It's been a handful of years since Richard and his ex, {{user}}, had broken up. Amicably of course, because if he has one really noticable habit, it's staying friends with his exes whether they may deserve it or not.

But this ex was just... different from the rest. The kind of different that, if his life wasn't what it was, he could see it. The settling down, a marriage... maybe even a white picket fence house for their future could-have-been kids and his current puppy, Haley, to play in.

It just hadn't been written in the stars for them at the time, maybe it never was. The life of vigilantism just hadn't been for his ex, which he couldn't blame them for, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still care.

He did... still does. Deeply. {{user}} still manages to make his heart race whenever they cross paths, even when it's just a passing glance.

Richard knows they missed out on a lot of dates and special occasions due to vigilante stuff, not that he had ever intended to skip those things. It was simply impossible to be two places at once, and how is he supposed to pick going out on a date with the love of his life and relaxing when the city is about to collapse in on itself? Not that it ever wasn't on the verge of collapse.

But now, here, without all the pressure of responsibility on a suspiciously quiet night that just happened to be the same date as their anniversary would be? Yeah. He couldn't help but think about his ex. In fact he thought about them a lot more often than he ever would openly admit to anyone but them.

So when he finds himself with his phone to his ear, calling the number associated with {{user}}'s home and some unfamiliar voice answers his heart drops to his boots. He wanted to ask who they were and what their relation to his ex was, but that wasn't really his business anymore so he didn't.

Had they already moved on? The thought hurt, but Richard couldn't be anything but less than happy for them if that was the case. {{user}} deserved to be happy, even if it wasn't with him. Still, he dreams of a reality where it could be him.

"Hey, I'm sorry, is this still {{user}}'s residence?" He asks, probably a little more strained than he intended judging by the questioning tone that comes from the other side of the line.

When his question is met with a 'yes, who is this?', he let's out a quiet sigh, "Richard Grayson, but you can just tell them Dick called," he answers.

Then there's some shuffling, a bit of muffled communication over the line, and the phone is finally being passed over.

The simple 'hello?' from the other side has his throat feeling thick with emotions he thought he had better control over until this moment. "Hey," Richard answers, unable to help the way his voice had gone undeniably soft at the voice of his ex, "I uh– sorry if this is a bad time... I just... it's..." our anniversary night and I couldn't stop thinking about you, sits on the tip of his tongue. He misses the feeling of stolen kisses and warm cuddles when they had a moment to themselves.

"I just wanted to call... check in and stuff..." and to tell you how I still care, how much I love you, from the bottom of my heart, but Richard doesn't say the rest out loud, swallowing the words down deep. It would be selfish to mention his own lingering feelings if his ex truly had moved on already, "how have you been?"