𝒄hapter i
GOTHAM UNIVERSITY

« 𝖜onderless, act. i »

          AZALEA CARDENAS WAS NERVOUS. Anxious, apprehensive, skittish, tense — she felt all of the above being pumped out of her heart and seeping into her bloodstream. She hated how easily the emotions overpowered her sense of rationality. Had she been on patrol with Batman, he'd have told her to regain her focus, or else she'd be sent back to the Batmobile. Azalea had faced some of the worst Gotham had to offer before. So, why did Gotham University frighten her more than an encounter with the Joker on a random Thursday night?

   It was a simple answer. She wasn't ready to return to Gotham City. Like El Paso, Gotham had left an awful taste in her mouth. It began with Jason Todd and the Joker, a Robin and a crowbar, a bomb and a warehouse. Shortly after the small service that was held for Jason, Batman benched her from patrol, placing her arm's length away from the mess that was Gotham. He placed everyone at a distance. It was the only way the Dark Knight knew how to cope with everything.

   Batman had no need for Styx in Gotham, Azalea had to remind herself. What was Styx without Robin? Who was Azalea Cardenas without Jason Todd?

   Lost, that's what she was — a girl with no sense of direction after the death of her brother. Jason had taken yet another piece of her, just as El Paso had once done.

   In a way, having spent years away from Gotham was therapeutic. There was no one to dispose of her at any given moment. Outside of Gotham, things seemed brighter — or perhaps it was the fact that she had left the city that made it seem that way. Whatever the case was, the soured taste of Gotham's aftermath dissipated off her tongue the moment she left. Now, the soured feeling that once plagued her taste buds had turned into a bitter mess.

   When Azalea was younger, she'd spent hours dreaming of her future. None of her future plans ever entertained the thought of attending Gotham University. It had always been a good college on the West Coast, or perhaps somewhere nice such as Metropolis University. Her father always said if she tried her hardest, anything could be achievable. How she desperately wished he was still alive. She wished he was there with her, his car parked inches away from where she stood, wishing her nothing but the best on the next part of her journey.

   If she squinted hard enough, she could easily imagine his kind smile wishing her the best of luck, the tears he swore weren't there threatening to overspill. Part of her also imagined her mother there, sitting in the passenger seat of the car. No matter how hard her mother tried, even she couldn't resist the urge to hide her proud grin. She'd wave to her as they drove off, sending her trails of kisses before reminding her to call home when she eventually finished moving into her dorm. Yet, it wasn't her reality.

   Gotham University was meant to be a fresh start, the starting point of her journey to self-discovery. Though it wasn't located in a nice area, such as Metropolis U., it was just as prestigious as any other Ivy League across the country. The prestige held by the campus was meant to open a doorway in life and attract many new opportunities.

   That wasn't the case for her. She didn't need those opportunities, she reminded herself. All she had to do was flash her last name with a pretty smile, and the opportunities would unfold in her hands. The Wayne name held a special privilege like no other in Gotham. Unlike the other privileged children of Gotham's local elites, who held their heads high, ignoring others they deemed unworthy of their time, Azalea had no interest in pursuing those advantages.

   The universal college experience — as dubbed by many — was a route that Azalea had no interest in partaking in either. Though, she couldn't be entirely to blame for that decision. Growing up in Wayne Manor, she hadn't had the best role models to look up to. Bruce had dropped out of college to pursue the beginning of his crime-fighting career, traveling the world in search of the best teachers. And just like Bruce, Dick Grayson also dropped out as he prioritized being Robin and the Teen Titans before his coursework — despite trying to excel at both, his duty as Robin prevailed before his studies.

   Alas, Gotham University was the only university to offer her a guaranteed spot — considering her academic record wasn't the best it could be ( which she had no one to blame but herself. The inexplicable gaps in her application soured all her chances at any other school. It also didn't help that any extracurriculars she participated in during her time outside of Gotham weren't applicable to her applications. Not that many schools shared the same enthusiasm for magic and vigilantism as she had ). She knew it was the Wayne name that reserved her a spot in the famed school. However, she hadn't accounted for the can of worms that awaited her in Gotham. She had no intention of reopening old wounds.

   Azalea wanted to push her crime-fighting days aside for another chance at a mundane life. It was for that reason she had accepted Gotham University's offer. She traded Styx for Azalea Wayne, vigilantism for an opportunity to earn a Bachelor's Degree.

   She took one deep breath, hoping it would be enough to purge the nerves eating away at her insides. College life was meant to be the start of a new era, a new beginning for all those who attended. Whatever remained of her life would not matter at Gotham University. However much she despised Gotham, her hatred would have to be temporarily placed aside to make room for the new journey.

   Azalea took one final look around the university's entrance. Other students, with their parents at their sides, passed by her, each lugging their personal belongings along as they progressed further into the campus. She crouched down and placed her bag on the floor. She opened the bag, whispered a short spell, and pulled out a foldable hand truck. Slipping the bag onto her arm, Azalea placed her boxes onto the dolley and began her journey toward the dorm room she'd be calling home for the next four years.

✶

               With the help of a few kind souls from the student government council, Azalea successfully located Amity Hall. The building was just one of the many residential halls located on campus. Before arriving at Amity Hall, Azalea gained a little insight into the spread-out schools and facilities on the G.U. campus. Various dining halls were scattered around the campus, ensuring that food would always be nearby wherever you were. Unfortunately, the closest library and bookstore were a bit further away from her dorm than she initially expected.

   She'd have to be cautious when visiting the library at certain hours. No matter where you were in Gotham, the rate of being a victim of crime dramatically increased as the sunset dwindled into the eternal darkness of night.

   The majority of her classes were evenly split between the Humanities building, the Gotham School of Law, and the Thomas Wayne lecture hall — which she found slightly ironic; an entire hall dedicated to a — adoptive — grandfather, whom she had never met. However, Thomas Wayne was one of the best surgeons of his time, which left no room for bickering or debate.

   Amity Hall was a four-story building, the first floor being a recreational space for all residing students, and the other three floors were the locations of the students' dormitories. Despite the outside of Amity Hall blending in with the Gothic style of every other building on campus and in Gotham, the hall's inside was a blended mixture of both the old and new styles Gotham had to offer.

   Azalea murmured another spell upon reaching the stairwell, the ever-familiar Latin phrase fell with ease off her tongue. This time, she wished her belongings were weightless. Many of the typical college experiences she can do without, such as the struggle that came with attempting to push her three boxes worth of items up three flights of stairs. Most other students had the support of their parents accompanying them, guiding them through the first day of orientation week with their wisdom. She had no one — not Bruce, not Alfred, and not either of her brothers.

   The bitter taste of envy engulfed her being. She too would've had the same system of support as her peers have, if it weren't for Black Mask. If not for her mother. If not for the Joker.

   Her friends from the Teen Titans offered to accompany her for the day, wishing to trade their hectic hero lives for a glimpse at what a normal life entailed. Or rather, Gotham's definition of normal. Though not verbally suggested, Azalea knew they were curious to learn more about the city that kept Robin away from their tower in San Francisco. She declined their offer.

   Azalea glanced around her floor. Save for the abandoned boxes left outside the dorm rooms, the floor was free of any bystanders. She cast another spell, one that returned her items to their original weight. Azalea continued through the hallway, her eyes glancing at each passing door. She inspected the placards in hopes she'd quickly find her name. She had passed seven dorm rooms until she eventually reached her own. Room 409, A. Wayne & A. Shinoda.

   Azalea raised her hand and formed a fist. She knocked on the hardwood door. Despite having her own key, she supposed it would seem disrespectful to barge into their shared room. Azalea tapped her foot against the ground as she waited.

   After a series of clicks, the door swung open. Behind the door, a girl greeted Azalea with a smile. "Hi," She made a quick look over her shoulder, then back to Azalea, "You must be A. Wayne?"

   Azalea nodded. She mimicked the girl's curious tone, "And you're A. Shinoda?"

   "Amber. Nice to meet you," she said, holding her hand out.

   Azalea shook her hand. "Azalea. It's nice to meet you too, Amber."

   A boy crept up behind Amber. He wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling his face into her neck. His head rested there for a few seconds before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. He lifted his head, revealing a mischievous smile to Azalea.

   "And he-" Amber untangled herself from his hold. "-is just keeping me company. Just until you arrived." She tapped her finger against his nose, his mischievous smile now a playful frown, as her other hand was quick to pull Azalea inside their dorm room. "Gray here will be happy to bring your belongings inside," Amber told her with a wink.

   Azalea caught a small glance at their shared space as Amber led her through their tiny apartment. A living and dining space were combined to make room for other utilities. On the other side of the wall was where the kitchen lay. Small, yet it offered enough space for daily use. Away from the kitchen was their shared bedroom, large enough to hold both their beds, their desks, and their personal armories. Opposite their bedroom was a closed door, presumably the bathroom.

   Azalea's side of their bedroom was left completely untouched. It remained in its original condition, bare and stripped of any sense of personality. Amber's side of the room was the opposite. At the center sat her laptop, surrounded by various school supplies. Photo cards were pinned to the wall, as well as a few personal Polaroids of Amber and a few people she didn't recognize.

   Organized, however, the remaining side was a mess at the current moment.

   Crumbled comforter, tossed pillows, and wrinkled sheets. Azalea preferred not to imagine what the two were doing before she arrived; however, she was glad she had the decency to knock first. If she were ever in the opposite position, she too would wish for her roommate to make her presence known. A few seconds could prevent days of avoidance and a lifetime of embarrassment.

   "I hope you don't mind taking the left side," Amber said, "If I knew you were coming today, I would've waited a few more days before claiming a side."

   "I don't mind," Azalea told her. She slipped her bag off her shoulder and placed it on top of her mattress. "I'm fine with either. As long as I don't wake up with the sun shining right in my face."

   Amber attempted to cover up her soft laughter. "Sunny mornings are rare in Gotham, but I'm all for hanging curtains. I met a few of the RA's on the first day, so I'm sure they won't mind."

"Oh," Azalea mumbled as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Sorry," she nervously laughed, "I've been gone so long, I almost forgot how gloomy it gets."

   Before Amber could say another word, Gray re-entered the room. He placed the last of her boxes by her bedside. He clapped his hands together, ridding his clothes and hands of any dust he'd collected whilst carrying her items inside. "That was the final box," Gray stated the obvious. He waved, then brushed his hand through his hair, "I didn't get the chance to introduce myself earlier. I'm Grayson, a friend of Amber's."

   Amber presses her elbow into Grayson's rib. He clutched his side and cast a questioning glance at the girl. Amber returned a cheeky smile, which he immediately understood. "Sorry, a more-than-friends friend," He semi-corrected with a cheeky grin of his own.

   "Gray loves messing around way too much," Amber rolled her eyes at the boy. She stood at her highest point, as high as her toes would allow her, and created a mess of Grayson's once-combed-over hair.

   Grayson's hands shot to his head in an attempt to fix his disheveled hair. Once returned to its original state, Amber seized the opportunity to loop her arm through his. She pulled him toward her side of the room, reaching over to her bed to grab her cell phone. She quickly glanced at the device before tucking it in her back pocket. "It's almost four, we should start going now," Amber said to Grayson. "I'm so sorry, Azalea. We're meeting his parents in Chinatown and I really wish we could stay longer. You'll be okay on your own?"

   "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Go enjoy your night in Chinatown," Azalea reassured her. Though she hadn't known Amber for very long, she could not blame her for feeling worried. She knew better than most people how cruel Gotham was, how she inflicted everything sinister and malicious onto her inhabitants.

   Fortunately, she was trained by one of the best. For every potential disaster, there were Batman's contingency plans lurking in the shadows of her mind, ready to take over when it was time.

   Amber seemed content with her response. Enough to not press any further. "I won't be back until tomorrow, so feel free to keep the dorm locked. And I have my key with me just in case. Here," Amber tore a piece of paper from her notebook and grabbed a pen, "Here's my number if you need anything. Have a good night, Azalea."

   Amber's final words died down as Grayson whisked her out of the dorm room and into the hallway. Her joyful laughter and soft giggles lingered before fully dispersing into the hallway.

   Now alone, Azalea glanced at the various boxes scattered around her room, unsure where to begin unpacking.

✶

               Nothing eventful occurred throughout the first week. Azalea and Amber had breezed through the first week with ease. After her roommate's departure on her first day on campus, Azalea decided to utilize the time to renovate her side of their shared bedroom. Most of her belongings were items she'd brought from her previous dwellings in the Teen Titan's tower. She'd managed to condense them into three boxes, not without ease. Condensing a much larger room into one that was a fourth of its space proved to be a challenge. With various changes and the slightest touch of magic, Azalea managed to make do with the space.

   The first day soon ended and became the first week — or Orientation Week, as many dub it — for the incoming freshman class of Gotham University. This had given Azalea more time to memorize the campus grounds. The layout of Gotham University's campus was confusing at times, as many of the halls tended to share similar names — most being named after notable figures in Gotham's history or generous donors and their alumni. Many of the returning students were eager to impart their wisdom to the newer students. Azalea, as well as her roommate-turned-friend Amber, learned of the many to-do's and not-to-do's, shortcuts around the campus, and which dining halls served the worst foods — all the most important details a student could need.

   Amber, however, yearned for a more enriching first-week experience. In the short moments they were apart, Amber managed to befriend a few of the most active participants in Gotham University's social scene. She claimed she recognized a few from her days at Gotham North, others had approached her. In those short moments, Amber secured their reputation for the entire year, cementing their faces along with the most party-driven of their peers.

   Azalea didn't mind that Amber pleaded with her to create a pack — they would attend every one of these social events, enhancing their first-year experience, unless something urgent were to occur. She was as curious as Amber. Honored, she was chosen over her more-than-friends friend Grayson, who made it seem as though the two were inseparable. Perhaps Grayson's duties included also attending these events.

   On her first day as a student, Azalea wasn't sure what to expect. She trained to prepare for all situations but, first days of school were never touched upon in her training. Despite Batman being one of the best, Azalea felt she severely lacked contingency plans for handling her life outside vigilantism.

   This began the first of her mundane, civilian-like troubles: choosing a major. There were too many fields that interested her, it felt almost impossible to narrow her list down. There was Forensic Criminology. Barry Allen always said that Forensics was interesting. Azalea figured it wouldn't be much different than her work as Styx. Science also happened to fall under her strong suit. Law was another potential interest. Though, she wasn't too sold on the idea. Having faced Two-Face many times in her past led her to develop her own irrational fear of lawyers and Gotham's legal system. Then there was History; she was passionate about history but there was little one could do with a history degree. If push came to shove, there was the business program Gotham had to offer, a safety cushion she could fall back on if all else failed.

   Her indecisiveness landed her in a ten a.m. lecture class, Introduction to Criminal Justice. The class was fairly packed. The entire auditorium was almost full, save for the few seats around her. Amber assured her that most students drop a class within the first three weeks of classes. She shouldn't expect to see as many people in a few weeks. Based on the pure look of boredom of a few selected students, Azalea knew Amber was right. They wouldn't last more than a few weeks in the class.

   The first day of class always meant it was Syllabus Day. Lectures always started the next class meeting — unless the professor decided to rush through the syllabus and begin their lectures the very same day ( pure madness if they asked her ). They were also the most boring of all days. Students asked questions that could easily be answered with a quick skim through the course syllabus.

   One question ignited an unstoppable streak. By the fifth question, Azalea fixed her belongings on the desk and began to doze off. They were repetitive — extremely redundant. There was no need when the answers lay on the screen right in front of them. And by the looks of it, even the professor seemed annoyed by the influx of questions. Azalea brought her bag to her chest and slumped back in her seat, eyes darting around the auditorium in search of a cure to her boredom.

   Her answer soon came. The doors to the auditorium swung open. Everyone glanced back, their eyes trailing on the boy who entered class late. He rushed past the center walkway, his eyes glued to the ground as he avoided the burning stares of his peers.

   As he entered her row, the attention faltered off him and back onto the professor. He slid into the empty seat on her left and placed his belongings on the ground. Turning to face her, he asked, "Hi, is this Intro to Criminal Justice?"

   Azalea nodded. "Welcome to boredom," she whispered, dragging the tip of her pencil down her notebook, "where we spend an entire class session asking truly dumb questions."

   "I'm sure it can't be that bad," he responded, a huff escaping from the tip of his tongue. Unbeknownst to him, he'd regret his words by the end of the class session.

   Azalea shrugged her shoulders at his words. She had done her part — she tried to warn the boy. Even as other students strode in late, they too learned of their sealed fate minutes after taking their seats. It didn't take a detective to realize how the class would end.

   For the first ten minutes, Azalea observed how observant the boy was. He was attentive during class. He took his notes along the margins of his syllabus, annotating any important notes made by the professor. He flipped back and forth between the pages and added new notes with each question asked by a fellow peer. It wasn't until the third repeated question that he put his pencil down.

   By the fifth, he too slumped back in his seat. He rubbed his temples, then asked Azalea, "Didn't he answer that question five minutes ago?"

   She skimmed through her notes. "Was it the question about the Mid-term assessment or which textbook is required for the class?"

   "No, the grading system?" He answered, choosing neither of her given options.

   "The grading system." Azalea frantically searched through her notes. "When did he mention the grading system?"

   Aside from repeated information, she had jotted down everything explicitly mentioned by the professor from the moment class began. Office hours, every form of contact information, important due dates, required reading materials, and insight into the mid-term and final, but she had no answer for the grading system. She even had the names of the professor's children underlined twice for the required syllabus quiz. Everything but the grading system.

   Though it deeply pained her, Azalea knew when to admit defeat. She placed her pencil through the spiral loops of her notebook, then slumped further into her seat. Her interest in the remainder of the class had faded. She resorted to watching the motions of the professor's mouth with no interest in the words he spewed.

   Her companion did not ask any further questions. He diligently continued his notes, even at the cost of the rest of their peers' refusal to stop asking questions. By the end of the class session, he had filled the entire margin of the syllabus with useful notes and helpful tidbits of the class. Her notes dulled in comparison.

   Azalea packed her belongings the second the professor concluded their class session. She stayed in her seat longer than she had wanted. She couldn't help but count down the seconds until the class ended from the moment it began. However, somewhere in between the surplus of repetitive questions, Azalea realized the potential of having a friend in the class. Before she could ask him, he had long abandoned his seat and began a conversation with the professor. Azalea stood from her seat and exited the auditorium.

   In the library, students poured through its door in swarms. She was certain the building had reached its maximum capacity a few groups back. Around her, seats and tables were all filled by the groups of students who were lucky enough to obtain one. Larger groups stole a few seats from those who had no use for them to accommodate their remaining members. Her table had fallen victim to one of the larger groups, turning into two chairs from its original four. Not that she minded. She only needed one chair. The remaining space became a refuge for her belongings.

   She checked her classwork before deciding to skim through her messages. As expected, it was nothing but radio silence from Dick Grayson — who only seemed to pop up in her life when it most benefited him. Dick's lack of messages was made up for with messages from her former teammates. Cassie Sandsmark, the current Wonder Girl, wished her a good first day of school, if one existed. She finished her message by adding they would need to catch up at a later date. Knowing Cassie, she wanted to know everything.

   A simple message from Lorena Marquez, the Aquagirl, followed after. Short but thoughtful. It put a smile on her face after the tiresome morning she'd had. Bart Allen, Kid Flash — formerly Impulse — had sent her an array of chaotic images. A large block of text followed the images, containing useful tips on how to be successful in school. Bart most likely picked up during his brief reading obsession a while back. She would have to skim through the message at a later time.

   A twinge of disappointment crossed her when realizing she had received nothing from Tim Drake, Robin, either. When she first met Tim, she was taken aback by the new Robin. It took her quite a while to warm up to him — she wasn't exactly keen on meeting Bruce's newest Boy Wonder. Over time, she and Tim grew close. He'd even become her number one supporter of finding a life for herself outside their world. It was strange that he hadn't checked in on her.

   Azalea decided not to dwell too much on Tim. He was perfectly capable of handling himself. He'd find a way to contact her, even in the most dire situation. Instead, she leaned slightly back in her chair, taking in the library's atmosphere.

   Groups of students chatted away at the sound of keyboards clicking every millisecond. For a moment she envied them — the students who were quick to find a new group of friends and those who were able to preoccupy their time with other assignments. She had neither to turn to; Amber was her in eleven thirty psychology class. She had nothing else to turn to that could preoccupy her time during her break between classes.

   At least, it was her predicament until the clearing of someone's throat caught her attention.

   "Hey. Is anyone sitting there?"

   Azalea looked up. He stood in front of her, much clearer in the library's fluorescent lights than in the dark auditorium. She recognized him just by his voice alone; it felt nice to place a face behind his voice.

   Something about him, she couldn't shake off the familiar feeling, almost as if she had known him from somewhere before.

   She shook her head. Azalea proceeded to collect her belongings from the other half of the table, allowing space for him and his items. "Go ahead."

   He flashed her a small smile, a hushed thanks, and set his backpack and other belongings on the table. As he took his seat, the constant chimes of notifications erupting from her cell phone caught his attention. He nudged her phone toward her. "La Sirenita?"

   Once Azalea reached for her phone, she stared at the contact name. She changed Lorena's contact name a long time ago. It was the night after she and the Teen Titans fought against the Fearsome Five on Alcatraz Island. Superboy made a joke about how much Lorena resembled Vanessa from The Little Mermaid when she emerged from the cold San Francisco Bay waters. Had they not been focused on the Fearsome Five, Lorena would've dragged him beneath the waves, as Ursula had done to Ariel.

   It took a few weeks for her to convince Lorena to accept Conner's apology. Even then, Azalea couldn't stop laughing at the joke. Once the tensions boiled over and Lorena eventually accepted his apology, it had been too late. The nickname stuck. Except, only she or Conner would dare to remind Lorena of the joke. The other Teen Titans were barred from ever uttering a word.

   "I'm so sorry," he spoke with a bit of caution, "I didn't mean to–"

   "No. Don't worry, it's okay." Azalea took one final look at the message before shutting off her cell phone. "It was just a friend from my old boarding school."

   He raised a brow, seemingly interested at the mention of a boarding school. "Wow. What was that like?"

   Though it was a lie, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. She had fond memories of the years she spent with the Teen Titans. She refused to join them at first, it was only due to Dick's relentless meddling that she accepted the invitation. Beneath the pressures of the mantles they held and the serious threats they often faced, they were a group of teens in need of a family.

   She settled on giving him a half-truth. "As good as boarding school can get. Overbearing teachers, constant supervision, and other stuff. Nothing screams boarding school like being stuck around other snobby rich kids." Azalea rolled her eyes, her last statement directed toward her actual experience outside the Teen Titans. She crossed her arms across her chest, "Not like it's any better here."

   He looked at her, eyebrow raised, as he let out a quiet laugh. "Doesn't seem so bad." He shrugged. "So far, I mean."

   "Give it a month. You haven't seen the real Gotham yet."

   He didn't respond. He wasn't given the chance to. Two girls approached their table at a speed that could only rival the Flash. High-pitched giggles and obnoxious laughter overflowed their space and entered the neighboring tables. Heads began to turn in their direction, and Azalea had zero idea what had brought the two girls to their silent oasis.

   "Oh. My. God. You're Bruce Wayne's daughter!"

   Scratch that. Now, she knew.

   The other girl clung onto her friend's shoulder, eyes widened as she stared at Azalea. She let out an exaggerated sigh as her eyes continued to widen. "She is." Then, began her rapid fire of questions. She spat them faster than any bullet fired by Gotham's street goons: "Is it true your father adopted another kid? What about your older brother, Richard? I heard he's back in Gotham. And is it true Tim-"

   Her old routine crept up on her in an instant. She was fourteen again, standing at Bruce Wayne's side. Cameras flashed all around her. Reporters behind the velvet robes clawed for her attention. Bruce, her saintly savior, quickly picked up on her discomfort. When the chants and attention became too much for her, he'd place a hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the attention. Bruce would flash them his charming smile and exchange a few words with the reporters, before leaving them behind. It was all it took for reporters to move on.

   Back then, she had no place in Bruce Wayne's world. What she once considered an extremely uncomfortable situation no longer bothered her. Just as she perfected all those years ago, she immediately straightened her posture. She gave the two girls a quick once over, her eyes lingering on the cellphones in their hands.

   She flashed them an innocent smile, the same smile Bruce would put on before deflecting any question brought up by the media. "There's not a lot I can say about my private affairs, but if you'd like," she pointed to their cellphones, "I wouldn't mind a few pictures."

   It was clear that neither girl would pass on the opportunity to take a picture with a member of the esteemed Wayne family. After the photos were taken, the girls exchanged their goodbyes with Azalea and walked away every bit the typical Gotham fangirl, laughter and excitement bouncing off their persons, only to leave behind a trail of heads turning in her direction.

   She had been so enveloped in the thrill of her life that she'd forgotten about her companion sitting across the table. Eyebrows raised, he shot her a strange look. "Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

   Azalea shrugged. "Depends who you ask," she murmured, mostly to herself.

   As his eyes bore into hers, his features twisted into something else. She felt a wave of familiarity wash over her as she held his stare. Thousands of stories, almost a lifetime of memories, churned in his irises. And, instead of turning him away, she gave him a sweet smile, encouraging him to continue, to speak the obvious thoughts in his mind into existence.

   His arm rubbed the back of his head, stealing a quick, nervous glance at her. "Yeah. Uh, sorry. You just . . . " He paused. He glanced at her once more before diverting his gaze away. "I guess I thought you were someone else," he mumbled.

   He quickly pulled his backpack onto his lap, preventing Azalea from prying further. He pulled out a folder and slid it in her direction. "So. I talked to the professor after class. I finally got the answer to the grading system question."

   Inside the folder lay all the answers to their class troubles. Handwriting — not his, the letters were squished together and a smidge of cursive embedded in each letter — was scribbled along the empty space after he'd given up taking notes. There were details, ones she hadn't heard mentioned in the class session, added to certain parts of the syllabus. He'd even received special instructions on reserving a copy of the textbook from the library if there was ever a pressing need.

   She whistled low, her tone laced with amusement, "Wow. He must really like you if you're getting the special treatment."

   He rolled his eyes, brushing off her comment with a soft hint of laughter. Not long after, they fell into an easy rhythm. They swapped stories back and forth, a few silly, a few embarrassing, all equally amusing. Azalea found herself laughing more than she expected, his presence surprisingly comforting. Perhaps, Gotham University wouldn't be so bad after all.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 !

firstly, i am so sorry to everyone who's been waiting forever for this story 😭! to keep a long story short, life has been hectic but i've managed to get my shit together and actually post — after like five or six rewrites. i actually thought i'd be able to start posting by july but life happened.

i went through a little writer's slump, which is part of the reason that this took so long to finish. but now i've reached a point of where i'm proud of the chapter! here's to praying that i get ch.2 out soon 🥂! though unnamed, jaime is still here, all will soon be explained. :)