"Take a walk with me."

It's never a question for her. They both know he'll say yes.

"It's a bit chilly out, and it's gonna rain soon. Dress nice," she says with a pointed look. She twirls away from his door with a smile.

"Stop being so bossy, Babs. I'm still older than you.

"You sure don't act it!" she yells, out of sight.

He pokes his head outside of his door. She's standing at the end of the hall, hands on her hips.

"When are you leaving, again?" he says with a smirk.

"Never when you want me to. Get your ass moving already." She's smirking back.

"Or what?"

"I'll tell Alfred on you."

"Oooo…"

"No pancakes or waffles or french toast for you."

"I'd be dressed right now if you shutup."

"When'd you start listening to me?"

"Since always. It's just that I'm always tuning you out."

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Funny."

"I'm sorry, what?"

He rolls his eyes and goes back inside his room.

That's how it's been going between them. Something normal. Friendly. Playful.

It feels nice. Almost as nice as it does to wear normal clothes. Dark blue jeans and a black long sleeved shirt. Sneakers. Nothing covering his eyes, or the purple bags under them.

Normal.

He scrubs his hands over his face. He's got a bit of stubble going on. And his hair's gotten a bit too long. It's flopping over his forehead. He runs his fingers through it uselessly.

It's lazy. And maybe he feels a little gross. And a little like he's fresh out of an asylum, nervous to meet the outside world again, but it's good and familiar and normal.

He rips away from the mirror without a second glance and closes the door, shoving his wallet in his pocket. When was the last time I did that?

She hooks her arm through his and pulls him along. "I thought you've been sleeping better?"

"An extra hour doesn't do much, apparently. I look like a crackhead."

"A handsome one." She stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek.

He wipes it off with a huff. "Yuck."

She crosses her arms, sticks her chin in the air, and blows the meanest raspberry he's ever seen.

"Ugh. Now your nasty spit particles are all over my handsome face."

"Sucks to suck. Dick."

"Hhh-ha. Ha. Ha."

He pinches her side hard and snickers when she yelps and smacks his arm.

"I'm never gonna be nice to you ever again. Now we're definitely going to that tea house."

"Like you can't make tea here? Or like… in your own house?"

"Oh, honey." She pinches his cheek and tugs. "Don't you know I feel most at home when I'm with you?"

They exit through the back door of the manor, where his bike is. He slides his hand up her back and shoves her towards it. He almost feels guilty when she stumbles.

"Welp. You might want to reevaluate that." He swings his leg over the seat and starts the ignition. She's warm behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Helmet," she says, bumping her own against his back.

"Don't trust me?" He reaches for it anyway.

"I think I may trust you too much, actually."

"Hmm. Funny. I think I may not trust you enough."

"And why's that, dear?"

For some reason, he hesitates. Like he forgot he's only joking. Playing the part.

He reaches for her knee that's resting by his left side and squeezes where he knows she's ticklish. She hooks her arms under his and twists his nipples. He can't help but gasp.

"'Cause I know what you're capable of," he grits.

Then she's laughing and he's laughing and he revs the engine and they're off, deep into the city.

It's not as humid as it has been the past few days, and he can see the heat ready to break in the sky. It's gloomy and painfully like home, with the overcast and the gray clouds and the look of the world possibly ending, starting here.

They don't talk while he rides. It's nice to have her there, holding him. Playing with him. His best friend.

It almost feels like someone else.

But then he thinks about how things were before, years ago. When he was younger and more reckless when it came to himself and he actually kissed girls that he liked.

When they stop at a red light, he feels the faint press of her lips on his shoulder blade. He remembers when it was her and no one else.

He's never wanted to go back to that so bad.

There's the rumble of thunder and the first drops of rain fall upon them. They're cold, but soothing. He feels one land on the back of his neck and run under his shirt. She swipes at the trail it left.

"Hey," she says close to his ear, "around this corner. Then go straight."

The rain is pouring hard now. He's quick to park his bike and and wrap his arm around her shoulders, guiding her inside.

It's cool inside, with too many string lights and barely any people. They sit across from each other at a small booth. She raises her brow at him when he stares for a second too long.

"Darling. I suggest you look at the menu."

"I'm not hungry."

"I am, though. So order something extra for me."

"Barbara." He rubs his hand over his face and leans back into his seat, elbow resting on the top.

"Hmm?" she says, scanning the menu.

He takes too long to answer, and they both know this. She doesn't dare to look up at him, and he doesn't dare to look away.

He shifts uncomfortably. The air conditioning makes him shiver.

"Thanks."

"For?"

"Everything."

She smiles easily. "Anything for you."

He realizes the table's shaking because of how fast he's bouncing his leg. He smoothes a hand down his front and drums his fingers on his stomach.

"You okay?" she says calmly, but he doesn't miss the edge in her voice.

"Yeah, I just…" he darts his eyes around the space, "haven't been a normal part of civilization for like… ever."

Normal. Key word of the day.

"You really haven't gotten out of the uniform in a year?"

"More like two." He rubs his hand over his chest.

She tuts at him. "C'mon, Dick…"

"C'mon, what? I had work to do."

"What, kill yourself slowly?"

He rolls his eyes. "We've been over this. Several times."

"But when was the last time we talked about it? Let me refresh your memory. Quit pulling a prolong Batsy. You've got a life to live."

As the waiter approaches, she smiles sweetly. His shoulders tense even more. He picks at his lip and asks for a coffee after she gives her order.

She gives him her special glare. The one that's reserved for the nuisances in her life. "I can't believe you. Did you even take a day off?"

"Why're you upset? You know I've been doing this."

"You weren't always like this though, Dick." She sighs. "I really wish you reached out to me."

"Me too," he blurts out. He sits up and leans over the table, tapping his fingers against it. His leg starts bouncing again. "Barbara," he says quietly.

"Richard." Her green eyes are soft.

He leans forward, their faces inches apart.

"I love you."

She furrows her brows and grins. He can see the flush rising to her cheeks.

"I love you too?"

"Say it. I. Love. You."

"I love you," she says slow, forming the words in her mouth. "Dick."

He sits back down with the ghost of a smile. "It's so easy with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Not like that," he rolls his eyes again, "I mean…"

She raises her brows and crosses her arms over her chest. "You mean?"

"I mean. It's easy to talk to you. I forgot just how easy…"

"Oh, honey… all the digging I've done. All the layers I've gone through… just to get you to tell me how your day went."

He chuckles. "That's why I love you."

She smiles like honey. "I love me, too."

"You should. You're great. The best, really."

"Mmm. You know it."

"You see?"

"See what?"

The waiter comes then with their coffees. He sets his aside while she pours cream in hers.

"How easy it is for me to tell you."

"That you love me?"

"That I love you."

She tears two sugar packets. "Well, you're comfortable with me, aren't you?"

He huffs, running his hand through his hair and tugging. "Yeah, but why only with you?"

"'Cause we've been through the wringer more than a couple times."

"What else?"

"We know each other. We talk."

"What else?"

She gives him a dirty look. "What are you trying to get at? Do I need to give you a whole history of our relationship?" She takes a sip from her cup.

"How come we never had one?"

She chokes on her coffee. He passes her the glass of water on the table.

"Where did this come from?" she says, coughing.

He smiles with his teeth.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you love me."

"Where do I start? Of course the feelings were there, but…"

"But what?"

"Y'know… we were young. Really invested in the… life."

"But we were pretty much always together. How come it never went further than a kiss?"

"We weren't ready for it."

He stretches his arm over the top of the booth. "Okay."

"It was so tempting, but… it felt more like a liability than an escape."

"Hmm." He reaches for the cream and pours it into his coffee until it's barely brown. "Was it you or me who decided that?"

"I always thought it was mutual?"

"Maybe, but… did you feel that way at first?" He licks his lips and watches her bring the coffee to hers.

"I mean… I wasn't exactly thinking about the possible consequences of getting with the boy I liked."

"I was. And I'm sorry about that."

"God. What a gentleman you are."

He places his hand over her wrist and squeezes gently. "I am."

"You don't need to apologize."

"I do. I hurt you."

"It's not your fault. Plus, it was years ago."

He withdraws from her and settles back.

"Hey. Enough with the pouty face. You know I'd forgive you a thousand times over."

He takes her hand again and presses his lips to the top of it. "You give me a whole lot more than I deserve."

"Who says you don't deserve it?"

He doesn't answer.


Right when he's actually about to fall asleep, his phone rings. Panic instantly sets in and he answers it with bleary vision.

"Hello?" he says with too much edge in his voice.

"Chill, dude. I can't talk to you? Damn."

He sighs and slumps back onto his bed. "Shutup, Wally. I thought something happened."

"Well, you shouldn't be worried about something happened. You couldn't tell me that you went on vacation?"

"It's not vacation. I'm working on something."

"Care to tell your best friend?"

He throws an arm over his eyes. "Nope."

"Alright. Suit yourself. When I decide to mysteriously disappear without telling a single soul where, when, or why, which I would never intentionally do, I will never tell you."

"Cool. Done?"

"Nope. I'm calling to check up on you."

"I'm fine. How did you know I left, though?"

He hears a totally not exaggerated sniff from the other end of the line. "I paid the good ol' Titans a visit."

He sits up and leans against the headboard. "Why?"

"I can't pay my teammates and my best friend who wasn't there a visit?"

He smacks his forehead. "You're so fucking annoying," he mumbles.

"I would say that you love me anyway, but I don't think you do."

"Wally," he sighs, "what's going on?"

The slight sound of his breathing unsettles him. He feels his whole body go taut to the point where it almost hurts.

He waits for an answer for what feels like enough time it'd take to kill Wally.

"Sorry bro, I'm playing something. Remember that beach party the girls started planning like, last summer or some shit?"

He furrows his brows. "...Yeah."

"Well, y'know. That's coming up in a couple weeks. It actually sounds like a pretty good time. I think it's time I show off my body, y'know? But, anyway, I came in a flash 'cause I wanted to see you. Y'know. My best friend."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"I really did come to talk to you about the party."

"Okay."

"And I also wanted to hang with the guys."

"Okay."

"And I also really wanted to see you. But you were gone. Like the wind."

"Okay."

There's nothing, until.

"Starfire looked really happy," he says in a rush. The sound of his hand clapping over his mouth is audible.

At the sound of her name, his blood runs cold.

Why would he tell him that? Why would that matter? It's not like he knows anything.

Not like you weren't completely fucking obvious that last party.

He gulps.

"Uhh… o-okay." He curses himself for stuttering. "That's good. For her."

"You don't… wanna know why?"

"Why should I question her happiness? She's my friend." His voice comes out too rigid and too strained. It makes him cringe.

"Well I uh… found it odd. Strange. Weird."

"Hmm."

"She was… practically over the moon. The sun. Whatever she worships."

"The sun," he says so quietly he can barely hear himself.

"Right. Right right right right…"

"Why would you need to check up on me?"

"Haven't I told you that you're my best friend?"

"Best friends don't keep things from their best friends." His stomach turns as he says it.

"I'm not keeping anything from you, dude. I swear. It's just that… the atmosphere, last time we were all together, it was… how can I say it? Off."

"Yeah. That happens sometimes."

"But it's nothing I've seen before. I can't really pin it down."

"Then don't. It just is."

"Are you okay?"

He barely breathes.

"It's just a feeling… are you good? Like, emotionally? Because you know…"

"That I could talk to you. Right. Thanks, but I've done enough talking today."

"Is that why you left? You needed to get away? I get that. I do."

"Look, I need to sleep. Got a big day tomorrow."

"Okay. That's fair. Understandable."

"Night."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Night."

Before he could say something else, he hangs up. He's stock still. He can't move.

The discomfort swirling around inside his body is nauseating. Why did it matter that she was happy? Isn't that good? Isn't that a good thing?

That she's happier when he isn't around?

Does she have someone else now?

The bile rises in his throat. Before it goes any further, he swallows it down and shakes his head.

The darkness grows grainy in front of him. The world spins slow.

He's embarrassed to call her. So he settles for a text.

r u up?

The second he sends it, he regrets it. She'd worry now. Or if she's sleeping, she'll wake up and see it and worry about him. She's probably sleeping, anyway. It's past midnight. She's got her own shit to do. Of course she's sleeping.

His phone vibrates.

Yup. God forbid I sleep at a reasonable time.

What's up?

His chest doesn't feel so constricted, knowing she's there.

nothin. wally called

woke me up

He stares at the small screen. Willing his breath to come in normally. To come out normally.

What did he call for?

He takes his time clicking his response. Trying to decide if he should tell her the truth.

bout some beach party

Could he be any more vague?

Ooo. Can I come?

He chuckles. She'd never step foot.

only if u come in costume

She always preferred Gotham.

Gotcha. By the way, we still sparring tomorrow?

Gotta kick your ass at least once before I go.

He forgot that she's leaving soon. In less than a week.

Four days.

He frowns deeply.

yea

gimme ur best, gordon

The uneasiness settles back in. He fights the urge to call.

Will do, Grayson.

Sweet dreams 3

He stares at the heart until it looks like nothing but lines, scrambled. It's all he can do to cling to a thought that wasn't anything else.

He could never take this burden on his own.

He tries to ignore the pain in the middle of himself. The tingling in his limbs grows. It wouldn't hurt if he were numb.

It wouldn't hurt at all.

Exhaustion takes him over, embers dying out. He loves her. He's loved her for years. For once, he'll say it.

good night

thank you

And he stares at the ceiling. Imagines it falling.


When he wakes up, it's in a cold sweat. His face feels warm, though. Under pressure.

One side of it, at least.

"Dick… Diiiick," she whispers.

He groans.

The pressure lifts and brushes his hair back softly. It instantly soothes him. He shuts his half-lidded eyes and silently begs for her to keep going.

Her nails, lovely and just long enough to feel good, scratch his scalp. Her palm cups his temple. He can feel all the heat radiating from it.

"It's noon. Time to wake up," she whispers into his ear.

"Keep going…" he grumbles.

"You're such a baby."

She pecks the top of his head. Her hair tickles his nose. He finally opens his eyes.

"Barbara," he says low. He doesn't mean to sound so… disappointed. Or relieved.

"Good morning to you too," she says before tugging his hair. He grunts and takes her wrist in his hand, pulling it onto his chest.

"Sorry," he mutters. He covers his eyes with his forearm.

"Forgiven. But only after you shower. And shave, maybe?"

"I'm kinda into the beard," he smirks.

"It's more like… random patches of hair here and there. Other things have impressed me more than this."

He uncovers his eyes and they land right on hers. "Other things of mine?"

She rolls her eyes and he snickers. "Get your ass up, Grayson. I don't have all day."

"Is it really noon?"

"Yup. I came here an hour ago. Thought I'd let you have your beauty rest. Lord knows you need it."

"I'll be ready in twenty."

"And I'll be waiting in the training room. One minute late, and I'm gone."

"That a promise?" he says, and when she gives him her dirty look he winks.

"Jackass." She leaves with a smile.

Once the door closes behind her, he sits up. He still feels jittery from last night. Ansty. Hyperactive.

Like that actual jackass Wally.

But what right does he have to be mad?

He huffs, grabs clean clothes, and heads for the bathroom.

He regrets looking at the mirror. He looks like hell.

His bags look like bruises. His eyes are red and sunken in, lifeless. His skin looks sickly white.

Before he gets lost in the void, he jumps into the shower and scrubs it all off in hot water. Pretends it all goes down the drain.

He gets out and dries himself off and changes into his shorts and shirt. He brushes his teeth and scrubs his too-wet hair with a towel. He doesn't bother shaving.

When he comes into the training room, he spots her right away in her shorts and tank top. He hates the way his stomach flips at the sight of her.

"Nineteen minutes flat," she clucks her tongue, "Impressive."

"Couldn't keep you waiting any longer now, could I?"

"Not at all. Let's go. Haven't had a good fight in awhile."

He walks up to her, arms stiff by his sides. She copies him. She has to tilt her neck back to look up at him.

"You haven't taken anyone down recently?"

"Nope." She pops the p.

"Not even on patrol?"

"Haven't been."

He tilts his head to the side and furrows his brows. "How come?"

"Don't give me that puppy-dog look. I haven't been since midterms. I chose myself for once."

"That's… I don't give you puppy-dog looks."

She laughs and points a finger at his chest. "Yes. You. Do," she says, punctuating each word with a poke. He grabs her finger and pretends to break it.

"Of course you're only concerned about what I say about you. Narcissistic jerk."

"Hey," he says, bending down to her height. "I think it's cool that you did that."

She smiles. "Hopefully I'll inspire somebody."

He takes a step back and begins to circle around her. "You know I can't do that."

She follows. "Why not?"

"I don't meant I can't, like I can't. I mean I can't."

She puts her fists out in front of her. "You make perfect sense right now. Like, I totally understand what you're saying."

He stops and gets into his starting position. "I mean that I have nothing else outside of this."

"And whose fault is that?"

He throws the first punch and she dodged it swiftly. She's always been graceful.

"Who else's? You gonna remind me about how I constantly ruin shit for myself? 'Cause I don't need it." He doesn't mean to sound so bitter, but he's done holding back. For the time being.

"I'm your voice of reason. Don't forget that." She ducks when he swings and jabs him into his side. He refuses to stumble.

"How could I? You're the angel on my shoulder."

"And you're the devil on mine." She winks and it catches him off guard for a split second. That's when she throws a punch into his gut.

"Thought you were bringing your A-game, Grayson. But thanks for making this so easy for me."

"In your dreams." He swings his foot and hits her ankle, but before she can fall, he catches her. She lands back on her feet.

"Seems a bit too casual for sparring."

He cocks his head to the side. "Then what're you waiting for?"

"For you to tell me what was wrong last night."

He freezes.

"What are you talking about?"

She bites her lip. She looks guilty.

"You've never really texted me so late without a reason before."

Is he really that fucking transparent?

He knits his brows together and heads to the nearest wall. He slides down it and sits on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. She joins him right after.

"I figured that something must've happened…"

"Yeah." He sighs deeply. "Something did happen."

She brings her knees to her chest and rests her chin on top, never breaking her gaze from him. "What happened?" she asks softly. And it's all he wanted.

"I feel so fucked up," he spits, staring straight ahead of him. "So fucking helpless."

His breath starts to pick up. His heart pumps faster. "I fucked up. And now I'm paying the price."

"How?"

How? How many ways has he torn everything to shreds? How many ways has he deliberately sabotaged himself from having the one thing that kept him sane? Alive?

What do you call someone who does such ugly things? Who builds only to destroy? The pain seethes in his chest.

"Dick," she starts.

"Robin," he heaves. "She calls me Robin. She doesn't even know my fucking name."

"It's okay, Dick. It's okay."

"No it's not." The tears burn his skin.

He feels her fingers threading through his hair, but he tears himself away from her, standing on his feet. He doesn't deserve it.

"Dick… yes it is."

"No… how is it okay? I'm definitely not. She's having the time of her life because I'm not home. She used to beg me to come back whenever I left…"

"Dick…" she whispers.

He grabs at the collar of his shirt, tugging it forward. The tears stream down his neck and some down to his chest.

"I love you, Barbara. I love you. How come I could say it to you? How come I can't tell her?"

From the floor, she looks so small. It's ugly watching her there. She's anything but.

"Sometimes…" her own tears glisten in her eyes. "Sometimes it's not enough to say it."

"W-what?" he says under his breath.

"You have so much to say. How can you condense it?"

"How can I even say it?"

"You don't. Not right away."

"What?"

"You show it." Her smile is watery, breaking. "You show her instead."