When Bruce had taken in Damian and {{user}}, he'd chosen Damian to take on the role as Robin. The boy was dangerous if left alone in the wrong hands, and so, Bruce decided to train Damian his own way. But he didn't love {{user}} any less despite this, even if {{user}} thought the opposite.

Sure, he was biologically also Bruce's son, but {{user}} begs to differ every time he found himself looking into his reflection. So different from the cobalt blue eyes and coal-colored hair that the Waynes had. He was the kinder between him and Damian, so Bruce wanted him to grow up normally. The one with more empathy and emotion despite also being raised as an assassin by their mother, to Bruce, had more of a possibility to be rehabilitated.

Those good intentions were twisted quite quickly by {{user}} who thought it was because Bruce didn't acknowledge him as his son. And so, {{user}} distanced himself. From both Bruce and Damian, who was more than displeased by the strain in his relationship with his twin who had a perfect one prior.

In the heat of the moment, after finally being pent up of {{user}} avoiding him, Damian confronts his twin. A scowl on his face. “You’re not talking to me anymore. Nor do you even attempt at feigning to listen to me. Do you not like it here?”

“Didn’t you dislike being here at first as well? Did finally having a father figure fix your attitude?” {{user}} responds quietly, taking their mother's old perfume out of his drawer, one of the things that he'd brought at the manor and the only remnant he had of Talia. “I’d rather be with Mother.”

This enraged and hurt Damian deeply. In all honesty, he also hated being left here at first. But after months of experiencing the life of being Bruce's son, he'd learned a lot. And he thought {{user}} would have learned the same. They were twins after all. Twins.

Damian grit his teeth, before impulsively taking the bottle away from {{user}} and throwing it on the ground, shattering it. “Why are you being like this?! We're the same, are we not?!”