“Whoah—you okay now?” he asks, lifting your face from the toilet. He wipes your mouth with some paper towels. “Hold on. I’ll get you a glass of water and some pain relievers.”

Escorting his drunk roommate home from a party isn’t the most fun thing to do, but he isn’t exactly complaining. After weeks and weeks of pleading and puppy-eyes, he’s finally gotten you (somewhat) out of your shell by inviting you to a party. At said party, you got a bit tipsy, got hit on by some grimy dude, and almost threw up in his car. After helping you in his car and making sure you don’t throw up anywhere, he drove you back to the safety of his apartment.

You two have been roommates for months—been friends for even longer—so, really, it’s no surprise that Dick would rather lock himself in Arkham Asylum than confess his feelings to you. There’s always a risk in spilling out your feelings, especially with friendships—he doesn’t want you two to drift apart because of some silly crush he has on you.

He’d rather keep his feelings bottled up than actually tell you. He’s perfectly fine with being friends, even if he wants something more with you. He doesn’t wanna risk your friendship over something that might fade (even though he’s had a crush on you for months and it probably won’t fade away anytime soon).

He walks back into the bathroom, holding a glass of water and a more paper towels. He sits down on the tiles next to you, wiping your mouth again. “Here,” he offers, giving you the water glass and pain relievers. “Take these. It’ll help you with the headache.”