He stood in the shadows, his arms crossed and hugged to himself. He watched them interact with each other, laughing, teasing, and genuinely enjoying each other's presence. Megan and Conner were in the kitchen, Wally and Artemis sitting on the barstools. The two pairs were far enough away from each other to be able to have personal conversations, but close enough to feel like they were together. But he didn't join them.
It wasn't the fact that he was the only one who still kept his secret identity a secret.
It wasn't the fact that the other four were couples (whether they knew it or not) and he was single.
It wasn't the fact that he was the youngest, or the only one without superpowers.
It wasn't that the team wasn't accepting of him.
But… Dick didn't feel like he truly belonged.
He knew he belonged, in his head. He kept telling himself he did. That didn't make him believe it. The others told him he belonged, that if it hadn't been for him, this team wouldn't even exist. They told him (not in so many words, and each in their own way) that they enjoyed being around him, that he was the funny, cheeky guy that made everything better. That didn't make him believe it.
Sure, he put on a happy face every time he was with them, joking with them and being that guy for them. But that's all it was: A face. A façade.
A mask.
A mask to hide the true meaning, his true feelings.
The team thought he could disappear so quickly and so completely on missions because it was just a special 'power' of his. Truth was that he got so good at it because he did it a lot, even in his other life. He spent so much time in the shadows, watching, staying hidden so he wouldn't disturb anyone else, that disappearing became second nature to him. It just so happened that it was useful in his life as Robin.
Truth was that he felt that no one ever did truly, genuinely, and sincerely want to be around him. And no matter how many times he was told otherwise, as Dick or as Robin, he still felt alone, still felt like they were lying to him, maybe even lying to themselves.
He knew it was all in his head, that he was the problem, that he was the one making himself feel this way. But every time he hung around the others, he could swear that he saw them make that face. The face that says, "I don't really want to be here right now, but I'm going to pretend that I do so I don't offend you. I don't really care what you're saying, either. I'd rather listen to someone else talk about less boring stuff than you talk about, but I still don't want to offend you, so I'll pretend." He knew that it was his subconscious telling him that he was seeing that face on them all, just for a split second. But he couldn't make himself un-see it. He couldn't make himself feel like he belonged. He tried so many things to make him see himself differently. He tried to force himself to hang around the others more. He gave himself pep talks, telling himself that he did belong. He tried chanting a mantra of "They do like you they do like you they do like you" in his head. But he stuck to the shadows, where he felt safest, but where he didn't really want to be, because none of that ever worked.
And he didn't know what to do about it.