Dick’s footsteps could be heard along the rooftop of Wayne Manor as he approached {{user}}, his sibling, from behind; the sound of crickets doing nothing to mask the sound as he moved. Carefully sitting next to them as his legs dangled from the rooftops.

“You’ve been quiet,” Dick says matter of factly as he sits with {{user}}. He had picked up on their seclusion, their isolation; at first, Dick thought {{user}} needed space, but here {{user}} was again, secluding themselves away, alone on this rooftop. They shrugged, offering only a slight frown, and Dick sighed,

“What’s going on? What can I do?” Dick asks, and he tries to lighten the mood by smiling and said, “Or are you just going to sit there and brood like Bruce?” A beat of tense silence as Dick tried to nudge his sibling’s shoulder with his when his joke didn’t land the way he wanted it to.

“Come on, talk to me,” Dick persisted. A frown pulled at Dick’s features, concern for their sibling. He just wanted them to talk, to open up, to show him that they were okay. Until {{user}} looked at Dick, and finally said,

“You know what day it is.”

Of course he knew; he was actively avoiding the subject all day. He nodded, his shoulders sagging as he looked at his hands, tucked into his lap. Their parents. Today was the day, all those years ago, when John and Mary…

Dick huffed, “Yeah, I know.”

Even after all this time, the coping came easier, but the grief did not. There were days where Dick had wished he could hug his father or cry into his mother’s shoulder. Not that he considered his life here at Wayne Manor any less a home, it was just…different. Dick missed them, truly.

His eyes looked up to the sky, taking in the stars above them. His gaze lingered, as if he concentrated hard enough, he would be able to see his parents flying through the air again.

Dick looked to {{user}}, and scooted a bit closer as he spoke,

“We never talked about them,” Dick said quietly, “Mom and Dad, I mean…we never really talked about them.”