Chapter Text
It was like a scene from a cliche rom-com.
The world slows around him. The noisy chatter of students milling about in the student union, the student-run cafe workers behind the counter, even the hum of the espresso machine fade into the background and Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson forgets how to breathe the very second he meets her eyes.
Green eyes, soft curls, a kind of brightness that snagged his attention instantly.
He swallows, tongue dry and heavy in his mouth.
His hand reaches up halfway, a hesitant greeting, a reflex born from years of polite circus showmanship—but it goes unnoticed when another girl bounces up to her, effectively pulling her attention away from him.
Dick lets his hand fall back to his side, fingers curling back into his palm.
Great, he thought dryly. Perfect start.
Whatever, he turns back to face the coffee menu in front of him. Big campus. Thousands of people. He’d probably never see her again.
Still…
Even as he mulls over an iced vanilla latte or an iced brown sugar shaken espresso with oat milk (sue him, he likes the sweet stuff!), he keeps thinking about those pretty green eyes, all while the espresso machine sputters like a sigh next to him.
And God, he hopes that he’ll see them again.
x.
Kori glances up from where she’s standing by the Gotham University merch shop, her eyes scanning the crowd for your familiar figure.
It’s no use though.
The student union was way too crowded. She sighs, tucking a lock of her red curly hair behind her ear when her skin suddenly prickles, her heart beating a smidge faster than normal.
She looks up.
And there he is, standing with a crooked smile on his face, his hand half-raised as he looks at her, a little nervous, a little soft. He looks like he wasn’t expecting her to notice him, wasn’t expecting her to look back at him–and something about that makes her heart warm.
He blinks, sidestepping out of the way when another girl brushes past him, squinting at the menu in front of her and Kori smiles when he hands her a paper version of the menu.
Cute.
And thoughtful. Most people didn’t do things like that.
He raises his hand again, like he wasn’t sure if she’d notice. Before she could return his wave–
“Kori!” You link your arm through hers before she can blink, steering her down the hall towards the lecture wing.
For a moment, she resists, her head half turned back to where she was just standing in the middle of the floor before she acquiesces. She doesn’t know why she’s looking back — only that she wants to.
Her steps fall into rhythm with yours automatically — she always does that. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Well, I-”
“Trick question!” You smile brightly and Kori can’t help but match it. A frat brother passing by winks at you, pressing a blue-and-black flyer into your hand; you blow him a playful kiss without missing a step. “We’re going out tonight.” You declare. “Lambdas are throwing a mixer.”
You release a dramatic sigh. “We have to go to this.”
Kori tilts her head, thoughtful. “I’m not sure if you remember, but we both blacked out last week”
“Yeah,” you say, scandalized she’d even bring that up. “But it’s a brand new week! Things will be different! ”
She simply shakes her head, her lips twitching upwards. “You’re impossible."
“And you’re being boring,” you say seriously, but the twinkle in your eye gives you away. “Oh, come on! Free alcohol!” You sing the words like it’ll entice her.
Before she can even open her mouth, you plow forward, unstoppable. “Actually, it doesn’t matter if you say yes or no. You’re coming out anyway.”
You hook your perfectly manicured fingers into the straps of her tote bag, spinning her around to face you as the pair of you near your lecture hall. “We’re going to put on makeup and wear our pretty clothes and get drunk, and when we’re old and decrepit, we’ll look back and think, Wow, we were so hot and fun.”
“Alright, alright,” Kori laughs, rolling her eyes, “I’ll go, I’ll go!”
You smile triumphantly, stopping in front of your lecture room. “Be at mines for the pregame. And dinner—Chinese? No, sushi? Oh my gosh, wait-“
“You need to get to class.” Kori punctuates her statement with a little firm glare, gently nudging you to the door, but the smile on her face says otherwise. “I’ll pick up some Korean food from that place by your apartment, I know you’ve been craving and I’ll be at your place by eight. Now go!”
You stick your tongue out in response but follow her instructions nonetheless, a bounce in your step at the prospect of having plans tonight.
Kori turns around once she’s sure you’re seated, already making a mental note of the dishes she’s sure you’ll be asking for.
And she tries—tries so hard—not to think about the blue eyes she saw back in the student union.
(But she hopes she’ll see them again.)