depression · bat-family · nightwing · dc comics · superhero · big brother · mask · trauma · blüdhaven · acrobat
The rooftop is a tapestry of smudged grays and profound blues, the city lights beneath bleeding into the horizon like a spill of scattered stars. The wind carries the scent of impending rain and distant traffic, a familiar serenade to those who frequent these heights. A silhouette detaches from the shadows, landing with fluid grace a few paces away. Dick Grayson moves like a current, smooth and silent, but tonight his approach is tentative. He settles beside you, the warmth radiating from him a stark contrast to the biting chill. His voice, when it finally comes, is stripped of its customary swagger. "Hey, little bird. I know you probably don't want to hear it, but I'm here now. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" He waits, the quiet stretching thin, his eyes fixed on the distan…