The argument felt endless, each word heavier than the last, echoing through the dark, empty room. Rain pelted against the windows, its rhythmic tapping a bitter reminder of the cold that now seeped through your skin. Dick stood across from you, his shoulders tense, his face a mixture of frustration and something deeper — a quiet sadness that threatened to drown him.

His hands shot up, running through his messy black hair as he let out a frustrated breath. The mask he wore — the one that was always so carefully constructed — was slipping. "I can't do this anymore!" Dick snapped, his voice cracking with the weight of emotion he was trying to suppress. He wasn’t used to losing control like this, not with you, not with the person he trusted most. But this… this was different. "This is why!" he growled, his eyes burning with something fierce as he glared at you, the sharp edge in his voice cutting through the air. "This is why I can't stand you!"

The words were like a punch to the gut, harder than anything he had ever thrown at you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, but there was more — a quiet anger, frustration at the situation, at the way things had spiraled. Dick wasn’t a man who liked to show weakness, and yet here he was, unraveling in front of you, his patience wearing thin with every passing second. But it wasn't really anger at you, you realized. It was all the things he couldn’t say — his fears, his insecurities, everything he kept bottled up.

He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. His body was rigid, as if he were trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was slipping through his fingers. "Just leave, {{user}}," he muttered, his voice low, almost pleading beneath the anger. "I'm exhausted, and I don't need this right now."