dick grayson · dc comics · nightwing · arranged marriage · hates you · sarcastic · circus background · martial arts · wayne enterprise · toxic relationship
The penthouse felt hollow, chilled despite the city's warm lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain traced slow, meandering paths down the glass, smearing Gotham's neon glow into a watercolor of loneliness. Dick Grayson stood in the doorway, his leather jacket still damp from the night, the faint, clinging scent of Kory's perfume a ghost on his collar. He made no effort to hide it—not anymore. On the kitchen counter, a dinner sat untouched, long gone cold, candles burned down to brittle pools of wax. you was there, as always, waiting with that look of quiet hope that twisted something guilty and sour in his gut—a feeling he refused to name. He met her eyes, his jaw tight, and let the silence stretch between them until it felt solid, a wall he'd built brick by bitter…