#srsly though

hey secret, I'm your Santa this year! Merry Christmas

Dick, bless his heart, is the mother hen of the family. His hands are always full with everyone else and their feelings, that sometimes people get.. forgotten.

Damian was never forgotten. He was Dick’s baby. He told Bruce as such during an argument (“he’s MINE Bruce. I don’t care if you were presumed dead or not. He’s MY son more than he’s yours!”) Damian was his top priority.

Until he wasn’t.

Damian didn’t realize how lonely life felt when he wasn’t the centre of Dick’s world. He didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt when Dick would eventually forget to come to one of his school award ceremonies, or to take him out on their weekly lunches so Damian could spend special one-on-one time with him.

It was 3 hours past when Dick was supposed to have picked him up for lunch, yet Damian was still dressed up in his Nightwing hoodie (a hoodie he stole from the elder). Except he was no longer waiting in the family room like usual, he was up in his room, hiding from the prying eyes of Drake that glanced his way every ten or so minutes when he’d check the time. Lines of worry clearly etched on his face.

Damian tries to call Dick, his call gets sent straight to voicemail. He frowns as he gets a text a few seconds later.

-Sorry Dami, can’t talk right now. I’m out with Steph and Cass for a girls day (yes, I’m invited to those. Lol)-

“Oh.” He forgot. Set plans they have every week. Plans that never diverge. He forgot them for a “girls day”. Damian checks his calendar for the 8th time, needing to make sure he hasn’t mixed up the days (even though he knows he never mixes it up, and it’s always Dick that forgets). He shouldn’t be surprised anymore, their lunches had been canceled the past few weeks due to Dick’s unrelenting schedule, but he had promised Damian that they would go to lunch today, and that he would make up for the past few weeks with staying at the manor and having a sleepover with him.

Damian isn’t sure when he threw his phone, nor when he curled up into a ball in his makeshift reading nook in his closet. His cheeks feel wet and the reality setting in makes him all the more embarrassed. Crying over something so juvenile was so beneath him he might as well change his last name to Drake.

Speak of the devil, Damian internally groans when he hears a soft knock on his closet door.

Maybe Drake is like a dinosaur, if he doesn’t move a muscle or make a sound, he’ll move on and leave him alone.

“I can hear you, demon brat.” An unintentional groan escapes Damian as he buried his face further into his arms. He can hear the closet door open and feels Drake shuffle into his hiding spot, his safe space.

At first, it’s quiet. Neither of them dare utter a word in fear of breaking the calming silence that only exists inside this closet. It’s not the first time the two have found themselves here. Tim is the only person with the amount of audacity to enter Damian’s not-so-secret nook in the back of his closet. It’s the only place the two of them don’t argue, an unspoken boundary that holds together this fragile development in their relationship.

“Is this how you felt?” Damian eventually breaks his silence, casting a subtle glance to Tim, only to realize Tim was already looking at him with an indiscernible expression on his face. It’s a look Damian doesn’t see directed towards him often. He isn’t exactly sure what it means either. It’s a facade, it’s meant to look soft and happy, assumably meant to calm him down before approaching any meaningful conversation. There’s an underlying sting of sadness and pity entwined within it. Damian decides he hates it.

“How I felt?” Tim’s a little closer now, maybe 2 meters away from Damian, his head tilted and eyes questioning. A sigh escapes Damian.

“Is this how you felt when I arrived here? Did he forget he loved you too?” Something in Tim’s expression breaks, and that’s all the answer Damian needs. He feels an urge to apologize, but brushed it away. Him and Tim just being able to talk like this - it’s so new, it started maybe 3 weeks ago. He doesn’t believe he can break down all these walls just yet. He isn’t ready to accept and atone, by looking at Tim, he knows he isn’t ready for that either.

And suddenly the elder robin is a lot closer, almost bumping shoulders as he settles in the same position Damian rests in, staring blankly at the same spot on the wall. It’s his collection of “adopted” animals, the ones where they give you a plushie for sponsoring an animal. Damian had over 30.

“You know, I’ve never been to the Gotham animal sanctuary.” Tim subtly added, hoping Damian took the bate, hoping he didn’t catch on. If he had caught on he managed to hide it very well under a sudden angered gasp.

“You’ve never been?! I have a full exhibition there dedicated in the dangers of housing exotic animals and imploring those to donate to the different charities at each animal exhibit!” Tim threw his hands up in defeat, chuckling slightly.

“Well then boy wonder, we need to go then, don’t we?” Without so much as another word, Tim is pushed out of Damian’s closet. For a moment, he believes he screwed everything up. That Damian will forever live his life as a recluse, only seeing the light of day when physically pried from his hiding place. He’s pleasantly surprised when his little brother emerges in a plain tee shirt and shorts. Tim smiles, not listening as Damian warns him that the exhibits are interactive and imploring him to change his clothes as they will get dirty.