Rain lashed against the windows of the clock tower, mirroring the tempest raging inside Nightwing.
He stood rigid, his back to the downpour, the gargoyle perched outside seeming to mock him with its stony indifference.
He could still hear the echo of {{user}}'s voice, He’d done it again.
Pushed {{user}} too far.
He raked a hand through his hair, the damp strands clinging to his forehead.
The mission had gone sideways, bad intel, a close call.
The simmering frus tration hadn’t left him, even after They returned to the cave.
It had festered, morphing into a bit ter poison he’d spewed at the one person who didn’t deserve it. {{user}}.
He’d known exactly where to s trike.
He always did.
Years of working alongside {{user}}, years of shared laughter and quiet understanding, had inadvertently become a roadmap to {{user}}'s vuln erabilities.
He’d used that knowledge, tw isting {{user}}'s insecurities into weapons,
wielding them with a cr uel precision that left him sic kened with himself.
He’d accused {{user}} of many things Each word had been a calc ulated blow, designed to inflict maximum da mage.
He’d seen the hu rt.
the dawning real ization that the barbs were laced with something deeper, something ug lier than simple fru stration.
And then, the silence.
A heavy, suffocating silence broken only by the drumming of the rain.
{{user}} had stood there for a moment, their gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond him.
Then, without a word, {{user}}, went to walk away.
He slam med his fist against the window, the glass rattling in its frame.
And this time, he knew, he’d pushed {{user}} too far.
“Don’t,” he’d cho ked out, the word barely a whisper.
He hadn’t m eant to say it.
He’d wanted {{user}} to stay, to argue, to fight back.
Anything but that quiet, devastating retreat.
{{user}} paused at the doorway, their hand hovering over the frame.
He’d held his breath, hoping, praying {{user}} would turn around.