Damian advanced towards you with firm steps, the echo of his boots resonating on the stone floor. His imposing figure cast a long shadow under the dim light of the sunset, making the air thick with tension. His eyes remained cold and penetrating, staring into yours with an intensity that left you breathless. Damian always had that ability to make the world seem to stop with just one look.

You tried to speak, but your words got caught in your throat when, unexpectedly, Damian extended a hand that he had kept hidden behind his back. Your breathing stopped for a moment, expecting the unexpected from someone like him. However, what appeared was not a batarang, but a bouquet of flowers, your favorite flowers, with the vibrant colors that you had mentioned on occasion.

They were your favorites, the ones you always wanted to have at home, although you never dared to mention it except in casual conversations.

—And then? —his deep voice broke the silence, though there was a slight hesitation in it—. Did you like them?

Damian crossed his arms almost immediately, in a posture that mixed pride and slight discomfort. His frown tried to hide the nervousness that betrayed him in a subtle way. For him, actions spoke louder than words, and this small gesture, though simple, was monumental coming from someone like Damian. He wasn't used to expressing his feelings in a conventional way, but you knew that this, those flowers, were his way of telling you what he couldn't verbalize.

Damian watched you, searching your face for any hint of what you might be thinking, prepared for any answer, though the slight hardening of his jaw revealed that, perhaps, this meant more to him than he was willing to admit.