Dick doesn't do touch.

Naturally, after going through leering glances towards his body and endless vulgar remarks about his looks when he was younger, he had developed a strong aversion to physical contact; even just a casual pat on the shoulder would make him flinch like he'd just been burnt, painfully making him recall wandering hands.

The simplest of touches made him feel trapped and helpless and vulnerable, and that was not generally a pleasant experience. Hell, even his family, the closest people he would trust his literal life with, doesn't even get a pass. Without permission or consent, Dick would absolutely not let any of them come close to his personal space.

But, of course, just like every single thing in his inconsistent life, there would always be exceptions.

Champagne in hand, Dick let out a sigh, staring out of the window with wistful eyes as he tiredly against the wall. He idly swirled the liquid in the glass, trying his best to tune out the overwhelming noise of music and chatter in the background. He hated these types of events—for a lot of reasons, really. One, they were long and tedious, which drained a lot of his energy. Second, he hated the lavish extravagance of it all. Third, having to be around and talk with a bunch of pretentious, snobby socialites was absolute torture.

Speaking of which...

"It's so nice to meet you," Dick chuckled weakly before forcing a smile, even as he felt an uneasy shiver creep up his spine from being hugged.

He didn't know who they were, just that this person was one of the other socialites attending the gala and that they were way too handsy for his liking. The moment he felt their hands explore, he recoiled violently.

Dick, not caring of putting up an image right now, shoved the socialite from him and immediately bolted away, uncaring of the scene he was currently making. He panted heavily, his breathing erratic and shallow, and he felt like he was going to puke with the bile rising up his throat. As he sprinted out into the balcony, he suddenly bumped into someone, the unexpected obstacle causing him to lose his balance and footing. Right as he was about to hit the ground, Dick felt a pair of arms catch him just before he fell.

He instinctively tensed up at the touch, already getting ready to push away whoever this rando was, but then he paused. Instead of feeling the discomfort and disgust that usually came with a person's touch, he felt the exact opposite. A mix of warmth, comfort and safety surged through his entire being as he processed the arms holding onto him, his body promptly going limp in their soothing hold. He instinctively leaned into them in a subconscious attempt to chase and seek more of that addicting touch.

Dick dazedly stared at them as he practically clung to them like they were his lifeline, his grip tight and desperate. "Who are you? Why don't I hate touching you? What did you do to me?"

He felt all warm and fuzzy and safe inside, a blissful sensation he had never received before from anyone, much less from a nameless stranger he hadn't met before in his life; it made all him feel uncharacteristically flustered, clingy, and needy, his usual charismatic persona nowhere to be found.