I heard the rumble of thunder as sleep threatened to pull me under, a half-sleep state I resisted.
I glanced at the window, but the drawn curtains obscured the storm. Still, I could hear it: the relentless drumming of rain against the glass, the low growl of thunder, the occasional flash of lightning that always made me jump.
Finally, tired of listening, I threw off my blanket and quickly slipped out of bed.
I walked to the window and settled on the floor, right before the expanse of glass. The curtains draped around me, a cocoon shielding me from the world—or, in this case, from the boys and Bruce.
A knock at the door. The door opened, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
“L/N?” Damian’s voice, cool and precise.
“In the curtains,” I murmured, loud enough for him to hear.
I heard the squeak of floorboards as Damian walked closer. He must have been across the room.
I felt the curtain shift as he moved it aside to see me. I looked up at him, and he looked down.
Crack.
Lightning flared, illuminating the room for a fleeting second. I saw his face—always impassive, always controlled.
Damian came and sat beside me.
We sat in silence for several minutes, watching the storm. Listening to the thunder roll across the sky. Watching the rain streak down the windowpane. Searching for the next flash of lightning.
“L/N?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. “Have you ever been in love with someone?”
“I have,” I sighed, “Once. He turned out to be a backstabbing jerk—literally.” I looked at him, “Why do you ask?”
He had his knees drawn up to his chest, his chin tucked into the hollow between them. His face… he looked troubled, like something was weighing on him.
His expression smoothed out, reverting to its usual blankness.
Damian sighed. “Because I care about someone, a lot. And I don’t want to see them get hurt. I want them to be safe.”
He shifted, crossing his legs.
“Damian,” I said quietly, remembering my own heartbreaks, “I care about people very much. And when I see them getting hurt, I give them space. That way, I don’t have to watch them get hurt.”
“L/N?” He looked at me with concern.
A single tear traced a path down my cheek, over my nose, before dropping onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” He moved slightly closer, still seated cross-legged.
I recoiled, remembering all the times he’d been injured, the nights I’d cried, unsure if he’d survive.
I was sobbing now, and Damian, awkward and unsure, was left sitting there. Dick and Tim usually handled these moments, but they were asleep.
He moved closer and pulled me towards him, gently resting my body against his. A side hug, a gesture of comfort.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, when I calmed enough to speak.
“It’s just… I can’t watch people I care for go out at night, get seriously hurt, and then come home battered and broken. Not knowing if they’ll die. I don’t like seeing people get hurt, especially the ones I love. Especially you.” The words tumbled out, raw and desperate.
Damian didn’t know what to say. No one ever saw me this way—if they saw me at all. I stayed hidden in my room, away from everything.
Eventually, I calmed down, exhaustion pulling me under.
I felt Damian move, and then he was carrying me, to God knows where.
~*~