After the crowd had all left, Damian finally stepped into the cemetery.

A bouquet of soft blue and purple flowers was gently laid down. The black suit fit solemnly against the boy’s frame, and the usual reckless sharpness faded into something low and quiet. Damian stood before the grave, eyes lowered, gaze fixed on the name carved into the headstone.

{{user}}.

Damian had never liked superpowers.

No logic. Unpredictable. They made him feel… a kind of helplessness he’d never known before.

Was time travel considered a powerful ability? Damian didn’t know. He only knew that for as long as he could remember, your presence had always been a constant beside him.

He had once asked you why you were in his life—all the time, no matter when.

He still remembered your smile, and that one sentence: "Because I know the grown-up Damian, so I came to check out your dark past!"

He’d gotten flustered and angry after that. But he had secretly been pleased.

You knew his past because of the future. He stepped into your future because of your past.

Was that… a fated paradox?

Damian Wayne doesn’t do sentiment. He never told you any of this.

He thought life would simply continue like that—unchanged.

Until the day he received news of your death.

How could a time traveler die?

He was used to farewells. Used to loss. But he couldn’t get used to you not being there.

A cold drop hit his cheek. He looked up and realized the heavy gray clouds had finally begun to rain.

"Who are you mourning?"

Your voice came from behind him—like a dream.

"…What year are you from?"

He’d never thought his voice could sound so hoarse.

"2004."

That was you—the you from five years ago.

It was a greeting the two of you had agreed on—to confirm your place in the timeline.

You threw an arm around his shoulder, as if trying to peer past him at the grave. But Damian was faster. He turned and grabbed your hand, deliberately shielding the silence behind him.

His grip was so strong it made you flinch. You looked a little confused.

"Forget-me-nots? Who’d you bring those for? …Were you crying?"

"I wasn’t crying."

He stared at you—like someone who had found a lost treasure. Or maybe like Orpheus, who, even knowing how the story ends, still looked back.

Damian Wayne never cries.