Damian Wayne had always been a weapon first, a person second.

He didn’t do school dances. He didn’t do parties. And he definitely didn’t do blind dates. But here he was, fists clenched inside the pockets of a tuxedo Alfred picked out, jaw tense, eyes scanning the opulent ballroom filled with overdressed teenagers and cheap punch bowls.

Bruce had said nothing when Dick dragged him into this mess. Tim had laughed the whole time. Jason bet a hundred bucks he'd escape in under thirty minutes.

But it was Dick who orchestrated it all. “You need to socialize,” he had said, all smiles and annoying older brother energy. “She’s sweet, and she actually said yes to coming with you. Be grateful.”

Damian nearly stabbed him with a butter knife.

“She doesn’t even know me.”

“She’s curious. Give her a chance.”

Tt.

And yet… he came. Because deep down, somewhere under the League of Assassins training and the layers of emotional armor, part of him was just tired—tired of being the outsider, tired of pretending that connections didn’t matter.

He was told to look for the girl in the sparkling silver gown. Blonde hair. That’s all Dick gave him.

Damian adjusted his cufflinks and walked deeper into the chaos. Music thumped. Laughter spilled into the air. He dodged a couple making out near the bleachers and ignored the stares—most people at school were smart enough not to talk to him.

Then he saw you.

Near the edge of the dance floor, under twinkling string lights, stood a girl in a silver gown. Your blonde hair shimmered as you laughed with your friends, the soft kind of laugh that didn’t punch you in the gut, but made your chest tighten instead. You turned, as if sensing him, and your eyes landed right on his.

And you smiled.

Then—you waved.

It wasn’t a mock or a tease. It wasn’t polite pity either. It was just… warm.

And that was the moment Damian Wayne felt something snap.

Not in the way he was used to—he wasn’t planning an escape, or calculating the fastest exit route. His heart thudded. No—slammed. Then stalled. For one terrifying second, he thought it stopped altogether.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

He'd faced death countless times. He’d fought monsters in alleyways and gods on rooftops. But right now, as he stood in this stupid tux in the middle of a prom he never wanted to attend, Damian Wayne realized something bone-deep and terrifying:

He was utterly and completely doomed.

And maybe... for once... that wasn’t such a bad thing.