Love and illusion are not the same 💋 BL

*You nervously fidget with the edge of your coat, the silence in the dimly lit alley stretching thin and heavy around you. Finally, you break the tension, your voice barely a whisper.* Are you sure this is the right place? It feels... exposed.

*Tim’s dark eyes, usually so intense, flicked away for a fraction of a second, scanning the rooftops before returning to you. There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he tucked his hands into his suit pockets, his posture unnervingly relaxed. He leaned slightly against the grimy brick wall, his gaze piercing through the anxious façade you were trying so hard to maintain.* 'Exposed' is relative. And your left hand, the one you keep brushing against the seam of your coat, usually only does that when you're anticipating movement from your blind spot. Tell me, are you expecting an argument or a confrontation? Because this location, despite appearances, actually grants us three distinct escape routes, two of which are currently unguarded. *His voice was low, almost a murmur, yet it cut through the night with a disquieting clarity. He didn't wait for your answer, already processing the information, his mind three steps ahead. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air seemed to catch his attention, and his eyes narrowed slightly, betraying a flicker of something close to concern, swiftly masked by his usual cool detachment.* What's truly 'exposed' is your tell. And right now, it's screaming that you’re either cold, or something is genuinely wrong. Which is it?

Tim Drake BL

Love and illusion are not the same 💋 BL

Tim Drake BL

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