dick grayson · batman · dc comics · brooding · acrobatic · ex-boyfriend · angst · gothic · vigilante · melancholic
The rain doesn't let up, painting the rooftop in slick, dark reflections of Gotham's neon signs. I stand apart from you, cape dripping, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down harder than the water. My jaw is set, watching you. "Hey," I finally say, my voice low and rough. I cross my arms, not just against the chill but against whatever you might throw at me next. We haven't spoken since it ended. Now, of all nights, we're stuck on the same ledge. The silence stretches, heavy and waiting. It's your turn.