CHAPTER FOUR : NOT A LOT, JUST FOREVER
WORDCOUNT : 1530 WORDS
Intertwined, sewn together
As the wren sheds her feather
Not a lot, just forever
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
Sundays were reserved for family dinners.
It hadn’t always been this way though.
In fact, the idea had started around the time of Damian’s arrival. It had been your idea, actually. Sweet, younger you had imagined it to be difficult to get used to new environments, and so the Sunday dinner rule was born in the hope that not only Damian, but everyone would be able to spend more time with one another–and perhaps get to know one another better outside of the capes.
All family members are free to do whatever they want throughout the day, so long as everyone is present at the dinner table at 18:00. Unless there’s a vigilante emergency of course.
Establishing the rule had taken nearly four months due to lack of commitment and enthusiasm from several family members (Jason and Damian) but upon Alfred’s insistence, it eventually worked out.
Alfred had once again made a delicious dinner, taking care of everyone’s dietary wishes. It was 17:59, meaning that in one minute all members of the family must be seated at the dinner table.
And yet, the Wayne family sat incomplete.
‘’Where is my sister?’’ Damian sneered as he looked around the table.
When nobody else answered Dick decided to speak up, ‘’maybe she still has schoolwork to finish? I’m sure she’ll be downstairs soon.’’
Before anyone could add anything to the conversation, Alfred came in and placed the food on the table. As the aroma of the food wafted around the room everyone’s eyes darted towards your seat, to the door and the hallway, and back to your seat again.
Reluctantly, everyone started eating their dinner. Your seat remained empty. Your plate, placed carefully next to Damian's, remained unused throughout the start of their dinner.
It only took a few minutes before someone spoke up. ‘’This is bullshit.’’ Jason.
Bruce looked up for a moment before raising his brow. No words were spoken by the older man, but the implication was clear. Be careful with your next words.
Jason's tall posture stiffened slightly as he narrowed his eyes. ‘’She wants to set this rule in place but she can’t be bothered to come herself?’’ he questioned.
‘’My sister has never missed a Sunday dinner before, perhaps she is not feeling well.’’ Damian retaliated in your defense. Dick, ever the drama queen responded ‘’You know Damian, they’re our sibling too.’’
‘’That makes no sense anyway, if she really is ill Alfred wouldn’t have put her plate on the table.’’ Tim argued back.
After hearing this, every head at the table turned towards the old butler.
‘’I know not of any illnesses plaguing master name.’’ Alfred answered. ‘’I called her down for dinner, but it seems she has not heard me. Allow me to check up on her.’’
‘’Wait.’‘ Bruce interrupted, ‘’I will go.’’
The table quieted down as he stood up. ‘’Continue. Me and name will be joining you again later.’’
Batman was prepared for anything coming his way. Contingency plans were prepared for any situation you could think of, ever. There was close to nothing in the world the dark knight was not prepared for.
But Batman was not good at feelings. And neither was Bruce Wayne. The two persona’s were often seen as two separate entities– but in truth, he was both of them, and they were both him. He wasn’t really ‘just’ Batman, nor was he ‘just’ Bruce Wayne.
He was strategic. He operated by logic rather than emotions– evidently so, as he marched up the old polished stairs of the Wayne manor. He’d left the dining room in full confidence, but now, as he made the small trek to your room he realised that he was heavily underprepared for this situation.
What was he to say? Should he be strict and demand you be on time next time? Or should he take it slow and have a long conversation about feelings with you, and why not showing up could hurt the feelings of the others. The irony of his thoughts were lost on him.
He’d prefer avoiding the latter. Not because he did not care about how you felt, but simply because he had realised he wouldn’t know how to help you if needed. Feelings were difficult, something to be experienced differently by every soul. Would his insights on life and its emotional toll on people make you feel better? Or would it make you feel lonelier? He wouldn’t know.
He did not have time to ponder anymore as he finally approached your room. It was located near his bedroom, a safety precaution he’d made when you first arrived in the desolate manor. Bruce knocked twice.
‘’Are you alright?’’ he questioned. ‘’Dinner started ten minutes ago. Alfred made your favourite.’’
He doesn’t know if it is actually your favourite, he just knows that he has seen you eat this dish more than four times, which in his books means he filed it away as something you really enjoy.
Three more knocks. Then he called your name once again, but to no avail. A nagging feeling tugged at his gut. You and Bruce’s relationship was alright. The two of you didn’t spend a lot of time together to his regrets, but he had duties to attend to– he had hoped that you understood.
Bruce’s body reacted before his mind did, his heart hammered uncharacteristically in his chest. Bruce called your name once more before opening the door.
Quiet. No soft snores breaking the silence, no pencil scratchings against a sketchbook, just silence. The room was decorated the same way it had been for years. Knick-knacks scattered across your desk, posters and photos littered the walls, and countless medals and certificates were placed between your favourite books on the shelves. Everything screamed you, yet you yourself were nowhere to be found.
‘’Something is bothering her.’’ said Cass.
Everyone present at the dinner table looked at her questioningly. Sure, you’d been quiet as of late. But weren’t you always?
You weren’t and Cass knew it.
She saw it in the way you had started shrinking into yourself more and more. How you shied away when any of them came too close for comfort– a shift so small it was nearly unnoticeable to most, but not to her. Never to her.
When she’d first arrived you were sad. You smiled politely during dinners and answered questions when needed. But your shoulders were turned inward ever so slightly. You rarely made eye contact with any of them, not anymore.
But those first few weeks you had given Cass that privilege, the chance to really look at you. Your eyes were kind. You looked at her like you were preparing to tell her something– but as if you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.
Then that day, after weeks of preparation you had come into her room. Eyes sparkling with determination. And you had signed, the language still a bit wobbly on your fingers. Cass was quiet, even after Bruce’s help in developing her speech. She’d learned many languages– found the beauty in them. She was happy to have someone to share this with, excited even. She found it beautiful, the concept of someone learning a language they themselves do not speak– just to create the chance to become closer to one another.
But before she knew it, she and Bruce had missions to go on, investigations to follow and weeks had passed with no contact between the two of you.
When she came back to find you, she soon discovered something else. You greeted her as you would do normally, but something was different.
The look in your eyes had changed. Your face– kind as ever, had grown more reserved. The light in your eyes had grown dim.
Jason wished he could say he noticed. But he hadn’t, not really anyway. He’s been busy. And in all honesty? He didn’t want to spend too much time with you. Perhaps it was out of guilt, perhaps it was out of anger. Whatever it was, you made him remember.
You reminded him of before. Of how you’d cling to him before and after missions, of how you’d beg him to read before going to bed. Of how you used to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Some days he’d give anything to see you look at him like that again.
But he never actually went to see you. Because if he had, he’d know that you did in fact still look at him that way. Because despite everything, he was still your big brother.
The table had quieted down in the past ten minutes, so when Bruce’s footsteps thundered down the stairs–and the old clock in his study opened towards the Batcave everyone tensed.
Your siblings shared five seconds of intense eye contact before standing up and rushing down to the cave after him.
There was no reason for the two of you to suddenly go to the cave, not in the middle of your beloved Sunday dinner. Something was wrong, very wrong.
And they were going to find out what.
Damian wanted to be the one checking up on you in your room, but his pride might have gotten the best of him
guys what if I... delete this series! help omg I'm lowkey hating everything I wrote LMFAO
note : this chapter was edited and rewritten, u guys won I won't delete it
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