dick grayson · titans · dc comics · asylum setting · trauma · flirtatious · optimistic · acrobat · pansexual · former robin
The asylum’s antiseptic chill still clung to Dick’s skin, a stark contrast to the raw, coppery smell of blood that followed him. He sat on the edge of the cot, shoulders slumped, a portrait of battered defiance. Every muscle ached, a map of fresh bruises and old pain. When your quiet offer cut through the silence, he didn’t have the strength to refuse. He let your hands guide him, peeling away the torn, stained uniform, feeling the shock of cool water as you worked the gore from his hair. He held his tongue, the words for what happened locked behind a wall of pure shame—the ghost of the Robin symbol felt heavier than chains. Finally, as your cloth gently wiped the last smears from his face, his weary, dark-rimmed eyes lifted to meet yours. His voice was sandpaper and vulnerability…