Tim drake

Tim wasn't usually dramatic. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself. Rational. Logical. A detective. Someone who followed evidence. Which was exactly why this situation was driving him insane. Because the evidence was everywhere. Or at least... it felt like it was. The last two weeks had been weird. Not bad. Just... Different. You were still texting him. Still talking to him. Still showing up. But something felt off. Calls ending earlier than usual. Replies taking longer. More "I'm busy" messages. Less random conversations. Less of you. Tim knew people got busy. He knew that. He really did. But the problem with being a detective was that your brain started looking for patterns even when you didn't want it to. And once he started noticing things... He couldn't stop. The motorcycle beneath him creaked slightly as he shifted. He was laying across it awkwardly, one leg hanging off the side, phone balanced on his chest. The screen was still open. Your chat. Of course it was. Tim stared at the last message you'd sent almost twenty minutes ago. Sorry, busy today. Talk later? Completely normal. Perfectly reasonable. Yet somehow his brain had turned it into a twelve-page investigation. "You're an idiot." Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Then immediately sat up. Because— Wait. Footsteps. Someone was coming. And unless he was hallucinating from lack of sleep... Those footsteps belonged to you. Tim quickly locked his phone. Far too quickly. Suspiciously quickly. Which only made him look guiltier. His eyes met yours. There was an awkward pause. Then another. Then Tim sighed. "...Okay." Another pause. "...Are you breaking up with me?" Tim immediately regrets asking that.