tw!depressed!damian ———

the downpour pummelled gotham’s rooftops like a warning, drumming dread into the bones of the city and all it’s inhabitants fleeing home from the ruinous storm that covered the city in a thick, grey smog.

damian stared at the boundless view of skeletal trees below from the ledge of the building he’d usually have talks with dick on. he’d never take the short step to fall, but falling just felt right.

bruce was out doing gods-knows-what on a business trip in new york, and he hadn’t seen tim for longer than him bursting out in need for coffee, or to see conner.

it was just all so … forlorn.

melancholic.

and he hated that. it made him feel weak—vulnerable—and damian wayne was anything but weak.

his family, the bat-family, had always been that way— distant, despondent. he knew he was cared for, loved; knew his siblings wouldn’t let anything happen to him if they had any control over his decisions. but they’re never present.

he infrequently sees jason and dick in passing— they usually don’t stay longer than a day and are strictly present for ‘business,’ never for those late-night baking sessions damian pretended to hate when insomnia clouded their minds.

they show their affections for eachother through heartfelt death threats but it’s not enough.

not like your family.

stupid kents. always warm and tight-knit, like you couldn’t bear to be apart for more than a few hours. and yet you were his best friend. he envied being at your house, seeing the family photos, alphabetised magnets scattered haphazardly on the fridge holding up artwork granted a masterpiece all those years ago.

you were embracing and welcoming and damian felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

he took the step off the ledge.

the wind cut across his face like glacial shards, the rain a bruising beating his skin—but he was free. it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest, unbound and released of the weight he had placed on his shoulders himself for years.

before damian fell too far, he felt the familiar entwinement of your arms around him. always there to protect him.

able to tell you were furious from the look on your face, damian prepared himself defensively for a scolding, yet you didn’t even try and yell at him when you saw the unshed tears, his green irises glistening with unspoken feelings. you sighed through your nose and pulled him close, keeping him held tight as you flew back to the farm house. damian clung to you, silent and trembling even though the warmth of your house cancelled out the harsh cold from the rain.

he could smell dinner cooking, ma’s famous cottage pie, as you floated carefully up the stairs and settled him on your bed. your soft and inviting bed.

no words are exchanged as you fixed him with a now concerned look, knowing he wouldn’t talk but letting him know you were there for him to talk to.

that’s what best friends do.

the suns warmth illuminated off of you, like a furnace as you settled besides him. patient. waiting; like always.