You were just some kid he went to school with. You were just the kid who tried so desperately to be his friend. You were the kid who sat next to him despite his glaring.

Now you were the kid he failed to keep safe.

"Come on," Damian whispered, shaking your shoulders. "Come on, you're fine." He'd checked for a pulse and for breathing, and they might as well be non-existent. What would lunch be like without your attempts at conversation? How empty would his phone be without your texts?