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It's been two months since Spyral, since Dick’s return, since his betrayal. Nothing has been the same, everyone was angry with him and he doesn’t blame them, he had left whether that was his choice or not. The worst part is he couldn’t explain why, he had to lie to everyone even through omission. His relationship with Wally and Artemis killed him the most. They had been destroyed by his death, and him coming back just to say he was undercover, they had lost Wally already and they had to watch Artemis fake her death. Both situations plagued him, their blood covering his hands. Only to then leave them without a word and allow them to believe he was truly gone with no return. It killed them. The worst part is they were one of the main reasons he got through Spyral, the thought of returning to the people he loved only to be iced out by those same people killed the very little hope he had left.
He longed for their late night talks, their presence in his bed, the warmth they brought into his life. He missed the way Art’s thumb used to swipe across his jaw as she held his chin when she kissed him. He missed making breakfast and feeling Wally’s arms reach across his body, leaning his jaw on his shoulder. The presence lay like a ghost against his skin every time he went into the kitchen. Dick missed their voices. He missed Wally teasing Artemis and watching the instant regret. He missed laying in bed between them, whispered comments full of love gracing the air like a spell. He lost most of who he was when undercover and now he lost those who made him feel whole.
They asked for space, and Dick would never consider not giving that to them. The respect he had for them was too strong. He decided he’d just watch from a distance. Reading as the Flash had just saved the city or how Tigress had led the young justice team into a successful mission destroying another metahuman trafficking center. He watched as Wally got recognized for a new discovery and Artemis got her doctorate in literary arts. At night he’d sit and watch the videos of their past lives. He watched as they fell in love, as they celebrated every achievement, every anniversary, every birthday, every holiday. It always felt as though as long as they were together, like as long as they had each other that nothing else mattered. He’d look through their social accounts as he viewed what he missed while he was gone. He held photos of them as if it was the last grasp on reality he held.
He didn’t know where they stood. He didn’t know if they kept their love for him the way his love for them never faltered. He’d burn the world for them if they asked. That love didn’t go away, and it never would no matter how they felt. He would always hold that deep within his heart, the one place no one could take it from him. He longed for them, he missed them with an aching in his bones. He wanted his family back, he wanted to love them openly. He wanted them.