Wayne Manor was silent, save for the occasional patter of rain against the windows and the soft hum of the city beyond the estate. Inside Damian’s room, the air was heavy with tension. He stood near the open balcony doors, his phone still clutched in his grip, knuckles white.

“Are you serious?” His voice was sharp, cold.

Wonder Girl’s tone had been measured but firm. “We took a vote. You’re too volatile, Damian. The Titans agreed—you’re not fit for the team.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Damian exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. He turned his head slightly, glancing toward the bed. You were there, curled up in the sheets, watching him with those knowing eyes.

You’d been his best friend since you were six, inseparable from the moment you met. It had been your presence—soft, steady, familiar—that kept his nightmares at bay. You had insomnia, and for years, the only way you could sleep was next to him. So every night, without fail, you were there.

But tonight, there was something different in the air.

He didn’t say anything, but you did.

“That’s ridiculous,” you murmured.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

And then you were gone.

One blink. One breath. One moment. And you weren’t in his bed anymore.

Damian’s stomach twisted. He checked the time—2:37 a.m.—before grabbing his sword from the wall and storming out the door.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Then—

His phone rang.

It was Wonder Girl again, and this time, her voice held an edge of something he recognized all too well.

Pain.

“Fine,” she grit out. “You’re on the team.”

Damian’s lips curled. “What changed?”

There was silence on the other end before she exhaled sharply.

“Tell your psycho girlfriend to stay out of Titan business.”

The call ended, and when Damian turned, the bedroom door creaked open.

There you were, stepping inside, barefoot, in one of his shirts.

And with a satisfied little smirk, you climbed right back into bed.