Pasta or Coins. Yummy.

The dress code being so specific. You wanted it picture perfect. Nothing about your life was perfect before this moment. You were even surprised that Bruce and the rest of your adopted siblings, and half sibling were there. Sitting in the pews. Not that they probably knew it was your wedding. You had changed your name when you were old enough to. Not wanting their name as a crutch for any achievement you would make in your life from that point on.

Your spouse even looked perfect. You were going to walk each other down the aisle, you in your perfect and detailed outfit that matched your other half. This was all something you did. Without the name of Wayne to help.

All the people in the pews were ones you took the time to get to know and befriend without any help. The decorations were yours to control without help. The food for the reception after the wedding was all done and organized by you. For the first time in your life. You felt like you were in complete control of a day that was supposed to be about the happiness of spending the rest of your life with the person you loved.

The same person who had dated you before they knew you were a product of a one night stand with Bruce and your mother. This was true love. This was the one thing you read about in the books of Wayne manors library. The thing you dreamed about. Watched in the movies of happily ever after.

They loved you for you. Every imperfection. They were even patient with every change in detail you made for the wedding. You had saved up so much money for this. Your money with theirs made this dream become a reality.

You could not help but smile as you fixed up your makeup for the up-tenth time. Giggly about the thought of everything working out. Even if someone knocked over your wedding cake. It would not have mattered. For you would still be married to the one person in your life that made you truly feel seen and happy.

You finished your makeup as you fixed your hair again. Looking into the vanity mirror of the room off to the side of the hallway in the chapel. You stood up and straightened out your outfit. Ready to get on with your ever after. You two talked about moving away from the dreary city of Gotham. Moving to a small town where everyone knew everyone.

So you walked the halls to the entrance doors of the chapel. Looking at the bridesmaids and groomsmen waiting with smiles. Even their outfits were perfect. But there was no sign of your soon to be spouse. You waited there. Ten minutes turned into twenty. Then thirty.

The groomsmen that went out to look for your other half came back empty handed. You called and left a voicemail every single time. The people inside the chapel were getting restless. It was not until the hour mark, you noticed your Maid of Honor did not come back from the search. Then a groomsman pointed out the missing money box. A waiter mentioned someone taking and loading up some gifts into a car but thought nothing of it because they were dressed in the style and dress code of the wedding.

They apologized profusely as you just stood there, trying to defend themselves. But you could only think about how it was not your fault. Then you got a call, from the person you had tried to reach for an hour. You answered it. Only to hear the sounds of moans and the one person you trusted enough to want to spend your days with, whining pathetically, the name of your Maid of Honor.

You hung up the phone and slipped it into a pocket in your outfit. Before you threw the doors open, the music started. Only to stop as it was only you walking down the aisle. You went to where the Priest was at the end, people turning their heads and looking surprised when it was just you.

You gently took the microphone from the Priest after you asked for it quietly. Before you turned to the crowd and started to speak, but you knew no words would fix the ruined day that you had tried everything in your power to perfect.

"I wish to formally apologize for the wait. There are key members to the wedding that are not present and seem to have no intention of arriving. If you brought a gift, please feel free to take it back. If your gift is not to be found, it is because it was stolen. That is Gotham for everyone here. We will still be having the reception because we do not waste food nor the effort the amazing workers spent on preparing it for us. I apologize again and do hope you may forgive the inconveniences that have appeared on such a lovely day." You said.

You could hear the murmurs, the disapproval in some voices. How could they leave you to clean up this mess? Why did you apologize for something that was not your fault. Why did they not want to marry you?

You could run yourself in circles thinking and crying. You wanted to. But you needed to do crowd control. The damage was done. Just finish the day. You put the microphone down as people started to file out. Taking their gift that was left, or getting a plate of food for the road. Of course no-one would want to stay at a wedding where someone was left at the alter. That was just weird and awkward.

So as people were doing that. You went to the empty hallways of the chapel. You wanted to get dressed in the clothes you wore before putting on the radiant outfit that made you feel like a clown now. All dressed up for no reason. For a lie.

You and your bridesmaids were helping you clean, the groomsmen helping by moving the heavier things. What you did not notice was a familiar group of faces sticking around. Most of them eating the food that was barely touched. The rest trying to fish out reasons the wedding was off by workers and people in the wedding.

After everyone left, you finally decided to make yourself a plate of food. Telling the waiting staff that they can help themselves to anything left out. But before you could go find somewhere to eat it in peace, you were stopped by the main person you had no interest in talking to. Bruce Wayne.

"I did not know you were getting married." He said stiffly. Like he had no idea what to do. Torn between comforting you and just being quick and distant with his reply.

"I know, I....honestly. I did not expect you to show up." You did not want to be nice anymore. You were sad. Hurt. Tired. You were so tired. You had worked so hard on everything and now you had nothing but an empty bed to go to.

Bruce seemed surprised in how you answered. But what did you care at the moment. "I am sorry, everything was beautiful." He said. He sounded genuine. For the first time in your life. Your own dad was talking to you with looking you in the eyes and being honest and genuine without being cruel and mean.

It made your heart twist as there was a sudden pressure in your throat. You blinked your eyes as you tried to make the tears go back down. But you took in a shaky breath that seemed to make everything worse. "It was." You replied tearfully.

"I was proud of it." You said as tears fell down your cheek. "I am so embarrassed Bruce. I spent so much time on this. I was prepared for decoration to go wrong. My clothes to get stained. Not my fiancé to not even dare to show up. They stole my money and some gifts." You vented quietly. Expecting him to just nod and turn away. To comfort you halfway or barely like he normally did.

Only for him to look at you sadly. Like your hurt was physically damaging to him. When Bruce glanced around. Clearly at a loss of words. You did the only thing your heart was yearning to do at the moment.

"What do I do dad?" You sobbed under your breath as his eyes snapped back to you. "I am going to be alone in my apartment now." You always hated the quiet. Now you would have to be surrounded by it tonight. Facing your sorrows alone.

You had not noticed Richard and Damian standing behind you a little ways back. Bruce turned to them though. "Help wrap things up with everyone else and get the gifts that were left into the car. I am going to take Reader home." Bruce stated as he came to you and gently took your hand into his. You felt like his little kid again. Before the world got too busy for the both of you.

You were the quiet and lame-o, wanna be, Wayne child. Now you were following behind the top Coach of the school with a beaten Andrea in tow. Fussing over Andrea’s injuries, Coach Abelline was not going to take your punishment lightly. She would probably try to get you expelled if Andrea would not be able to play any more games this season.

Not that you were one to argue with the conversation that was about to happen, how would you argue? Everything Coach Abelline would say would be true. There are cameras in the cafeteria. You were in the wrong just as much as Andrea. Not that you would feel too ashamed. Damian was uncomfortable with the words and actions of his and your fellow classmates.

At least it is my name that will be sullied instead of Damian’s. He is already struggling to adjust to having to handle the fact that he grew up with horrible beliefs.

You could not help but think about this fact as you continued to walk. Only to have your ears pick up on giggling and laughing from students. They were looking at you as they smiled at each other. All of a sudden you felt even more out of place in the hallways of the school. You could only do one thing, take a deep breath and accept your sentence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You did not expect Bruce to show up. You had the wrong number on file anyways. If they looked up the number on your file and proceeded to dial it, it would just leave them on a prerecorded voicemail on your phone. One you made with Bruce’s actual voicemail after calling him on the house phone.

You were sitting outside the Principles Office, in a chair outside the door in front of the window that had its blinds pulled down. You could hear Coach stating…no. It was more like screeching about reprimanding you. Different punishments and things you could do as an apology to Andrea. 

You huffed as you just slowly slump in your seat. This was stupid, you would not apologize. Not until she apologized to Damian for her behavior. How could you be the only one in the wrong when she was bullying first.

Not that your side would have mattered in the first place. Your lips pulled down as you looked at the ceiling. You could not do anything right, could you? You were tired of having to step on eggshells everywhere. You also did not want to have to be outright and ask for the things you want or need. You just wanted to live. Just survive and be by yourself. Maybe on a mountain. Or a quiet town with little to any people.

No one would ever bother you again. A smile broke out on your face at the thought. You could move. Just leave and go somewhere quiet one day and not have to talk to anyone. Only for the smile on your face to be wiped off as a figure you did not recognize enter the school’s office with Bruce. She was around 5’5. Her hair was black and cut short. It felt like a joke, despite being a blood daughter of Bruce. She looked more like him than you did. 

Now you felt your mood sour more as they made eye contact with you before walking back to where you sat. You pushed your still bleeding knuckles downwards. Hiding it from Bruce as he glanced you over before turning to walk to the door where the Coach was still yelling. Bruce knocked before heading inside the room and he closed the door quietly.

You looked to the woman after Bruce was no longer in your field of vision. Your lip tugged down more as you scanned her over. She would probably be able to move smoothly if she wanted too. Without even trying, probably.

You probably looked horrible. Getting into a fight and beating the living snot out of a star student who was a star player. You did not want to be at the school anymore. Or under her intense gaze. She had not spoken either. Just staring at you as you squirmed slightly. Your lip tugged slightly into a semi sneer as you looked at the ground. This sucked.

Andrea held her head as she glared at you. You felt horrible for the injury you just inflicted on her. Even if it would turn out to be a bump or bruise. Your stomach twisted as you took a deep breath in. You lowered your hands and were ready to apologize until she spoke first.

"You fucking bitch." She just opened her mouth and spoke words that sounded like venom. Suddenly, you felt even sicker. Your heart pounded as you stared at her. But you felt angry. How come she gets to say what she wanted and never gets in trouble for it?

Today was your turn. Your turn to do something and not give one damn of the consequences waiting for you. You lifted your hand and grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the table before using your free hand to grab her by the jaw and throw her out of her seat.

You felt so annoyed. How come you had to just take all their words? Not that you would normally care. But you would not be deemed a coward and fool when it came to the words spoken of Damian. He had a rough childhood.

Noone had the right to treat him terribly. So you lifted your fist with the thought as you climbed ontop of Andrea. Her back in the cold tile floor. Then you brought it down into her temple as she grabbed your hair as she tried to dislodge you.

She was trying to get you off of her. Only for her to get another punch to the face. Your thumb on the outside of your fist. You had accidently broken your thumb while trying to copy the training you had seen in the batcave because you did not realize if your thumb was on the inside of your fist, it would be broken from the force of the impact of a punch.

You did not even realize the crowd that had formed around you two. Not that you cared much. Her friends were screaming at you to get off her.

At Gotham Acadamy, a lot of the kids do not learn how to fight. Their parents are rich and their kids live comfortable lives in no need for knowing how to thrown down. You did know how to either. But how bad could it be if you just had to ball up your fist and bring it down unto someone.

You had hit Andrea a few times before you were were pulled off of her by her coach. Clearly you had also not realized that the hulk of a woman had made her way through the crowd to see you beating her top player.

Now you could clearly realize that she was there as she practically lifted you and tossed you off of her. Which caused you to land awkwardly and harshly onto the cafeteria seat and table. You hit your side as you barely caught yourself before you could land on your butt.

You looked at the back of your hand. There was blood on the knuckles. Some of it was yours, the tooth in your hand did not belong to you but that did not matter to you at the moment. The glare the coach was giving you was enough to make you melt into yourself. Shame burning in you as the tip of your ears turned red.

Wonderful, you thought, the last thing you needed at the moment was to get in trouble and be sent to the Principles office. Especially since they would call Bruce and figure out the number on file was not Bruce's but your own. You never figured out his number and you defiantly would not have it in file for these blood suckers to abuse it.

You walked into the barren room. As you just put all your clean clothes into the corner of the empty room. You had left the dresser you used to occupy in the old room because you would feel tempted to sell that too and you did not need that money coming back to bite you in the butt. One rule you had for yourself was do not sell things that belong to the Wayne's.

Clothes were free game. They would not be able to fit your clothes. But furniture was not free. Nor did you treat it like a game. You had just taken your mattress and placed it on the ground in the corner with a blanket you got from your mother for your first birthday here at the manor and a pillow pet you had stolen from a trash pile Jason had made when he came back from being dead.

You had not met Jason before he had sadly been killed. But you definitely met him when he came back. He was supposed to be fourteen from what it seemed to the photo albums and news articles you had found at the library. He was around twenty when he returned to Gotham.

You are eleven now. You were around three when he had died and nine when he came back to Gotham. By that time you were already living with Bruce for one year. But Jason came around to the manor when you were ten and ate all the things you had prepared for your birthday that year. All the sweets and meals. He packed what he did not eat and took it with him. Not before getting rid a lot of his things in his room to make Bruce upset.

He thought he was eating the food Alfred had prepared for a party Bruce was hosting. Unaware that little old you had cooked everything after being left in the kitchen unattended with unlimited internet access.

It was safe to say you were devastated at the fact that all your food had been gone and Alfred chewed into you for using the kitchen without guidance. You had not dared to cook something else in the dumb kitchen ever again. Not without cleaning all the evidence up and hiding what you cooked afterwards.

You did not like Jason. All because he feels like Bruce wronged him, he feels the need to wrong everyone else around him. Dispite considering yourself toxic and manipulative. You did not like Jason because he did it without realizing half the time. How can a man so smart be so clueless and selfish?

So you avoided him most of the time. But he was much chiller when he talked a one sentence conversation to you. You might not like Jason but you could not stand Richard Grayson.

Talk about being selfish. He lied and promised things that he never could keep. Then had the audacity to only say sorry afterwards and not even try to bribe you with anything. You would rather money then words. Pay you for your inconvenience rather then speak salty lies as payment.

You could also say you were jealous. He moved so gracefully. So fluidly and smooth. What you would not try to give to not stumble over your feet like an idiot.

But self depreciating thoughts did not help anyone. So you took a deep breath and just laid on your mattress. All you had to do was hope the rest of the year would not be like this day.

But it was. Because fate likes to pet your head like a puppy and kick you to the rain. As the end of the year became closer in time, you had to deal with rumors and being bullied every other day. You were fine.

Until the day Damian pulled you aside into an empty classroom. He was clearly upset. Dispite keeping his calm facade and distant personality with you. His fist clenching and jaw locking gave it away. Before you could even think to ask what was wrong, he laid into you first.

"What happens to you here might not be a concern of mine according to your actions and words. Yet it seems to become a concern of mine when my name is dragged through the mud and dirt because of it." You listened to him quietly before taking a deep breath in as you watched him fidget slightly.

"Who is talking about you Damian?" You asked. Only to see his brow twitch in frustration. "The female basketball team. Their leader thinks of me as inefficient and unworthy of being considered for a sport for the fact that I might even have a connection to a person like you."

You saw how much it frustrated him. In return. It made you feel...weird. It was something. You did not know yet until you saw him huff in frustration before telling you to forget and as he stormed off.

Oh. You were mad. You were seething and you had no idea what to do. Okay. That was not true. You had one thing on your mind. One specific thing that made the twisting feeling in your chest feel a bit better. So you walked out of the empty classroom as you walked to the cafeteria where everyone was. You set your bag next to the exit door like everyone else in the cafeteria as you get in line for food.

You could see Damian talking to some boys around his age. He was already struggling to make friends as it was. It did not matter how cool your younger brother was. Anyone can talk bad about you because you did not believe much better about yourself. But the feeling of knowing that something was being said about Damian was like a tag on your neck that you could not fix.

So you waited in line for your food and tray. Before coming out the other end of the line and looking for a certain table. The basketball table. With Andrea in the middle. Oh how your stomach twisted with nervousness as you slowly walked to her. She saw you as you took your final steps towards her.

She smiled such a smile that was mean if you did not know what to look for. But you did. "Having fun slut?" She asked with a hum. The other girls at the table giggling. "Is that what you have been saying about me?" You asked quietly. Not sure of yourself anymore. You were supposed to tell her off. So you mustered up the guts to speak again. "Lay off of Damian...please."

You tried your best to be assertive. Only to have her laugh in your face with the rest of the table.

"You two freaks-"

The sentence was not even formed halfway before your tray was being slammed into the side of her head.

(Not proofread. Same excuse as last time. No computer. No good content. ): But I will definitely redo a lot of this when I do get a computer and can read it easier.)

(I take criticism. Does not mean I will read it. But typos will be found so point them out if you want.)

You could not even bother to stand up as you stayed seated and moved slightly so you can open the door to the machine and the dryer as you just slowly switched over your clothes groggily.

You stopped buying shirts with logos on then when the money stopped coming. You also grew out of the old ones because noone bothered to tell you that when puberty hits. You can also be graced with a growth spurt. But yours only ended in you not being able to fit all the shirts you loved from when you were around six to nine years old.

So there was no need to hand up most of your clothes. The rest that needed to be hung just got thrown into the dryer too. They could get wrinkled and you would just iron them later.

Or not. Depends on how you felt when the problem would reel its ugly head. But you just settled with haphazardly throwing your clothes into the dryer and closing both washer and dryer doors and getting on your knees so you can lazily turn the knob on the dryer to start the cycle.

As you press the start button. You just laid back on the floor. Thinking about what.... you picked up your phone that you had bought after selling some of your old clothes. They were designer things that were bought for you when you were still taken with Bruce or one of the others out in public. You were paying for the cheap plan you had with the rest of the money you had saved from selling these pieces of clothing.

Stretching the money out until you could turn sixteen or get somewhat close and get a real job to pay for it. But hey. Checking the time on the nifty device was fun.

So now you were thinking about yesterday's events because it was currently three in the morning. You were mean to Damian. You felt bad. Tim needed that. He always stained your clothes and you would have to wash them instantly because of the fact that he would not watch where he is going with a coffee cup or mug in his hand.

But Damian did not deserve what you said. Not that you were going to go and apologize. You could just sulk and wallow in self pity in the laundry of a nice and cool manor that had much cooler rooms with expensive equipment to keep your mind busy.

But who wants that? Not you. Selfish. Ungrateful. Spiraling. And your are spiraling. Great. Just wonderful. You hold your phone above your face. Entering the password that was really just a pattern and had numbers that were no importance to you.

You went into one of your music apps as you just start your liked Playlist. As you tapped on the big white play button. Your grip on your phone accidently slipped and it fell onto your face.

You just slowly grabbed your phone as you glared at the ceiling. No one should be near the laundry room and it was on one of the further sides of the manor. So you just turn up your phones volume as you rubbed your sore nose.

You took a deep breath in as you just groaned loudly. Getting louder as you see how long you could hold it for. Before you have to stop to take a deep breath. You did so before starting again. This time changing pitch.

After a bit you just huffed. "I cant stand this. I sound so annoying. Thats why nobody likes me." I whined softly. Closing your eyes as the music continues. Before you started again.

You kept this up for a bit. Until you heard stomping down the halls. It sounded like Jason. You imagined that dog meme. Where the dog was looking out into the sun with its eyes closed. So you closed your eyes as you took in a deep breath and started it again. As screwed as you might be in a few seconds. You might as well give in.

You stop when the door to the laundry room flew open. You laid still on the floor as you tilted your head up to see Jason looking around with confusion and suprise to see you on the floor.

"Did you hear that noise?" He asked stiffly. He was uncomfortable, clearly. He never talked to you. You never spoke to him. You just stared as you raised your brows.

Before you shook your head and glanced back at the load of clothes that were drying. "Did...um...something happen at...school?" Jason questioned as he slowly leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. He was probably looking at your busted up face.

"Did you need more money from Bruce, is that why you are here?" You asked as you deadpanned and did not even bother to look at him. You could see him tense up from the reflection in the side of the door to the dryer. One of the few times you spoke to him was something that was snarky but did not sound like sarcasm.

You said it in a way that made you seem genuine. You just watched him stand there for a second before leaving. 'Seems like no answers would be shared today. What a bummer.' You thought.

As you hear him close the door and his footsteps somewhat fade. You start the noise again and just wait for the dryer to finish your load, or until you get bored of that sound and try another. There were many interesting sounds a body could make. You wanted to see how many could keep you entertained for another fifteen minutes.

So you just did it late at night while most were doing their patrol. Alfred would be sleeping or worried about how it was going and being updated incase he needed to sew together a person or two.

Not that you minded. Being left alone meant not having to muster up the energy to reply or keep up pleasantries. But it seemed to not matter anymore to you. Why would it? They never talked to you anyways. So why not reply how you want when you want? Thats what most of them did to you.

You guessed thats what your new thought process was going to be now. Until someone snapped at you to straighten your act. Sixth grade. Sixth grade and going through puberty. Why would the same awkward phase be allowed for literally anyone around you and not for you? You were allowed to be moody. Allowed to mean mug people.

But you would start small. That way people would get accustomed to letting you push boundaries. Manipulate-

You sighed deeply as you laid on the laundry room floor. Watching from the corner of your eyes as the washer machine spun your soapy clothes. The only thing thinking like that could bring was pain. Hurting people should be last on your mind. This also came with puberty. Second guessing every decision. Maybe you were being a little mean to Damian. He was also going through puberty.

But he was allowed to be mean when he wanted. He was excused because of the upbringing he had. You had no excuse. Dick lost his parents and so on with everyone else.

You were not old enough to even remember your mom very well. Just that she liked having men over and the money she took from them. Maybe Bruce did not care to conversate with you because of that. You heard you looked like your mom in many aspects.

You wondered if you should have taken up fighting like the rest of the residents. Jumping and doing flips. As much as you wished, you knew those things were a mere scratch to the surface of what they really do at night. Besides, you were not a good fighter. Clearly. As your face was case evidence one. But as much as doing flips was cool. Moving smoothly was probably the reason you were so entrances.

Moving like ripples on water. Or maybe how sand falls against itself smoothly. The trees have branches that sway in the wind. It was not even close to fair. You were smooth. You were not flowy. If that was even a word.

The next best thing was to draw it. Draw and sketch the movements you wanted to convey. But sorrow filled your mind at the thought. How could you? You sucked at it. You watched videos. Tutorials on drawing. But your hand just did not seemed to match your brain. You were a horrible artist. You did not care for modern art and trying to make something from nothing.

You felt like anyone could throw together a splash of paint here and there and call it art. But the details that are put into paintings that are taken from something real was something you craved. Watching animators make something move across the tv screen was almost like something scratching a part of your brain that you could never reach. The smooth steps and movements of the characters. It was like magic.

But Damian was better at it. You always loved watching him paint when you could sneak a glance. Or staring at his paintings displayed in the manor. The details and expressions he somehow made permanent on a surface was like watching someone have a toy that you knew your pockets could not afford. But this was a talent you could not buy. It was something you were born with. And you, would have never even had a chance to have it.

So you took on other things. Skating was fun but you had bad balance. Bowling was fun but you did it alone everytime. Playing instruments were amazing. The music. That was a talent you had and cherished. Like Mozart. Composing music might not be a card in your hand. But playing it was something was as close as you could get.

Your mother had been a sensitive person from what you were told by a stranger who had knew her. She was sensitive in touch. Textures could either make her happy or send her into a rage. Refusing to eat a meal because it crunched when it should have squished. Not wearing a piece of clothing because it scratched where it should have been smooth.

You got that from her. You remember throwing a fit because a particular item had a tag on it when you were going to a gala. You pleaded for it to be changed. But they did not seem to have patience for you five year old self. They left you at the manor the night of the gala. With Alfred who tried to comfort you but seemed to fail when he realized you knew noone would believe you, dispite the skin where the tag had touched was breaking out.

So dressing up seemed to be off your list of things that were fun or worth trying to do. Maybe that was a different reason why Bruce did not even try to communicate with you. Maybe he could not stand you being so picky. You wish you were not a prude. But since you inherited such a "fault" from your mother, you were faulted to.

As you noticed you were spiraling, you thought of something else. Baking. You liked baking. The fault you inherited was nice in this section of life because just one inhale of what you were cooking seemed to tell you what it required and needed to flourish in ways you could not. You could make things you knew you liked without being judged for things you did not because you could just cut the things you did not care for out of your cooking habits.

But it was too late to cook. You guessed. But now that you thought about it. You were bored. There were so many things to do in the Manor but none seemed to interest you. You could just stay here and watch as your clothes were cleaned.

Or you could do something with your life. You took a deep breath with the thought. Squinting your eyes as you opted to stare at the ceiling. As the thoughts crossed your mind. You groaned. You didnt feel like doing anything. Why would you? You still looked like you lost a fight you had no clue you were apart of.

If you still felt like doing something by the time your clothes were done. You would probably have thought of something. But until then. You just wanted to lay on the floor and close your eyes in thought.

But you aren't. You are not filthy rich. You are not even rich. You stopped asking Bruce for money because you were tired of having to remind him that you needed to get an allowance. You felt like a leech.

So your teacher calling you out infront of everybody. Asking you if your father would donate money to the class for new supplies felt shameless on her part. How could you put that much pressure on your student infront of all her classmates.

But nobody would see it like this. No. They would only see you denying her request. Telling her that asking your father for such a thing would need to be done by her and not by you. It was more appropriate if she discussed what she needed rather then making a child do it for her.

You just did not want to talk to him. Not really. She went cold and distant with your classmates and you. Your classmates hatred for you grew as you just sat there. You made their favorite teacher sad. So sad.

So it wasnt a surprise when you got home to the manor, your clothes were wrinkled and your eye bruised. Your lip was busted and your clean white shirt now had specks of blood on it. They knew that consequences from actions like these were few in between.

Since you talking was as rare as consequences. You had no need to talk much anyways. All anything ever really needed was a short reply.

When stepping inside. Damian was quick to berate you about getting into fights. It was beneath a Wayne to come home in such a manner. But instead of a quick look and ignoring his harsh words and looks. You stopped and stared at him.

"Who fucking asked you?" You stared at him. Dispite his calm exterior, there was suprise on his face. You didnt really talk to him. Or anyone for that matter. So he just stayed quiet with shock that you dared talk to him at all. Especially in the tone and with the vocabulary you chose to use.

"Then mind your own business. I dont stick my nose in your shit. Dont stick yours in mine." You just grumble and walk off. Shoving past Tim who spilt his coffee on himself as he stared at his phone. He snapped his head up to apologize for not paying attention. But you just glared with annoyance before storming off.

Ignoring the look they gave each other as Tim went to talk to Alfred about why you were in such a foul mood that day.