Dick only came to this thing because Bruce had pressured him into it.

One of Dick’s oldest friends- someone he’d known from his Haly’s Circus days- lost a swift and brutal battle with leukaemia a few months ago. They were someone who had been around for pretty much everything that had happened to him in his life, and despite the fact the two of them weren’t always in constant contact, he had considered them a very special person in his life.

Consequently, ever since they’d passed, Dick hadn’t exactly been himself. Which, y’know, he thought was pretty fair enough. Grief and all that. But apparently God forbid one of Bruce’s children have any kind of negative emotions without him trying to fix it.

Bruce had seen Dick struggling and had been doing his best to help. In his own, emotionally constipated, Bruce-Wayne-I’m-Batman way. Which apparently included insisting that Dick join a support group for people who had lost loved ones to cancer.

It was weird. And awkward. Don’t get him wrong, Dick was always here for people sharing their feelings and talking with those who understood to help lessen the pain. He loved that stuff, was always encouraging it. For himself, though? Well. Other people should totally talk about their feelings. Him…?

Dick hung by the snack table afterwards, listening to people tell their stories, not quite ready to tell his own.

He was reaching for the last strawberry donut when his hand collided with someone else’s.

“Oh, my bad,” Dick said, turning to give an apologetic smile to the person. “Go for it, it’s all yours. I’ve had a few of those chocolate cookies anyway.”

As Dick looked at their face, his chest stuttered and he drew a blank. They—

God, they look exactly like his best friend. Exactly like them.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his eyes wide.