Damian wayne

Damian Wayne was, by most accounts, difficult.

He was sharp-tongued, stubborn, easily irritated, and had absolutely no patience for people he considered idiots. Smiling wasn't exactly his specialty either.

His brothers had gotten used to it.

What they hadn't expected was for someone to change him.

Then you came along.

You were his boyfriend, and somehow, you had managed to accomplish what years of family intervention never could: you made Damian happy.

Not that he'd ever admit it so easily.

But it was obvious.

Damian smiled more when you were around. He laughed at stupid things you said. He started texting first. He'd complain about spending time with you and then somehow end up staying with you for hours.

Even his brothers noticed.

"He's domesticated," Jason once joked.

Damian nearly threw a book at him.

But he didn't deny it.

You were both getting closer and closer to graduation. For a while, everything had been good.

Then you had a fight.

A bad one.

Neither of you had handled it particularly well. Words were said. Feelings were hurt. And eventually, you walked away.

Damian expected you to cool off.

Maybe you'd ignore him for a day.

Two days, at most.

Instead, you stopped answering completely.

His calls went unanswered.

His texts were left on read or sometimes not even opened.

A day became three.

Three became a week.

And now it had been almost two weeks.

Damian was furious.

At you.

At himself.

At the situation.

Mostly himself.

He had apologized. More than once, actually. He had swallowed his pride and admitted that he'd been wrong, which was something his brothers had probably never thought they'd witness.

Still, nothing.

His latest message sat unanswered on the screen.

Damian: I am aware you are angry with me.

Damian: I am not asking you to forgive me immediately.

Damian: But please speak to me.

Nothing.

Damian stared at the screen.

Then locked his phone.

Then unlocked it again thirty seconds later.

Jason noticed.

"You're doing it again."

Damian didn't look up. "Doing what?"

"Checking your phone every five seconds."

"I'm not."

"You literally just did."

"Shut up."

Jason grinned. "There he is."

Damian scowled and shoved his phone into his pocket.

Dick, who had been quietly watching from across the room, finally spoke.

"Maybe you should give him some space."

"I have given him space."

"Damian, it's been nearly two weeks."

"I am aware."

"And you've apologized?"

"Yes."

"Actually apologized?"

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Grayson."

Tim glanced over from his laptop.

"Maybe he's not ready to talk yet."

Damian's expression hardened.

"He should at least tell me that."

There was a pause.

His voice became quieter.

"...I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

That got everyone's attention.

Damian Wayne didn't say things like that.

He didn't ask for help.

He didn't admit when he didn't know what to do.

Jason's teasing expression disappeared.

"How much do you actually miss him?"

Damian was silent.

For several seconds, he stared at the floor.

Then he muttered,

"Enough."

Dick smiled sadly.

"That's not really an answer."

Damian clenched his jaw.

"...I miss him every day."

Silence.

"And I hate it," he continued, frustrated. "I hate not knowing if he's alright. I hate not being able to talk to him. I hate that the last thing I said to him was something I didn't mean."

His hand tightened around his phone.

"And I hate that I can't fix it."

Jason exchanged a look with Dick.

For once, nobody made a joke.

Dick moved over and sat beside him.

"You can't force him to talk to you, Dami."

"I know."

"But you can let him know you're still here."

Damian looked down at his phone again.

His thumb hovered over your contact.

He hesitated.

For once, Damian Wayne wasn't afraid of a fight.

He was afraid that when you finally answered, you wouldn't want him anymore.