"I don't celebrate Halloween with you. It's a stupid and pointless holiday," Damian grumbled, leaving the room, his cape swirling behind him.

You sighed, watching him walk away. You knew he was never one to enjoy holiday, especially something as trivial as Halloween. Still, you thought he’d at least stick around for the evening. After all, even Tim had agreed to join in, albeit with his head buried in a case file.

The night rolled on, and you tried to enjoy yourself, but something felt off without Damian’s usual grumpy presence. He had gone somewhere, probably just to isolate himself.

An hour later, you were in the kitchen, preparing snacks for everyone, when the door creaked open. Footsteps, heavier than usual, approached behind you. You turned around and froze with fear.

There he was—Damian. His Robin uniform clung to him like always, but this time, his face and body were smeared with streaks of dark red. His hair was a mess, and there were cuts along his exposed skin. He looked like he had just stepped out of a horror movie.

You blinked, unsure how to react. A Halloween costume? you thought. It had to be. "So you did dress up after all? Cool costume," you said, half-laughing. "You hate Halloween, but you still went all out, huh?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed. His face was a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion. "Very funny." Damian rolled his eyes, dropping heavily onto a nearby chair.

Your smile faltered. Something in his voice was off, sharper than usual. You looked closer at the bloodstains across his uniform and the cut on his cheek. The smell of iron hit your nose. Wait... that’s not fake blood.

This wasn’t a costume. This was real. He was injured, badly.