. He looked like Bruce Wayne, but he couldn't be. Bruce Wayne was strong. Bruce Wayne was unshakeable. Bruce Wayne was—
“He’s stable.” Bruce had said, looking at Bernard as a tear escaped his eye.
“What does stable mean?” Steph asked, her voice stronger than it had been but still so fragile as if the lightest touch of a feather could send it all crashing down.
“He’s still in his coma.” Bruce said, “They managed to stop the internal bleeding but at this point it’s a waiting game. The Doctor wasn’t pessimistic but he wasn’t confident either. He said it could go either way.”
Tick Tock Tick Tock went the clock in the waiting room, the only proof that time was still moving after what Bruce had said. Bernard could hear Steph tapping in her phone, most likely informing everyone that Bruce has finally left Tim’s side and relaying his update.
Bruce took a deep breath as he covered his face with a hand, “I never wanted this to—after Jason I didn’t ever think—“
“It’s okay.” Bernard said, grabbing Bruce’s hand. His words betrayed his feelings like they had so often these last few days. Seeing Bruce here in front of him, so emotionally broken but physically fine was infuriating.
Because he was out here and Tim was in there.
“It should’ve been me.” Bruce said, another piece of evidence that the Wayne’s could read Bernard’s mind. “It should’ve been me. I’m sorry I…I couldn’t protect him—“
HE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN OUT THERE IF YOU NEVER LET HIM BE YOUR FUCKING SIDEKICK, Bernard yelled in his head. Bruce must’ve seen something on Bernard’s face because he took a deep gasp, eyes darting over to Steph before settling back on Bernard.
“If…” Bruce started, voice uneven, “If Tim improv—“
“When.” Corrected Bernard. Bruce stared at him before nodding his head slowly.
“When Tim improves.” Continued Bruce, “He’s gonna have to be on constant watch for a few weeks. Alfred is already moving stuff around Tim’s room to get it ready. When that happens, do you want us to set up a room for-“
“Air mattress in Tim’s room.” Bernard said, steel gaze aimed at Bruce daring him to try to oppose him. “I’m not letting Tim out of my sight for a moment. I’m going to be with him on the floor or in the bed with him but I’m not leaving his side.”
“What about your EMT courses?” Bruce asked.
“I don’t care.” Answered Bernard.
Bruce glanced over to Steph who was mouthing Leave It. She was right. There was no arguing or reasoning with Bernard right now. They’d cross that bridge when they got there.
Silence settled between them, Bruce expecting Dick and Jason to show back up any moment and interrogate the hell out of him. Still, he only had eyes for his sons boyfriend. He had once confided in Dick that Bernard would make a great son-in-law.
“Bernard.” Bruce said, capturing his attention, “No matter what happens, you’re a part of this family now. Don’t forget that.”
Bernard squeezed Bruce’s hand, no words coming out as he tried to steady his breathing. Little did he know, Bruce’s next words would make breathing an impossibility.
“Do you want to see him?”
Bernard took in a breath so sharp it could’ve cut him in half. He had to bite his lip to stop it from wobbling, his chest both inflating and deflating at the same time.
Yes, he wanted to more than anything.
Yes, he was scared shitless of what he would see.
“Yes.” Bernard said, “Tim needs me.”
......................................................................
How desperately Bernard wanted to believe that there was a mistake. That this room he was brought to belonged to someone other than Tim. To someone without tubes sticking out of them, whose skin wasn't so bruised that the blood might burst through at any moment.
But that raven hair and the crinkles around those closed eyes. They could only belong to Tim.
Never had Bernard sleepwalked, but he now had some vague idea of it. Walking towards Tim’s bed, to the chair next to him by the window that was still warm from the hours upon hours that Bruce sat on it, didn’t feel real. It felt like he was entering the hospital again for the first time, wading invisible water.
Most of Tim's skin that wasn’t covered in tubes or cloth was bandaged, his neck included. All of his neck was bandaged. If Bernard closed his eyes, he could see Tim snoring lightly on the hospital bed, no scars other than the ones Bernard had already memorized. His skin would be flawless and untouched, neck a blank canvas for Bernard to paint with his lips.
Sleepwalking ends when you wake up, and Bernard’s fantasy ended when he opened his eyes. He didn’t know when Tim’s hand had gotten into his, fingers entwined like they had been so many times before, but he didn’t think too deeply on it. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that he had Tim in his hand again, and he could feel his pulse under his thumb. Faint and fragile like a butterfly, but oh so beautiful.
Bernard opened his mouth, so many words on the tip of his tongue. So many things left unsaid he wanted to give to Tim.
No words came out, only a choked sob. Bernard put his forehead on Tim’s arm, wanting to feel whatever inch of Tim's skin that could be spared against his own. Tim would be so confused when he woke up in a few seconds with a wet arm from his tears, Bernard thought.
He didn’t stop.
Anywhere between seconds to years could’ve passed with Bernard crying on Tim, but when he picked his head up and blinked away the residual tears, there he was. Bernard saw him clearly, oh god did he see him clearly.
Tim. His Tim. Scuffed and worse for wear with tubes out of every part of his body that Bernard would tease him for in the future (if), but there he was. And he was alive, so so alive.
Bernard wanted to commit the sound of Tim’s heartbeat on the monitor to memory. He almost didn’t want to speak, just to make sure he didn’t drown out that beautiful sound. But he had to speak, because there were things he needed to say.
“I’m sorry.” Bernard finally said, “I’m sorry that I was excited to spend a night without you and that I didn’t answer your phone call. I know it wasn’t you calling but…I thought it was. And I just thought I could call you back. I’m so sorry Tim, I’m so sorry.”
Tim’s heartbeat remained the same on the monitor, the only sound emanating from him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Bernard said, “Not that I could’ve done anything I mean…god, I can just imagine you looking at me like the biggest idiot alive for even thinking I could’ve stopped this. I just…I wish I could’ve. I wish I could’ve done something because I don’t…”
A hitched breath stopped his sentence dead in the tracks. Bernard grabbed onto Tim’s hand like a lifeline to steady himself, imagining Tim’s voice again telling him to control his breathing, to calm down.
“Come back to me, Tim.” Bernard pleaded, more tears forming on his eyes. “Please, come back to me. I need you Tim, more than you know. I’ve always needed you and I…I don’t wanna go back. Please don’t make me go back to when you weren’t there. There’s no way I could take not having you in my life again, not anymore. Not now that I finally have you how I’ve always wanted you. I gave you my heart the day we met in high school even if I didn’t know it yet, and you can’t give it back. There’s no refunds.”
Silence. No words, just more beeping. Bernard didn’t know what else to expect at this point. Yearning for the sound of Tim’s voice, his heart ached.
“I told Jason I wanted us to start a bakery someday.” Bernard said, tears freely falling down his cheeks. “I never told you that, and I don’t think I ever will. It was just a silly idea that I got whenever you’d have me help you bake. What I didn’t tell him is I called it our gaykery. Isn’t that just dumb? You need to wake up soon okay? Wake up so you can make fun of me for that idea. For being an idiot who thinks one day you’ll choose me over Gotham. I don’t care, though. I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
More silence.
“I’m never leaving you.” Bernard said, “Even if my heart gets whittled away little by little each time you get hurt, I’d gladly let it whither into nothing as long as I was with you the whole time. Remember that, Tim. I’m never leaving you, so you can’t leave me.”
Closing his eyes, Bernard wanted to believe that there was a slight change in his pulse. Some kind of message from Tim telling Bernard that he would never leave him. That he couldn’t. They still had so much to do.
But that was all in his head. His pulse was steady, physical state unchanging. Bernard took one look at Tim and relished the feel of his hand under his. This familiar second skin felt so new again after days without Tim's touch.
“I love you, you know.” Bernard said, “I know you know, but I’m going to remind you. I want you to wake up every day and know that you’re loved. By your family. By your friends. By me. By no one more than me. We’ve had a long road to get to where we are, but we’re not done yet. This isn’t the end, I promise. Not by a long shot.”
Silence.
Bernard put his forehead back down on Tim’s arm, refusing to let go of his hand. He wouldn’t. Not for anything.
......................................................................
“Ugh, you guys are so gross.” Darla said, fake gagging as Bernard just laughed.
A bell rung above the door as another person walked into the diner, their usual hangout. Tim and Bernard were being cute while sharing a milkshake, much to her chagrin, but Darla's goofy grin revealed her true feelings.
“Don’t be homophobic now.” Teased Bernard.
“I’m not homophobic, I’m PDA-phobic.” Darla said, “Thank god you guys weren’t like this in high school, I would’ve vomited through the halls."
“To be fair, we both thought we were straight in high school.” Tim joked, leaning down to take a sip of his milkshake.
“Did you though?” Darla challenged, eyebrow arched. Tim averted his eyes as Bernard puckered his lips, Darla just smiling in victory. “Told you.”
Bernard cracked first, starting to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of their conversation. Tim snorted out a little milkshake, covering his face which just set Darla off and made Bernard laugh harder. Some faceless people in the diner started glaring at the unruly young adults in the booth, but they didn’t care.
“So Darla.” Bernard said, wiping a tear from his eye, “When are we finding you a girlfriend?”
“And on that note it’s time for me to go.” Darla suddenly said, laughing and shaking her head as she stood up and scooted out of the booth.
Ripples formed in Tim’s milkshake as Bernard’s phone started vibrating on the table. He picked it up and saw he had to go somewhere. The text was illegible, but the urgent feeling in him was nagging. He had to go.
“Tim.” Bernard said, standing up out of the booth. Tim was sitting down while Bernard and Darla stood up on different sides of Tim.
Without even realizing it or caring, the diner melted away as did the booth, leaving Tim in the middle of Bernard and Darla who were both going opposite ways in an endless void. Resplendent light glittered in the distance, no telling on whose side it was.
“Where are you going, Drake?” Darla asked, arms crossed. “Going with me, or with Bernard?”
......................................................................
Bernard rubbed his eyes as he woke up to a low darkness. Looking at the clock, he could make out that it was 3:03AM. His hand was sweaty and clammy, and when he looked down he understood why.
It was still holding Tim’s, who he was still with. He hadn’t left his side at all since he got here, drifting off to sleep next to him and being comforted by his presence. It was the most Bernard had slept in days.
Saying nothing, Bernard rested his head once more on Tim’s bed right next to him, giving his hand a squeeze.
“Go with me, please.” he whispered.
Day 6
Hours melted into each other when Bernard was with Tim, but he couldn’t be selfish forever. Truthfully, he would’ve been happy to just remain by Tim’s side the whole time.
But there were others who needed him.
St. Joseph’s emergency room was as busy on the fifth day as it was on the first day. Tim started being allowed to get more than one visitor at a time so everyone went in to see him. Bernard was adamant that Tim, Jason, and Damian be the first. For the first time in days, the four brothers were together. Bernard didn’t know what they spoke about or said in their private reunion, but when they came out with puffy faces and red eyes, they went straight to Bernard and pulled him into a hug. Bernard melted into the embrace, no words spoken amongst them all.
Cassandra, Steph, and Barbara went next that afternoon. Kate went by that night for a bit, and finally Alfred and Duke before dawn broke on the sixth day.
Bernard wanted so desperately to go back and be with Tim, but he couldn’t be selfish. Others needed him, even if he was sure he needed Tim most. What mattered more than anything was that Tim wasn’t alone, he wouldn’t be alone anymore.
As if to make a point and remind Bernard that he also wouldn't be alone anymore, everyone surprised him. Steph took him back to his apartment to make an actual meal and give him another chance to shower. Upon their return, Bernard found his cell phone repaired. Dick made a show of looking away pointedly, but Bernard thanked him anyways.
Tim’s doctor started saying that things were looking good, but Bernard knew better than to trip over the beat of his heart at that. So desperately did he wanna believe, but if it ended up being a fantasy that wasn’t made reality, he wouldn’t survive what came after.
On the sixth day, not knowing what time it was or whose turn it was to be with Tim, Bernard was sitting in his usual seat. Another of Tim’s sweaters stretched around his arms as he got approached.
“Dowd.”
Bernard turned to see Damian looking down at him. Funny, because usually Damian was looking up at him, but considering Bernard was sitting and Damian was standing, it made sense.
“Damian.” Bernard said simply.
It was awful and he knew it, but Bernard hadn’t spoken to Damian once since he got to the hospital days ago. Their group hug with Jason and Dick was the only interaction they had.
He spoke mostly with Dick and hadn’t really talked to Jason since the vending machine, but Damian was different. Bernard liked Damian. He was the quintessential annoying little brother, but Bernard didn't want to hear Damian talk about how Tim was an idiot for getting injured. How it was his fault. Bernard was more in control of his emotions with the passing of days in this timeless building. Being with Tim physically helped, tethering him back into his sense of self. Still, he didn’t know how he would react to Damian's snarky remarks.
“I need your help with…something.” Damian said, looking down. Bernard followed his gaze to see the tips of Damian’s sneakers bouncing off the legs of the chair.
“...Yeah?” Bernard asked hesitantly, looking up at him. Damian met his gaze for a fraction of a second before turning away. Bernard had never seen the normally cocky Damian this unsure of himself.
“I…I read that getting people stuffed animals and balloons that wish them well can help with their recovery.” Damian said, “I mean…I don’t see the scientific proof of how it can possibly help, but I’ve seen so many walk out of this room with similar gifts. If it’s not too much trouble…would you mind going with me to find something for Timothy?”
Bernard reached for Damian’s hand so fast that the younger boy yelped, startled. It took seconds for Bernard to be on his feet, nodding furiously at Tim’s younger brother.
“Yeah.” Bernard said, “I mean, no, I mean, yes I’d love to and no I wouldn’t mind. He’ll love it Damian…he’ll—"
“He will?” Damian looked up, eyes shining like so many others he had seen the past few days. All eyes were all sparkling because they were about to cry, shining as they released tears, or red as they dried.
“He will.” confirmed Bernard, throwing Damian a small smile. “Let’s go to the gift shop.”
Damian turned to hide his face, but Bernard caught the upturned corners of his mouth. It made something settle in his chest.
Tim’s gonna shit himself when he finds out about Damian wanting to hang out with me. Bernard thought.
And then he froze, because wasn’t that just something? The moment he wasn’t just saying that he believed that Tim would come back to him, but actually felt himself believe it? The moment that he was already thinking of a future again?
The same future that felt stolen days ago, now finally back within reach. Hope. Faint, but glimmering, it was there. Bernard was afraid to grab it, but he needed it. Oh god, he needed it like water in a desert.
“Is everything alright?” Damian asked.
“Yeah.” Bernard answered, shaking the thoughts out of his head, “Come on. Let’s get the most obnoxious thing for Tim. Something he’d hate.”
“Of course.” Damian smiled. “Then he’ll have to yell at us for it.”
Day 7
“Then we both saw it at the same time and our hands hit each other as we both pointed.” Bernard said with a wide grin, “You would’ve laughed your ass off Tim, I swear. Weren’t you the one who told me that Damian and I didn’t have much in common?”
Steady beats on the monitor of Tim’s heart rate were his only response. Bernard had come to expect it.
“Yeah.” Bernard said, smile faltering, “Yeah, I know."
Tim still had tubes in the same places and hadn’t had any physically change, but the room was vastly different. Get Well Soon balloons and a giant stuffed bird that Damian and Bernard found in the gift shop brought more color to the room than there had been all week. It seemed every member of Tim’s family had the same idea as Damian, bringing a small offering whenever they came to see Tim. Bernard felt a bit bad, having realized he was one of the only people to forget to bring Tim something when he visited the first time.
Which is why, in addition to the stuffed animal that was a joint collaboration between him and Damian, there was also a massive balloon that said “Congrats on the Newborn!” When Tim awoke and saw that, Bernard was sure he would laugh his ass off.
“Hey.” Bernard said, squeezing Tim’s familiar hand and looking at him with a smile, “I love you. I don’t think I’ve said that in the last thirteen minutes, but I do. I love you. Don’t forget it.”
Bernard could almost convince himself that the steady rhythm of Tim’s heart was him talking back, holding a full conversation and telling Bernard he loved him too.
Sunset painted Tim in heavenly golden strips of light through the blinds. It would be dark soon, which would mean that one week will have passed since Bernard got the call from Steph. It felt longer. It felt shorter. It felt like seven years. It felt like seven seconds.
It did not feel like seven days.
“Would you get mad if I took a little nap?” Bernard yawned, “I haven’t slept since I was last here with you and it’s getting to me. I’m not built like you, constantly hooked up to a coffee IV drip.”
Bernard winced as his eyes drifted over to the IV Drip currently hooked up to Tim.
“Too soon?”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Well, you get what I’m saying.” Bernard said, “And if you’ve got a problem with it and wanna call me a little bitch, then you better wake up soon and say it to my face.”
Bernard leaned down and pressed a kiss to Tim’s hand as his head fell down on its usual spot next to Tim, eyelids starting to grow heavy.
“You'll still be here when I wake up, right Tim?” Bernard asked. “Promise?”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Good.” Bernard said, voice thick as he let all the fear and stress melt away under his boyfriend's healing touch. “I’ll talk to you soon, Tim. I love you. Always.”
Feeling his palm on his with the metronome sound of Tim’s heartbeat made Bernard fall asleep within seconds. Surrounded by all that Tim was, he never stood a chance.
......................................................................
Cardinal Rule #4 of Tim and Bernard’s relationships: Tim usually always woke up first. Bernard would wake up soon after, feeling Tim twitching underneath his touch, torn between trying to stay still (which he was always unable to) and wanting to wake up Bernard to be with him.
On mornings when Bernard had stayed up late the previous night studying, he usually wanted to sleep in. Unfortunately, Tim had other ideas, which meant that his boyfriends childlike desire to be awake with him could get on his nerves, even if Bernard wouldn’t admit it. He loved Tim, he did! But he also loved sleep. However, his worries would evaporate as soon as he opened his eyes to see Tim looking at him, smiling. Other times he’d nuzzle his face into Tim’s raven hair first, and get the first look.
No matter how annoyed he was to be roused out of his beauty sleep, that first moment when he remembered who he was with made it all worth it.
Which is why when Bernard slowly came back into consciousness, feeling his fingers being played with, his first instinct was to roll his eyes. Of course Tim couldn’t let him have this sleep. It’s not like he hadn’t spent most of the past week in a lucid trance, desperately needing sleep. No, Tim just had to be selfish and wake up Bernard because he loved him and—
His fingers were being played with, a soft uneven pulse heating up his skin like he had been struck by lightning.
Bernard picked his head up so fast that he felt a deep muscular pain in his neck from sleeping crookedly. He didn’t care. It hurt to turn his head but he did just that, opening his eyes and blinking away the last moments of sleep. Using his free hand, he rubbed his eyes to clear up his vision, and there he was.
Just like any other morning.
Tim, looking at him, smiling through the crinkles in his cheeks, even with his mouth covered by a breathing tube.
Bernard didn’t realize he was crying. He didn’t even feel the tears starting, but Tim’s eyes darted down and his followed to see a few drops on their hands.
“T-Tim…” Bernard said, afraid that this was a dream and saying it any louder would mean he would wake up.
Pain. You don’t feel physical pain in your sleep.
He turned his neck to the side, groaning as his muscles yelled at him for his behavior. Tim pulled on his hand to get him to stop but he didn’t care. He had never enjoyed pain this much.
Because this pain meant he was awake. And if he was awake, then Tim was…
“Tim.” Bernard repeated, crying more as he squeezed Tim’s hand. Tim couldn’t speak through the tube but his eyes were watering also, not wanting to look away from Bernard. Not wanting to let him go.
Tim squeezed his hand back to get the message across to Bernard.
“I won’t leave you.” he said, voice scratchy and wet like he was speaking through a seashell. “I promise, I won’t ever leave you.”
With his free hand, Bernard picked up his phone and called the first number on his most recent calls.
“Bernard?” Steph’s voice asked.
“He’s awake.” Bernard said, “Steph, he’s awake. Tim’s awake he’s awake he’s—”
“Oh my—FUCK!” Steph yelled, echoing a bit from being in the emergency room. Tim’s shoulders jittered a bit, most likely laughing at her outburst.
“Don’t—don’t move Bernard! Stay right there and—Bruce! He’s a—”
Beep.
The line cut off, but it was okay. Any moment now, Bruce and Steph and everyone would come running in with doctors and nurses to run more tests. They’d probably have to take Tim away from him for a bit again but he’d allow it. If that’s what it cost to have him, he’d pay anything.
Tim’s eyes darted around the room, taking in all the balloons until they landed on the one Bernard had gotten. He scrutinized it with an arched eyebrow before looking back at Bernard, his flat eyebrows doing all the talking his limited facial expressions couldn’t. Bernard just shrugged as he let out a laugh, feeling Tim’s pulse steady to the sound.
“I thought you’d like it.” Bernard said, “Don’t tell me you got shot in the throat and suddenly you lost your sense of humor?”
Tim just rolled his eyes, keeping them locked onto Bernard. He wouldn’t look away.
“I missed you.” Bernard said, “Every second, I missed you.”
Tim squeezed his hand as footsteps were heard running down the hallway.
“And, for what it’s worth.” began Bernard as the door slammed open, “I wasn’t the only one.”
Day 21
“Oh my god, I’m fine!” Tim protested, voice still scratchy. “Stop fussing!”
Leslie’s Clinic took over Tim’s recovery as soon as he got discharged, Bruce once again touting his financial contributions to the hospital to convince them to let Tim out early. They didn’t have to know that he would be in better care under his usual doctor. Leslie’s had more advanced technology that helped move his recovery apace at home. Even so, he did still get shot in the throat. His voice would return to normal within the month, Dr. Thompkins said, but he’d still need around-the-clock observation and caretaking.
Bruce Wayne had fought villains with powers straight out of nightmares. Criminals and terrorists and assassins with a sense of morality that changed on the flip of a dime. All of those paled in comparison to having to argue with Bernard Dowd about why he couldn’t be Tim’s sole caretaker.
Refusing to be deterred, Bernard insisted that he be with Tim always. He knew Tim well. Bruce was there to remind him that they weren’t alone. That Tim had brothers and a big family willing to help. Not just willing, but wanting to. Needing to.
Bernard kept arguing.
Steph told him he couldn’t stop his EMT class to take care of Tim. Bernard said he didn’t care.
Jason told him to pull his head out of his ass. Bernard told him to shove it up his ass.
Dick told Bernard that he wanted to be with his brother, laying on the guilt. Bernard almost faltered, then said that he could be there too as long as Bernard was also there.
Then Tim stormed into the parlor, having overheard everything. He told them all he didn’t need any help cause he was fine, even as he was limping away and complaining with his scratchy and injured voice.
In usual Tim Drake fashion, he dramatically slammed the door upon his exit. Everyone just stared at Bernard until he relented and came to an agreement. He would still go to class but he would be living in Tim’s room in Wayne Manor, taking care of him on his days and nights off. The rest of them would fill in on other days while Duke and Cassandra took Tim’s patrol areas.
Tim complained.
Bernard just kissed him and told him to shut up.
Tim stopped complaining after that.
Jason rolled his eyes and said they were meant for each other.
And here they were, weeks later since Tim had woken up. Orange streaks painted Tim’s old room like it did so in the hospital, right before Bernard went to sleep only to wake back up with Tim in his life. Tim was scowling as Bernard was tucking him into bed.
“I’m a grown adult, you know.” Tim said, voice still frail but oh so strong.
“Yeah, so am I.” Bernard countered, “Which means I’m willfully ignoring you.”
Tim scoffed. For the first few days home, he was very vocal about wanting to go back on the field. How he still had people to save and things to do. It took him one look at Bernard’s terrified expression to make him bite his tongue. Maybe he wouldn’t ever understand the pain and fear everyone went through in the week he was in a coma. But from Bernard’s face he could get a glimpse of it, and no longer would he mention getting out into the field again.
Yet.
Fluffing Tim’s pillow and putting it under him, Bernard kissed him briefly. Tim sighed in approval as Bernard dropped down next to the bed where his laptop was open, doing some last minute work for the night. He kicked his feet up on the air mattress that had been his bed for the last few weeks, ready to let the sounds of Tim’s breaths and complaints give him the energy to continue. Despite his protests with Tim's family, Bernard wanted to be an EMT more than ever now, because once he became an EMT nothing would ever hurt Tim again.
“Hey…Bernard?” Tim asked. Bernard didn’t hesitate in shutting the laptop before poking his head up and making sure everything was okay.
“Need anything?” Bernard asked “Food? Water?”
“Something a little more sexual?” teased Tim, smirking.
“Not for another few weeks,” Bernard said, “If you’ve got a problem with that, then can I recommend trying not to get shot next time? It’s the latest trend. All the experts recommend it.”
“Sounds like victim blaming to me.” Tim said, pouting as Bernard started to sit back down.
It was all so easy to fall back into this banter and back and forth. One week without Tim was more than he ever wanted to deal with.
“Bernard?” Tim asked, voice barely above a whisper, “Can you…sleep in the bed with me tonight?”
Bernard looked at him, heart nearly breaking through his rib cage from beating so fast.
“You can sleep on my other side, not where the bullet wound is.” Tim said, “It won’t hurt me, I promise. I just…I miss waking up in your arms and—”
“Yes Tim, yes.” Bernard said, not giving Tim the chance to take it back or for his own mind to tell him it was a bad idea. Just as quickly as Bernard folded the bedsheets, he unfolded them to get himself in.
Tim let out a pleased whimper as he was scooped up in Bernard’s arms ever so carefully. Bernard snuggled lightly against the untouched part of Tim’s neck, giving it a gentle press of his lips. It was here and it was his and it was real.
Tim was here, and he was alive.
So. Fucking. Alive.