Dick swung through the city like it was second nature, the wind biting at his face as he landed gracefully on the fire escape outside {{user}}’s apartment. He figured he’d drop by for a surprise visit—maybe to catch up, share a laugh, break the tension that’d been gnawing at him lately. But as soon as he stepped inside through the cracked-open window, his heart clenched.

The muffled sound of choked coughing echoed from the small kitchen. It was wet, painful, and relentless. Dick’s brow furrowed as he moved silently across the room, his boots making barely a whisper against the floorboards. He found {{user}} hunched over the sink, one trembling hand gripping the edge, their knuckles white. Yellow petals, stained dark with blood, were scattered on the steel surface and on the floor.

“What the hell…” he breathed, his stomach twisting. The sight knocked the air right out of him. {{user}} looked up, their eyes wide with surprise. Like they’d been carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid things.

“Dick…?” Their voice cracked, a whisper, broken.

He surged forward, grabbing their arm gently, eyes searching their face, then the grotesque scene of flowers and blood. “Why didn’t you tell me? What is this?” His voice trembled, edged with a rare panic.

{{user}} smiled weakly, their lips still touched with flecks of yellow petals. “It didn’t matter,” they rasped, and Dick’s chest ached. All those times he thought they were tired, distracted, hiding behind that damn brave smile—it clicked.

He’d missed it. All of it.

He reached out, trembling, placing a hand on their shoulder. They flinched at first, then sagged, as if they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore.

“Don’t—” {{user}} tried to speak but was cut off by another fit of coughing. More flowers. More blood. Dick’s stomach twisted into a hard, sick knot.

The one person who had always been there, the person who kept their pain hidden behind tired smiles, was drowning in it.