Batwoman #3: Why are we stopping?

ghostmann: ‘Cause I can’t take this.

Batwoman #3: Can’t take what?

ghostmann: I love you.

Batwoman #3: You love me?

ghostmann: I love you. And not, not in a friendly way, although I think we’re great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I’m sure that’s what you’ll call it.

I love you. Very, very simple, very truly. You are the-the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in a comic book.

And I know that you think of me as just a fanboy, and crossing that line is-is-is the furthest thing from an option you would ever consider. But I had to say it.

I just, I can’t take this anymore. I can’t stand next to you without wanting to hold you and read you. I can’t-I can’t look into your pages without feeling that-that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels.

I can’t look at your pictures without wanting to express my love for everything you are.

And I know this will probably queer our friendship – no pun intended – but I had to say it, ’cause I’ve never felt this way before, and I-I don’t care. I like who I am because of it.

And if bringing this to light means we can’t hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But God, I just, I couldn’t allow another day to go by without just getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down.

And, you know, I’ll accept that. But I know, I know that some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there’s a moment of hesitation, then that means you feel something too. And all I ask, please, is that you just – you just not dismiss that, and try to dwell in it for just ten seconds.

Batwoman #3, there isn’t another comic book on this fucking planet who has ever made me half the person I am when I’m with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it is there between you and me. You can’t deny that. Even if, you know, even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I am forever changed because of who you are and what you’ve meant to me, which – while I do appreciate it – I’d never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.