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Dick rolled over onto his side, and for a moment he forgot. Forgot everything that had happened before. Forgot how the two people he cared more about than anyone else on the planet had taken his heart and ripped it out of his chest and danced on it.
But Roy's side of the bed was empty, and Dick was alone, and honestly? He didn't know why he was surprised.
I slept with Roy.
He could still hear Jason's voice on the other end of the line. Could still hear movement coming from the background.
Maybe if Dick hadn't wanted to pick another fight about Roy's drinking... Maybe if he would have told Roy to stay home instead of running away to Jason who would just enable him and make everything twenty times worse during the next confrontation.
Because there was always a next time with Roy. Even when Roy promised it was the last time. Especially when Roy promised it was the last time.
I just... Thought you should know.
Dick had to hand it to Roy, though. He hadn't bothered showing up at their shared apartment later that day. Dick didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he was up to. He would have loved to say he didn't care, but he did. He cared so much it hurt, and the fact that he cared so damn much had screwed him over again and again and again.
He grabbed Roy's pillow and threw it across the room, watching as it slumped to the floor in a pathetic lump.
Roy was a lot of things.
He was a hell of a lot of things.
Dick just never would have thought a cheater was one of them.
He stared at the pillow on the floor for God only knew how long before dragging himself out of bed and into the shower.
He turned the water up as hot as it would go and let hte droplets scald his bare skin.
Just two nights ago, he and Roy had made love in that same shower. Roy had told Dick how much he loved him, and like an idiot, Dick had believed him.
He stepped out of the shower, not caring that he hadn't even washed his hair, wrapped a towel around his waist, and finally let himself check his phone. Ten missed calls from Roy Harper. Six missed calls from Jason Todd. Eight voicemails between the pair of them.
They were probably worried sick.
And Dick wished he could still say he cared about how they felt.
He stepped out of the bathroom, and his blood ran cold. He wished he were still asleep. That this was some nightmare and he'd wake up and Roy woudln't be sitting on their bed, knee pulled to his chest, watching the door
"Get the hell out."
"Dick..." Roy started to say something, but Dick shook his head. He didn't want to talk to Roy. He didn't want to see Roy. He didn't want to think about Roy. Because he couldn't see or think about Roy without seeing him with Jason, without hearing Jason's bullshit non-apology coming through the line all over again.
"Why the hell are you here?" Dick demanded and tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to spring loose. "Why the hell did you think I would want to talk to you right now? Why would I want to talk to you ever again, Roy?"
He hated how Roy's name tasted on his tongue. Once it had been sweet, full of love, thoughts of comfort and happiness. And now it just tasted like betrayal and pain, and Dick started to wonder if parents were onto something when they told their children to go wash their mouths out with soap.
“Dick, I was drunk,” Roy said before Dick could stop him.
“And that’s supposed to make this better?” he demanded. "You were drunk. Seriously? When are you not drunk, Roy?"
Maybe if he kept saying the name, it would make everything better. Maybe Dick would remember why he'd fallen in love with the man in the first place. Maybe he could find something, anything to hold onto that could help salvage the tangled up mess they'd found themselves in.
Correction.
The tangled up mess Roy and Jason had put him in.
"Do you love him?"
He didn’t know why he asked. Because he needed something to hold onto. Needed a reason. Needed to be told that it wasn’t his fault. That it wasn’t because Dick wasn’t good enough anymore. That it wasn’t because Roy was upset and wanted Dick to hurt too.
"He's my best friend..."
It wasn’t a confirmation, but it wasn’t a denial, and DIck wanted to scream until his lungs gave out. Because if Roy didn’t love Jason, then why had he done it? How could he have done it?
They had a good thing.
They had a good thing, and Roy was willing to throw it away for what?
" Do you love him?"
"I love you," Roy said, voice even as he looked into Dick's eyes for the first time since the argument had started.
Love was patient.
Love was kind.
And love wasn't enough anymore.
Dick watched as Roy stood and tried to take Dick’s hands, and Dick shoved him away harder than he meant to, but he still couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it when he saw Roy stumble back. “Don’t touch me,” he shook his head. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
“Dick..”
Roy would have excuses. He always had a few handy. But Dick didn’t want to hear them. He didn’t want to listen to whatever Roy came up with. Didn’t want a reason to take him back just so he could get hurt all over again.
“It was a mistake…”
It always was.
"Get your shit out of my apartment by nine or I'm selling it," Dick grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and changed in the bathroom, hoping to every last god in existence that Roy would be gone when he came back out.
By some miracle, his wish came true.
He thought about leaving, leaving and going to one of his safehouses and trying to pretend that the last forty-eight hours hadn't happened. Leaving and going to one of his safe houses and trying to pretend that Roy hadn't thrown two years of a damned good thing out the window in a moment of drunken stupidity.
He thought about going to the manor, but Bruce would ask questions. Not to mention the manor had been every much a home to Jason as it had been to Dick, and the last thing Dick wanted was a reminder of the person he'd thought Jason was.
I slept with Roy.
Dick crawled back into bed and pulled the comforter up around his body, breathing in what was left of Roy's scent. It had always brought comfort to him, before... Whenever Roy was back in Star City helping Ollie, Dick would make sure to steal one of his hoodies and would sleep bundled up in it on Roy's side of the bed.
Now the smell made him want to gag.
He stared at his phone, watching as Jason's number flashed on the caller ID screen, watching as the caller ID screen turned to a 'Missed Call' push notification, and watching as a 'New Voicemail' notification popped up above that one.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before unlocking the phone and checking his missed texts.
Little Wing: Can we talk?
Little Wing: Dick, seriously, answer the damn phone
Little Wing: I'm sorry
Little Wing: Dick, please talk to me
Dick glared at the screen and thought about throwing it against the wall like he had with Roy's pillow.
His thumbs were moving before he realized what he was doing, and he didn't realize what he'd sent until he saw the 'Read' receipt pop up next to the message.
You're dead to me.
He stared at his messages from Roy, knowing he should have just deleted them. Just two days ago they'd been poking fun at each other. Just two days ago, Roy had asked if Dick needed anything from the store. Just two days ago Dick had texted Roy about just how lucky he was going to get that night.
And now his notifications were blown up with bullshit 'I'm sorry's and explanations and 'can we talk's.
A small voice in the back of his mind told him that Roy had come back. Roy had left Jason and come back to Dick. Roy had wanted to try and explain and talk it out, and that that had to count for something.
But all they would do is put a bandaid on it.
They'd dance around the issue and pretend everything was okay when everything was so fucking far from okay it wasn't even funny.
Funny thing about bandaids.
They didn't do shit when a wound needed stitches.
Dick shut his eyes and tried to drown out his thoughts, drown out everything good he'd ever thought or felt about Roy.
Drown out any shred of sympathy he'd ever had for Jason.
It almost would have hurt less had it been a stranger.
At least he never would have had to know who it was then.
He had to hand it to Jason.
Jason knew how to play dirty, and play dirty he had.
I just... thought you should know.
Bullshit.
Jason had been trying to rub it in. He'd finally taken something from Dick, and it was something he was never going to fully be able to get back again.
He blocked Jason's number without a second thought and hid his phone in the bedside table drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.
If only things could ever be that simple.
He got back out of bed and opened Roy's drawer and threw the battered, faded red hoodie on over his head not even knowing for sure why he was doing it. He threw the hood up and curled back up under the blanket and shut his eyes so tightly they hurt.
He wished he could say he hated Roy.
It would have been a hell of a lot easier if he did.
But Dick still loved him. Loved him so much it hurt.
But love wasn't enough anymore.