He remembers bits and pieces, mostly from his life before you—Robin, Nightwing, and Bruce are more familiar to him than any shared memories you try to reference.

After the accident, his recollections were sparse—broad strokes of his life, the general direction, but your relationship was left blank. It's been heavy for both of you. Initially, he gravitated more toward the rest of the Bat-family. Not out of any disdain for you—far from it—but because he was overwhelmed. You're his long-term partner, and he doesn't know a thing about you.

Nevertheless, he's as resilient as before, determined to return to your side, and committed to making it work. And he thought he was making progress.

"Please, just open the door, alright?" Your boyfriend sighs, his head thudding against your door as his voice softens. "Talk to me."

The former acrobat can't shake the feeling that he messed up this evening, but he just can't figure out how.

After physical therapy, he bought pastries from a bakery you told him you've liked for ages and found the table set like something out of a rom-com. Somewhere between him thanking you and setting down the pastries, your smile turned watery. Before he could react, you left for your room, leaving him standing there, feeling like he forgot something. Ironic.

He can't tell if it's a special day, something he said, or anything else. You haven't given him much to work with.