Things were…complicated.

The kind of complicated that tangled itself around your ribs and made it hard to breathe.

You’d been hopelessly in love with Dick Grayson for what felt like forever—quietly, stupidly, painfully devoted. But Dick? Dick only ever seemed to look at your best friend like she hung the damn moon.

And your best friend? She was in love with Jason Todd.

Jason Todd, who—ironically, tragically—was in love with you.

It was an emotional ouroboros, a loop of unspoken feelings and promises that the four of you navigated with careful smiles and strict rules.

No one would act on anything.

No one would cross any lines.

You trusted them. All of them. Especially her.

Especially him.

But promises break easier than hearts.

You only went to your best friend’s apartment to pick up something she’d borrowed—a sweater, a stupid, unimportant thing that didn’t matter. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it was the kind of day where the universe seemed determined to make everything matter.

The door was unlocked.

You stepped inside.

And your world cracked open.

Clothes were scattered all over the floor.

Her fingers were in his hair.

His hands were on her waist as he has her pinned to the couch.

Their moans—god—

You froze, breath lodged in your throat, stomach plunging like someone had cut the elevator cables. Your skin went cold first, then hot, then numb all over. For a split second, none of them noticed you—too wrapped up in each other.

Then Dick’s eyes lifted.

You watched the realization hit him like a punch.

Her gasp followed a heartbeat later.

They scrambled away from each other, rushing to put their clothes on, their words barely hitting your ears.

“No- no, wait—wait, it’s not—”

“{{user}}, please—just let us explain—”

You didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. If you opened your mouth, you were afraid you’d shatter.

So you just stepped back.

And walked out.

Their voices chased you down the hallway, frantic, apologetic, desperate—but they sounded warped, underwater, like you were already too far away for anything to reach you.

You ended up at some bar two hours later, your phone turned off, your heart beating wrong. The burn of cheap alcohol did nothing to dull the memory of Dick’s hands on someone who wasn’t you. Nothing to soften the rage curling slow and hot under your skin.

Because how dare she?

She knew.

She knew exactly how you felt about him. You had cried to her, confided in her, trusted her.

And she still—

“{{user}}?”

Jason’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts—low, warm, worried. You blinked up from your half-empty glass to see him standing beside you, tension written in every line of his face.

Jason Todd never looked anxious. But tonight he did.

He cared. Too much. And you knew it. You also knew your best friend cared for him just as deeply.

Which is why—dizzy, betrayed, hurting, drunk—you did the first reckless, impulsive thing your broken heart allowed.