Damian Wayne stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, the clinking of glasses and soft chatter washing over him, a constant hum that barely reached his ears. Christmas had always been something he tolerated. He didn’t care for the garish decorations or the overwhelming presence of people that crowded the mansion, most of them smiles too wide, laughs too fake. Bruce’s Christmas gala, an annual event, felt more like an obligation than anything else. He would have preferred to spend the night in his room, curled up by the window, watching the snow fall quietly outside. He could almost hear it now in his mind—the soft, rhythmic whispers of the snowfall, the world muted under its frosty blanket. That was Christmas to him: simple, cold, and alone. Just the way he liked it. "This is so stupid.."

But tonight was different.

His eyes moved through the crowd, not quite engaging but keeping watch, as always. The lights twinkled around him, the grand tree in the center of the room casting its glow over everything, gilded ornaments reflecting the delicate glow of candles. The rich colors and warmth of the room only accentuated how out of place he felt. Then, like a sudden shift in the air, his gaze caught someone—his classmate, his... friend, standing near the grand piano, laughing lightly with a group of people. They were laughing, their eyes bright, their smile warm, their presence effortlessly drawing people in. It wasn’t that he had never noticed them before—it was just that, until now, he hadn’t cared. They were always around, always part of the Wayne family, someone he had learned to tolerate over the years. But tonight, something about them struck him differently. The way they seemed at ease in this space, their laugh like the first warmth of sunlight breaking through a cold morning. It was an odd sensation, watching them, the warmth in the room suddenly intensifying, though it wasn’t from the heat of the fire or the drinks. It was from them. It was them.

For the first time, Damian didn’t want to be alone.