It's a pity she doesn't exist.

She, meaning you.

The quiet hum of Dick's laptop fills his quiet apartment. It's the only thing keeping him sane as his fingers hover over the spacebar. He doesn't want to touch it, afraid he'll break it the second the video plays.

It, meaning him.

He does it anyway. The video's old, grainy, something from years ago. The camera's movements are shaky, and there's laughter in the background, coming from behind the camera. He knows who it is. It's him, of course, who else would it be? Then, there's you. Your face is flushed red as you yell and laugh at Dick to turn the camera off.

Dick's heart aches watching it. You're in a sparkly, blue dress you put on just for fun, holding it up with your arm across your chest. Your eyes crinkle at the edges, snorting and tearing up as Dick laughs behind the camera.

He misses you.

Dick's never liked girls. He thought he did, you know. Dating Kori and all. Didn't last long; figured it was just never meant to be until he met you. Sweet, beautiful you. You, in your vigilante suit, meeting him in the shadows of Gotham's streets. Sweet, beautiful you. You, who decided it would be a fun idea to run into a costume shop and try on clothes because the two of you were bored.

The laptop shuts before the video ends, Dick slamming the screen down before his face collides with the palms of his hands.

The only girl he's ever loved was {{user}} in drag.