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"You gave me purpose."
The words still rang in Damian's ears – even now – weeks later. Part of him wasn't sure if Jon had meant to speak them or if it had simply been the inconvenience of being so near to death that had birthed the words from his lips.
Whatever it was, Damian hadn't been able to discount them the way he had so many other things over the years. The phrase reminded him of the dozens of statements he'd ignored; ones he'd run from when it came time to get away from it all. He even recalled Grayson's words when he'd ended up at his apartment late one night, too afraid to go home to his own shared space with Jon.
"You're so afraid of someone loving you. It doesn't even matter the type of love, you just keep running away from it. But one day... you gotta stop running."
Damian took a step back from the ledge he'd been standing on, delicately leaping off onto the rooftop and making his way toward the stairs that would lead him back down to his and Jon's shared apartment.
They'd been living together for years. The instant Damian was allowed to leave the manor, he had, desiring the freedom to be himself that came with having his own space. Not that the manor wasn't huge and didn't afford him some amount of the privacy he craved, it was more that he didn't feel like he could be Damian Wayne when he was there. He always felt the need to be Robin – to suck it all up and push everything down until another, better day – a day that never seemed to come.
He wanted the freedom to decide if he went on patrol at eight or nine, to decide if he even wanted to go for the day or if he'd rather finish the painting that had haunted him for weeks. He'd wanted the space where he wasn't monitored to find out who he was as a person, what he wanted in his life, in all the ways that life had to offer him.
Time had shown him that living alone hadn't been the best plan either, though. His lows were too low, his highs spaced further between than they'd once been, and he understood it was because he was drawing in on himself too much, too quickly. As much as he liked being alone, he also craved company. Company that didn't ask him a million unreasonable things. Company that didn't invade his personal space but that would still be there, in their shared spaces.
The instant Jon had turned eighteen, Damian had extended the invitation for him to move in with him. His birthday card had included a key, an address, and an invite that they share the world in this manner, though it had also given him the chance to turn it down if he wanted to, that he didn't need to feel obligated to come.
Damian hadn't really expected Jon to come. To some degree he'd expected him to return the key, quietly tell him he was staying at home with his parents until he graduated college, and then he'd all but evaporate from Damian's life.
Those thoughts had hurt more than he'd anticipated, ached right down to his core and it had taken a lot out of him to get through the few days it took to get the card to Jon's home.
It had made it all that much better when Jon had shown up on his doorstep. Two huge bags of his things and a smile that just wouldn't stop, and it was in that moment that Damian had realized just how deeply he cared for Jon. His breath had caught in his throat and his blood had run like fire in his veins. It had taken everything in him to stop himself from reaching out and hugging Jon.
Instead, he'd invited him in, taken one of the bags and led Jon to what would be his room. They'd spent the next week recreating Jon's personal space together, another thing that Damian hadn't really expected to happen. They'd changed their shared spaces as well, moved Jon into the apartment in every single way imaginable. When Damian had come home from patrol one night, found the first of what had become a great many houseplants on their coffee table, he'd felt at peace for the first time in all his years of existence.
Jon's very presence changed Damian's outlook on the world, set him up for something a hundred times better than he'd ever thought possible. He laughed more than he ever had, smiled even when he was alone, and on days where he was being completely open to himself about his emotions, he realized that he truly understood what love was for the first time in his life. Not love of family. Not love for his job or for what power he could hold. Love, in its purest form. The thing that reminded him he was complete, just how he was. The flutter in his chest that told him he didn't ever want to lose Jon. The tingle in his fingertips that told him his feelings had become more than he'd ever meant for them to be.
It had been that night he'd escaped to Grayson's apartment, been sitting on his couch when he'd come home from patrol, fear in his gut and a tremor in his hands that he couldn't stop. He'd never meant to fall in love.
Dick had been mistaken, thinking Damian was afraid of Jon loving him. He hadn't caught on that it was Damian who was in love, so hopelessly lost in it that he knew the day Jon decided to move out, he'd be crushed in all the worst ways imaginable.
He started having to remind himself every morning that Jon was his friend, his partner, but not his lover. He spent far too long leaning over the bathroom sink, staring into the mirror, hoping to actually believe himself.
Damian had thought himself a hopeless case long before he and Jon had taken on the mission that nearly killed Jon. He'd given up on telling himself he wasn't in love, had given in to the idea that it was just one more thing in his life that he'd hide away until the day he died.
Only... he hadn't expected it to be Jon that nearly died. He hadn't expected to lean over him in their living room floor, pulling slivers of Kryptonite from his body, and hear Jon tell him that he had given Jon purpose. He hadn't expected to have to blink back tears, hadn't anticipated that once he had Jon stable that he'd end up in the bathroom floor, tears streaming down his face, his entire being shaken to its very core at the mere idea of losing him. He hadn't expected the weeks' worth of frantic terror that laced through him at the mere idea of Jon going back out on patrol. He hadn't expected that he'd be handing off cases to anyone else who would take them just to keep Jon out of harm's way.
More than that, he hadn't expected to finally give in.
He knew, rationally, that the only way he was going to get through this was to be honest with Jon. That had taken weeks to solidify inside his mind. Now, he sat opposite Jon on the couch, the open containers of take out from someplace in Metropolis littering the table and the cushion between them. Jon had, perhaps, gone overboard on ordering, but he'd said it was faster than calling to see what Damian might have wanted, so he'd just gotten everything that smelled good. Even that warmed some far corner of Damian's heart. The idea that Jon hadn't wanted to disappoint him with food, so he'd flown all the way to Metropolis to get it, had bought half the damn store on his own frugal budget... just to please him.
Damian settled the container of orange chicken between his legs, pushed his fork back down into the mess of it, and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs.
The world felt like it was going a million miles an hour, as if the air were rushing past his ears, causing the sensation of static in his mind. His heart pounded and instantly, Jon was looking at him, alarm evident on his face. Damian held up one finger, silently asking for a moment before Jon panicked on him. Swallowing down the desire to bolt - one thing Grayson had been oh so very right about - he found the courage to voice the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for years.
"I've tried to find the right words a hundred times in the past few weeks to say this." He let his hand fall back to his lap, had to look down at the carton of chicken instead of keeping Jon's gaze. "Nothing will ever be enough to really tell you what I want to, so I'll settle on what I need to say instead."
Peripherally, he was aware of Jon moving the cartons off the couch between them, of him moving somewhat closer, of the worry projecting off of him in waves.
He'd thought of it a million times, had debated if he would skirt the issue or if he would be blunt about it. He had desperately tried to decide if he could tell Jon he loved him or if he would have to hedge around it. In the end, he did it how he thought Jon would have done it if their roles had been reversed.
"I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time now. I just... thought you should know."
Damian's heart ached, hurt so badly he swore he'd be tasting copper any minute now, and he snatched up the carton of chicken, brought it up with full intent to start shoveling it into his mouth if only to give him something to hide behind, but the carton never made it that far. Instead, it ended up on the table and Jon ended up leaning over him, one hand on the back of the couch, the other resting on his thigh, just above his knee. The spot tingled and Damian resisted the urge to tamp down on that reaction, too. He met Jon's gaze, found marvel, wonder, and excitement there and he felt everything inside him ease. There was no anger, no judgment, no words of rejection or disgust.
Damian let his eyelids close, lingered on the feeling of Jon's hand on his thigh, his breath nearly against his lips, and then Jon was there. His mouth so gentle against Damian's own, his fingers ghosting through Damian's hair, and it was as if Damian had come alive after years of walking death. Saline stung his eyes as the tightness in his chest eased, as the entire world righted itself like it hadn't in the weeks since he'd almost lost Jon.
He reached for him, drawing him closer and clutching at him in a way that he knew felt protective. He couldn't have stopped that emotion from showing no matter how much he tried and he knew it to the very bottom of his heart.
When their lips parted and Jon spoke, it was if the world stopped around them. As if only they could have ever existed, and Damian knew this was one moment he'd never ever forget.
The single best moment of his life.
"I've loved you for as long as I can remember."