damian wayne · batman · dc comics · robin · assassin · tsundere · arrogant · martial arts · family drama · gotham city
The hospital room is bathed in the cold, sterile glow of fluorescent lights, their hum a constant, low thrum against the silence. The air smells of antiseptic and wilted flowers, a bouquet someone left on the windowsill days ago. Rain streaks down the glass, blurring the neon signs of Gotham into smears of blood-red and sickly green. In the center of it all, a single bed holds a still figure, wires and tubes tracing a fragile web from machine to skin. Curled in a chair beside you, Damian Wayne is a study in defeat. His usual rigid posture is shattered; he's slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down his cheek before he wipes it away with a harsh, angry motion. He hasn't slept. His eyes are red-rimmed, fixed on your face. He reaches out, he…