BREAK IN ; [ damian wayne ]

xxiii. charlotte

10/9/22
7:12 p.m.

The fifth time they hang out, Charlotte holds his hand.

The first time was at an art gallery, where the mood was tense but friendly, with a flirtatious attitude dancing softly in the air. The second was the apology at her residence; it was a new, hesitant beginning — a day when two people understood each other a little better.

The third was full of laughter and sunshine. They went to the bludhaven pop-up carnival, Charlotte threw up from the funnel cake, and Damian smiled more in seven hours than he had in months. Cotton candy was ridiculous but delicious in his opinion, and Charlotte looked otherworldly in blue skirts and yellow eyeshadow. Charlotte discovered Damian detested rollercoasters and was a jackass in bumper cars.

The fourth time, Damian abruptly leaves the Alibi midway through lunch due to a family situation. But before he does it's filled with family stories from Charlotte and exasperated sighs from Damian.

Damian is seated on the couch in Charlotte's flat for the fifth time, a slasher film playing on the television and a warm hand slowly enclosing his. On the coffee table in front of them is popcorn, a can of Coke for Charlotte, and sparkling water for Damian.

Damian couldn't explain what was going on in the movie, but he could precisely describe Charlotte's bumpy skin texture and the creases around her eyes.

"It just doesn't make sense! Why should Kate and Simon die trying to save Sam? She's a total asshole and they don't even know her." Kate's head is being forced through a bread slicer while Charlotte rants, reiterating her accusation probably for the fifth time.

She jerks at the jumpscares and squirms at the gore, and it's so human that Damian's body completely melts.

He doesn't flinch or cringe while their arms are severed or their faces are slashed into bits of blood and flesh. Charlotte jokes about him being a criminal, and Damian retorts that the joke is getting old.

"Sam is clearly selfish." He agrees, his skin tingling as Charlotte's thumb caresses his calloused and bruised knuckles.

When she asked about them, he replied that he enjoyed boxing in his spare time. He knew how to fight a home invader, and she bought it since she was naive and trusting.

"No, Deena is the real selfish one. She's killing her friends just to get a girl who totally screwed her over back! It's ridiculous!"

"They're a problematic pair."

"More like insufferably pretentious and toxic."

Charlotte doesn't give the movie much more of a chance before turning it off in a huff and drinking her soda through the metal straw she put in it.

Charlotte pulls her hands away from their intertwined fingers, lifting her legs off the ground and laying flat on the couch, her legs resting on Damian's lap.

His initial response is to push them aside, yell at her, and storm away, but he enjoys the feeling of being around her and likes her even more.

"Whatever happened on Tuesday?"
"My brother needed help with an assignment."

She nods, and a hush falls over the room. It's not tense or awkward; it's the kind of stillness that occurs during a play, filled with awe and wonder.

It's surprising when Damian breaks the silence, "The gala is coming up."

Charlotte nods for him to continue.

"I thought maybe you'd enjoy it," he says.
"Are you asking me to the gala?" Charlotte asks.

"If you want to, that is," Damian swallows.

"Will Garfield be there?"

"No, he's in Jump City."  Damian scowls.

"I guess you'll have to do," she says, making a mournful look while slumping her shoulders overdramatically.

"I suppose so. Now, will you be my date?" Regardless, a flush crawls up his turtleneck and flushes against his dark cheeks.

She makes a face and quirks an eyebrow, "Will there be food?"