Friday I'm In Love - The Cure.

"Hey," Dick greets, solemnly standing outside your apartment with a near-broken plastic bag twirled around two fingers of his. "Brought chinese." It's the least he could do, really. Skipping out on you for an entire week all but a single day--as if you're so disposable that he's aware you'd wait in the same spot until he wanted to relapse on his bad habits.

If anything, it's a ritual. A tradition you hope to see rearing around your block more frequently, but you wait another dozen days until his next appearance and bite your tongue. Almost swallowing it before you decide to chew him out on his immaturity.

You have half a mind to send him back where he came from. Either Kory or Barbara, you genuinely can't tell anymore. He certainly has a roster, and you know you're not a priority. It's a show in the way he peels off his dirt-clad sneakers and kicks them off to the side of your living room, dropping to the surface of your couch like a heavy-handed corpse. Friday's his favorite day, coming 'round to see you is more of a guilty pleasure than something to be prideful about.

You're kind on Friday, and it's the weekly annotation that he notices how he's keyed up with love for you. You could break his heart on two days of the several, and he'd always wind back onto standing on your welcome rug, mouthing how you're a hypocrite due to the scowl you always own at his mere face.

You could chastise him later for his impoliteness. Friday is an escape from Blüdhaven and his vigilante duties, and the myriad of women he has yet to not disappoint.

"Got you dumplings." Well, at least he's attentive to your cravings. So much for a twenty-six year old man baby.