FROSTBITE ᵈ ᵍʳᵃʸˢᵒⁿ (DISCONTINUED)

oo8. 𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘛

Guilt was a constant threat behind his back, a messenger that continuously hissed insults and self-deprecating comments in his ear. Yet despite it's hostility, Dick welcomed it. Because he promised to help Rachel, but he didn't, and now his friend was hurt due to his selfishness to include them too.

First Estela and Rachel, now Dawn and Hank. How many more people do you have to hurt, Dick?

"It's not your fault," Estela murmured without looking at him.

He didn't ask how she knew what he was thinking about, and merely mumbled, "I led them here, Stel. I brought the fight to them."

"But you didn't hurt Dawn. It's not your fault," she repeated.

He sighed and looked down, knowing that when it came to Estela knowing she was right about something, her persistence stayed until everyone gave in to agree with her in the end. So Dick stepped closer, their shoulders almost touching, and changed the subject.

"You didn't tell me you stopped using them."

Estela blinked; the only evidence of surprise she showed him. "I thought it was pretty obvious. When I quit so did Blizz and her powers."

Finally, she looked up at him and asked, "How'd you find out anyway?"

She told herself to forget about what happened before the fight; forget about the letter and the though of him leaving again when she just got him back. There were bigger things at risk than her pathetic feelings.

"I saw your face. . ." Dick told her after a while, his brown eyes lingering on her injured cheek with a frown, "before I fell off the roof. It was like you were shocked to see them again, and I've never seen you like that before—not since the first night I saw you."

Estela nodded slowly before looking away, letting the silence fill the void for the two of them.

"You know, it's funny." Her voice was so quiet, almost like she was scared to wake the wandering spirits nearby. "When I went down to help you guys it didn't even occur to me if I still remembered how to fight. It sort of just. . .came back to me. The training, the moves—muscle memory and instincts, I guess."

"Like your powers."

Estela bit her lip and shook her head carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with everything as tears started to cloud her vision. She looked up at Dick for a split second, an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

"I didn't mean to bring them out tonight," she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

"Hey. Hey, hey—look at me." Dick took his hands out of his pockets and grabbed her shoulders gently, rubbing soothing circles on them as he did so. He watched as she furiously wiped at her eyes with a scowl on her lips, his own face softening at the sight of her flushed cheeks and nose.

Estela aggressively swiped the last tear before looking at him expectantly. She was angry at herself for crying in the first place; annoyed with the way her tears easily sprung up. But whenever she was around Dick, acting like she got her shit together didn't feel like such a necessity anymore.

It was almost like Estela wasn't afraid of being vulnerable around him—and it scared her. 

"You okay?" he asked her softly—too softly for her liking. "Those powers are yours, Stel. You're in control, remember?"