02. NOW I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE NOTHING?!
── .✦ SYNOPSIS; You're too patient to reject answers that seem to be right under your nose. So, don't let your heart overflow. ꒷꒦ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 + 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀: this is a continuation of the chapters. The series currently has 10 parts, released every Sunday. English isn’t my first language, so i use Google translate to help with my posts due to my limited proficiency, please bear with me.
Warnings: nothing, i think? Tags: nothing. Previous: 01. Next: 03.
THE DAYS AFTER DAMIAN'S arrival passed in a very forced tranquility. And everyone knew there was nothing good about it. The air in the mansion had changed; It was no longer the same silence, but a mixture of expectation and rejection. Every breakfast, every workout, every night out of Bruce revolved, unintentionally, around the newly arrived boy, who spoke in the words of an exemplary adult and walked as if he had been born with that innate attitude. It was as if a new light bulb had been lit in a seedy alley; everything revolved around him and everyone, fascinated, approached the light like moths. At first you repeated to yourself that it was normal.
After all, he was her biological son. Bruce had the right to try to be a father again, to make up for lost years. But as the days went by, things began to change.
Their gazes shortened as they entered a room. The talks ceased. Even Alfred, the only one who seemed impassive, spoke more and more of "teaching young master Damien the values of home." While you, with your cup of tea already cold, listened from the other end. Damian learned everything very quickly, he was brilliant, but for you, if someone asked you you would say that it was unbearable. In practice, he would beat the marks in a matter of weeks, correct Dick accurately, and argue with Tim about strategies as if others' years of experience were mistakes in their day.
And Bruce, Bruce looked at him with that mixture of approval and pride that you once longed for yourself. And you were unlucky enough to hear it in the underground gym while you helped Alfred with some boxes. The rhythm of the blows against the sack made you stop in the corridor.
-One more time... -Bruce muttered.
Damián obeyed without complaint.
-Faster!
-Yes, father.
-You do it very well, -Bruce approached the sack with a cloth in hand so that Damian would pay attention to him. -your blows are effective. You're fast.
-I'm so much better than she, father. You don't have to worry, i know what i'm doing, know... -grabbed the cloth and wiped his forehead.
-I see it...
That sentence stuck like a splinter in your chest, you couldn't believe the ease with which Damian had managed to appropriate everything. From the doorway, you watch Bruce adjust his posture, correct the sack, and then nod approvingly. That gesture, of silent pride, was the same one you had been looking for for years.
When Bruce saw you at the entrance, simply nodded said: -Don't interrupt us.
There wasn't even a "hello, how are you?"
You climbed the long stairs without reacting, but you carried a bitterness so strong that it left your mouth sour, the echoes of Damian's training chasing you to your room.
And that left you with the question, What really belonged to you? possibly nothing.
The days after that bitter situation you took were full of small but not invisible comparisons. In the patrols, the reports revolved around Damián's 'potential'; In meetings, about how his strategic mind was reminiscent of his father's.
Alfred told you twice, two.
And you, in the midst of it all, began to feel like a portrait hanging on a forgotten wall, someone who was there, but who didn't matter. After all, it never occurred to you to be Batman's sidekick, another Robin, his Robin. And you, in the midst of it all, began to feel like a portrait hanging on a forgotten wall, someone who was there, but who didn't matter. After all, it never occurred to you to be Batman's sidekick, another Robin, his Robin.
The times your head was filled with those comparisons, you ran to the library. A safe place to share with Jason when he wasn't willing to see Bruce's face.
Alfred found you there.
-Aren't you going to dinner, miss (reader)?
-Not hungry, thank you.
Left a tray beside you without saying anything else. You thought he would leave, but his voice came back, lower, with that tone he used to reassure you. He knelt beside you.
-Sometimes, the Waynes are slow to learn how to look. Don't get confused dear, just because they don't see you doesn't mean you don't exist.
You smiled tiredly.
-And how long does it take for someone to look, Alfred?
-It depends on what one is afraid to see.
Alfred seeing how tired and uncomfortable you felt decided to smile and leave the library, the only bad thing about that was that Damian appeared in the door frame as if he had been summoned, still wearing Robin's characteristic uniform but improved.
-Were they talking about me, bug? -his tone was defensive.
-It's not all about you, Damian. -shook your head.
Crossed his arms.
-Should i, do you know?
-That's arrogance... -you rolled your eyes and turned to the next page of the book.
-That's being a Wayne. But you wouldn't understand.
You didn't respond. His confidence baffled you.
When he came out, the air seemed to grow colder, as if he had taken some of the heat from the room with him. With those words you understood that everything was really changing.
The family dynamic changed completely.
You remembered that Dick was patient with you, but now he was almost brotherly with Damian, although the tension was noticeable every time the boy challenged him. Tim simply avoided it, but gave it support and approval, even if it was only during work hours. Jason, well... Jason ignored him with a disdain that reminded you of yourself, but he always had that approval. And Bruce, as always, stayed on his axis: distant, in control, but looking out for his son all the time.
He spoke to you only when it was strictly necessary. Now they will be just phrases that gave you a headache: "(reader), file these reports" "patrol sector C." "(reader), make sure Damian has the equipment ready!"
Your name had become a verb, an order. It no longer sounded like something that deserved affection.
It was just something functional. In the afternoons, you would go down to the lobby tired and defeated, most of the time you found Damian sitting on the stairs, barefoot, looking at the pendulum clock.
-You have nothing to do, do you? -asked.
-I'm just waiting for Bruce. He asked me to be aware of some reports.
-I don't think i'll be back anytime soon.
-He always comes back, Damian.
-Not always, (reader)... -was silent for a moment -. You know now that you're here, i'll tell you something, he said you're his daughter too.
The comment froze you.
-That's what he told you.
-Yes. But he doesn't say it as if it were true.
-He always saw it that way.
Damian nodded, as if he understood more than he should.
-So... we are equal.
The phrase struck you. For the first time he wears it without the heir's suit, without the pride he carried daily. Just a child trying to understand where he belonged. But the tenderness of the moment.
It broke very quickly.
-Although i do plan to earn everything, even the renown and the praise at the galas.
Then he got up and went upstairs, leaving you silent again.
-How conceited you are Damian...
You were learning that displacement in the family would not be immediate. It would be a slow, almost imperceptible wear and tear. One afternoon, you were no longer to Jason's left as they sat in their seats at the dining room table, no longer participating in Dick's little talk when he came home from a patrol, or listening to Tim's whispers about some report.
Damian was the new one doing what you had done all these years. And besides, you weren't in the family photo Alfred updated for the living room, if they were Bruce's orders, but it was still a little betrayal by the only man you loved. Your name was not on the list of joint tasks that Alfred always had.
And when you finally tried to talk to Bruce, about ignorance and attitude, you found him in front of the study window, looking out over the city.
-I want to know what i am in this house, sir, -your voice was just a whisper. -i need to know.
He didn't turn around.
-You're a small part of it, (reader).
-"A small part" is not an answer i expected!
-It's the best I can give you, child... -voice was dry, he sounded tired.
You felt bad, very bad. But even so, under that pain you had, you realized that there was no anger in what Bruce was telling you, only truth. Bruce had become a man who didn't know how to deal with cuteness, and you were the reminder of that.
The weeks became seasons. And you, the oldest shadow in the mansion, the best thing you could do was walk in silence, to smile when your brothers began to ignore you, to pretend that everything was the same. To stop fitting in even in the mansion, in the academy, in the grand galas and in the city itself. You were left completely alone, you became just another shadow of the huge mansion, a completely forgotten child. Little by little, you stopped being heard.
Damian, on the other hand, grew in skills, in presence, in recognition. The city began to talk about him. Important people did too. To give him the place that everyone in the family had, to be a child listened to and adored, even with his temperament. The agenda of Wayne Manor was full of training, missions and meetings. Damian matured quickly, his voice became firmer, his movements more leisurely. The discipline that had forged him made him advance at a speed that no one in the family had foreseen. And you, meanwhile, had been left behind, invisible. Dinners boiled down to conversations between Bruce and Damian about strategies, tactics, and names you barely recognized. Dick and Tim talked less and less; Jason only appeared when boredom overcame him. You listened in silence to what they had to say, staring at the plate, feeling the thread that bound you to them weaken until it became almost transparent.
Sometimes you wondered if Bruce was aware of the distance; Maybe so. But he didn't take it seriously. Because his way of perceiving things was to look at them only once, file them away in his mind, and move on, as if the feelings were merely observations. What he did was not cruelty. It was a method, because Batman didn't know how to live any other way.
Your siblings didn't hate you, but they didn't know how to love you either; they also had their own ways of dealing with distance. But you weren't, because you weren't like them, you hadn't been a Robin.
The rain had begun to hit the windows hard. You were in the library, once again, trying to read something to stay awake. The words blended in your mind, blurry and shallow. In the darkness of the room, you heard footsteps and looked up: Damian walked in, soaked, his cloak dragging across the floor. He was soaking wet from head to toe.
-Shouldn't you dry that? -you asked without raising your voice.
-I don't want to!
He was in a bad mood.
-Did it go badly? Do you look tired? -you closed the book. -You haven't slept well lately. Do you have nightmares?
-They are not nightmares, they are memories.
At this, you raised an eyebrow curiously.
-Sometimes memories hurt more than nightmares, boy...
-You sound like Al, -Damian stopped and stared at you for a long moment. Then he dropped the belt of his uniform on the table. -dad doesn't understand that.
-Bruce doesn't understand a lot of things. You shouldn't pay so much attention to it.
-Do you understand?
-Not exactly, but you know?... -you whispered. -i'm learning not to wait for it to change.
Damian stood still, silently. He seemed to process your words, as if they were a new language. When he spoke, his voice was lower.
-With you it's different. You put up with everything, you don't lie.
You didn't know what to answer. Perhaps because there was a lot of reason. In that house, everyone learned to lie to survive the weight of the Wayne surname. You had simply stopped trying.
After that conversation, something changed. Damian started looking for you frequently. At first, with simple excuses: asking you to review a report, accompanying you to the garden, staying silent in the same room while you read. It was not friendship, nor affection, nor even company. It was presence. A quiet way to resist the noise of others. You watched him with a certain tenderness, a tenderness that was beginning to frighten you. There was a strange mixture in him: arrogance, fragility, pride and loneliness. When he spoke of Bruce, he did so with admiration and anger at the same time.
On another occasion, while you were cleaning and tidying up the books in the library, he sat down across from you.
-Ever wanted to leave?
-Yes... often.
-And why did you stay?
-Because i don't know who i am outside this house. Not even if someone has been waiting for me outside...
-So you're just like me.
His words pierced you. Damian didn't know it, but he had summed up what you had been trying to understand for years, that invisible bond that bound you to the mansion, not out of love, but out of fear of disappearing completely.
While everything was starting to be different with Damian, your relationship with Bruce went from bad to worse, it got worse in every way. You don't know if it was because Damian told her something or because of some conversation between you. You tried to talk to him, but Bruce closed himself in his world; The answers were getting shorter and shorter. The discomfort at dinnertime was so evident in him. That sometimes it seemed that you didn't even exist.
When you mentioned something about your training, i changed the subject. If you tried to give your opinion in a meeting, his gaze was enough to silence you. It was very heavy. 'affection,' if it ever existed, had become a wall of obligatory respect.
Damian, on the other hand, received constant attention from him and everyone: Corrections, challenges, supervised missions. Bruce treated him like an heir, a reflection he could mold. And even so, Damián was still looking for you. Sometimes you would find him in the greenhouse, touching the leaves of the plants as if he wanted to learn them by heart.
-These are weak, -he said. -they grow up without defense.
-Not all things need defense to survive.
-So they die?
-Not always. Some learn to adapt.
-Like you, bug?
-'Bug,' is it my new nickname?
His gaze was direct, too adult for his age. Those green eyes had depth.
-Maybe... -he answered.
Damian said nothing more afterwards, but the silence that followed had the weight of an unfulfilled promise; A mute alliance between two beings who did not know how to love, but did know how to understand emptiness.
You began to love that child. But you knew that time would run its course. Gotham didn't change, the mansion didn't change, but you did. So you started sleeping little, talking less, avoiding mirrors. In them you only saw someone who no longer belonged anywhere. When you left the team, you noticed the difference: the instructions were for Damian; Your opinions were echoes. Even Dick, always kind, was beginning to adapt to the new order without realizing it. It was easier that way, to let the rising sun dissipate the old shadows. One night, you went down to the dining room and found Bruce alone. The clock struck two. He was going through a file, his eyes tired.
-I need to talk to you. -you said in a low voice.
Bruce didn't look up.
-Keep it short...
-I want to leave the team... if possible, also to the family!
The silence was immediate, like a blow. Bruce finally looked up.
-Why?
-Because i don't belong here, Bruce!
-That's not true! -his voice sounded harsh.
-Then tell me what i am...
Bruce didn't answer. He just closed the file and sighed.
-You're throwing a tantrum, aren't you? You're family, (reader)! -his voice sounded annoyed.
-NO, BRUCE! I'M A SHADOW THEY RAISED BY ACCIDENT!! -you turned around before i could answer, you left the room.
It didn't stop you.
Later Damian forgot everything and waited for you outside the training room.
-Father is furious.
-I'm not surprised. -you rolled your eyes.
-He says you're exaggerating... -i whisper.
-And you, what do you say?
-I don't want you to leave... -his voice broke.
For the first time, you felt his regret. A minimal and human line.
-You can't decide that.
-I don't want another loss!
-You're not going to lose me, Damian. I'm just going to stop being a part of something that doesn't need me anymore!
He lowered his head, in a strange gesture for someone so proud.
-They need you. They don't admit it, but they need you...
You didn't know if he was talking about Bruce, about the family, or about himself. You just watched it, with that tiredness that doesn't go away with rest. Damian held your gaze, as if he wanted to memorize you. And for the first time, you understood that, although the child had learned not to show weakness, deep down he was only looking for what you had been looking for years: to be seen, to stop being a conformist child. But that, that confirmed that there was an advance, a change between you and Damián.
And so it was, everything changed.
There were no more fights or competition. They only shared silence. Damian accompanied you in the dining room, in the garden, in patrol cars, without saying much. It was his way of holding on to something he was afraid of losing. Bruce watched from a distance, without intervening. Perhaps he understood that, in that fragile balance, both found a way not to break each other. The echo in the Wayne mansion was still echoing, as always. But now, when your footsteps echoed through the halls, you weren't alone.
There was another echo behind yours. A small, firm, stubborn one. And even though you knew that everything could break again, for the first time in a long time, you didn't feel afraid. Just a strange calm, as if in the midst of the shadows, someone had finally seen you.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ 𝗔/𝗡; Oh, my God! I was tremendously surprised. It's the first time the app has welcomed me with over 99+ comments, likes, reblogs, and new accounts following me. How is it possible that from 80 followers i got in 6 months, have reached 200 in less than a week? They left me with my mouth open.
Ty for taking the time to read the posts i upload, really adore you!
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Editing day: 04/10/2025 Officially published on tumblr: 16/11/2025
