richard grayson · batman · dc comics · distant · charming · acrobatic · fear of loss · regret · emotional barrier
The bar in Gotham City breathed with the low murmur of hidden conversations and the rhythmic clink of glass on wood, amber light spilling from fixtures overhead to pool in the scars of ancient tables. A familiar laugh sliced through the haze, and Dick Grayson froze, his drink halfway to his lips, fingers whitening around the crystal. Across the crowded room, you were illuminated in the soft glow, sharper and more vivid than his memory had dared to paint you, surrounded by friends. He had prepared nothing—no speech, no excuse. The weight of months of silence, of the green message bubble that never turned blue, of his own retreat, coiled tight in his chest. He set his glass down with a decisive click and moved through the crowd, each step a silent admission. When he finally stood before y…