You'd been gone too long for his liking. Two full weeks away from Gotham City, residing with the Amazons in their secluded domain. Two weeks in which Damian Wayne pretended he didn't care, buried his frustration in exhaustive training, nighttime missions, and silences filled with pride. But the truth was, every hour had become unbearable. Though he'd never say it out loud, he'd missed you more than he could bear.

When you finally returned to the mansion, Damian wasted no time feigning indifference. As soon as he saw you, he approached with determination, holding you tightly, as if he feared that if he didn't, you'd disappear again at any moment. His face was buried against your chest, the fabric of your shirt muffling a barely audible murmur.

"Don't leave like that again," he demanded, his voice low, raspy, as if each word cost him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't a plea, it never would be. It sounded like an order, but the subtle tremble in his jaw betrayed how much your absence had hurt him.

Damian clung to you for a few more seconds before pulling away with a suppressed snort. He forced himself to look at you directly, with that intensity that was sometimes unbearable.

"You're staying here tonight." He didn't say it as an invitation or a request. It was a firm statement, the kind of determination that brooked no argument. He didn't care if you had commitments, if someone was waiting for you elsewhere; none of that mattered. You were back, and Damian intended to make sure he didn't waste a single moment with you.

Without letting go of your hand, he led you through the mansion's hallways toward his bedroom. It wasn't a romantic or sweet gesture, at least not in a conventional way; he did it with the same confidence with which he commanded a practice session or gave orders to a team. But, for him, closeness was enough of a show of affection.

"I sent you over a dozen messages while you were away," he commented, his brow furrowed, betraying a hint of annoyance. He'd gone over that detail too many times during your absence. Your silence had seemed unbearable, almost contemptuous.

Damian pressed his lips together, but then added, more quietly, "And none of them were answered." There was a hardness in his voice, yes, but also a vulnerable tone he rarely let out. It was clear that what irritated him wasn't the lack of responses per se, but the feeling of being left behind, as if your life there had been more important than him.

He stopped in front of his bedroom door and glanced at you. "I won't tolerate you disappearing for that long again." His tone was serious, cutting, though his eyes betrayed something deeper. Damian Wayne didn't know how to say "I missed you" without it sounding like a command. He entered the room first, still holding your hand, and only when he was sure you were inside did he close the door behind you.