How to Fall in Love and Out of Love [Tim Drake x Reader]
A/N: I personally don’t think this was very good. It went in a direction I didn’t intend and if I make a part two, then it would be in the direction I intended (without making an ‘alternate story’). Not sure if it’s any good tbh
Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader
You weren’t the epitome of a model human being.
You tried to be grateful for the things you had. A roof over your head, food on your table, parents who loved you, even though they may not be very supportive of you as of right now, and a job… even if it wasn’t a decent one. It was enough to get by and that’s what you needed right now. As such, you were a bit rough around the edges. You weren’t graceful or stunning by any standards, at least you believed you weren’t. You didn’t have time to put much effort into your appearance, if you could afford it. Still, you were grateful for what you had.
Tim changed all that for you.
Your meeting was picturesque; he always bought coffee from the cafe you worked at, right across the Wayne Enterprises headquarters. Most workers would opt to buy from the cafe inside the building, but Tim claimed he liked the way you made his order—you knew specifically what he liked and always made it that way. He appreciated it, and in turn, he made you feel appreciated.
For you, someone who left home the moment you graduated high school to pursue your dreams of being a singer, someone who had spent the last few years navigating the city terrain alone with little to no help, his appreciation was welcomed with open arms. Admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but considering the difference between the two of you, you thought it would not work.
But one rainy day, he came in, drenched from head to toe, with the silliest smile on his face. He apologised for getting the floor wet and asked for the usual. You were puzzled for why would he run through the rain to get a cup of coffee? Surely he could survive one afternoon without it? You asked him about it when you served him, and he admitted that he also wanted to escape from the leery eyes of the shareholders for a moment. He then told you about his troubles, how he had recently been promoted and everyone was doubting his abilities. They whispered devilish lies about him—how he was incompetent, how he only got his position due to his connections, how his parents never wanted him. The gullible shareholders voiced their opposition on his promotion, and this sent him on a spiral of work that kept growing.
“I just need one afternoon where I don’t have to deal with all that,” he sighed, “sorry if I’m overstaying my welcome.”
He kept apologising. Why would he keep apologising?
You shook your head. “Don’t be. There are no customers here, I doubt anyone would come in with this rain. Stay for as long as you like.” You said it casually, but inside your heart was racing.
“Thank you,” he said, a shy smile appearing on his lips.
That afternoon, you and him talked for hours. He told you about his work while you told him about yours. Both of you exchanged stories and histories, passions and worries. It was the first time you felt truly connected with someone, and perhaps that was why you fell so hard. He was polite and courteous, a welcome change from the hard personalities you dealt in the big city. He seemed not to mind your occasional sharp tongue and slip-ups, and listened to you when you poured your heart out about your dreams and your concerns about everything–your financial situation, your failures to find a gig, your loneliness, and your parents. He listened and not once did he judge you. It made you fuzzy.
But alas, all good things must come to an end.
When the torrential downpour stopped, Tim apologised profusely for cutting your conversation short and left, taking a moment to turn back to look at you before leaving. Sighing, you took the money from his table. When you counted the money, you were shocked that he tipped you so well. You made a mental note to thank him the next time. Then as you cleaned the table, you noticed something hastily scribbled on a piece of napkin. You picked it up and couldn’t help but laugh.
Scratch thanking him next time. Now you could just text him.
Falling in love with Tim was effortless. Becoming a couple wasn’t that much harder. From the moment you two truly spoke, that one rainy day, the two of you just clicked.
It was kind of a mutual confession. You two said it at the same time during a video call. To say your heart was racing at that moment was an understatement.
The next time you two met, it wasn’t at a cafe but on your first date. Tim was dressed up as handsomely as always. His no doubt expensive suit made you feel inferior with your thrifted clothes, but he didn’t seem to care.
“You look stunning,” he complimented you with a hint of redness on his cheeks. He avoided eye contact with you.
Tim led you to his car, opened the door for you and closed it when you got into his car—he was a true gentleman. His car was spotless, and although you did not know the specific model, it was an expensive brand. It must’ve cost thousands.
“Where are we going?” you asked. Tim had insisted he plan the first date, and while you hated not knowing—due to financial reasons—you caved into his insistence.
“That’s a surprise,” he answered, glancing at you. You huffed.
“Tell me at least, am I overdressed or underdressed, because seeing how you are looking, I feel like I am severely underdressed.”
Tim laughed at your statement. “You look perfect [F/N]. Don’t worry.” Your cheeks felt warm when you heard that.
It felt strange being with him after the confession. You had clicked so well and talked and texted for hours, but now that both of your feelings have unfolded, you were so flustered. You hoped it wouldn’t be like this all night, or else you wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Tim seemed to have sensed your unease, so he spoke right after that thought. “How are your auditions going? Did you get any callbacks?”
“No,” you sighed, “but that’s okay. There are plenty of other gigs in the future. Someone is bound to book me!” You tried to be as optimistic as possible, not wanting to possibly bring down his mood.
“I’m sure you’ll get it soon,” he reassured.
“How do you know? You haven’t even heard my stuff,” you scoffed. You didn’t mean to sound rude. You cursed yourself quietly for that.
But Tim didn’t seem to mind. He never minded. “I know because it’s you.”
And there he goes again, making your heart flutter.
“Thanks Tim,” you said quietly. You truly appreciated his kindhearted nature.
“No worries,” he said, “and look, we’re here!” Tim turned into the underground parking and found a parking spot close to the elevator. When he turned off the engine, he quickly got out and rushed to your door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was. You could only mutter a shy ‘thank you’.
When you got to the restaurant Tim led you to, you couldn’t help but gasp, both in amazement and horror.
“Tim!” you whispered loudly, “isn’t this too… too… expensive?” You said the last word quietly, a bit embarrassed.
Tim waved a hand. “It’s fine,” he reassured, “I have enough to pay for the both of us.”
“B-but…” you started to protest, but then a waiter approached the two of you, and when he led you in, you knew it was too late to bail. The waiter handed you the menu, and you almost had a heart attack when you saw the prices. By the gods, some of them were more expensive than your entire outfit, and you definitely knew you didn’t have enough to pay this. You tried your hardest not to let your face show your panic, but it was useless.
Tim reached out and held your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “[F/N], it’ll be fine, trust me.” Sadly, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. However, you didn’t want to bring down the mood, and on a first date no less, so you told yourself not to let it get to you. Ignoring that, the rest of the night went wonderfully. The two of you eased into conversation and all was well. When it was time to end the night though, the worry you submerged suddenly showed itself again, and it was more apparent than ever. The waiter came with the bill and you swallowed. You definitely did not bring enough for this. Tim took it, of course, and he immediately provided the money without batting an eye. You counted several hundred at least.
But Tim seemed so happy, so you decided not to raise your voice once more. You allowed him to escort you to his car, take you home, and even walk you to the entrance of your apartment building. However, you didn’t dare allow him to walk you to your door.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said quietly.
“No problem! I’m glad I could finally treat you,” he responded happily. Your heart warmed, but there was a cold streak that you couldn’t get rid of.
You turned towards the door, ready to scan your keycard to enter, when Tim stopped you. When you turned back towards him, you were surprised with soft lips on yours. It was short and shy.
“Goodnight [F/N],” he murmured, smiling shyly before heading off to his car.
You touched your lips gently, trying to process what happened. When you did though, your felt yourself smiling too.
That smile wouldn’t leave you until the next morning.
If only your relationship had been as wonderful as the first night, but you should’ve noticed right away.
“Tim, you shouldn’t have.” You wanted it to sound endearing, but the statement came out more exasperated than you intended.
“I really want to treat you [F/N],” he said, placing down the last shopping bag.
“This is the… what? Seventh? Eighth time?” You sighed.
“I haven’t gotten the chance to see you much, let me do this for you.” Tim said.
You held your ground though.
“Treating me is buying me… I don’t know, an ice-cream, or flowers, or something. Buying tons of designer clothes probably worth more than everything I own combined is not treating me, it’s more like buying me.” You gasped and covered your mouth after this. You didn’t mean to say that.
Tim grew still and quiet. It was silent for a whole minute, and it was suffocating. He refused to look at you.
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—“
“You did,” he interrupted, “that’s why you said it.”
You sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that though…”
“Then how did you mean it?”
You took a seat on your sofa, which squeaked upon bearing your weight. “I just don’t want you to buy me things or think you need to buy me things to make me happy. It just… came out wrongly.”
“But what’s wrong with treating you?” Tim asked sadly.
“Nothing it’s—“ you sighed, “you always treat me though. On our dates, you pay for our meals. Whenever we go out, you always buy me presents, and treat me with expensive gifts. I don’t know what to do with all them… if you want to treat me, all you need is to spend time with me. That’s all I want and ask for.”
It wasn’t the first time you two argued about this—well, argue as in you telling Tim to stop and him saying he would but not actually stopping. You adored Tim with all your heart, but you felt horrible every time he bought you something new. You understood if it was the first few weeks of the relationship, but after three months, you thought he would learn of your tendency to avoid… well… expensive things.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes downcast and his mouth turned downwards. Oh how you hated that look. It just made your heart twist.
“No… no don’t be,” you said, “I’m sorry too, for being harsh.”
You held out your hand, and he took it without hesitation. The two of you pulled each other close, meeting in the middle. It was like a metaphor of what you hoped the relationship would be—you and him meeting on the border of your two different worlds, two different personalities, two different people. But Tim leaned a little too hard and pushed you back, and you pushed back to keep your balance.
“I hate arguing with you,” you said.
You glanced at all the bags he brought up to your apartment, mentally sighing at your ever growing closet collection. Still, you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on your lover who is only wanting to convey his love for you. You two just had different ways of loving, that was all. Yours was… time spent together, while his was… presents.
The problem was, as more presents piled on, you grew restless and feel the need to give back. You hated that feeling. Perhaps it was a result of living in this city, where nothing was free and everything had a price. You couldn’t help but feel like Tim’s gifts had prices as well, prices you couldn’t repay. It was why you wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t seem to understand that.
But you were optimistic. Tim was always caring and considerate. Perhaps he felt he owed you too, for love. That was why he kept giving you things and treating you. You were optimistic in that maybe, in the future, you and him would come to a mutual understanding and he would stop gifting you presents.
The perfect balance in the middle.
You stared at the food in front of you, the last of its warmth leaving it as the minute ticks by. The sounds of the city, barely contained by your thin walls, were all that accompanied you as you sat in your apartment, alone.
Tim had promised that he would come.
With a heavy sigh and a grumbling stomach, you grabbed the meal you made and popped it into the microwave. Your eyes burned but you refused to allow yourself to cry.
It wasn’t the first time.
You knew it wouldn’t be the last.
It has been a little over a year since you and Tim started this relationship, and things hadn’t gotten better for you. There would be moments, of course. Moments where he held your body after a restless night, where the two of you enjoyed the silence in each other’s company, where the two of you spent the whole night up watching movies, where he would take you on midnight adventures to the outskirts of the city. But… despite all that, there were more nights of loneliness, more unanswered calls, more rain checks as he prioritised everything above you, and an apology in the form of a gift would always follow. You hated it but he made it a habit.
And could it be salvaged?
The beep of the microwave interrupted your thoughts. You grabbed your reheated food, brought it back to the table, sat down and began to eat. As you were halfway through HIS meal, a notification from your phone appeared.
I’m so sorry [F/N], I can’t make it tonight :( Something urgent came up with the family that I have to take care of.
You sighed. Always something urgent—with work or family or something. It’s always an excuse. You decided not to respond to him. You were tired.
But then again, Tim is an important figure. Not only was he a public figure, he also has a lot of responsibilities within one of the largest companies in the world. Not to mention his family is quite high profile, and close, so he had familial obligations to attend to no doubt.
You played with the remainder of your food.
He hadn’t even introduced you to his family.
You wondered if anyone knew. Tim tried his best to keep you away from the public eye and business. You understood that he was worried about the impact of it on you.
But you were an aspiring artist. You should be prepared for this. Sure, you only had a few big gigs here and there, with the largest being the opening to a charity event, but you were slowly making a name for yourself. You knew that your career choice could expose you to the media and the public, and you were prepared for it. So why? Why did he keep you a secret?
Could it be… he was ashamed of you?
You shook your head. No… no that couldn’t possibly be it. It was Tim you’re talking about. Your sweet Tim, who always reminded you of his love and devotion to you. Tim, who no doubt brought out the best of you. Tim, who saw only the good in you.
He couldn’t be ashamed of you.
Your phone rang. You already knew who it was.
“[F/N], hey,” Tim’s voice sounded familiar through the phone, “I wasn’t sure if you got my message but something urgent came up—“
“No I got it,” you interrupted.
“Oh… are—are you angry?” He asked hesitantly.
You took a while to answer. “No… no I’m not… just disappointed, that’s all.”
“I’m so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this.”
“It’s okay,” you said, the lie slipping effortlessly out of your lips, “maybe next time, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “I got to go now… I love you [F/N].” Unlike other times, it didn’t make your heart swell.
Why was it getting harder to say it?
You prepared for the moment.
You prepared for the questions, the tears, the way he cried as he asked why, and those beautiful eyes of his, once so full of joy, now full of confusion and sadness.
You prepared for it, but fuck did it still hurt.
It really was inevitable, your parting.
You loved Tim with all your heart, but you couldn’t love him in the way that you used to anymore. You began to expect the disappointment, his absences, his apologies. You grew used to it. It was as if you were single again. And when he was there, you didn’t feel the same butterflies in your stomach.
You stopped denying it. You stopped being optimistic and finding excuses and started to face the reality.
“I’m truly sorry Tim,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes, “but my decision is final. I want to end our relationship.”
As Tim left your apartment, the relationship flashed before your eyes. You recalled the first time he walked through the door of the cafe, his nervous smile and his charming demeanour. You recalled that one rainy day where the two of you talked for hours, late nights texting him, your first date, his first gifts, cuddling him all night and day and your adventures through the city. Each place in your apartment held a memory of him.
But somewhere along the way, he became more absent and the memories grew dark. It became waiting for him, being left on dates, him not showing up, his secrets and his tendency to prioritise everything else but you.
You understood that he had a life. You did too. But perhaps that was why it was never bound to work.
He was in a different place in his life. He was busy with his family and his work, and he couldn’t make room for you. And to be honest, you didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to sacrifice his family or work for you. You didn’t want him to sacrifice anything. To ask that of him would be so selfish of you, and as selfish as you were, even you knew that was wrong.
As for you, a person who valued time over everything else, his inability to make time for you was difficult. He gifted you of course, but gifts meant little to you after a while, especially as they were so frequent. They lost their meaning. It was like the word “sorry”. He always gifted you something as an apology, and while he made the effort to do that, you just wanted time with him. As someone who was always busy, he couldn’t do the one thing you wanted.
It damaged what you two had, and that damage became irreversible.
Part of you suspected that this went on for so long because you loved the way he made you feel. He made you feel loved of course, but you also loved the person you were when you were with him. You loved the person he saw you as. As someone who had been met with nothing but failure since coming to Gotham City, he was the first person who made you feel like anything but a failure and you clung onto that for a little too long, chasing that high.
So in that sense, you’re also accountable for the damage of the relationship.
You still loved him, of course. You always will. But he needed to focus on his life and you should focus on yours. You hoped that one day, he would be in a place where he had room and time for a lover, and he wouldn’t need to sacrifice anything. You hoped that he found someone that spoke his love language, that understood his form of love and made him feel the same way that he made you feel.
You hoped for the best for him.
But as for you… you had to close the door between you two.
So, with one last glance at his disappearing figure through your apartment window, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around, pushing Tim out of your mind for good.
