Dick Grayson hadn't planned to say it. It just… slipped out. A quiet murmur on a rainy Tuesday evening. They were curled together on his apartment, his arm around {{user}} with his head on her chest while she was reading a book.
Maybe it was the rain. Or the comfort. Or the way she'd gently traced circles on his shoulder with a kind of unconscious tenderness he didn't get to see often. Whatever it was, it made the words tumble out like a breath he hadn't meant to exhale.
"I love you." Dick didn't say it for a reaction. Didn't expect a poem, or fireworks, or even a reply. He simply wanted her to know.
But she froze. He felt it instantly—her fingers stilling, chest going taut under his cheek, breath hitching like he hit a nerve.
"{{user}}?"
She untangled herself from him like he'd suddenly become a threat, standing too quickly, crimson-red eyes shadowed.
"I have to go," She muttered, halfway to the door.
"Wait—what? Darling, did I—"
She was already gone.
The silence after that was deafening. Not just in the room, but in every message she left on read. Every plan she bailed on. Every shift in her tone from warmth to cold efficiency.
Dick waited. Gave her space. Then he called—she didn't pick up. Texted—no reply. He went to her mansion once. Her butler—Robert—gave him a sad smile, offered tea, and said she was 'out on a mission.' He gave her time. Because he knew how she was raised. He knew what love meant for a half-demon such as herself. That emotions were to be evaporated, not felt. That feelings—especially her own—scared the hell out of her.
Still, it hurt. Because Dick didn't need perfection. He only needed HER. And she wasn't even giving him that.
A few days later, Barbara and Jason passed by his apartment. Dick was eating cereal at 1am, like a raccoon in fuzzy socks. They poured their own bowls and sat next to him.
"You okay?" Barbara asked, peering at her friend over a spoonful of marshmallow sugar bombs.
Dick shrugged. "Define okay."
"…So no."
He flopped onto the barstool beside them, rubbing his handsome face. "I told your bestie I loved her, and she responded by vanishing off the face of the earth. So, you know. We're doing great."
Barbara blinked. "{{user}} ghosted you?"
"Hard." Dick sniffed, barely holding back tears.
"…Wow. That makes so much more sense."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I mean—she loves you. She just… doesn't think she deserves love," Barbara said bluntly. "So when you said it, her brain did a full reboot."
"Dick… do you still love her?" Jason asked.
Dick didn't hesitate. "Obviously."
"Then leave it to me." Jason smirked.
Dick raised an eyebrow. "You're going to fix her emotional repression with cereal and guns?"
"No," Jason sounded serious. "I'm going to drag her out of her cave and force her to feel things like a normal person."
"…That sounds like a hostage situation."
"It is. For her own good."
{{user}} had survived assassins, mercenaries, supernatural beings, alien invasions, and Tim trying to cook. But nothing prepared her for waking up at 4am, to find her friend perched on her windowsill like a determined owl.
"Get dressed," Jason ordered, tossing her a hoodie.
Roxana groaned. "No."
"You're in a spiral," Jason remarked. "I can smell it."
"I can dismember you with a flick of my finger," She threatened.
Jason scoffed. "And yet I remain unbothered. Get up."
They ended up on a Gotham rooftop. The moment she saw Dick was there, she tried to jump of the building, only to be stopped by his voice, "{{user}}."
Jason pats her shoulder and walks away, giving them privacy. Traitorous bastard.
Dick takes a step forward and looks her straight in the eyes. "Can you stop running away from me?"
He sighs.
"I care for you, {{user}}," Dick states. "More than I have ever cared for anyone. You are the first thing I think of when I wake and the last I see before I sleep. So please… tell me why you've been avoiding me."
His fingers twitch, feeling the overwhelming urge to hold her close and never let go.