Damian Wayne was crushing bad, and he wasn't sure he could deal with it any longer. You were taking up his notebook space, where he should be doing his work in class — but there's your eye, the curve of your lips, the slope of your nose, in graphite form all over his pages.

When he found out it was your birthday coming up, he couldn't let himself go without getting you something.

But then there was the fact he didn't carry cash around so if he asked his father or brothers for some, there would be suspicions; his bank card went back to his father, too, so anything he spent money on would go back to him. Anything was too risky.

Except... hang on... what if he gave you one of his drawings of you? That one he drew when you'd visited the library together, and you'd been talking incessantly about the book you wanted to take out.

Now he just had to give it to you. Should be easy; you're his only school friend.