Chapter Text
Living in Gotham is like using spoilt milk for your coffee the night before the exam that will determine if it is worthwhile to live on rather than plummet headfirst from a douchebag billionaire’s building for the heck of it, but even Gotham has its perks if you don’t have a strong hold on your will to live, are into men with impeccable ass, clad in spandex or, if you want to meet life’s end in an exotic way like exploding because of poison ivy’s weird pink concoction(happened to my friends boss, don't worry he was abhorrent; committed murder and arson on various accounts and ate my friends blueberry yogurt). It ain’t that rough. You either live or ya don’t.
As someone with preposterous student loans I often walk towards Bane when he is tearing limbs apart. Mornings are still the worst thing to come by even in Gotham. With the soot and the ominous gothic air (smog) most of us just flip a coin to call the shots on the time of the day but for a miscreant evil-doer worse than the supervillains, me, a teacher mornings are filled with viciously rich hell spawns and the cheapest coffee there is. The Gotham academy’s iPod sized fiends just make your day........worse than the respiratory ailment you get from confiscated weed that wasn’t weed at all it was Ivy’s premium grade matcha (ok maybe that one’s on me but I was sleep deprived and it was in a hello kitty ziplock bag , sorry Irene).
Walking in class wearing stereotypical English teacher cardigan and way too many thrifted rings. I get on with the lecture. Halfway through principal strides in with way too big pearl around her neck and a smile that doesn't reach her eyes
“We have a new student, please make sure he is acquainted with the class.” following her is a young boy with raven hair and sharp feature.
“Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?” I ask the raven boy as the principal departs.
“They know who I am” the boy has a deepening snark for which he adds “anyone who already doesn't is undeserving and insignificant.”
Yay to me, another rich kid whose daddy is seen more in tabloids than at home. The last thing I can waste my caffeine induced vigor is to search up a rich kid’s name..
“I don’t” I answer to his remark
“My point still stands” that little shit “I am Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne” he oh so thankfully adds.
So, this little tweep is another bundle of joy taken up by the DILF billionaire...everyone knows Brucie either because of Wayne Enterprises the large, growing multinational company or from his criminally bewitching waist. Back to the demon son..
“Hello Damian, quite gutsy to join in the middle of the semester, but I am sure you will catch up, you seem like a smart kid.” and he did if the neatly ironed navy blazer and the zipped remarks were anything to go by, nothing about the boy screamed tween. It was like talking to a short old man.
The boy shrugged “it is a measly task, I hardly think there is anything you can teach that I don’t already know.” wow the “addressing a peasant tone” sure is grating.
“Good to know Damian, why don’t you grab a seat, we still have fifteen minutes till class ends. Why don’t you stay after the class and we can talk then.”
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For someone who joins at the end of the class he sure has quite a lot of inputs to make. All the kids drag their expensive footwear across the tiled floor to make their way to the next class while two other girls Debra and Shay giggle while stealing glances towards Damian. To his credit he does stay after class rather than walking out.
“You can get the book list and the syllabi for each subject at the reception. You can take your time to get up to date. Are there any clubs you are interested in, any hobbies? I don’t want you to feel burdened by the pace of it all.”
“I don't require your assistance for such trivial affairs. Hobbies are a waste of time. I am here only because of father’s petulant insistence. I do not wish to spend an ounce of time more than necessary in this institution.” Damian says in a posh way that tells you that he was chauffeured to school in a car worth more than your entire life’s earning. It's also kinda sad the kid has no hobbies, at one point in my life my will to live revolved around yaoi, but me recommending that as a hobby would be some sort of code violation...I think, plus getting into yaoi is a cannon event that I wouldn't wanna mess with. So instead, I opt for buttering the self-righteous birdie.
“Come on there has got to be something you like doing. The greatest minds like yourself require arena for output. You gotta find at least one, take it as your homework for the day.” the kid turns slightly red at that and whispers.
“I like to draw.” well look at that, the kid’s still mellow from inside. But there is hesitance in his voice as if he would be berated for being human.
“That’s great. I would love to see them if you are good with that, kid.” That seems to loosen him out. “Why not join the art club, maybe make a few friends?” that seems to make his hackles rise. “You are a sweet kid I am sure there are quite a few kids who wanna be friends with you.” the boy’s got walls, but it’s Gotham so who doesn't.
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