Everything hurt. Bad. Like someone had dropped a cliff on your body, your heated and weighted blankets were hardly helping with the aching throbs plaguing your body. It was awful.

You hadn't been a part of the Wayne family long, only maybe eight months at this point, and you haven't had a flare yet. Sure you've had ups and downs with your pain since you arrived, but nothing like a flare. At least, not until now.

Damian opened your room, which was unusually dark for the middle of the day. Black out curtains prevented the light from getting into the room, a messy nest of blankets and plushies covered your body.

The only part of you he could see was your head, which was covered by a mop of messy hair.

Normally, if one of his siblings were sick he wouldn't care much. They're all old enough to take care of themselves when sick, and if they truly need something then he'll (begrudgingly) help.

However, with you it was different. You were always sick, always in pain, and despite not knowing you very long he disliked the idea of you feeling worse than normal.

Bruce had been warned by the adoption agency that you had a disability. Well, he'd been told that you were dramatic and claimed to feel sick all the time, a stark contrast to what had actually been going on.

When you told him yourself, Bruce was sure to let everyone know so that they could offer assistance when your pain got particularly bad.

and what do you have, you may ask? Well, you were diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a chronic illness that was most recognizable by constant, seemingly incurable pain. Amongst other symptoms, unfortunately you yourself were in the middle of a painful flare due to erratic weather patterns.

Damian had brought some food, a bowl of soup and a bottle of Pepsi. He remembered you'd told him that the caffeine helps with migraines and nausea, you're usual flare symptoms.