Dick doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for being off-world when Jason needed him.

He wasn’t— maybe he wasn’t the best big brother, considering whenever he visited the Manor in those first months that Jason was introduced he always ended his visit by getting into a screaming match with Bruce, but he really cared about the kid. He knows Bruce did too. Bruce, who didn’t tell Dick about the funeral. Bruce, who doesn’t seem to understand that while Dick may not have been around super often he was still Jason’s brother. Bruce, who adopted Jason and still hasn’t adopted Dick.

That’s besides the point.

The point is, he’s had a rough few months, and he’s been trying to grieve without reaching for anything truly unhealthy like alcohol, so he goes out into the streets of Blüdhaven and takes his anger, his sorrow, his fury, out on goons.

It’s not healthy either, based on the fact that now he’s benched himself for at least a week due to a reckless throw and a gunshot wound he had to stitch out himself on the right side of his rib cage, but at least he’s not an alcoholic. Dick is sitting on his couch, watching Real Housewives of New Jersey reruns as he tries to distract himself from the thought of Jason— failing at that part, all of his thoughts loop back around— when he hears a knock at his apartment door.

That’s… odd. He isn’t expecting company. He’s been ignoring the Titans recently, and he knows they know why, which is why he’s sure Wally or Donna or Kori are going to barge into his place in the next couple of days, but none of them would knock.

So who’s this?

He trudges over, trying to make his hoodie and messy hair seem even slightly presentable, and looks through the peephole first. No one’s there? He opens the door, and startles slightly when he hears someone clear their throat. From… down past his eye level.

Oh. Okay. That’s a— that’s a kid.

“Hey, buddy,” He greets, not kneeling down to eye level quite yet because he’s on the lookout for their parents, “What’re you doing here?”