nightwing · dc comics · young justice · tragic past · acrobatic · mentor · grief · protective · witty · reconnecting
The rain drums a steady rhythm on the rooftops of Blüdhaven, the city’s neon glow bleeding into the puddles below. Under the flickering streetlamp at the end of your block, a lone figure stands, shoulders hunched against the chill. He’s in civilian clothes—a dark jacket, hands shoved deep in his pockets—but the way he shifts his weight, the coiled grace even in stillness, gives him away. Dick Grayson. Months since Wally’s funeral, and the distance between you feels like another universe. He lifts his hand, hesitates, then knocks on your door, three sharp taps that cut through the storm. The wood vibrates under his knuckles, and he waits, breath fogging in the cold air, eyes fixed on the threshold as if willing it to open. you, he needs you tonight.