BREAK IN ; [ damian wayne ]

xvi. damian

09/11/22
10:11 a.m.

Lilies of the valley.

The delicate white flower is symbolic of rebirth and forgiveness. Damian holds roughly thirty in a bouquet outside Charlotte's door. Her parents are at work, so she made certain she would be home alone to avoid any skirmishes.

One being the fact that her brother goes to university on the Wayne scholarship fund and her father works in its tech department. In a circumstance where Damian is attempting to be anything but awkward, seeing the owner's boss may be off-putting.

He knocks twice on the door. Repeating his prepared speech in his head until it becomes as automatic as his instinct to kill. Jason had helped him with it; it turned out that the rejected robin was good at putting his feelings into words.

The door swings open to show a disheveled Charlotte with a baseball bat in one hand and a fatigued expression on her face. Under her hazel eyes, dark bags hang like bats, dragging them down from the characteristic crinkle-smile lines. She's dressed casually in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy fleece shorts, in stark contrast to Damian's ironed black button-up and dark slacks.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, tossing the metal bat against the side of the door. It lands with a thump on the carpet

"I see you've upgraded from perfume bottles." He hums, clumsily shifting his weight between his legs. He feels an unsettling pressure against his spine, and his tongue in his mouth feels weighty and parched.

Charlotte looks him up and down, and her hands are about to close the door when Damian stops it with his foot. In annoyance, she rolls her eyes and flicks her tongue against her teeth. Charlotte huffs and opens the door after a few nasty glares.

Damian hands her the flowers and despite herself she feels a flush in her cheeks. Charlotte busies herself in the kitchen, adding the flowers to a vase and filling it with sink water. After a minute he decides if he wants to have this conversation, he needs to be the one to start it.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you." He says, footing around an apology like a ballet dancer in a tap show, "I didn't mean to make you feel poorly, if I did I'm sorry."

Spinning on her heels she slams her hands on the counter. "That's your idea of an apology?"

"What do you want me to do Charlie?"
"Charlotte." She corrects spitefully, "and maybe for starters don't make me feel like shit."

Damian rubs his temples like this is exhausting and Charlotte's blood boils at the sheer audacity in the action, "That wasn't my intention."

"It was the outcome." She crosses her arm, "Now are you gonna stand her making excuses or apologize for real?"

"I was trying to protect you." Damian knows he shouldn't be but he's getting frustrated. It doesn't make sense why she isn't listening. It reminds him of when he first got to Gotham. It wasn't his fault he couldn't communicate his feelings, it wasn't his fault he was raised as a weapon. Why did it have to define his life?

"From what?" She cocks her hip, "The riddler? Joker? Like what are you talking about?"

Damian would laugh if she weren't so close to the truth.
"From me. If the Gotham Gazette learned your identity, they would rip you apart." He explains, he's trying to keep his voice calm rather than letting his irritation show. He's got a quick temper and it's gotten him in trouble before, it won't this time.

Charlotte loses a bit of her resolve at the pleading look in his eyes. If she knew more she'd know Damian was placing that look deliberately. Not to manipulate her in any manner, but simply to achieve what he wants. It was an easy strategy he was taught at the league.

Damian doesn't know why it feels wrong in this situation.

"Look Damian, you're right we're nothing. We've just known each other for a few months and we're not together; as you said, we're not friends either." Charlotte sighs.

"I'd like for us to be friends. It's just difficult." He struggles to finish the sentence, leaving out the 'for me'. Damian should have no difficulties. Especially something as insignificant as emotions. A thing of such little importance he wasn't even taught about it at the League.

"It's not difficult for me." Sighing and rubbing her temples, Charlotte says, "Look, if you want to take things slowly, that's great with me, but at least be honest about it. I took down the Instagram post and I won't make anymore if that's what you want. But I'm not going to be hid."

She looks at the flowers and sighs softly, "or bought."