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There was something about the skatepark at night that always left Bernard feeling like he’d stepped out of Gotham and into another world.
It might’ve had something to do with the sheer size of the place, bowls and rails and ramps spread out further than Bernard would’ve expected, and probably even more to do with how empty it became after dark. The kids all headed out, leaving only the older teens who’d driven themselves or didn’t have a curfew.
Lights flickered out all around at nine, the only light left coming from the streetlights from the road that neighbored the park, and graffiti that was normally obscured by motion gazed out at the stragglers from almost every wall across the entire park.
The whole place felt like something out of a fantasy book, as if Bernard was gonna turn around and find some talking animal waiting there to tell him about an adventure he had to go on.
It was an even more intense feeling on nights like this, where the clouds were thick and gloomy, and Bernard, Darla, and Tim were the only people around.
Everyone else had been slowly filtering out as it got darker and the clouds grew heavier. Cars pulled out of the parking lot, people skated away down the sidewalks, and some of the kids went dashing down to the road to pile into a truck that stopped to pick them up. The last group had left nearly thirty minutes ago, around ten.
That’d been a pretty good sign that it was time to wrap up, but Tim had sworn he’d only do one more run around the park, and Bernard had been naive enough to agree.
Since then, without any sign of when Tim would really be done, Darla had taken to sketching something out in her notebook to pass the time. Her backpack was leaning up against her leg, pristine sneakers gathering dirt from how she was sitting cross-legged, and the hood of her zip-up had slipped down around her hair.
Over in one of the bowls—Bernard couldn’t even tell which one anymore, it was so dark—Tim’s wheels were echoing off the cement. There was a moment where he heard the telltale clunk of Tim doing an ollie, then a shadow arced out of the bowl a breath later. Another thick clunk from his wheels as he landed and pushed off towards one of the rails.
Bernard had just been sitting there the whole time, alternating between spying on the doodles Darla was making and watching Tim skate. There was a part of him that wanted to be irritated with having been there for so long that his butt was beginning to go numb, but he couldn’t quite muster it up.
There were worse things than sitting at a park and watching his friend have fun. Bernard could be going home, which would mean dealing with his parents complaining about him getting in late. He’d get a whole spiel about priorities and homework and his future before he was sent up to his room, as if that wasn’t taking even more time away from the homework they all knew he wasn’t going to do regardless.
It was hard to be angry when that was the alternative, especially when sitting here gave him the chance to just hang out with Darla, the two of them existing together in comfortable silence.
And besides just that, Bernard had seen Tim’s face when they agreed to stick around for another loop around the park. He’d grinned like a kid before shoving away and rocketing easily into a kickflip. How was he supposed to be bothered by someone who’d been so happy about it?
Bernard took a deep breath, leaning back on his hands as he watched a shadow that might’ve been Tim.
He was considering different alternatives to heading home after this, like going down to a late-night pizza place and getting as much as he could afford on the lint and change in his pockets, when the first few drops of rain splattered against his skin.
Curling up with a groan, Darla shoved her notebook into her backpack. “We’re gonna get soaked.”
“Ugh, c’mon.” Bernard shoved himself to his feet. His stomach sank at the thought of driving himself all the way to the middle of the city in a storm. “I really do not need this.”
There was a sharp sound of wheels against concrete as the shadow across the park reversed direction with a hop. It arced towards them, quick and relaxed, and Bernard tugged Darla’s arm towards the parking lot.
They’d made it to the edge just as Tim caught up, kicking his board up into his hand and glancing at them both. His jeans and loose green t-shirt were both spotted with raindrops, though it was harder to tell on him than on Darla thanks to the sweat around his collar. He swept a hand up and through his hair to get it out of his face as the wind began to pick up.
“It’s just rain,” he said, even as he joined them in jogging towards Bernard’s little car, tucked away across the parking lot.
Bernard shook his head. “I don’t wanna catch a cold, doofus.”
Of all the things that Bernard could handle, getting sick and having to stay home where his parents were for even longer was not among them.
“I’m pretty sure that’s mostly a myth,” Tim said.
He dodged when Bernard reached out to smack the back of his head, ducking behind Darla as the rain really began to come down. She lifted her backpack up above her head and yelped as she darted forwards, past the both of them, only for Bernard to dash right past her to the driver’s side of his car.
Clicking the unlock button vigorously, Bernard practically dove into his seat as the other two ran around to the other side.
His car was only a two-door, so Tim had to yank the passenger seat up before slipping into the backseat. Darla tossed her backpack beside him, then shoved the seat back and slammed herself into it.
They all collectively groaned as the car started up and the air conditioning blasted them right out of the gate.
“Now that’ll give us a cold,” Tim said, leaning forwards between Bernard and Darla’s seats to adjust the settings. “Once the engine heats up, turn on the heater, will you?”
“Nah, I’m just gonna let us freeze.” Bernard muttered.
With a huffed breath, he swiped his wrist across his face, but it only managed to rub the water around. He blinked harshly to try to get his eyelashes a little less soaked.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? Drive all the way into the city and go splash into a pizza place to shiver at a table? Sit in his car in a parking lot somewhere and think about life, the universe, and everything until it was late enough that his parents would’ve given up on waiting for him?
He couldn’t just go home right now, not with how irritated they’d be with him. He’d get the full lecture, then probably the silent treatment for a week, which would be even worse than just getting grounded.
It wasn’t that he minded having silence from his folks. It was the pointed looks of disappointment they gave him that made him feel like shit, the way they’d go silent as he entered a room, how unwelcome and unwanted he’d feel as time crept by. They were masters at somehow making him feel like a terrible person without even giving it that much energy.
“Bernard?” Darla asked from beside him, and his eyes flicked up. She was staring at him. “Are we gonna go?”
His chest twisted a little as he bit the inside of his cheek. Dropping Tim and Darla off was the last thing he wanted to do, right behind actually getting home. Even just feeling the weight of them nearby was better than sitting all by himself.
Still, he flicked the windshield wipers and put the car into reverse, not bothering to respond.
Darla glanced at the backseat. The look on her face wasn't one Bernard liked.
A beat passed in silence before Tim casually said, “Y’know, dad and Dana are still visiting her sister up in New York. We could go back to the condo and have a movie night.”
“What movie?” Darla asked as Bernard’s heart lifted a little.
Even if Tim’s place weren’t basically Bernard’s favorite place to be, with the warmth and lived-in charm of it, the idea of going to sprawl out on a couch with his friends instead of sitting miserably in some grungy pizza place was enough to make his lips twitch up.
“I’ve got some horror movie dad rented before he left. I was supposed to return it, but I haven’t yet, and I’m not watching it by myself,” Tim said.
And that was definitely enough to make Bernard smile. “You hate scary movies.”
“You two love them.”
He wasn’t wrong. Darla and Bernard could do a full horror movie marathon overnight in a dark cave without regretting a single second of it.
Tim, though, noped out at pretty much any movie with too much tension. When he did sit through them, it was obvious he hated every second, all of his muscles tensed like he was expecting some sort of attack. Bernard had snuck up on him during a popcorn break after watching a horror movie once and nearly wound up with a fist straight to the face.
They’d started watching more action movies after that one.
But they did still watch horror occasionally, especially when either Darla or Bernard needed a pick-me-up. It was an unspoken rule that Tim would tolerate them if it was for the sake of getting one of his friends to cheer up after something upsetting.
How Tim knew that was what Bernard needed now, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t gonna complain. Not when he knew that it would give him at least a couple hours of distraction, and by then, his parents would be asleep.
Beside Bernard, Darla frowned at her phone. “I’ve gotta get home before daddy decides to send a whole search party, but I can stay for a bit before the driver picks me up.”
“I can just drop you off.” Bernard offered.
“No, that’d be even worse. At least he likes Tim.”
“Harsh, man.”
Tim huffed a laugh, leaning forwards so he was right beside Bernard. “Maybe if you didn’t spend so long worshiping Darla like a Goddess…”
“It’s called being gentlemanly, Drake. I don’t expect you to have a clue about that, Mr. Fake-Girlfriend.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Quit it,” Darla said, giving them both a look. “I’m so sick of that, it’s not even funny. Tim, daddy’s driver is gonna come pick me up from your place.”
“Sure,” Tim said. “He gonna skin me alive for having you over?”
“Not unless you admit that Jack and Dana aren’t home,” Bernard said.
“Which we wouldn’t be stupid enough to do.” Darla glared at Tim.
He lifted his hands in surrender, just barely visible in Bernard’s rearview mirror.
With a laugh, Bernard pulled the car out of the parking lot, out onto the road. It was Gotham, so there was still traffic even now that it was dark, but he didn’t mind it. He just nudged the heater on and wiped at his face one more time.
Whatever bad attitude he’d had before was melting now. He pressed a few buttons on the dash and the radio started playing some country music that Darla immediately swapped away from, only pausing when it got to an AC/DC song that Bernard vaguely recognized.
Behind him, Tim started humming quietly along, and Bernard stole a quick glance in the rearview mirror.
He was sitting pressed into the corner, staring out the window with his arms crossed against the cold and his skateboard where it normally sat between his knees. There was still a little smile on his face that Bernard almost couldn’t see in the dark.
Something about seeing Tim smile even without anyone talking or watching him made Bernard’s chest warm. He was bad about that, his expression falling neutral whenever he thought he was alone. Bernard wasn’t sure if it was just Tim’s resting face or if he was sometimes genuinely just upset, but it was nice to see him smile to himself like this, just a little glimpse at whatever was going on in Tim’s mind.
Then Bernard focused on the road ahead of them, and the rest of the drive was just him listening to Tim and Darla hum and sing along to whatever songs came on, Tim’s laughter drifting past occasionally when Bernard joined in just to purposefully throw it all off tune.
Tim’s place wasn’t that far from the skatepark. It was less than fifteen minutes, barely even enough for Bernard’s clothes to begin to dry properly.
They made it through a handful of different songs and blahblah, you’re listening to blahblahradio before Bernard was turning onto the right block.
Leaning in closer to the window, Darla grimaced. “Bernard, drop us off out front, then go and park.”
“What? You want me to go all that way in the rain by myself while you two stay dry?” Bernard asked. “Tim!”
“Drop Darla off, I’ll walk with you,” Tim said.
“Don’t be stupid, why would you get soaked for no reason? Bernard’s a big boy, he can handle it solo.”
"It's not fair to make him do it by himself."
"It's not fair for everyone to get rained on again when he can just drop us off!"
With a groan, Bernard flicked on his turn signal and pulled over until he was basically on the sidewalk. “Both of you, just get out. I’ll be back.”
“Berns—” Tim started.
“Go, go, fuck you both, just go.”
Grinning broadly, Darla leaned over and hugged Bernard once, then slipped out of the car. She barely paused to pull the seat forwards and grab her backpack before dashing towards the doors.
When Tim didn’t immediately follow her, Bernard glanced back. “Dude, my car’s getting all wet. Get out.”
Tim grimaced, but clambered over the passenger seat and out onto the sidewalk. When he shoved the seat back, there was a moment where Bernard was sure he was just going to climb back in, but he stepped back. The door slammed, and Bernard pulled away from the curb with a sigh.
He should’ve been glad to be able to pull off a chivalrous move for Darla, especially one that’d gotten her to actually hug him, but all he felt was the cold.
Nudging the heater up a bit, he headed for Tim’s building’s parking lot around the back.
The Drakes’ had two dedicated parking spaces for their condo, and with Jack’s car gone, there was a space for Bernard to park in. Dana’s car was directly beside him, recognizable from when Dana had picked Tim and Bernard up a few weeks back to drive them home.
Bernard grimaced as he turned off the car. It felt like the rain had just gotten worse, pounding hard against the roof and making it hard to even see the buildings in the distance.
But sitting there wasn’t gonna do anything but bum him out, the rain just reminding him that he was alone, so he shoved his door open and got out as quickly as he could. He barely remembered to lock the car as he dashed across the parking lot, splashing through puddle after puddle.
The water soaked through his clothes pretty much instantly, a chill seeping through his skin and leaving him fumbling to stick his keys back in his pocket with cold fingers.
By the time he made it to the front doors of Tim’s building, he felt like he was going to shiver right out of his own body. It wasn’t even that late into the year, but he sniffled like it was mid-winter as he trudged into the elevator and pressed the right button. Wiped at his eyes and tucked his other hand under his arm to try to warm it up.
He sincerely hoped that Darla had gotten a towel and started to dry herself off by the time he got upstairs, just so that he could shake himself like a dog and make her angry.
The elevator dinged. He forced his feet to move until he was knocking sharply at Tim’s door.
Every second that passed without an answer made his stomach twist, the icy water making his skin prickle and a puddle form beneath his feet.
Then, finally, the door flew open and Tim was standing there, Darla visible behind him. She was sitting on the couch and vigorously rubbing at her hair with a towel while Tim scanned Bernard over.
“You’re soaked,” he said obviously, stepping back to let Bernard in. “C’mon.”
Bernard followed him into the apartment, expecting to get tossed a towel of his own, but Tim just started for the stairs. Darla glanced up as Bernard passed her, and Tim said, “I’ll get you something you can borrow.”
“And me?” Darla asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you want to wear my clothes home?”
She grimaced, crossing her arms, and Tim grinned over his shoulder as he vanished upstairs.
“We’ll get you another towel,” Bernard said, jogging after Tim.
There was an irritated noise, then the click of the TV turning on. Darla’s voice called after them. “I’m making popcorn, Tim, and you don’t get to say no!”
“Make two bags!” Tim yelled back.
They reached Tim’s room and ducked inside, a warm burst of air sliding over Bernard’s frigid skin from having the door closed all day. He sighed, letting his head tip back.
Across the room, Tim had stopped by his dresser, opening the top drawer. He rooted around for a moment before pulling out a red shirt and holding it out to Bernard.
Bernard closed the distance to take it with one wet hand, swallowing hard as he tried to ignore the arctic-temperature clothes plastered to his skin, and Tim turned back around to dig around in his dresser some more.
It wasn't surprising that it was taking a while, not with how messy Tim’s room always was, but there was something about it that made Bernard's skin itch this time. Impatience crawled through his veins like ants as he shifted in place.
It must’ve just been that he was really beginning to feel the cold from his wet clothes. He couldn’t even hug himself to keep warm without pressing the borrowed shirt against his wet one and soaking it, too.
“Tim, c’mon, man,” Bernard said, his hair dripping frigid water down his back. “It’s freezing.”
“So get changed,” Tim said.
“I need the pants, first.”
“Not to change shirts, you don’t.” He shuffled some more stuff around and tossed what looked like a sock over to the side. “Just get a towel, dry your hair, and throw on the new shirt. I’ll have your pants by then.”
Bernard grimaced, clenching his hand into a fist around the shirt, and turned to duck into Tim’s bathroom without another word. If he did speak again, it’d probably come out faltering from how his lips were beginning to tremble.
It felt weird to kick Tim’s bathroom door shut and start to strip off his shirt. It wasn’t nearly as warm as Tim’s bedroom had been, so as the wet fabric pulled away, the air made Bernard feel like he was being dunked into an ice bath. He let the shirt fall into the shower with a wet splat as he toed off his squishy sneakers and peeled off his socks.
That left him just standing there in his soaked jeans, so he took a towel from the stack on a shelf on the wall and leaned over, jamming it against his head to scrub until his hair wasn’t making those sopping wet sounds with every rub.
He ran the towel over his stomach and shoulders, just to try and get his skin dry before he tugged on his borrowed shirt. The towel went into the shower with his shirt before he pulled Tim’s on and let it fall easily around him, chest squeezing.
He’d never really thought about the fact that Tim wore the same size as him. Tim looked tiny most of the time, thanks to how short he was and how he made it worse by slumping around everywhere. His bad posture made his shoulders look smaller, too, and he always wore shirts that were a little too big, as if he was hiding the fact that he had actual muscles underneath.
But this shirt—it was a size or so up of Bernard’s. The sleeves were just a touch longer than his normal ones, and it hung loose around his waist.
He tangled his hands in the soft fabric, letting it warm them after how icy they’d gotten from the rain. Glanced up at the mirror and bit the inside of his cheek.
Bernard was so used to looking at himself and seeing the facade he’d built so painstakingly since freshman year. It was always a blazer and sunglasses and slicked back hair, always a cocky smile, always that air of I’m cooler than you.
All of that was missing now.
He was just a boy standing in a plain t-shirt, his hair curling at the ends where it was falling around his face. His expression was smaller and softer than anything he was used to.
There was nothing cool about this. Just the quiet energy of a kid in an oversized shirt, seeing himself for the first time in too long.
With a slow breath, Bernard let his head tilt to the side and his posture slouch.
What was it about Tim that kept knocking him down like this? That made him feel so awake and so raw, like he was being slowly studied, each piece of his soul taken out and inspected before being gently placed back where it belonged.
It’d been a thing since the beginning of the school year, even just when Tim jumped to call his bluff when he’d said he would talk to Darla if she wasn’t sitting with the football players. It was like Tim was, purposefully or not, making Bernard inspect himself too.
He wondered if he’d had a friend like Tim earlier, would he be any different? Would he feel more like he knew himself?
Maybe.
Or maybe he was just doomed to be like this regardless, uncertain and unfamiliar with who he was, trying to find himself a place to fit when everything seemed to be shaped for somebody else.
Bernard huffed out a laugh, untangling his hands and running one through his hair.
It was just a shirt, and he was acting like it had some sort of magic that would tell him who he was supposed to be, or like Tim could just see it with a glance.
He was glad when he heard Tim’s quiet footsteps outside the bathroom door. The knock was a relief.
Pulling the door open, Bernard smiled, and Tim held up a pair of pajama pants in offering.
It made Bernard’s brain skip a beat for a second.
Had he always stood so close to Bernard? Always stepped past where he’d need to be just to pass something over?
Not just that, but did he always look so…maybe it was just that Tim had been caught in the rain too, but there was something softer and more gentle about his face, too. Bernard hadn’t even realized it was possible for Tim to look kinder than he already did.
Tim held out the pants to him, and Bernard took them with a little frown.
And Tim noticed, because of course he did. He always noticed when something was wrong with Bernard.
“You good?” He asked quietly. “If you’re not feeling well, I’ve got some medicine downstairs in the kitchen.”
Bernard laughed, the pants bunching in his grip. “Nah. Don’t worry about it, I’m just tired.”
The expression on Tim’s face melted a little.
“If you’re staying over anyway, you can just go to bed. Darla and I can keep quiet downstairs so you can sleep.” He offered.
Something in Bernard’s chest twisted at that, but he just tilted his head. “I’m staying over?”
“I mean, I figured you would. You didn’t seem too excited about getting home.”
When am I ever, Bernard didn’t ask.
Instead, he nodded, half-turning to set the pants on the bathroom counter. Tim shifted, reaching out to nudge his wrist.
“Are you gonna sleep?” He asked quietly.
All Bernard could do was nod again.
“Okay. Get dressed, I’ll get you a blanket.”
And then he was gone, leaving Bernard to close the bathroom door and sigh.
There was a part of him that really wasn’t happy about having gotten himself banished from hanging out downstairs with Tim and Darla, but he couldn’t deny that sleeping sounded good. It was late, and Bernard’s head was beginning to ache from his cold hair. If it didn’t mean he’d be alone, he’d be all over laying down and just letting himself pass out for a few hours.
Stomach twisting, Bernard forced himself to keep moving. He reached into his wet jeans pocket and pulled out his phone—mostly dry, thankfully—to tap the power button.
He was planning on checking it, then just tossing it on the counter and tugging his jeans off, but he was stopped by three notifications lined up on his screen.
There were missed calls from his dad and his mom, both. One each. A text with it.
Bernard clicked his phone off without checking it, his heart squeezing itself tight in his chest.
If he didn’t check it, then it wasn’t there, right? He'd have plausible deniability when he woke up in the morning to even more? He could just truthfully say he hadn’t seen the text—because, technically, he hadn’t. Just the notification.
But if he did check it and it said to come home, or asked where he was, then he’d feel like he had to either respond or leave.
Part of him knew that that would be the right thing to do, and the respectful thing, but he just couldn’t handle the way his parents would start chewing him up for being out so late. It was their fault that he was avoiding going home, their bullshit rules and strict standards and disappointment that had him dodging them all the time.
A curfew was reasonable enough, but not when it was just another thing added into a pile of rules that made Bernard feel like a dog on a tight leash.
He dropped the phone onto the counter with a clatter. Yanked his jeans off and kicked them into the shower with his shirt, plannong on grabbing them in the morning when they were dry, then tugged on the pajamas Tim had leant him.
As soon as he was dressed, Bernard slipped out of the bathroom and towards Tim’s bed, dropping down to sit and stare at his phone without turning it on.
They couldn’t really be that pissed at him, could they? It wasn’t like he normally told them when he’d be out late. He just showed up when he showed up and dealt with the consequences of it.
It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d stayed over at Tim’s place without asking them. They weren’t exactly huge fans of it, and it’d gotten Bernard the silent treatment more than once, but they hadn’t done anything nuts like forbid him from seeing Tim.
And even if they did, would Bernard really listen to that? They were classmates, it wasn’t like Bernard could avoid him at school, even if he wanted to. Definitely not just because his parents didn’t like him.
Swallowing hard, Bernard let his eyes drift away from his phone until he was staring blankly at one of Tim’s posters.
This was such a stupid thing to be upset about. Two calls and a text. It wasn’t even like he knew they were mad.
It was just—the possibility that was making Bernard’s chest twist and his stomach sink. The vague idea of them being even more disappointed in him than usual was enough to make his hands feel weak.
Just as he was about to chicken out and check the text, there was a sudden noise from the hall, and Bernard’s heart leapt into his chest as he turned.
“Got it,” Tim said, standing in the doorway, holding a thick, fluffy blanket. “It was in the hall closet.”
Letting his hand slip down to set the phone on the nightstand, Bernard mustered up a smile. “Thanks, man.”
Tim tossed the blanket on the bed before giving Bernard a searching look, as if trying to see straight into Bernard’s mind, and reaching out to grip Bernard’s shoulder. His skin prickled where Tim’s warm hand pressed through his borrowed shirt.
Then he was heading for the door, glancing back as he put his hand on the knob.
“Get some sleep, Berns,” he said quietly. “I’m downstairs if you need anything.”
The door swung most of the way closed, only leaving a little gap. Quiet footsteps sounded down the hall before fading into nothingness and leaving Bernard in the silence of Tim’s room.
He laid down, not knowing what else to do, and stared at the popcorn ceiling.
When Tim had asked Bernard and Darla if they’d wanted to swing by the skatepark with him, this wasn’t what Bernard had expected to have happen. He’d figured they’d hang out for a bit, then grab some late dinner at some tiny diner or something, and he’d drop both of them off before heading home to try to sneak in without his parents finding something to scold him over.
Instead, he was laying in Tim’s bed, in Tim’s clothes, with his phone weighing expectantly on his mind from the nightstand.
With a sigh, Bernard rolled over onto his side, his hand smoothing over the blanket and his heart squeezing as he realized belatedly that the whole bed seemed to feel exactly like Tim.
It was probably just that Tim’s clothes and his bedding got washed in the same laundry detergent and that Tim just liked the same kind of fabric in both things, so they felt similar, but that didn’t make it any less strange to feel like he was lying curled up close to Tim himself. It was like when he sometimes let himself nod off against Tim’s shoulder when they were watching a movie too late at night, or like the rare times that Tim and Bernard hugged tightly enough that Bernard would notice those sorts of things.
Bernard swallowed hard, letting his eyes slip shut, and just breathed in the comfort of being surrounded by his friend.
He’d never really realized just how safe he felt at the Drakes’. In Tim’s room.
It was more comfortable than his house, yeah, and he didn’t feel like he was waiting for someone to come storming into the house to kick up a fuss about whatever he’d done this time, but it was more than just not being as bad as the Dowds’.
Tim’s place felt like it was separate from the rest of the world. Like here, in his room and his bed under his blanket, Bernard was completely hidden from his parents and all of Gotham’s bullshit. He was untouchable.
And part of that was just the fact that it was Tim’s space, and Tim always had an air around him that made Bernard feel protected, like if something happened, the short dude with the stupid grin would be able to keep them safe. It soaked into him whenever he was at the Drakes’, cradling him close.
If Bernard could, he’d spend all of his time there, just laying with Tim and ignoring the rest of the world. Playing video games and watching movies and eating the annoyingly healthy snacks that Dana stocked in the kitchen because she and Tim liked them.
He’d read the Sunday comics that Jack piled up for Tim from each week’s newspaper with his head in Tim’s lap while Tim flicked through some skateboard magazine. Drift off lying on the rug while Tim sat at his desk doing the homework Bernard would later ask to borrow and Tim would smack him with.
Abruptly, Bernard was hit with a pang of something cold behind his lungs.
He twisted his hand in the blanket beside him and frowned tightly at the way the other side of the bed felt so cold.
There was barely even a full floor between him and Tim and Darla, but it felt like Bernard was missing something, laying there alone. Like there was an empty space where something warm ought to be.
Bernard normally slept on the floor when he crashed at the Drakes’, so maybe it was just that. He felt uncomfortable in Tim’s bed because it was so unfamiliar, not because he was missing Tim. That’d be stupid. He was just downstairs.
His heart squeezed a bit at the thought.
The safe feeling Bernard had had before was slowly deflating, leaving behind a hollow carving in his chest.
It wasn’t really a decision to push himself up and sling Tim’s blanket over one shoulder. He just did it, heading for the door with a deep breath. The floor creaked slightly beneath him as he drifted down the hall and then the stairs.
The first thing he saw as he crept downwards was the flickering light of the TV. Then two shadows on opposite sides of the couch, Darla propping her head up on her hand while Tim was slumped down like he was about to drift off. Both of them glanced back as Bernard reached the bottom of the stairs.
“It’s too warm up there.” Bernard lied as he trudged around the couch to flop down between them. “Tim, you should look at your heater settings.”
“The settings are fine, you just run like an oven,” Tim said.
Bernard huffed, pulling the blanket so it was laying over him completely before sprawling out so that his head was on Tim’s leg and his own legs were over Darla’s lap.
“Get your feet off of me.” Darla whined, shoving at his ankle.
“Nah, it’s comfortable,” Bernard said with a grin. “Besides, you’re gonna leave soon. If I lay my head on you, you’ll wake me up when you go.”
Tim laughed quietly, letting his hand flop down onto Bernard’s stomach. It was warm and weighed Bernard down, making his chest twist contently as Tim said, “Just give up. He’s too much of an ass to be moved.”
“You’re saying that because you’ve got his head,” Darla said.
“Aw, Darla wants to look at my face. Maybe I’m finally winning her over.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Just go to sleep, Berns,” Tim said, looking down at Bernard with a crooked smile. His hair slipped into his face, his eyes shining in the blue light from the TV, and Bernard’s lips twitched up. “The sooner you’re out, the sooner Darla can shove you off her.”
Bernard let out a little laugh, his head lolling so that he was looking at the TV.
It was a lot easier to lay comfortably down here, even if he was a little cramped with two other people sitting with him.
There wasn’t as much room for his mind to wander to things like his parents. Not with Tim’s arm laying over him and Darla having resigned herself to holding Bernard’s legs the same way. The warmth and softness of it was enough to chase away pretty much anything Bernard could’ve come up with.
After only a few minutes, he was fighting back a yawn, the actress on the screen letting out a shrill shriek that sounded dulled to his ears, too distant to make him jump.
He was asleep by the time Tim flinched so hard he spilled his popcorn all over the rug.
Sometime after Bernard slipped downstairs to sit with the others, he blinked sluggishly, a vague noise tumbling into his mind.
His mouth was dry. His head felt fuzzy from sleep. Everything was buzzing a little when he managed to register Tim crouched in front of him, beside the couch.
How he’d slipped out from under Bernard’s head without Bernard noticing, Bernard didn’t know.
“Darla left,” Tim said quietly. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs. You can take the bed.”
Humming tiredly, non committedly, Bernard found his eyes drifting down Tim’s face. Over his cheeks and down to his lips. Back up to find him watching Bernard.
There was a part of him that thought briefly that he ought to be bummed that Darla had left. They were pretty much just friends at this point, with her being so obviously into Tim and Tim being into his supposed girlfriend, but Bernard was still giving it a fair shot. He figured that even if it didn’t work out between them romantically, he flirted with most of his friends anyway.
But right now, Bernard didn’t care either way. Not that his friend or that his crush had left without him being able to say goodbye.
All he could focus on was how he’d never noticed that Tim’s eyes were almost gray. They looked blue most of the time, but there was a glacial layer under them, turning them into a silvery, smokey color that made Bernard think of pearls.
Tomorrow, sitting in his car as he started it up and got ready to leave, that Bernard would realize this line of thinking wasn’t exactly the straightest.
It would be tomorrow that he’d start to rethink everything, that he’d sit there with shaking hands and bite the inside of his cheek as he thought about what it meant for him.
He’d turn every crush he’d ever had on a girl over and over in his head and ask himself what exactly about them had made him like them, compare them to the way his skin prickled when Tim’s hand brushed his or how his heart soared when he heard Tim’s ringtone.
For now, he just took a tired half-breath and slumped back down into the couch, his eyes sinking shut as he curled into the fluffy, borrowed blanket.
“Sit with me?” Bernard mumbled.
Tim huffed quietly. “You need to go upstairs and sleep, Berns.”
But a moment later, the couch shifted as Tim sat right above Bernard’s head anyway, his leg pressed against the top of Bernard’s hair.
He fell asleep like that for a second time, the TV clicking as Tim found something else to watch, apparently having resigned himself to staying there for the foreseeable future.
Bernard barely even registered lean fingers gently brushing through his hair, smoothing it away from his face as he drifted off.