The clock on the wall ticked louder than it ever had before. Or maybe it was just Y/n’s head, pounding in rhythm with every second that passed. She stared at the ceiling, her fingers drumming restlessly against the edge of her desk. The coffee cup beside her was empty—her third one tonight—but the caffeine wasn’t doing its job anymore. It hadn’t for weeks. Her body was a mess of exhaustion and overstimulation, her mind a tangled web of thoughts she couldn’t unravel.She sighed, leaning back in her chair and running a hand through her hair. This is getting ridiculous, she thought. She’d been up for… what? Thirty-six hours? Forty? She’d lost count. The lines between night and day had blurred into one endless stretch of time, punctuated only by patrols, coffee runs, and the occasional half-hearted attempt at sleep that always ended with her staring at the ceiling, wide awake.Her phone buzzed on the desk, startling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. Dick Grayson. Of course. He had a sixth sense for when she was spiraling, and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. She hesitated for a moment before answering, her voice coming out more tired than she intended.“Hey,” she said, trying to sound casual.“Y/n,” Dick’s voice was warm but firm, the kind of tone that made her feel both comforted and called out. “You’re still up.”It wasn’t a question. She could practically hear the frown in his voice.“Yeah,” she admitted, leaning her elbows on the desk and rubbing her temples. “Couldn’t sleep.”There was a pause on the other end of the line, and she could almost see him running a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was thinking. “You promised me you’d tell me if it got bad again,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “Remember?”She did. She remembered the pinky promise they’d made after the last time she’d pushed herself too far, when she’d collapsed mid-patrol and he’d had to carry her back to the Batcave. She’d sworn she’d be more careful, that she’d let him know if she was struggling. But promises were easier to make than to keep.“I know,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I didn’t want to worry you.”“Y/n,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made her chest tighten. “You don’t have to do this alone. That’s what I’m here for.”She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Why does he have to be so damn understanding? It would be easier if he were mad, if he yelled at her or told her she was being reckless. But he never did. He just… cared. And that made it harder.“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice cracking slightly. “Really. I just need to push through it.”“No,” he said firmly, and she could hear the rustle of fabric as he moved, like he was sitting up straighter. “You don’t ‘push through it.’ That’s how you end up hurt—or worse. You need to take care of yourself.”She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Because deep down, she knew he was right. She was running on fumes, and it was only a matter of time before she crashed—hard.“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small. “What do you want me to do?”There was another pause, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “I’m coming over,” he said decisively. “We’ll figure this out together.”Her heart skipped a beat. “Dick, you don’t have to—”“I’m already on my way,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay put, okay?”She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”The line went dead, and she set her phone down on the desk, staring at it for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside her. She wasn’t used to relying on people—on letting them in. But Dick… he was different. He always had been.She stood up, pacing the length of her small apartment as she waited for him to arrive. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. What would he say when he got here? What would he do? Would he try to make her talk about it? Or would he just… be there?The knock on the door came sooner than she expected, and she froze for a moment before crossing the room to open it. Dick stood on the other side, his hair slightly messy from the wind, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He looked… good. Too good. His eyes softened as they met hers, and he stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him.“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice warm and steady.“Hey,” she echoed, her voice barely audible.He studied her for a moment, his gaze searching hers. “You look exhausted,” he said finally, his tone gentle but concerned.She shrugged, looking away. “I’ve been worse.”“That’s not exactly reassuring,” he said with a small smile, setting his jacket down on the back of a chair. “Come on, sit down.”She hesitated for a moment before sinking onto the couch, her legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. He sat down beside her, close enough that their knees brushed, and she could feel the warmth of his presence like a blanket wrapping around her.“Talk to me,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.She took a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.“Start anywhere,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “Just… tell me what’s going on.”She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “It’s just… everything,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. I feel like I’m constantly on edge, like I’m waiting for something to go wrong. And no matter how much coffee I drink or how many patrols I go on, I can’t shut my brain off.”He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Have you tried… talking to someone? A therapist, maybe?”She shook her head quickly. “No. I mean… I don’t know. It feels like admitting defeat, you know?”“It’s not defeat,” he said firmly, his hand reaching out to cover hers. “It’s taking care of yourself. There’s no shame in that.”She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I just… I don’t want to be weak.”“You’re not weak,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest people need help sometimes.”She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.He squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Together.”She nodded slowly, her chest aching with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. “Okay,” she said quietly.He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Good,” he said. “Now, how about we start with getting some actual rest? No patrols tonight. Just… sleep.”She hesitated for a moment before nodding again. “Okay.”He stood up, pulling her to her feet with him. “Come on,” he said gently, leading her toward the bedroom. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she didn’t argue. She was too tired to fight him—and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to.As they reached the bedroom, he turned to face her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “You’re going to be okay,” he said softly, his eyes holding hers. “I promise.”She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Now get some rest,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”She climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around her as he settled into the chair beside it. Her eyes drifted shut, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling her under. And for the first time in weeks, she felt… safe.But as she drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in the back of her mind: What happens when he leaves?

The clock on the wall ticked louder than it ever had before. Or maybe it was just Y/n’s head, pounding in rhythm with every second that passed. She stared at the ceiling, her fingers drumming restlessly against the edge of her desk. The coffee cup beside her was empty—her third one tonight—but the caffeine wasn’t doing its job anymore. It hadn’t for weeks. Her body was a mess of exhaustion and overstimulation, her mind a tangled web of thoughts she couldn’t unravel.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and running a hand through her hair. _This is getting ridiculous_, she thought. She’d been up for… what? Thirty-six hours? Forty? She’d lost count. The lines between night and day had blurred into one endless stretch of time, punctuated only by patrols, coffee runs, and the occasional half-hearted attempt at sleep that always ended with her staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, startling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. __Dick Grayson__. Of course. He had a sixth sense for when she was spiraling, and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. She hesitated for a moment before answering, her voice coming out more tired than she intended.

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Y/n,” Dick’s voice was warm but firm, the kind of tone that made her feel both comforted and called out. “You’re still up.”

It wasn’t a question. She could practically hear the frown in his voice.

“Yeah,” she admitted, leaning her elbows on the desk and rubbing her temples. “Couldn’t sleep.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and she could almost see him running a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was thinking. “You promised me you’d tell me if it got bad again,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “Remember?”

She did. She remembered the pinky promise they’d made after the last time she’d pushed herself too far, when she’d collapsed mid-patrol and he’d had to carry her back to the Batcave. She’d sworn she’d be more careful, that she’d let him know if she was struggling. But promises were easier to make than to keep.

“I know,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Y/n,” he said, and there was something in his tone that made her chest tighten. “You don’t have to do this alone. That’s what I’m here for.”

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. _Why does he have to be so damn understanding?_ It would be easier if he were mad, if he yelled at her or told her she was being reckless. But he never did. He just… cared. And that made it harder.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice cracking slightly. “Really. I just need to push through it.”

“No,” he said firmly, and she could hear the rustle of fabric as he moved, like he was sitting up straighter. “You don’t ‘push through it.’ That’s how you end up hurt—or worse. You need to take care of yourself.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Because deep down, she knew he was right. She was running on fumes, and it was only a matter of time before she crashed—hard.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice small. “What do you want me to do?”

There was another pause, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “I’m coming over,” he said decisively. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Dick, you don’t have to—”

“I’m already on my way,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay put, okay?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

The line went dead, and she set her phone down on the desk, staring at it for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside her. She wasn’t used to relying on people—on letting them in. But Dick… he was different. He always had been.

She stood up, pacing the length of her small apartment as she waited for him to arrive. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. What would he say when he got here? What would he do? Would he try to make her talk about it? Or would he just… be there?

The knock on the door came sooner than she expected, and she froze for a moment before crossing the room to open it. Dick stood on the other side, his hair slightly messy from the wind, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He looked… good. Too good. His eyes softened as they met hers, and he stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice warm and steady.

“Hey,” she echoed, her voice barely audible.

He studied her for a moment, his gaze searching hers. “You look exhausted,” he said finally, his tone gentle but concerned.

She shrugged, looking away. “I’ve been worse.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” he said with a small smile, setting his jacket down on the back of a chair. “Come on, sit down.”

She hesitated for a moment before sinking onto the couch, her legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. He sat down beside her, close enough that their knees brushed, and she could feel the warmth of his presence like a blanket wrapping around her.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She took a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.

“Start anywhere,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “Just… tell me what’s going on.”

She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “It’s just… everything,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. I feel like I’m constantly on edge, like I’m waiting for something to go wrong. And no matter how much coffee I drink or how many patrols I go on, I can’t shut my brain off.”

He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Have you tried… talking to someone? A therapist, maybe?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. I mean… I don’t know. It feels like admitting defeat, you know?”

“It’s not defeat,” he said firmly, his hand reaching out to cover hers. “It’s taking care of yourself. There’s no shame in that.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I just… I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re not weak,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest people need help sometimes.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Together.”

She nodded slowly, her chest aching with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. “Okay,” she said quietly.

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Good,” he said. “Now, how about we start with getting some actual rest? No patrols tonight. Just… sleep.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding again. “Okay.”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet with him. “Come on,” he said gently, leading her toward the bedroom. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she didn’t argue. She was too tired to fight him—and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to.

As they reached the bedroom, he turned to face her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “You’re going to be okay,” he said softly, his eyes holding hers. “I promise.”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Now get some rest,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

She climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around her as he settled into the chair beside it. Her eyes drifted shut, the weight of exhaustion finally pulling her under. And for the first time in weeks, she felt… safe.

But as she drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in the back of her mind: _What happens when he leaves?_

A teenage vigilante struggles with insomnia and mental burnout, pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion. When she finally confides in her friend Dick Grayson, he insists on helping her, leading to a deepening of their emotional connection as they navigate her struggles together.

A Promise Kept

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