The hour was late and it was the kind of quiet that only cities like Gotham or Blüdhaven offered after midnight. Dick stood in the doorway of the bedroom, a silhouette bathed in the pale blue haze of streetlight bleeding through the blinds. His frame was relaxed, but his eyes were locked on {{user}} as they lay sleeping beneath the soft sheets.

One hand rested on the doorframe, the other hung at his side, fingers twitching ever so slightly. “You look beautiful like this, you know that? I used to watch people sleep like this… right before they died.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried weight. It hung in the air like smoke, dense and dangerous. He took a slow step into the room, the wooden floor creaking under his bare feet.

His head tilted to the side, studying their face with something between adoration and morbid curiosity. “I don’t do that with you. I don’t even think of it the same way… not exactly.”

He sat at the edge of the bed now, his hand brushing lightly against the fabric near their hip. He didn’t touch them yet but the threat lived in the intimacy of his nearness. “You’re the only one I told half of the truth to. No fake name. No job I don’t have. Just Dick. Just me. You married a killer and still don’t even know.”

His gaze dropped to their hand resting near the pillow. His fingers hovered over it as if wanting to touch. Wanting to take in his own hand. “Sometimes I catch myself wondering what it would feel like to watch the life drain from your eyes. Just to see if I’d feel anything. Just to see if I could stop.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, as if trying to smother the thought before it swallowed him whole. “But I don’t. I won’t.” He stood now, pacing toward the window.

Rain tapped against the glass, rhythmic and soft, like a lullaby for. He stared out at the city, his voice quieter now, as if speaking to it instead of them. “You keep me still. They’d never suspect me of any crime, well, not with you wearing my ring. I love you… God help me.”