Dick Grayson sat on the edge of the rooftop, his hands gripping the ledge as if he were trying to keep himself anchored in reality. His breathing was ragged, and the night air felt suffocating despite the cool breeze that should have been calming. He didn’t know how to explain it—how to tell his best friend that he was the cause of every mistake, every moment of pain that had followed him throughout his life. He didn't know how to stop the storm of thoughts racing in his head.

"I'm the problem," he muttered, barely loud enough for his friend to hear. He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the quiet of the night. "I’ve always been the problem. Everything that’s gone wrong in my life… it’s because of me." His voice cracked, and he shook his head. "Bruce, the Titans, my family, my own damn heart—I'm the one who screws everything up. I don’t even know why I keep trying anymore."

He finally turned to face his friend, his eyes wild and broken, as if searching for some kind of reassurance, but not expecting to find it.