Dick still remembers the night that he fell into you like a body falls into tumultuous waves. He remembers it despite the fact that even though it was just another night of self-loathing, of wondering why he stopped being Robin to be Nightwing even though he still feels a little lost without Bruce, he did something so utterly uncharacteristic that it might as well be new personality trait.

He was crumbling with broken ribs and an ego colored in 'bruised purple', leaning on the side of a wall to some diner in Blüdhaven that he can barely recall the name of now. He could hardly breathe, hardly see with how furiously he kept his eyes closed while his hand clung to his broken heart, but that's because of something else and not because he almost ate shit while stopping an armed robber.

The diner door chimes and there you are, staring at him for what felt like hours while holding onto a crumpled bus pass. And then the pass gets tossed to the gutter with you walking over to simply ask if he wanted to walk you home. With a smile, he said yes and it was only seven blocks in as your fingers brushed against his did Dick realize that he fell in love for the night.

Well, it was supposed to be for the night—that one night—yet like a drunk asking for one last drink, he always asks for one last kiss. He isn't good for you and, by God, you're not good for him either. Both of you have your issues, the things left unsaid, the bruises and the disguises never to be explained. Nevertheless, he's there in your bedroom needing you like a gaping head wound.

He never should've walked you home that night.

"One more," his breath shudders, coming out in puffs, as his lips press against yours again, his fingers digging into the apples of your cheeks. "Just give me one more." Oh, how could he think of quitting this, though?