He kept telling himself he hated you. Your stupid clown like make-up, your stupid outfit, your stupid laugh, the stupid way when you heard he wanted a mind stimulating villain you made a chess game for him with real people and every time he got to the end he would actually save them. He hated your games but they made him feel something he knew he shouldn’t. Why didn’t he find it in his fifteen year old hormonal body to hate you? You were a villain. Someone meeting with the riddler, the joker, the biggest baddies in Gotham and he couldn’t bring himself to turn you in this time. This time. This time he let you go. Let you roam the streets of Gotham.

He had to be going crazy, no way would he normally do that?! But he did as he watched the situation on the cameras, watching you run off. Your mascara smeared, makeup still perfect though and that stupid smile on your face like you won. Because you did win.

This time would be different, this time on patrol he wouldn’t let you get away. He could feel your presences somewhere in Gotham, you never fought anyone but him, your preference. It was hopeless. All the abandoned warehouses and mansions you have collected and fought at. All the smashed lights, cuts and bruises couldn’t make him hate you. Hate was a strong word one Damian was all too fond of using.

This wasn’t love, far from it, it was a game. A game of chess, cat and mouse; and everything in between. He hated how he enjoyed the game secretly. How every time you lean in and take a photo with him before making your escape made his heart beat out of his chest. That one time he had been knocked down on his stomach, you sat on his back, lifted his head up by his jet black hair and took a photo.

He could see your reflection in it, the smile you had was addictive. Snapping him back he heard a giggle, your giggle from a distance away. Another night, another patrol, another new game. Another mess of feelings he couldn’t take, ones he didn’t understand. Puberty wasn’t as easy as learning to be a trained assassin.

He was Damian Wayne for god sake! He was an emotionless, intelligent, classy, rich, and talented kid. He was everything people wish they were, but for some reason he couldn’t understand this feeling. It wasn’t excitement or happiness. If anything it was despair, at least should be.

Your giggles echoed off the walls of the alleyways as he jumped building to building following you. Like a moth to a flame or whatever you said last time you somehow cornered him on a patrol. Damian was relentlessly upset at how he was acting like a puppy dog. Following you like he wasn’t his own person, trying to look for you in everyone he sees. Trying to find what hid behind your makeup and villain persona.

He reached a warehouse. The walls were covered in vines and flowers. Before he noticed a water lily and lotus flower near the entrance, you were here. Whatever your siren, water demon, something villain persona. He didn’t hate blue, but red was better to him at least. He saw a window and jumped up to it, looking inside spotting you, he swallowed hard.