Chapter Text
Red Wine Supernova — Chapter 1.
The apartment itself harboured many scents, ones born naturally from a life full of genuine living: the aroma of burnt toast, one that still lingered in the hallway, it was matched with ridiculously expensive perfume, and the distinct presence that stank of the local stray cat, its calico tail had carelessly pushed over a bag of dried lavender, leaving the remains on the vintage rug.
Rolling over with a groan, your legs were tangled in a duvet that had long lost its matching pillow cases. Lying in the bed, with your back now flat against the mattress, you stared up at the ceiling with a deadly glare, as if it had been the one to wake you…
The city was almost always bright, never lacking the sun, as its rays made their way through your lace patterned curtains, showing in filtered shades of blonde. The light itself, fighting its way through patterns; casted floral patterns across the wooden floorboards…
All over the mess of a room lay personal, unintentional trinkets: Dark eyeshadow palettes, glass mugs filled with half-empty coffee, along with an aggressive pile of mismatched lingerie, laying around your dresser like colorful debris. Laying on the top of the mess was a Super-themed pair of panties, one your roommate had initially purchased for you with the intention of a tease, but it had slowly become something of actual use…
“Bitch. If you don’t get your ass out of bed in the next second, I am going to eat the good yogurt.” A voice called out in threat, coming from the tiny area, allocated as a kitchen.
From the doorframe emerged your roommate: Vivian. She stepped around the corner, wearing nothing more than an oversized, beige top from the night before. It slipped down her shoulder, and reached just above and below her thighs, doing very little to hide her black, laced under-clothing. Despite the morning just barely arriving, she managed to look perfect despite that; her dark-olive skin glowing in a way that made both you and your dollar-store highlighter seeth with jealousy. Her curly hair was pushed back into your favourite claw-clip, one that she had stolen and yet to return despite your many complaints. Multiple coil strands ran down and framed her sharp face. Her dark eyes glistened in shades of amusment as she held out a mug in your direction, filled with steaming chai that appeared to be loaded with way too much oat milk…
“You wouldn’t dare.” You mumbled as retort, your voice still strained from sleep as you accepted the mug with a grateful sigh.
“Try me. Also,” Vivian narrowed her eyes, now looking at you through her long, dark lashes. She stepped into your room and over a discarded bottle of diet coke you had left on the ground. “You really do need to tone it down on caffeine. It’s going to be the death of you, I swear.”
“It’s my lifeline, I'd be dead without it, either way." You shot back. Before continuing on you took a sip which had tasted like heaven and an impending heart attack. “And maybe I'll get lucky and be able to haunt my family from the grave, finally getting their attention, one way or another. Trust, I will especially torment Dickhead, finally getting it through to him that I was your bitch first.”
In response, Vivian could only sigh at your psychotic statement… This apartment had become something chaotic, despite the tiny interior, and the awful cost of living, this place felt so much warmer, and much more alive, than the Manor you had once called home, while living the Waynes you had once called family…
The Wayne Manor was certainly Gotham’s most sought after estate… Growing up there sure had its perks: mostly in the financial aspects, but that alone could not make up for the lack of human warmth, such a thing was a scarce concept…
Sure, Bruce had never once treated you with cruelty: he had never once moved to raise his voice, or slam a door in anger, he had never once looked at you with eyes full of malice and disdain, but rather he hardly ever stared in your direction at all… It was as if he simply… forgot about your existence.
The birthdays and major events you experienced in that house-hold seemed to be blurred in memory, only remembered by generic gift-cards given by Alfred.
Oh bless Alfred, the only constant, and ever genuine heart in that massive stone fortress… While your actual guardian, Bruce, had remained sequestered in that brooding cave, constantly burying himself under board meetings, or corporate stress, and most often; his midnight patrols.
Memories would often drift through your mind now, moving ever so pointlessly like dust particles, trying their very best to catch the morning's light through the glass window.
Memories of Dick’s meaningless promises to visit on one rainy Wednesday afternoon, only then to get pulled into a Titan's mission and then completely go off-radar for over six months without a single word. Or Tim blinking in confusion from across the dining room table, as he squinted, pretending like he wasn’t trying to recall your name, before completely dismissing your presence. Or Jason, back when he was both angry and violate; in a constant attempt to push everyone away; you included, with his sharp edged words, dripping with sarcasm every time you attempted to get close. And Damian, oh, Damian had never once bothered sugar-coating his words; even flatly telling you one random afternoon with his terrifying childlike honesty; that you didn’t bleed for the mission, and therefore you did not bleed for the family…
And yes, you could say with your full chest that you were certain; no one actively hated you. But with that being said, they sure constantly tended to forget that you were even there.
And eventually… you stopped attempting to remind them. Once your unsuccessful efforts were stopped, you decided to put it all behind.
Moving to the city of Metropolis wasn’t fueled by any sort of attempt at a dramatic escape
And eventually, you stopped your efforts of attempting to remind them. Moving to Metropolis wasn’t some escape fueled by high dramatic flairs, or a screaming match for attention; no, it was a quiet and very much so practical exit… You had packed two simple suitcases, before hugging Alfred with meaning in the driveway, while Bruce himself was too busy with your siblings to notice, and never once looked back as you loaded your stuff into Vivian's car.
With the exception of Alfred of course. He still called every Sunday at precisely midday. He would send recipes for scones you had never ended up baking, and constantly checked if you were eating enough greens, ensuring you toned down on excessive doses of vanilla vodka and caffeine, and listened patiently as you ranted about local Metropolis politics and the price of living.
“Girl, get your head down and back to fucking earth.” Vivian snapped her fingers right in front of your face, as hers held an expectant look, you knew that look all too well. “Get dressed. We are actually going out today. The sun is shining, my hair is finally co-operating for once in my miserable life, and I refuse to let you rot in this apartment like a Victorian ghost.”
You laughed at that, sliding your ass out of bed pulling your favourite top over your head, and throwing that one expensive bag over your shoulder. “Are you dragging me as a replacement on another one of your nonexistent dates?”
“Hey,” Vivian sniffed in her pretended dramatic tone, as she adjusted her chunky silver rings. “Richard is very busy saving the world, thank you very much. Long-distance texting is an extreme sport, and he sends very thoughtful emojis.”
“Right. Whatever makes you happy babe, even if it is… slightly questionable of a decision.”
Vivian slapped you playfully… As they stepped out of the building, now actually dressed with a full face of makeup, into the bustling streets of Metropolis, the crisp air of the morning hit their faces, as you took in a deep breath, grounding yourself… For the first time in a damn while, you smiled, one both genuine and unguarded, that fully reached your eyes; it was happy, untethered, and entirely at peace with the new life you had established for yourself.