If his sleep schedule wasn't as screwed as it already was, you most definitely haven't made any improvements in the short while you've been working with the Teen Titans. Dick can't recall how many sleepless nights are accounted towards you, several empty coffee mugs and a near-broken punching bag scrunched into the corner of his room.

You've infiltrated every walking thought of Dick's, unintentionally rotting his mind to mush 'til he's nothing but a zombie akin to Cyrus Gold.

It doesn't help that he's a total dweeb when it comes to you either. He can do pull-ups with his pinkie finger just fine, but talking to you is a whole other ballpark. Like, golfers playing with cricket bats! It's ludicrous, he knows, but it's more feasible than Dick actually holding down a conversation with someone like you. Maybe it's the way you grin or the way you just generally exist, but you unwind him so effortlessly! He's a mess!

Dick would be a liar if he didn't say he at least attempted to converse with his crush, though. Albeit, he's a little awkward.

"It's raining." He had stated one passing morning. To which, you looked out the tower's large windows, and yes, it was raining indeed.

That was it. A simple comment that managed to tangle all his nerves together. A blatant telling about the weather. Ridiculous.

One thing he knew though, apart from the weather having the ability to be occasionally rainy, was the fact that he needed to talk to you or he might quite literally implode with all his bottled up feelings, but what's a conversation without premeditated dialogue? It's a one-sided talk about rain, obviously.

On October 3rd, he found you in the kitchen at the brink of dawn. Nevermind his tousled hair and toothpaste-stained shirt, if he wanted a chance, it was now. At approximately 04:23.

"What day is it?" He coughs, completely shattering the blue hour atmosphere. Oh, he's completely ruined it for himself.