Dick knows rejecting you when you’d asked him out years ago was the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life. It wasn’t that he wasn’t in love with you—God knows he fell head over heels for you the first time he saw your pretty smile—but he wasn’t all there at the time. He knows he would’ve been a bad boyfriend. You deserved the world, not his broken self.

So now, here you are, two years later, both of you still friends. The word leaves a bitter taste on Dick’s tongue. Friends. It’s not what you should be, but it’s what he decided for the both of you. He should’ve forced himself to be used to it by now.

He sits in front of you as you talk about your date—because after he rejected you, you’re going on those now—and he pokes at the ice in his drink with a straw, humming absentmindedly. He loved hearing you talk, but this? Hearing this made his stomach churn.

“So, you think he’s boyfriend material?” he laughs weakly. His chest clenches in advance at your answer. God, he really wishes he’d never rejected you.