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Kon-El had always known Tim Drake was the centre of his gravity. Not physically in the same way Earth was, and not in the same loud, explosive way the world thought Superboy was all the time. No, Tim was a quieter type of gravity. The kind that pulled Kon in during every mission, every late-night talk, every moment where Tim’s sparkling ocean blue eyes met his, and the rest of the noise faded into the background. Kon, of course, had buried these feelings deep for years. The flutter in his chest when Tim trusted him with a secret. The ache when Tim’s rare smiles were aimed his way. The way he tried to convince himself that ‘best friends’ was enough, even when it never quite was.
He’d loved Tim in silence. Unrequited, maybe. Or maybe just unspoken- because confessing would risk shattering the one person who made Kon feel like more than a copy, more than a weapon. So he stayed close. Protected that bond like it was the only real thing in his messed-up life.
Until the silences started stretching.
—
There was a window on Tim’s apartment that was cracked open, warm light spilling out through the curtains like an invitation, music drifted out - soft and unfamiliar, and definitely not Tim’s usual sharp edm beats. Kon’s slipped inside without knocking.
There were no red-string evidence boards, no glowing monitors tracking threats across Gotham, no discarded weapons or tactical gear strewn across the place. A couch faced a projector, paused on the end credits of Revenge of the Sith, and a low table with empty takeout containers. Takeout for two. Sneakers by the door- size 11, not Tim’s. The air smelled like someone else’s cologne mixed with Tim’s faint coffee scent… and the heartbeats, two of them. Tim’s familiar and steady, and a second, unfamiliar. The voices are what Kon notices next, two voices coming from the bedroom. Tim’s- low, relaxed, happy in a way Kon hadn’t heard in years. And another voice.
“-you’re going to get kernels everywhere, Drake.”
Tim’s laugh, soft and content. “You picked the movie, Dowd. Live with it.”
Dowd. Bernard Dowd. Fuck.
Kon’s world seemed to tilt on an axis as his gravity shifted. He knew the name, Tim had mentioned Bernard casually, when they’d gone to school together, and then something to do with the Joker? But Tim had never mentioned him like this, though. Never with that fond exasperation that sounded like… like something Kon had always wanted, but had never been brave enough to ask for.
The bedroom door was ajar, and Kon could see them without trying. Tim was sprawled on the bed in sweatpants and an old Gotham Knights hoodie that rode up just enough to show the bottom of his abs, his dark hair messy, no tension in his shoulders. Bernard - tall, lanky, blonde hair, relaxed smile - was half-draped over him, fingers tracing idle patterns on Tim’s upper arm as they watched something on a laptop. It looked so domestic, so intimate. Like they’d done this a hundred times and planned to do it a hundred more.
Kon felt sick. The pain was sharp and nauseating. All those nights he’d imagined pulling Tim close after a fight, just holding him until the tension melted. The late nights where Tim would rest his head on Kon’s shoulder when he got too tired, all the almost-moments where their shoulders brushed and Kon wondered if Tim felt it too. Gone. Replaced by this. Replaced by Bernard.
He should’ve left. Instead, he stood frozen until Tim noticed him and his head jerked up.
“Kon?”
Bernard startled upright. “Holy shit, Superboy? Whoa.”
Tim was already moving, untangling himself and sliding off the bed. “Kon, what are you- how did you-”
“I knocked,” Kon lied, jaw clenched and voice tight. “The window was open, Sorry. I.. I can go.”
“No, it’s fine.” Tim ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly awkward as he glanced back at the bed where Bernard is sitting up and straightening his own shirt, then back to Kon, an awkward forced smile. “I just… wasn’t really expecting company-”
“I was worried,” Kon cut in, voice rougher than intended. He forced a smile and a shrug that he hoped translated as casual and unbothered, but felt like cracking glass. “You’ve been ghosting everyone. Figured I’d check before the others staged a kidnapping.”
Bernard gave a small wave, clearly trying to play it cool and polite despite the fact that a Kryptonian had just appeared in their bedroom, extending a hand to shake. “Hey, i’m Bernard. Tim talked about you all the time, and we’ve, uh, met before? Sort of? I was at ”
Kon forced another hard plastic grin and didn’t move to shake his hand. “Yeah. Good to see you again, man.”
The silence stretched. Tim glanced at Bernard, some silent communication passing between them. Bernard nodded and stood, “I’ll… make some coffee. Give you guys space to talk.” He squeezed Tim’s bicep gently before leaving. The casual touch burned into Kon’s retinas.
Once Bernard was gone, Tim turned back to Kon. The easy relaxation was gone, “You flew all the way from Metropolis just because my texts were short?”
“I flew because you’ve been no-contact for nearly a week and I was worried. You haven’t been this distant since… shit i can’t even remember.” Kon crossed his arms. “What’s going on, Tim? And don’t give me the ‘I'm just busy’ bullshit, you didn’t lie before so don’t start now.”
Tim exhaled, sinking down onto the edge of the bed and rubbing a hand over his jaw as he watches Kon carefully. “I’m taking time off.”
Kon blinked. “Time off? What does that even mean? And why?” The last word came out sharper than Kon meant. Frustration bubbled under the hurt as his world considered to tilt as his gravity kept shifting. Why now? Why with him? Why didn’t you tell me? Tim Drake- the Robin, the Detective, the bravest person Kon knew, the one who ran on four hours of sleep and spite- taking a break? Kon had seen Tim work through broken ribs, through Bruce’s “death,” through every kind of loss. This didn’t compute.
“It means I'm taking a break, Kon. I’m stepping back it. From everything. Hero work. Patrols. The whole thing. At least for a couple months.”
The words landed like a punch.
“Why?” Kon knows he sounds almost childish, demanding an answer even though the reasoning is clear it burns.
Tim looked down at his hands. “Because I need to. Because if I don’t, I’m going to break something I can’t fix. And because…” He hesitated, then met Kon’s eyes. “I think I have something worth staying safe for.”
Kon’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen where Bernard was clattering around with mugs. “Him.”
“Yeah. Him.” Tim’s voice softened. “We’ve been together for a while now. I didn’t… I wasn’t ready to tell people. It’s still new in a lot of ways. And with everything that happened last year—the Joker thing, him getting hurt because of me—I wanted to keep it quiet. Keep him safe.”
Kon felt like the floor had tilted. “A while? How long is ‘a while,’ Tim?”
“Eight months.” Tim said it quietly, like he knew how it would land.
Eight months. Kon’s chest constricted. Eight months. Eight whole months where Kon had lain awake replaying Tim’s laugh, wondering if he was brave enough to say something. And Tim had been building a life with someone else. In secret.
“You didn’t tell me.” Kon’s voice cracked. He hated how small it sounded. “I thought we… i thought we told each other everything.”
Tim flinched. “It wasn’t about you. I was scared. If I said it out loud, it might jinx it. I didn’t want the hero world ruining this for me, everything good in my life gets taken or twisted by the cape. I wanted to protect this. Protect him.... I just… I wanted one thing that was mine. Not Red Robin’s. Not Batman’s protégé. Not the team’s strategist. Just Tim and Bernard figuring shit out like normal people. Honestly, I didn’t tell anyone, except kind of Jason? But that was vague, and because he’s seeing that girl at the moment and- ugh he’s not important.” Tim stood up, restless. “It wasn’t about you, Kon.”
Kon turned away, jaw clenched tight, blinking back embarrassing angry tears as he stares at the takeout containers he’d seen earlier. Two sets of chopsticks, two empty soft drink cans, two lives intertwining. The longing surged, he could picture it too clearly: Tim letting someone else see the exhaustion after patrols, someone else coaxing those rare, unguarded smiles. Someone who didn’t come with super-strength that broke door handles or clone angst or the constant shadow of heroism.
“I get it,” Kon said quietly, still avoiding looking at Tim, though part of him didn’t get it at all. Part of him wanted to punch the wall, to fly Tim somewhere far away and confess everything. ‘I’ve been in love with you for years. Choose me instead.’ But he swallowed it. “You deserve peace, Tim. You do.”
Tim stood, stepping closer, brows furrowed. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.” I’m Heartbroken. “I’m…frustrated. Worried. You’ve been carrying everything alone for so long, and now you’re dropping it all for a guy I barely know. What if something happens? What if the team needs you?”
“The team? We run missions together at Christmas, and then maybe if there’s a world-threat, but even then, you’ll manage. Nova, Bart, Cassie, Greta, Val, Ray, you- you’ve got it.” Tim’s voice softened, almost pleading as he stepped forward and his hand brushed Kon’s wrist, and Kon had to fight not to grab it and hold on tight. “I’m still monitoring remotely, i’m just not suiting up. Not right now.”
Kon nodded, throat tight. He was happy for Tim, that part was real, it was just… hard. Tim looked lighter already compared to the last time they’d hung out. His shoulders weren’t bowed under the weight of Gotham and every expectation. But the happiness warred with the sting. Tim had chosen peace with Bernard. Not with him.
Kon’s self-pitying spiral was interrupted when Bernard returned with an awkward smile and the mugs. “Coffee’s salvageable this time.”
They moved to the small sitting area, and Bernard handed Kon a mug of bitter and burnt coffee that he’d tried to salvage with copious amounts of white sugar. The three of them sat awkwardly at first. Bernard kept shooting Tim little glances, protective in a way that was almost funny- Kon was the superpowered one, but Bernard looked ready to throw hands if Kon upset Tim.
“So,” Bernard said, breaking the ice after a few tense minutes of them all silently sipping their drinks. “You’re the famous Kon-El, right? Tim talks about you constantly.”
“Famous, huh?” Kon raised an eyebrow at Tim.
Tim flushed. “I don’t constantly-”
“You do,” Bernard laughed. “It’s cute. ‘Kon would get this’ or ‘Kon once threw a car at a guy for less.’.”
Kon felt some of the tension ease. Bernard was easy to talk to. He was quick witted and sarcastic, and his smile was so warm that Kon couldn’t help but understand instantly how Tim had fallen for him and his stupid blonde hair. He asked about Kon’s latest saves in Metropolis, and he seemed genuinely interested. Kon laughed at the right moments, asked polite questions about Bernard’s classes, at one point he teased Tim about the time he’d tried baking and nearly set the kitchen on fire, and Tim groaned but didn’t deny it, just smiling softly. Kon watched them. The way Tim leaned into Bernard’s side without thinking. The way Bernard’s hand rested casually on Tim’s knee. It was new territory. Tim had dated before, of course. There was Steph, and that whole complicated dynamic- but this felt different. Settled. Like Tim had decided to let himself have something good.
And it fucking hurt. Every casual touch between them was a reminder. Every shared look. Kon’s super-hearing caught Bernard whispering something soft to Tim when he thought Kon wasn’t listening, and the jealousy felt petty and human and overwhelming, burning Kon alive from the inside out.
Later, when Bernard stepped out for air, Kon and Tim were alone again.
“I’m sorry,” Tim said, tugging his sleeves over his hands, a nervous habit he’d had for as long as Kon had known him. “I… should’ve told you sooner. You’re my best friend, Kon, I don’t want my relationship with Bernie to change that.”
Best friend. The words landed like a slap, Kon wanted to scream that it changed everything. That watching Tim choose someone else carved out a piece of him he’d never get back. Instead, he shifted a little on the small couch and pulled Tim into a hug. Careful. Always so careful with his strength, especially when his emotions are so erratic. Tim hugged back, warm and solid against him, smelling like home in a way nowhere and noone else ever could. Kon held on a second longer than he should have, memorizing it, savouring it like it was the last time he’d ever get this chance.
“You deserve this,” Kon whispered into Tim’s hair. “You deserve to be happy, Tim.”
—
The following weeks were a slow ache.
Kon visited when invited. Sometimes he brought Metropolis takeout. Sometimes he hovered outside first, listening to their laughter before knocking. Bernard welcomed him warmly, but Kon saw the protective glances- the way Bernard clocked Kon’s lingering looks at Tim. Did he know? Probably. Kon wasn’t very good at hiding. He was happy for Tim. Genuinely. But the longing lingered like an old bruise- pressing on it hurt, but he couldn’t stop.
Another evening, alone on the roof with Tim while Bernard slept inside, watching the first snow fall quietly across the city streets, Kon nearly confessed when he finally asked a question that had been nagging him for weeks.
“You ever think about what-ifs?”
Tim glanced over, wrapped in a warm jacket and beanie to fight off the chilly wind. “All the time. But right now? I’m trying not to. This… feels right, you know? I’m trying to be less like Bruce.”
Kon nodded, swallowing the confession. What if it was me? What if I’d been brave sooner? The frustration with Tim simmered underneath- why keep it secret for eight months? Why shut him out when Kon would’ve moved mountains to support him? But mostly, he felt bad for himself. Pathetic, almost. Pining while his best friend finally found something good and safe.
“You look good like this,” Kon said instead. “Happy. Boring, but happy.”
Tim smiled. “Thanks to you too. You’ve been great about all this.”
Kon wanted to be more, but he just smiled back. “Always.”
Tim bumped his shoulder. “You’ll find your thing too, your special someone who sees all of you.”
Kon’s smile was small, bittersweet. I already did. “Maybe.”
They sat in silence, the city humming below. Kon’s heart still longed, and the unsteadying ache he felt whenever he was reminded of Bernard’s existence still hurt, but he was that Tim had found peace, even though it still burned that it wasn’t with him. Kon had to find his new gravity centrepoint.