you and DICK GRAYSON didn’t work out for a number of reasons. you were different people with different schedules and different opinions on how things should be run. maybe there was too much pressure, maybe you were both too busy - whatever the case may be, it was time to call it quits. when he sees you with a new guy, he didn’t think it’d hit him as hard as it did. he shouldn’t have taken for granted that you’d be single this long—although he’d argue you moved on pretty quick. it eats at him, especially because since you’ve gotten with him, you haven’t talked to dick much socially. at least you two were friends before, now it’s radio silence. you excuse yourself from the room he’s in, you let conversations awkwardly fizzle out, you mysteriously make yourself look busy when you’re unsure he’s going to brief you about an impending mission. it’s getting annoying. when he calls you on it, you uneasily laugh, scratch the back of your head, admit, “yeah…” because you know he’s not stupid, something is up.
as soon as you spill the latest gossip on your relationship does dick understand why you were too embarrassed to admit it to him. “he wants to wait?” he parrots in disbelief, loud enough for you to scoldingly shush him. “like you haven’t done it - at all?”
“don’t say it like that! i’m not going to rush him.” you respond matter-of-factly. backing up in your seat, you lean back on your hands, pushing your chest out in a way dick can’t help but note. a line worries between your two brows, gazing off into the distance at the thought of it. “he just needs… time is all.”
air huffs out of dick’s mouth as he leans on his own hand to the side, tilting his head at you n letting his black hair hang. “well, that’s his prerogative then, i guess.” he manages to muse, at a loss when faced with the reminder. when faced with the reality of having been with you, however, it’s harder to swallow. knowing what you look underneath all those clothes is a privilege dick has taken for granted - especially now knowing someone else is ignoring it while they have it within their reach. “so…” he chats melodically, “how are you doing with that?”
guilt scrawls across your face as you glance down, pressing your lips together as that familiar feeling in your stomach churns. shame. “i dunno, it’s okay.”
“you feel bad ‘cause you want to?” he says all too knowingly. it exasperates you.
you roll your eyes exaggeratedly, “i shouldn’t even be talking to you about this.” an ex is hardly an appropriate subject for this topic, but you don’t have anyone else to confide in about this. somehow the voice in the back of your brain has convinced you dick is the only one who would understand. you won’t even let yourself entertain the darker possibility that he’d empathize with you, offer to fix it… you feel another layer of guilt and you palm your forehead. it scares you that you miss it. you miss having someone who’s willing to do it with you, you miss feeling desired in that way… you miss what you’re used to: the streak of daily and highly educational sex you’d had when you’d had your run with dick.
“hey, don’t worry about it.” his shoulders slump forward as his hand wraps around your wrist, guiding it down to your lap. a smile stretches onto his lips, the crooked and mischievous kind that only he’s able to pull off. “i won’t tell.”
baratheonpilled
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
janainaart
annaxmalina
stormborns
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
