Chapter Text
You used to think that you were good at being alone, that you didn’t need anyone. Turns out, you just never had another option.
You grew up in Park Row, in Gotham, with your mother and father. You don’t remember much from that time—just the strong smell of cigarettes and alcohol clinging to the apartment, forcing its way into your lungs.
You remember the heavy footsteps, followed by yelling. Things being thrown around.
You remember your mother’s soft voice, trying to save someone who couldn’t be saved.
You remember hiding, trying to escape the darkness that haunted your own so-called home.
Now
You’re sitting between Cassandra and Tim at the dinner table, your plate empty, your fork moving slowly through what’s left.
The room is loud. Laughter echoes around the table. Stephanie is talking about some asshole she met at a coffee shop earlier, her hands moving as she speaks, her expression intense.
Beside you, Duke and Tim are discussing something in quieter voices, their words blending together. Cutlery scrapes against plates.
You try to focus on what Stephanie is saying, but you don’t really have the energy. Everything starts to blur together.
“—Reader?”
You freeze for a second before turning toward the voice.
“I asked how your math exam went.”
Bruce. His tone is controlled, his expression neutral. Not unkind—just distant.
“Oh—uhm.” You blink, trying to pull yourself back. “It went fine, I think.”
“Of course it did,” Duke cuts in from beside you, giving you a small smile. “Reader’s, like, super smart.”
You return the smile—smaller, but it’s there. You open your mouth to respond.
“Yeah, I—”
“Oh my God, I forgot to tell you what happened today!” Stephanie suddenly blurts out, sitting up straighter.
Just like that, the attention shifts. Everyone turns to her.
No one looks back.
It always ends up like this.
You know it’s not personal. There are a lot of people, a lot going on—and you’re quiet.
Still, it hurts.
It makes you feel unwanted. Invisible.
Like you don’t belong.
You stay quiet for the rest of dinner.
The moment you get to your room, you start working on your homework.
You’ve always prioritized school. You don’t like falling behind.
For others, it might look like passion.
For you, it’s survival.
When you’re working, you don’t have time to get stuck in your own head. And if there’s anything worse than feeling alone, it’s being trapped with your thoughts.
One day, you think, you’ll get out of here.
Maybe then, someone will finally notice.