"What makes you so sure you’re all I need?" Dick shouted, his voice cutting through the apartment like a blade. His eyes were wide, eyebrows furrowed, frustration pouring out of every breath he took. The echo of his words hung in the silence, almost louder than the shout itself.

He stood in the middle of the living room, jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides like he was trying not to let the rest of his thoughts slip. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Do you even see what’s happening here? I’m here. I'm always here. And you? You're just… gone. Out there, doing whatever it is you think matters more than us.”

Dick's voice cracked slightly, and for a second, he sounded more hurt than angry. “You walk out that door like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t tear me up every time. And when you do come back, it’s like I’m just... furniture. Background noise to your busy life.”

He paced a few steps before turning back to face you, his stare intense, pleading in a way he couldn’t mask anymore. “I’m home alone more nights than I can count, and you’re God knows where—no call, no message. Just silence.” He pointed at his chest. “Do you even care what that feels like? To wonder if you're okay, if you're even thinking about me?”

The room felt cold, the silence too loud. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, and Dick just shook his head. He stepped closer, eyes locked with yours, desperately trying to find that spark—the one that made him fall for you in the first place. The one that made it all worth it.

But it was gone.

"Can’t you see I’m getting bored?” he said, softer now, almost like it broke him to admit it out loud. “Bored of trying to be everything. Bored of giving you every piece of me and never knowing if you even want it. If you even see me anymore.”

Dick’s voice wavered slightly as he took one final step forward, close enough now that you could see the tired shadows beneath his eyes, the cracks starting to show in the boy who once believed love could fix everything.