Chapter three of, "Robin's are meant to fly, how did you lose your wings?"
This one will have a content warning for slight depictions of self harm, if you are sensitive to this do not read the last paragraph or the chapter, stay safe!!
The sound of cutlery against porcelain screeches in Damian's ears as dinner goes on, and on.
He hates it, hates the sound, hates the room, hates the people in the room, hates that he loves them, hates that he knows normal families wouldn't find family dinners strange.
But he does, he did, for so long, but how long until they are just a distant memory?
How long until he no longer has these?
These beautiful fond memories, these wonderful, lovable family members, how long exactly until he, Damian himself, is a long lost memory?
Long since living? Long since a part of this family?
He wasn't completely sure when his head had tilted to the side slightly, barely noticeable to anyone else.
Anyone except everyone in this house.
He didn't know when he leaned closer to Grayson, he didn't like that at all, didn't know when his fork paused over his meal.
How had he missed all of this?
Missed the way Grayson snuck worried glances to him, missed the way everyone stared down at him, like he was some kind of exhibit, like he was some kind of product.
But then again, that's what he always was wasn't he?
Why had he ever thought he would be anything more...
They were wonderful, beautiful human beings...how could he be anything more than a weapon, that was it wasn't it?
They kept him around because of what he could do? Because they hated him.
They thought he would be better left watched , like some kind of ticking time bomb.
That is exactly what they thought he was!
He hated them, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated!!!
Grayson's worries gaze wouldn't leave him, it was as if the man didn't care that he was caught staring, how could he be so blatant?
Damian could almost roll his eyes at the observation, how dumb was he? Being so obvious, at least try to hide it.
"Hey, you okay kiddo? You haven't been eating.."
Grayson's sentence softened at the end if that was even possible, everyone was already speaking so softly to him nowadays.
Damian had been quick to assure the man, he could still do that much at least, but that didn't make Grayson look any less upset, maybe even made him look more so than he did before...maybe Damian couldn't successfully assure anyone.
But that was fine, really, he was an assassin after all, he didn't need to assure anyone, he needed to dispose of them, needed to provide pride to his family.
Needed to stop being a failure.
Grayson had been cut off before he could finish his question.
Damian had spoken firmly.
He didn't want to talk about this, didn't want anyone else to know anything was wrong, why couldn't they just leave him alone?
But still, still, Grayson's unwelcome questions continued.
"Damian, you know you can tell us what's wrong, you are allowed to talk to us."
Dick tried to reassure, but it only made Damian feel worse.
Because why, why, couldn't all of them just stop testing him?
Of course he wished it was real! But he knew it wasn't, it was just getting cruel at this point...
Even if he could never admit it, even if he would never be allowed to say it aloud, he loved all of them dearly, why were they so fixated on testing him like this?
Unless they actually cared.
Unless they really loved him.
But that couldn't be it, he knew that could never be true, not for someone like him.
"Grayson, I said I was fine, I do not need help, I do not need to speak to any of you, because you can't fix anything!"
Damian regretted snapping immediately as the loud clatter and screech of his fork scraped against the delicate plate, it didn't break thankfully.
It seemed like it might, it felt like it might.
It felt like it might snap in two, right on the table, in front of everyone, as Grayson ever so slightly flinched back at the outburst.
Damian felt like such a disgrace, he couldn't help but be reminded, just how much he hates himself..
Especially in that moment.
He knows he shouldn't care.
He knows that it shouldn't bother him that no one tells him off for it, that they don't grab him by the collar and throw him to the floor, drawing any and all weapons they have on them.
Telling him how terrible he is.
Telling him how he should never have been born, how he didn't have the right to be called human like the rest of them.
How much he hated that he would agree if they ever told him that...
But they didn't, no one even reprimanded him, and he knew he should be, knew he should be yelled at, even Todd didn't say anything!
He wasn't called a brat, why wasn't he berated? Scolded for the defiance, and why, why did Grayson back off when told to?
Why did they all listen to him without question?
His eyes burn with unshed tears, he can only stare down at his full plate as he feels all of their eyes on him.
He just wants them to stop.
Why the hell did it bother him so much?
He knows , he shouldn't be an heir to mother or father, knows that he shouldn't be human, knows he shouldn't be alive, knows he shouldn't have made it past one year old, let alone ten, why did he have to be reminded every day?
He can feel his heart race under his skin, thumping against his bones, desperately trying to escape.
Feels the way the oxygen begs and pleads to leave his lungs to no avail.
Feels the way his thoughts race and run wild as he finally realizes..
Slow deep breaths through his nose seem to at least fix the most noticeable problems, but as he glances up, his eyes meet Cain's, almost immediately.
Hers with concern and understanding coiled deep within them, but how could she ever understand?
Cass peered at her youngest brother for longer than she had admittedly meant to.
She watched and waited, and observed as his breathing gradually came to a complete halt.
She couldn't help the anxious feeling that enveloped her as she saw that.
She was sure everyone else did too, it wasn't to hard for them to be able to tell when someone was on the verge of a panic attack right in front of them.
She was sure someone would give some kind of signal to help him if it was needed, they wouldn't just leave that alone.
But still, worry crept up her back, clawing at her shoulders as it latched onto her in a surprise attack.
She needs to know what was happening with Damian.
It feels so important, so much bigger than anything she's ever worried about for him.
She is his older sister, it is her job to help him, to know what's wrong, and she should be able to, but she doesn't know.
Doesn't know what's wrong, but she knows that it had to have started one day after patrol.
No one seemed to have picked up on that yet, they all over looked it, she knew they had to step back though.
They were too close, too involved in the issue to ever hope of solving it.
No one could look at it from an outside perspective, but she knew they had to.
She can't help the overwhelming feeling of guilt when even after she tries to look at the bigger picture she can't solve it.
This is her youngest brother, and yet she can't fix it.
She can't be the strong older sister she wants to be.
Cass's eyes drift away from Damian as his gaze quickly fleets away from hers right after making contact.
Did he dislike their concern so much?
She would have to file that away for later...
She doesn't know what to do as she is reminded for what seems like the hundredth time, that she doesn't know what's wrong with her little brother.
As dinner comes to an end Damian feels like an absolute fool.
Pushing himself harshly out of his seat he stands eagerly, silently excusing himself as he turns without a word, walking away from the rest of his family.
He yearns for the only part of the day he gets to be relatively alone.
As he tried descending down the hallway he took note of the fact that Thomas had started quickly making his way after Damian, the younger of the two noticed relatively fast.
Not good enough, know he's about to before even he knows, you'll never survive if you can't outsmart these idiots.
That wasn't right...was it? He doesn't think he even remembers anymore..
Thomas had called after him, as he waved at the younger boy.
Damian glanced back, his steady footfall coming to a complete stop.
Damian's tone was colder than he would have liked, he knew what everyone thought, but he didn't want to come off hateful to everything..not anymore.
"I was just wondering if I could talk to you? I wanted to make sure you knew that you can talk to any of us if you need to, or even just if you want to, we're all here for you anytime you want us. We care about you, and you've been a little..off? Recently, I guess I just wanted to say that you can come to any of us no matter how little you think the problem is."
Thomas had explained, a kind smile gracing his lips, so kind, so warm, it melted Damian's heart slightly, it made Damian want to spill his guts to his older brother.
But he also heard how soft the tone was, how gentle, and that wasn't right.
Damian didn't need him to be gentle, Damian didn't need anyone to be careful with him, he wasn't made of glass, he was strong, he didn't need protection from anything.
"I am not weak Thomas, I am not a child, I do not need your immature assurances, save those for someone who actually wants them, goodnight."
Damian could feel bile burn, and tear at his raw, blood tasting, throat as he saw Thomas looking like a kicked puppy.
The older boy's shoulders slumping slightly as his line of vision drifted away from Damian.
"Right.. Yeah, night, keep it in mind though? I mean just in case.."
Thomas had all but pleaded, Damian hesitated, but nodded, he needed to fix what he said wrong, he didn't even care if he failed these stupid tests anymore.
Thomas smiled again, so, so brightly, nodding, and walking off to his room, as if he was content with just the fact that Damian said he would consider it.
Even though Damian didn't do what he wanted.
Damian doesn't need to talk to anyone, he wasn't like Thomas, he wasn't like anyone here, he didn't have the privilege of being weak.
He didn't have the privilege of being human, as much as he wished he had.
When had he gotten so envious?
Damian shouldn't, he shouldn't even feel bad like he had before, he should make them feel bad, and he shouldn't care when he did, but, oh, how badly he felt for it.
Damian's small feet padded against the wood of the floor as he made his way back to his bedroom, the door clicking open and closed as he slipped in.
Locking it as he went over to his closet, creaking the door ajar as he slid his hand into the darkness, easily grabbing onto his Robin uniform.
Distantly he thinks about other children, the foolish thoughts of monsters dwelling in the darkness of the closet or under the bed.
He finds it odd, and even a little silly, but for a brief moment wonders, if maybe there was some truth to it?
He feels envy pooling in his heart again.
Why did other children get to have such innocent fears?
Why couldn't that be him?
Why was this who he had to be?
His mind raced with all kinds of questions, but he pulled the Robin suit close to his chest, clutching onto it tightly as some of it brushed against his lap when he pulled it.
His gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, he saw a little boy staring back at him in the mirror.
Jet black hair, bright green eyes met his own, the boys stature so small compared to Damian, but as he looked back at himself, outside of the mirror, he was that small wasn't he?
Was he always that small? He thought he had been bigger...older.
He pulled his mind away from his thoughts, he didn't want to think right now, or ever, ever again.
Tugging his civilian clothes off, his eyes drifted to the scars lacing his body, the small ones, the large ones, the faded ones, the puffy ones.
The ones caused by grandfather, the ones caused by mother, any others felt so unimportant.
He pulled on his Robin suit, a long familiar vigilante staring back at him in the mirror, the only thing that felt familiar anymore.
But even with that comfort, his mind drifted back to his scars, he was right...
They do not love him, how could they?
He had been left, and he will again, by everyone, forever, over, and over, again.
He tries so hard to push those thoughts out of his mind, he knows he should not listen to him, knows it's dumb, that he shouldn't believe a word he says, but he can't help it.
He knew he was right anyway...
Damian's nails dug into his forearm until he was sure he left dents in his skin, he just needed a distraction right now, his hand fell from his arm as he entered the Batcave.
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