Chapter Text
He won’t cry. He will not cry. Damian forces those tears that yearn to spill back, he casts them away as a priest would a demon. This doesn’t feel right. Jonathan hugs him, and it doesn’t feel right. He feels as if he’s manipulating Jonathan, feeding off of his affection like a sick twisting of an incubus.
He adores that touch, those affections that he holds near, too close, to his heart. He frowns, gritting his teeth together. Jonathan needs to go. He needs to get away from Damian. It’s too much. If Damian can rid Jonathan of his proximity, he can rid of these awful, horrid, feelings.
“Don’t touch me.” Damian says, shoving Jonathan away from him. He almost looks hurt; and suddenly all Damian is feeling is plain spoken guilt. All Jonathan wanted to do was help him, all he wanted to do was help his friend. Jonathan has a lined look on his face, his brows are creased, but that doesn’t deter him. It’s not very likely that anything will.
“I’m just trying to-“ Jonathan begins to speak, but Damian quickly interrupts him.
“I don’t want your help!” He shouts, and Jonathan’s lips purse. He’s nervous- Damian knows he is. He doesn’t need inhuman hearing to see that. A blind man would be able to easily point it out. Jonathan grumbled something under his breath, something about stubbornness, but Damian doesn’t catch the entirety of it.
“Then at least tell me what’s wrong so I don’t get worried about you! You’re actin’ weird.” Jonathan argues, and Damian scoffs. He rolls his eyes like a child, and glares at Jonathan. He’s not acting weird. Is he? It’s hard to tell. It’s never this hard to tell. How does Jonathan of all people notice he’s acting weird? Maybe he was overlooking this. He was definitely overlooking this.
“Well stop being worried, and just leave me alone so I can go home.” Damian says, and Jonathan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, and crossing his arms. Damian nearly mimics the pose, but decides against it. Instead, he scowls.
“You were fine like- three minutes ago, and suddenly when I give you a hug you’re all prickly again!” Jonathan said, being expressive, moving his hands around, his facial expressions exaggerated dramatically. Damian doesn’t want to argue with Jonathan. He wants to leave.
He can feel the heat build behind his eyes, that terrible feeling- that pang that goes off in his heart, and the thought that enters his brain that lets him know he’s near tears. He’s going to cry. Like a child. He’s frustrated, he doesn’t entirely know why, and perhaps, that makes him angrier.
He clenches his fist, and bites his tongue, “Just leave me alone.” He nearly vomits at how utterly pathetic he sounds. His voice cracks, and he feels Jonathan’s eyes on him as if he’s about to use his heat vision. His fingers tingle, he feels his feet falling asleep even though he’s standing.
“I-“ Jonathan starts, but Damian speaks again before he can even get two words out.
“Leave me alone, Jonathan.” He says again, and instead of replying, Jonathan nods, mutters out a goodbye, and within the next few minutes, Damian is alone on the rooftop. He won’t cry. He will not cry. His heart pangs again. Why’d he even bother the shirt back and forth? There was no point to it. He’d made Jonathan angry for no reason.
He was ignorant. It was bad enough he was experiencing these feelings, bad enough that the other he cherished and loved so deeply was a man. Bad enough already that it was a meta. Bad, so terrible, and sickening, that it was his best friend.
Before he can dwell further on this quiet, and dark rooftop, Damian goes home. He goes home, simply because there is nothing left for him to do in Metropolis but wallow in his own misery; truly, said misery only came to be due to his own decisions.
As normally, he makes it back to the cave. There are some straggling, but he’d rather not speak. He takes off the Robin suit, and showers, and walks back out. He’s walking out of the shower rooms, dressed in clean clothes that Alfred placed there before he went out to Metropolis, when someone clears their throat.
“You came in mad, and I didn’t care much, but usually after you get out of the shower you're more nonchalant.” Drake says, looking over at Damian. Damian sighs, rolling his eyes, and looking over to Drake. It was enough already that he’d potentially ruined any and all chances of Jonathan loving him back completely, and now, he had to have social interaction with his imp of a brother.
“I’m- I'm asking if you’re okay.” Drake says, as if Damian hadn’t understood the first time.
“You should be asking yourself that. You look as if you’ve crawled out of a grave-“ Damian says, and from somewhere, God knows where, Todd speaks up.
“Are you tryna say I look like Tim?” He spoke.
“No-“ Damian began, only to be interrupted again.
“Tim doesn’t look that bad.” Richard speaks, Todd laughs, loud and boisterous, giving a deadpan look to Richard.
“You know damn well-“
“Wouldn’t it technically be me looking like Jason since he died first?” Drake spoke, and Todd shrugged.
“Tim looks like the guy from that one Tim Burton movie.” Thomas speaks up, walking down the set of stairs at the cave entrance, holding a packet of papers, and holding a hot mug and eating what Damian thinks is one of Alfred’s cucumber and peanut butter sandwiches.
“Victor?” Richard asks, and Thomas nods, laughing. Todd laughs too.
Instead of getting involved in this ridiculous conversation, Damian simply walks away. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything; He walks away, up the stairs that Thomas was just walking down, and back into the manor. When he finally makes it back inside, he makes a beeline towards his room.
He doesn’t even change into his night clothes, doesn’t even lock his door, or close his curtains. He lays on his bed, because, at the moment, that’s all he feels like doing. How can you be heartbroken when you weren’t even rejected? Why is loving someone so painful?
He wishes, begs, any god that’s listening for an answer. Of course, like usual, he doesn’t get one.