Chapter Text
Later, Jon would be upset, angry, and hurt. But for that first afternoon, he was just confused.
It was like putting four plus four into a calculator and coming out with ten. All he could think to do was try it again. Damian’s front door was unlocked, so he could slip inside and scour each room as many times as he wanted. He checked every floor in the farmhouse and he checked the fields around, flying low like a hunting owl. Even his temperamental X-Ray vision turned up nothing.
The third time he returned to the Kent family kitchen, Krypto could sense his unease. The alien dog rose, tail swaying and ears pricked. Jon sent him off to look but stopped the heavy Desdemona from moving from her nest.
Jon called Chloe, followed by a call to the school and the library. When he tried to call Damian, the phone lit up where it was left in the bottom of the dresser.
It just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t totally out of character for Damian to just take off, but he hadn’t brought his bike and his housekeys were left on the side table. The broken skylight was taped up but let in a whistling wind like the broken windows in a wild west saloon.
He wasn’t sure what about the situation flagged it immediately as suspicious to Jon. Maybe it was an extra-terrestrial sense, maybe something about the way the guarded house was left so open. Maybe he had known on some level even the day before—maybe something in the other boy’s face had planted the understanding in Jon’s mind. The mention of Damian’s family, the sad look in his green eyes… perhaps something about that had felt too final.
Jon teetered on the edge of calling the police. All in all, it had only been five or six hours since Jon had started looking. Damian could still wander back from a walk and shrug that he had forgotten to lock the door or take his keys or even close his windows. In some other universe, where Damian was the sort of person to be that lax.
Krypto landed back in the kitchen. The dog’s ears swivelled around, and he ducked his head a little. Jon didn’t spare him a second glance, jogging back out to Damian’s house. He pushed for a little superspeed, but he found nothing in the empty rooms. He was surprised at just how hollow Damian’s house felt without him—for all the classical art and tasteful décor, there was nothing human about the building. No messes, no personality, no shoes left out or coffee rings on the tables. It was like living in a show room. Jon found clothes in the dresser and food in the pantry. The countertops had been wiped and the cleaned plates had been neatly stored.
Later, his parents would come home, and he would tell them, and they would tell the league and the world would rush into trying to find him. Dozens of heroes would call in favours and police would swarm the area.
But for now, Jon just stood in the empty bedroom of his best friend. He stood very still. He felt that the world was shrinking slightly around him, and he had the odd sensation that something horrible was startling to cling to him like cellophane.
*
“Did he mention anything to you?”
“No. I would’ve stopped him. He didn’t say anything about it, though.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“In his last statements, he didn’t—”
“No! No, he didn’t say goodbye!”
“… I’m sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps we should take a break.”
“No, no, let’s—let’s continue. We have to be quick or—... I’ll be okay, I promise. What’s the n-next question?”
*
Rain fell over the farmhouse. Jon was sitting in his room, keeping out of the way. His elbows were perched on the hard windowsill, and the window was open. Cold air washed through his room, and the rain spat his forearms.
Far below him, a police vehicle was parked in their neighbour’s driveway. With a steady use of supervision, Jon could watch the small man make the same circuit Jon himself had been making over and over. After ten minutes, the policeman emerged from the Head household, all of his plastic evidence bags empty. He talked with his waiting partner for barely a minute before the two of them climbed back into their car and out of the rain.
*
“Why do you keep asking me that? Damian didn’t tell me he was going anywhere. He never told me anything.”
“He might have wanted to.”
“What do you even know about it? You never really met Damian! You just knew his mother. You never knew him at all!”
There was a short silence.
“Batman, I’m—”
“No, you’re right, Jon. I didn’t know him like you did.”
*
They put his missing person details onto the nationwide database. The same day it was entered, a 34 Airliner dropped into the Gotham Bay, and the contents of the passenger plane were added after the emergency services dragged only half of the bodies from the black water.
Jon lay on his belly and watched the bright red missing person’s scroll pass by on the bottom of the evening news. Each photo was thumbnail size.
Have you seen me? Kiera Aranda, Sex: F, Hair: Blonde, Eyes: Brown. Last seen: 6/7. If you have any information regarding the location of Kiera Aranda, please contact the helpline below. Have you seen me? Mia Morris, Sex: F, Hair: Brown, Eyes: Blue. Last seen: 6/7. If you have any information regarding the location of Mia Morris, please contact the helpline below. Have you seen me? Damian Head, Sex: M, Hair: Black, Eyes: Green. Last seen: 6/7. If you have any information regarding the location of Damian Head, please contact the helpline below. Have you seen me? Daniel James, Sex: M, Hair: Black, Eyes: Blue. Last seen: 6/7. If you have any information regarding the location of Daniel James, please contact the helpline below. Have you seen me?
*
“Sometimes I think you understand him anyway, Batman. I think you know him more than my parents do.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You keep asking what he said to me. Like he knew ahead of time. I think you don’t see this as a kidnapping.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I think he would be a difficult child to kidnap, especially to move without a trace.”
*
A few days become a week. Jon wanted to grab the time as it passes him, but everything felt slippery and strange.
Desdemona gave birth.
Three healthy puppies rested like fat guinea pigs by their mother’s dark tail. They had closed eyes and pink noses and Krypto wouldn’t leave them alone. He kept licking their little charming faces until Desdemona pushed him away with a huff.
Jon wasn’t sure what to name the puppies. It felt cruel to leave them without a name, but it was another sharp jab at the absence of his best friend. Should he flip through the complete works of Shakespeare and choose the first names he found? Jon wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act in the lurching absence of him, he felt like he never knew Damian at all, after everything. The thought made him want to cry.
Desdemona never picked her nose up tried to find Damian somewhere in the room, like Jon kept doing. Perhaps she was just too tired. Or perhaps she understood something Jon didn’t.
Her unnamed puppies snuffled and squeaked under the ceaseless attention of their father.
*
It took him two weeks of absence before Jon started having arguments with Damian in his head. It was usually in the shower or on the ride to school or in the bathroom or in the hallway or anywhere when he had a moment to himself, and his thoughts marched inevitably back to lacking boy.
First, he was apologetic. He imagined paying respects, trying to fix the problem. Had Damian needed him to be closer, or more distant? Had he been too oblivious, too blustering, too thoughtless? Had he pushed too much, or pushed too little?
Then, he was angry. What the heck had he ever done to deserve being pushed aside? Had he meant so little that Damian wouldn’t even say goodbye?
Jon stewed in silence and constructed arguments. So what, that Damian had familial obligations. Damian had never owed them anything—vice versa was more likely. Or, he should have brought Jon along. Jon was very nearly indestructible, he would have followed every order, he would have done anything. Wasn’t Jon powerful? Wasn’t he useful, wasn’t he worth something?
In all his imaginings, Damian didn’t have anything to say in return. Jon had never really argued with the other boy, not properly. So he couldn’t draw up a livid Damian, or a spiteful one.
Stepping out of the shower, Jon glanced at his face in the fogged-up mirror. His eyes were rimmed with red. He wondered why Damian had thrown it all away—not just friendship, but connections, the power and weight of the Justice League, of Jon’s father and Damian’s father and everyone else who could bring the full weight of righteous fury down on the villains. Jon wanted to hate him, to forget about him, but instead he just dried his hair and left the bathroom.
*
Two weeks became three. He failed a couple of his end of year exams, but the high school let him graduate the year without much fuss, given the dramatics. Jon hardly paid any attention during the meetings anyway.
Three weeks became a month, which then became two months.
Now the only one returning calls with any regularity was Tim Drake.
While still largely out of the loop, Jon had managed to deduce some of the civilian roles of the Justice League. A lot of them were law enforcement, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Wonder Woman was a museum curator, which made sense in retrospect.
Batman was Bruce Wayne. Yeah.
Again, it made some kind of sense, although Jon found it hard to reconcile the playboy billionaire with the dower, sombre black knight. But Conner had been close with his Metropolis roommate, Timothy Drake-Wayne, which, if Jon had thought about it… what sort of CEO needed a roommate? That should have made him suspicious.
Batman had been sympathetic, but between two demanding lives and an entire metropolitan city, Damian’s arctic-cold trail had been pushed from a first priority.
Tim, luckily or unluckily, was not a good quitter. He picked up Damian’s case from the Bats and contacted Jon to ask permission to take it over. Jon accepted immediately.
Tim was also the first person to uncover any footage of Damian since 6/7. It was a grainy Brazilian CCTV clip of the boy climbing out of a taxicab, across a busy subway and into the carriage of a train. The only reason the footage had been found at all was due to a tourist snapshot posted on Instagram which caught Damian’s side profile.
“My programs are very thorough,” Tim explained over the webcam. “They would pick up someone reclusive but otherwise normal. Someone must really want Damian hidden.”
Jon didn’t say that the someone was probably Damian himself.
*
That summer passed restlessly.
Storms came to Hamilton in mid-summer. Every morning the air would be heavy and chilled, like the air in a damp cave. Energy would spark and sizzle in the wind. Some days, thunder shook the heavens and rain pounded the earth. Most days, however, the weather just seemed wary and cold, swollen cloud banks threatening to rain but rarely delivering, like a cagey street cat hissing but never quite biting.
In the meantime, the puppies began to totter around. Their tails stuck straight up like antennas, and their eyes opened. They were reluctant to leave the warm side of their mother but tolerated being picked up and petted.
Oliver Queen, who was far too big a celebrity to be a personal friend, dropped by one afternoon with a child in toe. Jon deduced that he must be the civilian identity of Green Arrow. After Batman, it didn’t come as much of a surprise.
Lian, who was nine, liked the babies. She was surprisingly gently with them, and whenever she kissed one of them, she made sure to kiss the other two just the same, in case they got upset. The puppies did not seem to notice either way.
Lian asked to keep one of the puppies. Jon said no. Clark said they were too young, anyhow, and Oliver nodded like that was the only reason.
*
What had Jon done before Damian? Had he really been so lonely?
*
Another video clip surfaced. Turkey. Damian sat at the edge of a rooftop café, dining alone. He sat awkwardly, silhouetted against the city lights. Ever so often he would rise from his seat and make a short perimeter of the café seating area, before settling back down in his seat.
Tim paused the video. “I almost didn’t show you this one. It’s pretty incriminating.”
“Incriminating?” Jon echoed, with a frown.
“Oh right.” Tim ran a hand through his lank hair. He looked exhausted. Jon realised the man—and he was barely nineteen, only a handful of years older than Jon himself—must have even more responsibility than even Batman. While Batman was currently robin-less, aided by the semi-independent Signal and Black Bat, Red Robin ran the Teen Titans along with several key roles in the Justice League itself, which wasn’t even including his civilian responsibilities as CEO of Drake Industries and his stakes in Wayne Enterprises. Jon felt a twinge of guilt at adding even more to his plate.
Tim’s cursor moved across the screen in the web call, and he pulled the progress bar backwards, until Damian was sitting at his seat again. “He’s a bodyguard.”
“Huh?” Jon frowned. “But there’s nobody at his table.”
“That would be way too obvious,” Tim said. “This is more covert. Still, there’s ways to tell. See how he keeps making circuits around the room? It looks natural. He doesn’t stare. He’s too well trained to keep glancing at his client—but actually, you can tell there’s one table he never inspects too closely.”
Tim rolled his cursor over to a small table of European businessmen, talking quietly towards one side of the café.
“His client’s somewhere in there. They clearly don’t suspect someone at the meeting is a threat—and they probably have a second guard at the table for that, anyway. Damian’s there to rebuff any external attempts.”
Jon stared at the small café meeting. The men looked so ordinary. “You’re sure?”
“If you know what you’re looking for, it’s pretty obvious.” Tim said. “Damian must be deep undercover.”
Or he’s not on our side anymore, Jon admitted silently. He drummed his fingers on his desk and tried to sound earnest when he thanked Tim for the new information.
*
Summer continued, headless of anything.
August was bright and miserable. It stopped raining and the temperature began to climb until everyone sat in damp jeans and heavy shirts, beating the air with dollar-store fans.
The Kent farmhouse didn’t have good air conditioning, which Lois resented. “It’s alright for you,” Lois told her husband one hot summer night. “You can buzz off to the arctic whenever you please. Us earthlings don’t have that luxury.”
The puppies started to run around and slide on the waxed floors. Lois had ended up naming them Onion, Sprout and Potato. Onion and Sprout were greyish, straight-haired little fluffy boys with droopy ears like their mother. Potato looked like her father, except much shaggier. The three amigos, as Clark called the litter, were rarely separated.
None of them showed any signs of powers. In fact, when Krypto tried to fly, the puppies became upset, and he had to land and reassure them. How long had it taken Jon to show his powers? Years and years.
Damian’s house stood empty. A pigeon had accidentally flown in through the shattered skylight, and Jon had spent the best part of an hour using a broom to chase it back out again. Vines had started to creep up the back window and enter uninvited.
In early September, harvests left the surrounding fields bald and barren. Crows picked worms from the tilled earth. Everything smelled freshly cut and overturned.
Jon rented movies and watched them with puppies on his lap. He watched thrillers and rom-coms and documentaries and horrors. Sprout chewed his fingers with blunt baby teeth.
Thinking about Damian had become stale, but he couldn’t help it anymore. The thoughts followed him like nagging ghosts when he cycled to school that autumn.
*
“It’s been seven months,” Tim said.
They were meeting in person, for once. A plate of cold pastries lay between them. Tim drank black coffee. Even though it had been months since Tim had been able to uncover anything of note, the CEO still called Jon regularly. Tim was practically a stranger, but Jon could see why Conner liked him so much. He was a good friend.
“Yeah,” Jon said. “What do you think we should do? Is there anything I can do?”
Tim set his hands down on the table. His dark circles were a little lighter than normal, and his eyes were warm. “I think… you should start looking at colleges.”
Jon drew up short. “Colleges?”
“You’re sixteen,” Tim said. “You’ve got a bit of time, sure. But you should be thinking about the rest of your life. Don’t let it all pass you by.”
“So you think I should just give up on him?” Jon asked.
Tim sighed. He took a long drink of his coffee. “It’s not giving up. Look—I know what you’re going through, believe me. I’ve seen it. I’ve had friends put into comas, kidnapped, possessed—you name it. Hell, last year I spent two months in an alternate dimension where my alternate self was evil. It isn’t pretty. But we can’t just sit around, waiting for life to be logical, or else we’d wait forever.”
Jon wasn’t sure what to say. He stared at the plate of pastries. Outside the diner window, people passed by. An old woman pulled her coat tight around her as the winter wind rolled through the city.
“What do you think Damian would say if he did come back and saw you’d put everything on hold for him, and missed all your chances?”
Jon risked a smile. “He’d call me foolish.”
“Well, there you have it. Follow his advice.” Tim smirked. “Don’t be foolish.”
*
In the summer before his final year of high school, Jon visited his older brother.
Conner was a tall, attractive young man with a quick and easy smile he used on everyone, from baristas to party guests, but mostly on women. He was very the image of a younger Clark Kent and looked so much like Jon even strangers registered them as siblings.
Training in Metropolis was easier than Jon expected it to be. Jon sailed after his older brother around the gleaming skyscrapers.
“Your flying’s really improved!” Conner called out behind him.
“Thanks,” Jon said. “It seems like my heat vision’s got worse.”
“Aw, don’t be hard on yourself. Aren’t you, like, eight years old?” Conner grinned.
While Jon flew flat out like a snake through the air, Conner mostly flew upright, one leg extended ahead of him like an ice skater. Combined with his leather jacket, shades and his half-shaved head, it gave him a relaxed, larger than life appearance. Where Superman was a stellar example of modern formality, Superboy was absurdly informal.
Someone snapped a photo of them through a skyscraper window. Jon waved and Conner threw up a peace sign.
“What do you think they’ll call me?” Jon asked. “Superteen?”
“Ha! Super junior-junior is more like it,” Conner drawled. He rolled over in the air and flew backwards, arms folded behind his head.
Jon watched the streets below. “Superboy, Superman, all taken… When I become a hero, I suppose I’ll have to forge out my own identity.”
“It should be if, not when,” Conner said. “You shouldn’t feel pushed into it. Like we really need your scrawny ass anyways.” His tone was affectionate.
“I’m Superman’s son,” Jon pointed out.
“And half of me is Lex Luthor, buddy.” Conner rolled his eyes. “Look, I didn’t really get a choice about becoming Superboy. Besides, I like it, and I’m good at it. Obviously. But I didn’t really get to experience the world outside of that.” He stretched and resettled.
“I don’t know if I have a choice either,” Jon said. “I was pretty much born to do it. I’m not sure I could leave it alone.”
“Pah, you sound like an addict,” Conner said. “At least leave it ’til after you graduate high school. Being a high school dropout won’t get you very far.”
“Tim’s a high school dropout,” Jon pointed out. He swooped over Conner’s head and sailed past him.
“If you start modelling your life after Drake I’ll be fully convinced you didn’t inherit your mother’s brains after all,” Conner drawled.
“Hey! That’s your best friend,” Jon huffed.
“I know. That’s why I said it lovingly,” Conner said. “Besides, since when did you have billions of dollars to fall back on? Clark is practically broke.”
They had to swoop apart to clear the brow of a skyscraper. White birds flew lazily over the maroon sunset. When Jon expanded his senses, all he could hear was the bustle of the city’s veins, the chatter of its people. Perhaps even villains took days off every once in a while, or maybe Superman himself was somewhere handling it neatly. Telephone wires glowed brightly where the last of the sun caught them.
“I’m thinking of applying to Delano here in Metropolis,” Jon said. “So we should see more often.”
“Delano, eh?” Conner scratched his chin. “To do what?”
Jon bit his lip. “Business studies.”
“Business?”
“I might change it later,” Jon admitted.
“No, I like it. I’m just surprised.” Conner smiled. “I never went to college. I’ve no idea what I’d do.”
“You still have time,” Jon pointed out. “You’re only, what, thirty?”
“I’m twenty-three, you twerp.” Conner sent him a mock glare. “But you know, if you do end up coming to Metropolis, I don’t mind training you a little. So long as you pull your weight.”
“I’d have to think of a superhero name,” Jon said.
“Not necessarily,” Conner scratched the back of his head. “You know, er… I’m not sure if Clark has told you this yet but he’s thinking of, well, taking a step back.”
“A step back?” Jon asked.
“Not from heroism, just from Metropolis,” Conner said. “There’s so many space affairs these days that the League gets dragged into, not to mention everything overseas. And he doesn’t even live in the city anymore. So he’s thinking of stepping out of Metropolis and letting me take over the mantle.”
Jon was stunned. “Wow, seriously? He’d let you do that?”
Conner looked a little flustered. “Er, he may or may not.”
“Conner, that’s incredible!” Jon tackled his brother mid-air. “You’d make an amazing Superman!”
“Alright, alright,” Conner pushed him away lightly. “Enough with the soppiness, kiddo. And for the record, you’d make a great Superboy.”
“Huh? Me, Superboy?” Jon’s eyes widened.
“Well, duh,” Conner said. “But only if you want to. And only if you get into Delano. Which means you have to get the grades!”
“Of course, I’ll get the grades!” Jon rolled around mid-air. “This is amazing! You, Superman, me, Superboy! Wow, just imagine.”
“You have to study first, grasshopper,” Conner said. “And remember I can take the title away just as easily as I let you use it.” He swiped playfully for Jon.
“No way!” Jon dropped out of reach like a falling stone. “It’s mine now.”
*
Now a year and a bit old, the three puppies had become real dogs. They were taller than both their parents and seemed attached to each other. As Lois said, it was like living with a wolfpack.
Sprout was smarter than his siblings and used his intelligence for mischief. He could open doors and fridges and take toys from anywhere Lois had hidden them. It was lucky that none of the hybrids had superpowers.
Jon made comments about giving one of the dogs to Conner, which released the unspoken request that they keep all three of them. Relieved, Clark agreed immediately. Five dogs were too many for a small farmhouse, especially with Jon’s imminent departure on the horizon.
Jon studied for his end of year exams. He applied to a handful of colleges.
*
“It was candidate A,” Jon said. He moved his cursor across the web call to circle the mousy little man at the beginning of the line-up.
Tim raised an eyebrow. He was at least eighty miles away, sitting in his Gotham offices with half a bottle of cola in front of the webcam. “How so?”
“When he describes shooting Senator Williams, he’s saying the gun went off accidentally, but the motion he’s making as he talks is him levelling the shot and taking it,” Jon said. “It doesn’t match up. I think he’s lying.”
“Well spotted.” Tim smiled. But he didn’t look very surprised.
“You knew!” Jon exclaimed.
“Yeah, I did,” Tim said. “But you wouldn’t learn anything if I gave you all the answers.”
Jon frowned. “That took me half an hour to work out.”
“It’s just practice,” Tim said. “Patience, my young padawan.”
*
Lois helped him move the last box into his new apartment. It was one owned by the college, and his window overlooked the streets. It was a small dorm apartment with a single roommate who would share the kitchen and bathroom with him.
Lois brought a pizza which they ate on the empty kitchen table. She cried and hugged him and stroked his hair. Jon pretended to be embarrassed but promised to act responsibly and not to fall in with the wrong crowd. She snapped a photo for Clark, who was off-world, and left him reluctantly.
Jon had several hours of nothing but warm afternoon sun. He slept on his bare mattress and let the sun come in.
Someone knocked on his open bedroom door.
It was a reedy young man with coiled blonde hair with dark roots. His deep-set eyes were pale, and his clothes were at least a size too large for him.
“Hallo,” the young man said. “You’re Jonathan?”
“It’s just Jon, and hi,” Jon said, sitting it.
“I’m Franz,” the young man said. “Are you going to the hall party?”
“There’s a party?” Jon asked. “I thought we weren’t allowed.”
“The RA doesn’t move in until the weekend,” Franz said with a sharp smile. “So, until then there are no laws in the dorms. You know, technically.”
Jon frowned. He had promised his mother barely an hour ago that he wouldn’t do anything too illicit.
“Relax,” Franz said. “The beer won’t bite. Besides, nothing too fun will happen on the first night. I don’t know anyone well enough for that.”
He left the doorway, and Jon rolled to his feet and followed him. He snagged his house keys from the tabletop and followed Franz into the common room. A few girls sat on the sagging couches. Including one which was very familiar.
“Chloe?” Jon exclaimed in surprise.
Chloe Chase jumped to her feet. Her hair was dyed green and braided, and she wore a red and white shirt and corduroy jeans. There was a lesbian pride pin on her lapel.
“Well, hi,” Chloe said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I didn’t even know you were applying!”
“Sorry, I didn’t…” Jon wrinkled his nose. After Damian’s disappearance, he had drifted away from everyone at school.
“It’s cool,” Chloe said, separating from him. “It’s a nice surprise. It’s hard to go to college and not know anybody.”
Jon smiled. He saw a tall girl standing to one side of the sofa. She had black hair cut into an asymmetrical bob and very black eyes fringed with thick eyeliner.
“Oh, that’s my roommate, Vita Morales,” Chloe said. “Vita, this is Jon Kent. We were friends in high school.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Vita said, tilting her head. She had her hands tucked into her long trench coat. There was a narrow silver choker around her throat.
Jon was about to respond, but Franz came back to the common room tailed by several tall, muscular young men. “I’ve only been able to find non-alcoholic beer. This is truly a backwards country.”
*
The next morning, Jon left early to fly over to the Teen Titans headquarters. He couldn’t have chosen an apartment which was further from the HQ without being in the Atlantic, but luckily, he could beat an airplane without much difficulty, so the commute ended up being only forty-five minutes.
He landed on the steps like a sparrow, almost soundlessly.
Conner noticed him immediately, and threw an arm around his shoulder, drawing him in. “Here’s my baby brother, everyone! This little twerp will be a good addition to the team, even though technically he’s only a teen for another year or two.”
Jon laughed and ducked out of the elbow hold.
Starfire, Cyborg, Beastboy and Red Robin walked out into the tiled courtyard of the island. Behind them, the huge tower blocked out the blue sky. Jon’s eyes were immediately drawn by Starfire’s amazing hair, which undulated in a mass of vibrant curls which formed and unformed as if she floated underwater.
“Strictly speaking, none of us are teenage anymore,” Raven’s chilled voice rolled past the group. She walked noiselessly, her feet barely touching the stone.
“It is a pleasure to be acquainted with you,” Starfire said. She was surprisingly tall and towered over both him and Conner. She squeezed Jon’s shoulders.
“You can pick up the slack left by Conner,” Red Robin teased. Conner shot him a dry unamused look.
“I just hope I can keep up,” Jon said. “You guys are giants in the hero world. Thank you for considering me.”
Cyborg ruffled Jon’s hair. “He’s cute. He’s like Conner without the attitude.”
“Hey!” Conner protested weakly. “That’s not fair. He’s not even an official member yet.”
A bright green cat rubbed against Jon’s ankle. “It’s too late, Kon,” Beastboy said. “He’s ours now.”
*
Class started that Monday. Jon brought a notebook and a tablet just in case, as well as a full pencil case. It ended up just being an introduction.
After the lecture, several classmates stayed behind, and he introduced himself. There was a flurry of names exchanged and he friended a lot of people on Facebook. He walked to a local coffeeshop and ordered a latte, amazed at the convenience of living in a city.
Of course, he thought about Damian ever so often.
But the thoughts had no bite anymore. Time had blunted the knife of the memory. He thought that hey—even if he saw Damian again, he might not even be upset.