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Walking among the crowds of people, Damian felt unsure as to whether his presence was really necessary here. Attendance to such an event was not only unnecessary, but quite irritating considering how anxious he becomes around large crowds. Of course though, he would deny that to a fault. Nonetheless, it was becoming a regrettable thing to have come. He would have much rather been working on his abstract artwork piece up in his room rather than be here at this silly old gala. For the past couple of hours he had been surrounded by the rich pompous Gotham elites, and it was steadily becoming more tiring. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this facade. However, pushing that aside, he couldn't let anyone of the guests find out; especially when there was such a good turnout. Most likely that was because the Gotham News had followed a rumor that mentioned that all the Wayne Children might be attending. Well, he made sure of that after hearing of that... quite forcibly for sure. Unfortunately though, that then included himself.
Sigh.
Oh to put an end to this misery he groaned in his mind to himself.
Allowing himself to nervously tap his foot while having a surprisingly 'ok' conversation with one of the guests, he was relieved when no one noticed his stim.
However difficult as this was though, this was for a good cause. The more sociable and friendly that he was and the more of a facade that he put up, the more money that it would rake in for the cause. Which, is what he was here for.
'This is for the animals, This is for the animals', 'This is for them', he kept repeating over and over in his mind. No matter how he felt, no matter how he was reacting, it was crucial for him to keep this act of over polite and etiquette manner. He had to fight through this. No matter the sneers and scoffs that were being snarled his way behind his back, behind all their backs in fact, he had to keep on moving forward from person to person. It was his duty to inform each guest that he could about the Wayne Animal Humane Society, what it stood for, and why they should donate.
At least the indulgence of spouting off facts and information that he held a very deep passion for was what was providing some sense of relief at the moment.
Slightly moving his hands in an almost flapping motion without realizing it, he noticed stares coming through in all directions.
Walking on forward, he pushed past the crowd to get some space. This was all so annoying. Why couldn't they just look away if it bothered them?
Oh how desperately he disliked attracting attention.
Beginning to look frantically for a familiar face in the crowd, he tried to calm himself with thinking about his paints. More specifically the colors of the painting that he had been as of late working on. The yellows, the blues and the vibrant greens. Maybe he could run away in the recent painting he had been painting and jump into the pools of blue and swim away. The emotions that he had portrayed was what he wished he could jump into right now. Forget wanting to jump into a book, he would rather jump into a painting.
Rubbing a circle on his forearm in an almost constant cycle, he went on weaving through the boisterous crowd as best as he could. Chattering and laughter written on the faces wherever he went was becoming slowly too much.
Cursing under his breath he ran a hand through his greased spiked hair. For the love of all, why were there so many people. They were suffocating him! They were slowly choking him out... He was drowning in a literal sea of people.
Everything was flashing by him so fast; and the noise was so loud it was almost deafening.
Things were metaphorically crashing down around him. Oh #$% , where was Grayson when he needed the hovering hen? Or for #$% sake Todd, or even Father? Hey, he'd even take some insufferable chatter with Drake right about now. Anything, anything to just not cause a scene. He had been doing so good, so why now?
Pausing where his feet were planted, it was as if his feet were glued to the floor along with his shoes. Seeing the room begin to spin, the room was suddenly hotter than the Arabian desert he often dreams about. Physically, he was so done dealing with this. Ever since his mother had dropped him off to Bruce claiming he was 'imperfect', he had never felt more grateful that his mother had made that choice to give him away. He didn't need that, but then again, he knew it wasn't his fault. He didn't ask for the seizure fits for which he had been taking medicine for since the age of two when he had been diagnosed with autism.
Oh dear #$%. No, please not now.
There was a group of journalists heading his way.
Breathing in and out, he tried to calm his nerves as his tux seemed to have become a blockade for oxygen entering and leaving his lungs. Thinking of the colors again, they unfortunately just swirled into a mass of confusion leaving him more dizzy than before.
With no energy to loosen his tie that was choking him, he could only imagine the eyes burning holes into him right now as he began to violently stim his leg and part of his arm.
"Damian?" A voice asked placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not-" he responded to the voice pausing unsure.
"How about we move out of the way huh?" The voice urged firmly taking his shoulders helping him walk.
"I don't know." He said this time more firmly.
His gasping breath was as similar to a fish out of water.
"Come on little D. Lets get you outta here." The voice now says softly in his ear.
"I don't know." Was all he could repeat over and over on his way out of the gala room and into an off side conservatory used for PennyWorth's gardening.
"What happened? " A gruff voice asked as he had somehow made it into the conservatory.
"Another sensory overload."
With loud footsteps walking on over to him, there was suddenly hands tugging on him taking his tie off.
Following in suit he takes his suit jacket off finding himself able to move his arms again.
"Feeling better Lil D?" A hand pressed against his shoulder.
Nodding, still unable to coherently speak he sat down on a fountains ledge.
"Hey what's up." Another voice asked in approach.
"What do you mean whats up?" An obviously worn out voice spoke.
"Hey we come bringing gifts, chill Timmer's."
"Exactly what gifts are 'those' guys?" The voice still nearby next to him asked.
Father was now helping him to take his shoes off. Also, somehow he had been given a squeeze ball to use. However, at the moment he preferred to stim his leg.
"Pillows and blankets sunshine boy. Were here to party."
"My kind of party..." the voice that he could now recognize as Grayson responded.
"Tt. Parties." He whispered in retort finally finding his voice.
"The fundraiser has succeeded passed its initial goal so there's no reason to go back out there tonight Damian. You did great." Father says looking at him.
Looking back over, he could see it was Grayson, Todd, and Drake working to prepare a spread of blankets upon the cobblestone flooring of the conservatory.
Standing, he attempted a stretch. He was still a bit woozy but was much better than he had felt moments earlier.
"Ok boys, stay safe... and out of trouble. I'm going to wrap things up out there before coming back." He says pressing a chaste kiss to Damian's temple before leaving.
"I was thinking we could watch some asmr vids on the GothTube squirt." Todd says waving him to come over as soon as Father left. Drake was setting the portable movie projector up connecting it to his phone via Bluetooth.
Apparently Grayson had already settled himself down in a heap of blankets looking very comfortable in his full on neon green tux accompanied with neon shoes. Seeing Grayson wave him over, he without hesitation walked over and planted himself by Graysons side.
"That... That sounds acceptable Todd." He stims using his hands to express his happiness without realizing it this time.
As everyone became settled and comfortable, he slowly becomes at peace with watching a calming video. Nevertheless not only with that, but there was comfort with being with his brothers; even the annoying ones. Which is all of them in his book, especially Drake.
Before drifting off, something brushed across his face whispering along with it "Goodnight Son."
With Father settling down on the heap of blankets much to the disgruntled gruffs of annoyance his brothers were making, he whispered back,
"Goodnight Father."
