I want to thank each and every single one of you for taking time to read this, as i'm putting it out here for people to read. Thank you so much for all the kind comments, and constructive criticism! It means so much to me that some people leave their comments on stuff like this that I write :') I makes me actually feel like writing instead of thinking like the mentality of this being a daily thing that I have to do, not something that I want to do. I love writing, but I have my days just as I'm sure you may have yours. Thank you so much!
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The moment you had gotten out of the house, you grabbed a handful of change out of your coat pocket and got on the bus. You had shot Damian and Maps a text to meet up at the bookstore, apparently Damian was halfway there already. Which ultimately confused you, but he said it was because you weren't answering the landline at your house, and you hadn't opened his messages on messenger until now. He was planning on reaching you through Julian, apparently Damian had something urgent to share with you. Urgent enough for the fact that he'd already sent a text to Maps telling her to come about thirty minutes after she opens her message. How Damian is capable of planning everything out like that, you have no clue. you don't even know how you understand how he put it in words. He texts just as formally as he talks, sometimes it just gives you a headache. Other times? You're just thankful he doesn't text like Lea. In the form of memes. Never again do you want to wake up to Lea making her own memes and using Mason's face above words to talk to you. Dark times, really it was.

Still unable to wear jeans, wearing a thick black skirt that goes just above your knees when you're standing. Legs wrapped up in ace bandage and a couple of band aids here and there, some minor discoloration on your legs even still from the burns. The bruises on your wrists that are slowly but surely fading are covered by the long black denim and leather sleeves of your jacket, unzipped while over a blue long sleeve T-shirt. Just the tips of your fingers sticking out from the sleeves, broken and cracked nails. Not like you can do anything about it right now.

The bus ride isn't long from your house to the street across the Bookstore. But it's long enough for you to shove your hands into your pockets and find a small tube of chapstick. It's been awhile since you've done anything like brush your hair on your own without having to have someone hold the brush for you. Nobody else is on the back of the bus where you're seated, so there's nobody there to stare at you as it takes more time than it should to put on chapstick. Holding it at a different angle, and using both hands to hold it without dropping it. Something that you're starting to get used to, is holding things with both your hands even though they're usually held with just fingers.

Rubbing your lips together, glad that they aren't dry and cracking like your nails. Looking at the small red chapstick tube in your hands, seeing the dark red tone of the wrapper and turning it so you can see what it's actually supposed to taste like. Some kind of knock off soda, probably a copy of Cola. Because it taste pretty stale, really. But hey, no dry lips. That's when your eyes focus on the faded print and you realize that it actually is cola, but the label has been washed to hell and back. almost like the tubes gone through the washing machine.

Then you think about the last time you wore this jacket, and the fact you found it in the dryer. Makes sense, but you totally just put washing machine chapstick on your mouth. Wincing while putting it back, the bus stops at the mark across the street. You push yourself off of the seat, hands in pockets. Legs still aching pretty bad, because you're really not supposed to be on your feet. And even so, you haven't been on your feet for very long. For a significant amount of time you practically stayed in your bed, Tim coming over to help you with school, Damian coming over to check up on you, Lea staying in your room by sleeping on the other side of your bed. You didn't really have much of a reason to leave your room unless it was to shower and such. So you've had time to heal up a bit, but obviously not enough. You have to use the railing to get down the stairs of the bus, and had to put your hand on the back of your seat to make sure you didn't fall over down the aisle.

You make it out of the bus and see Damian on the other side of the window in the bookstore, sitting at a table in the cafe section. A small cup in front of him and his hair seeming a mess. Something you don't usually see on Damian is messy hair. He normally has gel in it to keep it how he wants it, the only time you ever see it like that is when it's been raining and it's dried out. It doesn't even look like he's done anything to it, like he'd just woken up or something. Walking across the street, you stare at the window that he's sitting behind. Bringing the cup up his mouth and turning his head, locking eye contact with you.

You give a slight smile, and he puts the cup down and gets up. Wearing a dark brown coat that's longer than most of his other coats you've seen him in, a navy blue T-shirt over some jeans and black boots suitable for the rainy weather that Gotham usually keeps all year 'round.

You walk slowly, but he meets you at the front door and holds it open for you. Pulling you in and closing said door behind you before any of the light drizzle from outside starts to get in.

"Thanks, Damian." You say, taking the hood off of your jacket down. Slightly messy (h/c) hair sticking up in odd places from the hood, Damian only mumbles a quiet "I could have come to your house," before pushing down the locks that stuck up. His hands in your hair, albeit just to shove away stray strands? Felt kinda nice.

"Your shoes are untied." He states, looking down at the light blue ankle boots, giving off somewhat of an annoyed look. Not really annoyed, but more so amused in the same arrogant way he usually keeps around with him? You don't know what to call it, but before you have anything to say about the fact you can't exactly tie your shoes right now, he pulls you out of the way from the door.

"Here," He bends over a little and guides your boot onto his knee, not caring about the dirt that comes with it. "You're going to face plant, though it would be amusing I don't want to actually see it." He says, switching from your left boot to your right and tying them. You can't help but feel embarrassed, shoving him in the shoulder to cover up the fact that you actually kind of want to thank him for helping you out. You just tossed your shoes on quickly and grabbed the first jacket you could find. You didn't exactly take care in picking things up and putting them on when you left your house in a fit of anger like you did.

"You first, what did you want to talk to me about?" You asked, walking besides Damian who was leading you back into the cafe section of the bookstore. Not wanting to speak in a place where people are reading or trying to buy books, obviously.

"We could have just met at your house, I was foolish to agree meeting you here-"
"-No, my house is a bad idea right now." Yoiu're quick to cut him off, sending a narrowed look to him. He can see your temples moving and you tightening your jaw, even if you don't realize you're doing it. Giving you a worried look, he makes his way over to the booth he was sitting at, you slowly take a seat across from him.

"If you say so. I came here to ask you about Lea, i'm sure you know why I'm asking and where my concerns lay at." He says, leaning back and placing his hands on the table, one in the other. Part of you thought he was going to ask you about the kiss the two of you had all those nights ago, how long has it been since then? Obviously long enough for him to forget, it seems.

You sharply exhale through your nose and place your palms on the table, about ready to get back up. Damian just leans over and gently places his right hand over your own, giving you a look that just begs you to say, though his mouth never would.

"It's a Robin thing." He said quietly, as if making you know this isn't where his personal interests rest. Letting you know that Damian isn't the one asking, but Robin is. Pursing your lips together, you go still and fight the urge to just get up and leave, probably wait for Maps and spend your last day in Gotham with her instead.

They don't even know.

With this in mind, your eyes go soft and you nod your head slightly.

"What do you want to know? She's running around Gotham with some guy that calls himself Abuse, I did a little research because I was worried. What, afraid somebody else is taking up the Dynamic Duo theme and leaving you and-"

"I need to know if she's sick." He cuts you off, removing his hand from your own. Looking at you with a raised eyebrow, you can tell he's trying to stay calm about something. His hair's a mess, the collar on his coat is uneven, and he has dark circles under his green eyes.

"I don't know if she's sick, but she keeps coughing. My mom gave her some medicine for the common cold, but if you're asking if she's mentally sick, it's debatable." You said calmly, knowing that Lea sometimes works in the cafe but she doesn't seem to be in today.

"What about her parents, Col-Abuse says she's doing this out of some personal arrogant spite." There's a hitch in his voice, and it kinda causes you to worry. What does Damian have to worry about that drags into his personal life even more so than what he's already got going on?

"Her mom is dead, her dad's just an asshole with a drug problem that ran away." It sounds too familiar for you to talk about, but Damian said this was a Robin thing.

"Yeah? Did you know that she's carrying around half a million dollars in that duffel bag she always has with her?" He says, giving you a serious look. Instantly, your mouth drops open and you nearly choke on air. you knew she had money, but you didn't know how much. You knew she bought a couple things for her set up in the garage, a bed and a couple other things. But this isn't something you were completely aware of.

"She shouldn't have that much money? She told me she sold her crowns and trophies and old dresses, but that shouldn't come up to half a million." You spoke truthfully, leaning forwards on the table and holding your chin in your right hand. Keeping eye contact on Damian.

"Crowns, trophies, dresses?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and giving you somewhat of a surprised look. He backed up a little bit into his booth, you just nodded and began explaining.

"When Lea's mom died her dad kinda lost it, I didn't know her before her mom died, but I've seen pictures. He couldn't really keep a steady job, so he started using Lea to get money. Anything she got went to things to make her "better", and it also went to other things. I don't know much, she rarely tells me anything. All i know for sure is her dad left when she was thirteen, that's when she started getting put into the foster system." You spoke the word better in a emphasized tone, if you could make quotations with your fingers? You would.

"What do you mean by Better?" Damian asked,voice drifting into a serious tone. you lifted your chin off of your hand, and sat up normally.

"Lea was pushed into things like ballet, vocal instructors, things like that. It started when she was young, but like I said. She doesn't tell me much. Do I think she's healthy? No. She's been put in the hospital more times than I can count, do I think she's healing? Slowly, yeah." You replied, giving off a sorry look. Just thinking about what happened to her is enough to make you not want to really talk about it. But if this is as important as Damian is making it seem, then it needs to be spoken about.

"How did her mother die?"
"..."
He takes the silence as a refusal to answer, to he begins explaining something that'll be bound to make you talk.

"Abuse says she's been coughing up blood."

Your heart feels like it's stopped in your chest. Eyes widening, Damian has to look away out the window because he really doesn't want to see you break down if that's what you're going to do.

Your throat tightens, and your hands and feet just feel really cold. It doesn't sit right with you, but it's making so much sense.

You're silent for a few moments, but you start to speak anyways. Regardless of the feeling eating at your stomach.

"Lea's mother was really sick. She wasn't sick for long, Lea only says that it happened quickly before anybody could do anything about it. In the old house she had pictures in this torn photo album that I saw once or twice, it wasn't good." You said honestly, not going into too much detail. But making him understand where you stand on this.

​​​​​​"What's Lea's real name, I've already looked but I can't find it." He says, leaning on his hand. "Not enough to know about her to even search for anything real. She just showed up out of nowhere, and your mother doesn't seem to be her legal guardian. I checked, nothing panned out." He said, going from leaning on his hand to crossing his arms over his chest. A lock of his hair standing up on end on the back of his head, gaining your attention for some reason other than to focus on something else.

"Cordelia Ann Nunes, and her Legal Guardians think that she's been with a friend of her's that isn't me this entire time." You said, sighing out of annoyance. Does she do smart things? Sometimes. Is she a smart girl? Yes, completely.does she have no regard for her actions? Obviously.

"Thank you. I only have concerns-"
"Like what?" You ask him before he can finish, looking back at you before waving his hand in a way to dismiss the question.

"Are you kidding me?" You ask, a disgusted tone to be heard in your voice. You don't mean to lash out on anybody, really. But with everything going on at home, the lack of answers you're getting from your own goddamn mother?! You're really trying not to let other people into this entire problem, and you get Damian might be keeping this from you to protect you or something. but this involves Lea, someone who you've known since kindergarten. Someone who you've sat besides on ambulance rides, someone who you've attacked someone over, someone who you've found needed protection from other people at times when it wasn't even needed. Someone who is important to you.

"You come here and scare me by telling me she's coughing up blood, then I tell you her life story and you don't even tell me why you need this other than 'It's robin stuff'? Well screw you too. did you stop to think that maybe I want to know what's going on if this is as serious as you're making it seem to be?!" Your voice isn't loud, but it gives Damian an impact on how much this bothers you. How much you're not okay with being left out of the loop.

"I do not want you getting hurt-"

"Oh, how thoughtful. I thought that we had already established that everything that's happened to me isn't because you're the one putting me in danger. If anything, you keep me out of it. And I really, really appreciate you for that," you pause, sighing and calming down. Reaching across the table and placing your hands on his. Unable to lock your fingers with his own, but he ends up cupping your hands together in his, knowing you can't move your fingers very well.

"If anything, I might be putting you in danger." You mumble quietly, remembering how distraught your mother was last night. Remembering how intense she was about the fact that you needed to leave Gotham with her and not tell anyone that you're even leaving. Just to disappear.

Damian squeezes your hands slightly, opening his mouth to speak.

"Don't say that. It's untrue and wrong of you to even suggest, I don't want to hear that." He says quietly, getting your attention again. Speaking softly, not something Damian usually does.

"Can we talk about how Nunes has involved herself in all of this at a more convenient time and place? Perhaps not in public." Nudging to his side, making your eyes go to the other side of the room where other people sat. Yeah, public place probably not a good idea to talk about his vigilante extracurricular activities in detail.

"How does tomorrow sound?"
"No. It has to be tonight or later today." You state just as quickly as he finished talking, the suggestion making your gut crawl into a ball and tighten in pain. You can't even tell him you're leaving, and trusting your mothers instinct on this shouldn't even be so hard.

"How long until Maps gets here?" You asked, Damian looked down at his watch before answering.
"Fifteen minutes." He answered, leaning back.

"What did you want to speak with me about, (L/n)?" Your last name sounds like a nickname when it comes from him. Which shouldn't be as normal as your brain has turned it into. He says your first name, just as often as he says your last name. When he's being as serious as serious gets, it's your first. As if he's trying to have more of an impact on your attention.

"Lots, actually. Isn't your birthday soon? Tim said something, I got you a gift but I accidentally left it at home." You said honestly, and quite bluntly. Damians eyes seemed to widen, Tim told you his birthday? Damian doesn't exactly consider his birthday as most other people do, he wasn't even technically born. He was developed in a synthetic womb. He literally has clones, the only thing original about him is his genetic genome. Even that has been copied, he still doesn't even know if he's just a copy. One of the little things he hasn't told you, yeah all of that. Even explaining his own death? He didn't go into any details at all. Not even about the person that killed him. A clone of himself.

So yeah, Damian has a reason to view his birthday differently than most people do.

"Tt, my father is a billionaire. You don't have to get me anything, in fact I'd prefer if you did not." He stated honestly, it actually makes him slightly uncomfortable when the topic lands on his birthday. And he hopes he's giving you that kind of feeling, because the less time spent on it? The better.

"My mom didn't know if you and Tim celebrated Thanksgiving or not, but she told me to tell you two that there's room at our table for anybody who wants to come." Your eyes start to fade a bit, Damian can start to feel your hands feel a bit cold. It makes him raise his eyebrows, as he starts to notice that you're not even looking at him anymore as you keep on talking.

​​​​"Are you okay?"

"I really wanna kiss you again."

Damians eyes widened upon hearing that, but your eyes don't seem to do anything. Nor does your face, it's like you don't even know you've said it. Shaking your hands a bit to get your attention, to see if you even meant that.

​​​​​"(L/n), what is going on. You're obviously not yourself, are you sick?" He asked, gaining your attention once again. He knows you, he also knows that you don't usually suggest bold things like that. Part of him had assumed you had just chose to ignore the kiss, the one that he dind't even completely remember having complete control of his actions when he did so. It was just a kiss! A small, peck on the lips. He was sure that you didn't even consider it a kiss. And just at the mention and mere thought of it, his face goes red and he desperately tries to ignore that.

"Come on," you mumble, standing up in the booth, still holding his hand. Tugging him to stand up, but he just remains still. Raising an eyebrow, but horribly failing at keeping most things under control. For example, the red only growing brighter on his olive skin. Giving his face a warm glow feeling to it, and he can practically feel his ears growing hot.

​​"(L/n)-"
"Let's go outside, too many people in here."

That's when he notices the tears welling in your eyes, and understands that something isn't right.