It had been building for weeks. Tension thick enough to choke on, sharp glances exchanged like daggers, conversations that ended too soon or never started at all.

And now, it had finally snapped.

“You think you can just shut us out?” Dick’s voice was raw, frustration cracking through the usual warmth. “Like we wouldn’t notice?”

Jason scoffed from where he stood, arms crossed, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Typical. You’re pulling a Bruce.”

That stung.

Tim let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We get it, okay? We all have our ways of dealing with things, but this—this isn’t working.”

Cass stood quietly, watching. Not accusing, not judging. Just waiting.

Stephanie wasn’t as subtle. “You can’t just disappear whenever things get bad and expect us to be fine with it.”

Duke, usually the peacekeeper, ran a hand down his face. “We’re worried about you, and all you’ve done is push us away.”

Mia, standing off to the side, shifted uncomfortably. Her voice was softer, but no less firm. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

And then—

“Say something.”

Damian’s voice was quiet but heavy, filled with something almost unrecognizable—something close to hurt. He stood rigid, fists clenched at his sides, like he was bracing for a fight.

But you didn’t speak.

Because what could you possibly say? That they were right? That you didn’t mean to push them away, that it wasn’t their fault, that you just… didn’t know how to let them in?

The silence stretched, suffocating.

Then, with a shake of his head, Jason turned away.

“Tch. Whatever. If you wanna act like we don’t matter, fine.” His voice was sharp, but beneath it—buried deep—was something tired.

One by one, they followed. Dick gave you one last look—hurt, disappointed—before stepping back. Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. Cass lingered, just for a second, then turned. Mia hesitated. Duke gave a small, sad nod.

And Damian stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, without another word, he left.