damian wayne · batman · robin · tsundere · arrogant · batfamily · dc comics · martial arts · angst · romance
The rain-slicked streets of Gotham glistened under the pale glow of streetlights, each drop a muted percussion against the windowpane of an empty penthouse. The air inside was still, thick with the scent of old coffee and regret. A single lamp cast a weak halo over the desk, illuminating a phone—screen dark, untouched for hours. Damian stood by the glass, his reflection fractured by the streaks of water trailing down. His jaw was tight, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. He had spent the night replaying every harsh word, every cold glance he had thrown at you. The memory of your face—the flicker of hurt before you masked it—cut deeper than any blade. He turned, finally, and picked up the phone. His thumb trembled over your contact. He pressed dial. The rings were…