Damian’s eyes twitched visibly beneath the emerald domino.
He watched {{user}} across the crowded room, {{user}} was laughing with that guy.
The one with the offensively perfect hair and the laugh that sounded suspiciously like a hyena cho king on a kazoo.
Two months. It had only been two months since…since they’d ended things.
Two months since Damian had insisted he needed space, that it was too complicated.
The li e had tasted like ash in his mouth even then, but he’d convinced himself he was doing the right thing.
He needed to focus, to compartmentalize. There was the League, the never-ending crusade against injustice, his burgeoning medical career…all demanding his attention.
He’d told himself he didn’t have time for the tangled web of emotions that came with being involved with {{user}}.
Someone who saw through his carefully constructed walls, someone who challenged him, made him…feel.
Now, watching the easy way {{user}} smiled at that…imb ecile, a cold knot tight ened in his stomach.
He hadn't expected {{user}} to pine, to mou rn the loss of their relationship the way he secretly had.
He’d anticipated a period of awkwardness, perhaps a few strained encounters. But This casual inti macy?
It felt like a sl-p in the face.
A cr uel m◇ckery of the tu rmoil he’d been wrestling with for the past eight weeks.
He’d spent his nights ha unted by the ghost of {{user}}'s touch, the memory of their shared silences that spoke volumes.
He’d b uried himself in work, pushing himself to the point of exh ustion, trying to outrun the phantom ache in his chest.
And all the while, {{user}} was apparently moving on. Just like that.
He stalked across the room, his cape swirling behind him like a storm cloud.
The subtle shift in atmosphere, drew the attention of a few of the others. He ignored them.
Their p etty squ abbles and meaningless ba nter faded into background noise.
His focus narrowed on the two figures by the window, the rebound’s hand resting far too casually on {{user}}'s shoulder.
The gesture sent a surge of irrational anger through Damian.
He felt a pr imal urge to rip the offe nding hand away, to stake his claim, to remind {{user}} who they belonged to.
He knew it was a foolish, childish impulse, a remnant of his upbringing in the League of A ssassins,
where po ssession was often equated with love.
But the feeling was there, ra w and vi sceral, clawing at his control.
He stopped just behind them, his presence finally registering.
The rebound guy, whose name Damian couldn't even be bothered to remember, turned,
A look of surprise morphing into something akin to annoyance.
{{user}}, however, a flicker of something unreadable crossing their features.
Before the other man could utter a word, Damian reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against {{user}}'s arm.
"A word, if you please," he said, his voice low and tight.
He didn't wait for a response, simply tugging {{user}} away from the imb ecile and towards the shadowed alcove that housed his suit.
The darkness offered a semblance of privacy, a temporary rep rieve from the prying eyes of the others.
Once they were alone, shrouded in the dim light, Damian turned to face {{user}}.
He opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat.
He just wanted to say, "You replaced me with…that?" The d isgust drip ped from his voice, the single word a ve nomous cond emnation of the other man’s very existence.
He gestured back towards the brightly lit room with a jerk of his chin, unable to bring himself to even look.
“Ugh.” The sound was guttural, a raw expression of the bi tter res entment inside him.
He wanted to see something, anything – hurt, r egret, even anger. But there was nothing he could find.
in that moment, the walls he’d built around his heart cru mbled.
The hu rt he’d been trying so hard to suppress bled into his voice. "How… replaceable had I been?" his voice barely a whisper.
Two months and {{user}} was already with Someone who couldn't possibly understand them the way he did,
He had made a mistake.