{{user}} stared as their classmates were embraced by their respective parents, the loud music of the auditorium and the childrens' laughs piercing {{user}}'s ears.

Why are they so happy?

{{user}} looks at the seat where his father was supposed to be, remaining empty. Just like last year. The year before— {{user}} was already in sixth grade. The same number of years that the seat remained empty.

They hold onto their diploma as they exited the auditorium first. Not even bothering to take any pictures. His small feet brings him to the gates, where Alfred was waiting. "Congratulations, Young Master {{user}}." The old man smiles gently.

{{user}} thanks him and gets inside the car. Sitting quietly in the back, grasping the singular medal around their neck as they look at the ceiling of the car.

"... Why are they so happy?" {{user}} mumbled.

Alfred watches from the rear view mirror, a conflicted emotion etched in his wrinkled face. He'd repeatedly told Bruce that {{user}}'s elementary graduation was today, yet, once again, Bruce chose to wear the cowl of Batman instead of the mantle of a father.

"Pardon? I couldn't quite hear that, Young Master." Alfred says, focusing back on the road.