Chapter Text
Damian Wayne wasn’t lonely. He was rarely alone after Jonathan Kent forced his way into his life. Like a plant between the sidewalk stones or that tuft of hair that never set right.Not that he minded anymore, Jon had become his best friend. Just, uh, don’t tell him. Okay? And yet, some nights, when he was looking over the cold, grimy city waiting for criminals, Damian would spot a pair of lovers. A man and his girl walking out of a cute coffee shop, or a movie theater. An artist dropping off her muse, or maybe a singer and his boytoy.
No matter the case he always wondered what it would be like to find a person like that. Someone to understand him so completely that he never really had to clarify. Someone who saw past his scars and recognized the healing he’d forced onto them. If they would hear about his mother, if they got that far, and see how she tried to protect Damian. To see past his surface, heir of Wayne enterprises, introverted, dark. Mysterious. And notice who Damain wanted to be, like washing a dirty window and being able to see the beautiful world outside the bubble you surrounded yourself in. Well, someone other than Jon.
No. Damian Wayne was not lonely, nor alone. But there were some days he wished he wasn’t so observant of the dalliance of others.
Like today while he was walking into the library to return a book, a pair of older kids giggling as they held hands. He wanted to scoff, it would be all too easy for him to surround himself with women - even at 15. But no, he would not be that person. No, he stayed away from that, he wanted to focus on his studies. At least, that's what he told himself as he waved back to the librarian, who asked about his latest read.
It was fine. He mused silently, shrugging passing over the school’s pristine copy of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Inaccurate, but fine. They talked a bit more and Damian eventually peeled away to find a nice corner to study in. Actually study.
Sunlight streamed through the library, like pure gold in an authentic Hellenic Temple. Pure and yet unworldly. Like the sunlight graced the sacred room like fresh frost on the ground. Coating it in a pristine freshness that only the empty nights could shoo away. Thin layers of dust on the shelves as the books lay in wait. Hoping for a bright young mind to crack open the pages and search for meaning. Or maybe for a group to plan their next adventure.
Steps echoed in the cavern of knowledge, the old stairs creaking slightly under Damian’s weight. The old wood with wear patterns reflecting the success of Gotham Preparatory Highschool of the Fine Arts over its 150+ year long history staring up at him with curiosity. What would he do next? Who would he be later on in his life? Would he remember today in 20 years?
His eyes rolled over the tomes and shelves, his feet stopping as he stared at a very well loved copy of ‘The Complete collection of Shakespeare’. Part of him wanted to read it, look over the pages and marvel at the loved tales and ink. To look into the mind of a man who hadn’t been alive for 400 years. His stories are still being retold in every possible way with no end in sight. As ingrained into culture as the sun or ‘gendered’ roles. But just as he thought to walk away Damian watched the book be gingerly taken from the shelf. In its place was you, or at the very least your face.
His heart nearly stopped. At first in shock, suddenly aware he wasn’t alone. Then in awe, you were the girl poets wrote their books on. He had no doubt about this, so was it so surprising that he couldn’t help but analyze your face. The gentle smile on your lips as you flicked through the pages. Mumbling out a quote or two from the playbook, rolling your eyes at words he could only assume weren’t school appropriate. Yet Damian couldn’t focus on your voice, or really anything, your gentle existence freezing his brain.
Get it together Damian! You are the Grandson of the Demon’s Head, son of Bruce Wayne! A girl shouldn’t -
Then you laughed and suddenly every small quote falling from your lips made his lips twitch upwards. And Damian smiled like he knew those words. Maybe he did, he couldn’t remember over his blood rushing past his ears. Maybe not all of the words, though it was likely, but enough to understand. Then you put the book back and Damian finally registered reality. His heart was pounding for a girl he had never seen before, a girl who’s voice he had only heard for a few rare seconds. A girl whom he had only known for a minute.
But his heart yearned , yearned to be understood. Yearned to be heard and held with the same reverence as you held that book. His face barely warmed up. Damian wasn’t aware of his sneaking until he saw your eyes dart to a copy of a romance novel he had never seen before. A sigh of familiarity leaving you as you picked the book up, like a newborn. Your hair falling just over your shoulder as you craned your neck to read the page.. Just enough to shine in the light like a curtain around you. Like it was silk or gemstones beyond count, or maybe even a pure thread of warmth itself.
But he memorized it anyway.
Observed you like he had never had anyone before. Because while he watched you read, really read the book . Laughed at funny moments, smiled at sweet ones, blushed at ones he couldn’t even fathom. Damian could see you understood the story. Even when your face scrunched in confusion, or possibly disgust, you kept going on. Using your time to really exist in the book. To frolic in the world that the pages allowed you to see, to walk alongside the main cast and be their friend.
A heavy gasp for a breath he hadn’t realized he grasped for sounded between them. Your ear twitched ever so slightly, residually from when that was a useful feature for humans. Head scanning the areas around you for anyone. Then your gaze moved to where Damian was watching. He panicked. Stepping away, like the night he heard he was going to his father’s. Then…
Nothing.
Once again Damian’s heart raced, eyes begging to see you again. Just to see you smile. Or make sure you were real. Hell, were you real? He picked up the nearest book, bending the spine inward to reveal the spoils inside. The words wobbled, moved, blended together in his unfocused state. But the book was real. He was here, and… Well.
You were real.
You hummed, he could hear it. Oh man he wanted so bad to know you. Suddenly Damian Wayne, Son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, wanted to learn you. Dissect you like the poor poor frog from Biology. Understand how you worked. Your name, your favorite color, how you liked your skies. Did you like tea or coffee? Hard or soft covers for books? What music made you sing , truly belt out your heart and soul to the walls. What gave you life. He wanted to learn everything he could about you and more. He wanted to steal your time and hold your hand.
He shut the book he held and dared to steal another glance, just in time to see you set down that romance novel you seemed to love. Then you began to walk away, leaving him alone in the shelves. He whined quietly, muttering a curse in his native tongue before casually approaching the book you had set down.
Leatherbound, old - but well kept, a rose on the front. Cursive text with gold leaf on top. His hand delicately traced the cover., absorbed what only you could have seen in the book. Held it with such care he couldn’t recognize his hands. Damian braced himself with a deep breath and opened the cover. Reading every useless word and carefully written dedication. Then each word on the pages. Every sentence filled with the same yearning he felt now. He fell for you, without knowing it, in that exact second. A book so deep with romance it was hard to breathe normally.
Guard fully dropped as he stood, no longer fussing over his biology homework in his backpack. The illusion fell, however, as a soft footstep sounded on the rug behind him. Damian tensed up, the book shutting with a loud ‘whump’. He couldn’t move as his mind raced. Had this been a trap? Did you know he was watching? His eyes closed and focused on slowing his breath. A soft giggle, as gentle and amused as can be, left you behind him. Suddenly he was blushing, something he had rarely done. Ever. He turned, caught red handed as you stood before him. Uniform slightly undone as you crossed your arms.
A look of ‘I caught you’ on your face as you smirked at him. His mouth opened to protest, to defend himself. But, he couldn’t. He was stuck there, stunned by just your sublime presence. Your pure beauty. Then you did the completely unexpected thing, something he had only wanted since he laid his eyes on you.
You told him your name.