#DamiJon is always at each other’s throats

[sing-me-under]

Can I talk about my two favorite Damian ships for a second? No? I’m going to anyway.

I think Damian x Colin and Damian x Jon are super adorable. I’m just a big fan of all Damian relationships, whether they be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic. I think that Colin and Jon especially have a lot of potential and bring out a lot in Damian as a character.

However, I’m an endgame DamiJon truther, further exacerbated by their wonderful co-parenting of Lizzie Prince.

I think that Colin would be like the middle school best friend who Damian started dating in high school and into college but they kind of just fall apart for whatever reason. They’ve grown up together and helped each other grow as heroes and as people, but now they need space to grow as individuals. They’ve always fallen into a comfortable silence together, but after all these years, it just feels a little too tight, like a shirt you’ve just grown out of. They’re still best friends but now it’s awkward sleeping in the same bed of the apartment they share because they’re not dating anymore but nothing really changed either even though it feels like it really really should have.

And then Jon is the other best friend who was long distance (and simultaneously developed through forced proximity via their parents) so the connection didn’t build as naturally or as strongly as it did with Colin, but well, Damian was kind of getting sick of the awkward tension and he wasn’t going to be the one to kick Colin out of the apartment so he just escapes for a bit to Jon’s place. Cue Damian unofficially moving to Metropolis while house hunting in Gotham then just never moving out. Damian and Jon have very good chemistry that’s always existed but skewed when Jon got aged up and started dating Jay (at this point, Jon and Jay would’ve broken up and moved on in their individual love lives). Now that they’re in the same state of maturity, they just kind of click into place again.

Anyway, I like the idea of Damian and Jon not being romantically involved for like however many years and then one day, someone asks how long they’ve been together and they never officially started but they’re basically married at this point so like why not. There’s no drama or build up. It’s just them being soulmates.

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Your Tears in My Dreams (DamiJon) Part : 2/2

Rating : General Audiences 

Summary :

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer. But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried. —- Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Why do you want to know now?” “Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.” “You think it’s your fault?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Inspired by this beautiful art of Jon crying and Damian not knowing what to do by @glitter-dc

Read on AO3

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word count : 6k

Four days of tedious meetings with Wayne Enterprise later, Damian has finally done his duty as the League of Al-Ghul’s representation.

Now, he’s on the front gate of Kent’s farm and walking down the dirt path to the front door. The house is a typical American farmhouse. Everything is the same except the rows of potted plants on the front porch and the different paint of the house. It used to be deep blue color, now it’s creamy yellow. The wooden fences were painted blue, and now the paints mostly chipped away.

From the pathway, Damian can see the sunflower field behind the house. It looks identical as he remembered only shorter and smaller in his eyes now. It stretches from the far left starting from a barn and to the far right. There used to be two horses in that barn where Jon and he would ride a brown mare named Macey, and sometimes the white stallion Jackie.

The Kent’s farmhouse was supposed to be their vacation house. Damian had come here for summer vacation to spend time in nature and play around with Jon. His happy memories here were running into the sunflower field, playing chase. Riding on top of the tractors while Mr. Kent drives. Picnics under their favorite ginormous oak tree, while working on their summer homework. Helping Mrs. Kent hangs the laundry and playing hide and seek between the sheets.

It was a place where he allowed himself to be a child.

The front door opens before Damian gets to reach the porch. A beaming smile from a woman whose face barely changes greets him.

“Damian! It’s been so long.” The woman steps out to the front porch, with her pink apron over a checkered red dress and folded sleeves on her arms that open to greet him.

Her black hair is long now, they’re blown by the breeze and sway like the sunflower field behind her humble house.

Damian speed walks across the path and hugs her. She wraps her arms around him tightly. Though he’s taller than her now, he still feels like that small and fragile boy under her motherly arms.

“Hello to you too Lois, you’ve been well?”

“I am,” She lets go and opens the door, “Come inside, have you eaten lunch?”

“I have.”

“Coffee or tea then? Maybe a little snack? I’m baking my apple pie since I know you’re coming.”

“Lois, you shouldn’t have, I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“None of that! It’s been too long since I last saw you, you never even visit.” Lois then stopped and looks at Damian from top to bottom. “You’ve grown into such a looker!” she slaps Damian’s arm playfully.

“Thank you,” Damian flustered.

Damian walks into the house after her. The open kitchen is on the left, while the sofa and tv in on the right, just like he remembered. There’s barely any changes around. The floor plan and decoration are still at the same place, even the pictures by the walls are the same arrangement. There are only a few furniture changed to something new.

“Is Clark home?”

“No, he’s at work, but he’s coming home early today if you’d like to stay and say hi.”

“I’ll do that, thank you for welcoming me.”

“Oh don’t be so uptight! I take it you’re not here only to see us, are you?” Lois smiles lightly, warm and bright, like her son’s.

“No, I’m here to ask about Jon.”

Her pale pink lips parted and she steps back a little, “Oh? You are?” Lois is noticeably stupefied.

“Yes. I believe I might’ve said something upsetting to Jon ten years ago.”

“Upsetting? Were you fighting?”

“No, we never fight,” Despite Damian always rejecting Jon’s friendship at first, the fight was always one-sided.

“But that day, I made him cry, and I can’t remember what I said or did,” Damian admits, taking a deep breath and looks up to meet Lois’s eyes.

Her smile is no more, but her eyes warm and welcoming, giving him her full attention.

“I was wondering if he ever told you why he cried. If he told you something I’ve said?”

Lois sighed and put his hand of Damian’s arm, rubbing with her thumb.

“Wait here,” She said before walking down the halls and disappears into Jon’s room, then returns with a book in hand.

“He never told me that he cried in front of you, but I believe the answer you seek is in here,” she hands him a book with mixed patterns on the cover. It looks like a diary, and it’s definitely not a diary they exchange to each other, because Damian had never seen this one before.

“Is it okay for me to read something so private?”

“You needed it, and he’ll understand. I think he’ll even thank me.” Lois winks.

His hands hesitated, before finally taking it from Lois’ hands, “Thank you. Where’s Jon?”

“Under the oak tree behind the house.”

“Ah, our tree,” Damian cracks a smile, he misses that spot, “I’ll go see him.”

Lois clenches his hands on top of her chest, long lashes flutter before she reaches out and lands her hand on his shoulder. “Alright,” she stated weakly, as if unsure, “Alright, don’t stay out too late now!” she says clearer and smiles.

Damian spares a curl of a smile, and can only nod gratefully to her before walking out the door.

With the book in hand, Damian stops by the steps down the porch. He sits there and read the diary first before going around the house.

It felt like trespassing someone’s private life. They usually read each other’s diaries but Jon doesn’t give him this one himself.

After pondering for a few minutes, in the end, his curiosity wins. The book contains his goal and reason for going out of his way to come here. And if Lois, who knows her son the most, gave this to him to read, means that it’s really okay. He opens the cover and read the first page.

‘January 1st, 2010

My dearest diary,

From now on, we only have each other, it’ll be one of my new year resolutions. First, I can’t give you to Damian anymore, because--’

Damian looks away, already regretting reading that part. Whatever Jon writes here, he doesn’t want Damian to know, and he has to honor that. Damian just needs to know what happened on 17th November 2010.

The diary starts at the first Januar. Jon always has a new resolution every year and as suspected of most people, forgot it in mid-January. This has got to be the only one Jon followed through

Not wanting to probe any more than he needed to, Damian flips the pages and only looks for the dates. Then he finally found it, at least he thought he does. The dates jump, further and further towards the end of the year. The entry Damian looked for is the first one in two months.

November 18th, 2010

I did something stupid yesterday. I can’t believe I cried in front of Damian, and I can’t stop for the love of. I thought I’m getting better at hiding it, but at that moment everything just burst out and I’m not in control anymore. Damian told me he’s going back when he graduates high school. That’s two years away in his fancy smart class in his even fancier and more prestigious high school his mom made him enroll. I’m already busting my ass to get to the same high school, but I don’t think I can graduate the same time as Damian. As much as I HATE to admit it, I’m just not as smart as Damian!

Can’t he just hit the breaks or something? I know he’s smart, but it’s like he’s rushing to get out of my face or something.

No, Damian never wanted to leave. His mother had demanded his return as quickly as possible, that’s why he was rushing.

I was already tearing up when he says he’ll be leaving... I had hoped we can get into the same university, I thought I had more time. But then he told me he had no choice, He was bound to return and continue his family’ weird tradition of making him do these things they already set him to do. Then he told me about a fiancee that was chosen for him. He started talking about something else but I didn’t listen, because I was already bursting in tears.

I know it’s still too soon for marriage talks, we’re 15! He’s 15! But then it’s just so sudden. Damian just accepts it as it is... He’ll go with it. It’s one of those weird lists his mom made him do, but he wants to do it, and I hate that I can’t blame anyone. It just hits me hard and bad that Damian is not someone like me or someone that can never like me.

It was so embarrassing. He thought it was his fault, but I don’t know... I was just crying because

Diary, I’m so thankful that you’ll never judge me. I can say anything I want and you’ll accept me. If only I can ask you something... to tell me if I’m wrong or not, whether or not I should give up. I’m afraid, but just accepting it as it is so lonely... I don’t feel like going to school. I’m not ready to see him yet. I don’t think I can remain calm seeing him again. There are just so many things I’m sad about but  I can’t tell him about it, and you can’t do anything but listen. It’s not enough!

I just wanted to have a chance

Should I just go for it? And consequences be damned? I’m just sick of feeling hidden like this. I can’t lie well.

I’m afraid of telling my parents... the pastor always told us that

I just feel like a weirdo, like I’m broken. I’d hate it if Dami thinks I’m sick too and starts avoiding me like I’m a virus I’d rather

What am I going to do? I don’t want anything to change with Dami I just can’t and I’m lost I don’t know how

Diary, will I ever be ready?

When the time comes for me to attend his wedding, can I bear the pain of seeing someone I love marry another?

Damian stopped breathing, and re-read the last sentences. Then re-read the whole entry. And each time he reads them, something chokes him. It’s hard to hold onto the book when there’s no strength left on his hands. He exhaled a shaky breath and looks away from the letters on his lap.

He knows he promised not to read any more than what he needed. Damian already got the answer he seeks, but the next entry is the last one. Lois did give him the whole book, and Damian turns that reason for his justification.

‘January 1st, 2011

Damian used to tease me for having new years resolution. Well tough luck on him! I kept this diary from him for a year as a resolution, and I did it!

As for this year's resolution, it’s going to be harder. But I need to do this... I just need to.

I’ll confess to Damian, but I don’t think I can ever say it without incoherently stutter and sobbing and shaking like a newborn fawn taking its first step. Because this is, in a way, a first step for me... He’s going to be the first one to know, after my parents of course.

I’ve never been so sure. I’ve talked about it with my parents, and I’ve never felt so grateful to have them in my life than at that moment. I love them for not avoiding me or even worse, putting me on a camp like I’ve seen on the internet. Their love for me is so limitless that I finally have the courage to at least... confess in some way, but I’m still really scared though.

There’s where you came in handy diary. I’m going to give you to him, and he’s going to read everything I’ve been hiding from him. How it all started, all my fears, and the things I’ve been hiding, and my secret feelings for him. How I started to fall in love with him.

Oh god, my hands are sweating now and I can’t even hold the pen right. I realized now that Damian is going to read this...

I guess I’m no longer addressing this to ‘Diary’. This is for you Damian.

I love you. If you read from the first entry, you’ll know how it started, and I know it’s kinda dumb haha. But I really do love you. Sometimes too much that it hurts and I can’t sleep at night. Whenever I see you, I imagine a future where I’ll get to see your smiling face beside me for the rest of my life. I want to hold your hand like we did when we’re kids and doesn’t know any better. I want to kiss your cheek again like I did before everyone decided it’s too weird for two grown boys to kiss each other. I just want to love you and be with you.

I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, I just hoped you won't see me differently, or avoid me. It’s okay if you reject me, or stay away from me for a few weeks maybe, I just hoped we can stay friends. Even though we won't be more than friends, I’ll take what you offer. No matter what, I’ll be your best friend, and nothing can change that but you.

I’m probably too nervous to see you. So, put this on my backpack for a no, and put it on my locker for a yes.

Feel free to write in a reply. I’ll be waiting.’

Damian chuckles that soon turns into a full wet laugh. He closed the book, with a content smile on his face, now he’s ready to meet Jon.

He walks around the back of the house.

The sunflowers are taken care of now since the Kents moved in here. Once, between the dense bright green stems that soars tall to the sky and sunflowers facing the sun, he was short enough to hide in it.

The dirt pathway that splits the field in the middle leads to a big oak tree at the end of the lane. It rooted right at the feet of the knolls that still counted as Kent’s property. It’s never changing from he last saw it as if stuck in time, or the years that passed is nothing but a blink for the ancient tree. It has the same branches, and the same leaves as Damian remembered.

In the summer break, when it was too hot to stay indoors, he and Jon would sit under that tree’s shadow with cold beverages and Lois’ apple pie with ice cream on top. Talking about nonsense, or drawing, or playing with dirt, stick, and stones. It was all nonsensical for Damian who always taught to be an adult at an early age, but he enjoys letting himself do unproductive fun with Jon and not be ridiculed. Then at night, they would climb to the top of the knoll and camp there, roasting marshmallows and watched the stars.

In this farm, that time, he was a child. He was having fun.

Under the tall oak tree, the lights that passed its many branches and leaves would land on his face, as he laid there beside Jon. Often, he would look to his side, dark hair laid to frame his pale face that blotched with hints of pink, the way his face reflected the sunlight, he looked like an angel.  His blue irises reflect lights like diamonds and a smile that outshines the sun. Jon was beautiful.

Stepping into the shadow of the mighty tree, Damian felt his heart drops to the soft pasture on his feet. The breath he exhaled shakes and he puts all his strength to hold onto Jon’s diary.

“Hello, Jon,” Damian whispered under his breath.

Despite the pain, Damian couldn’t even express a tinge of it. It’s really been too long since he last visits this place.

On the trimmed grass, Damian kneels in front of Jon’s headstone. The upright monument bevels from the five-centimeter base that’s surrounded in wildflowers. A design of light grey granite with gold linings and Jon’s name in white. A mound and flowers carved at the top and the headstone reaching just below Damian’s chest.

His name is looking towards the fields where they spent their childhood. It’s a perfect place filled with memory for Jon to rest. Where he’ll get sun, stars, nature, and family always by his side.

The day is bright and sunny without any clouds in the sky, and the sun shines on the petals of the sunflowers. They are all looking up to the sun, bringing out their golden hue.

“Is this why you came to my dreams? To make me come here and give you my reply?” Damian asked to the nothingness, and no one answers.

But Damian gave what Jon wanted anyway.

“Since I was born, I was given purposes, duties, a place to fill and expectations to meet. I have the name, and resources to get there. Most people approach to have that benefit from me, and I’ll only tend to them who I can also benefit from. You are someone who asks nothing of me but my company. Not my name, not my position, not my privileges, not my responsibilities, not my resources, just me. Everything I own, borrowed or owed from my family and ancestors, but you? You’ve been mine the moment you held my hand when you thought I wouldn’t notice. When you kissed my cheek before you’re too ashamed to be seen by others.”

The afternoon sun was too dazzling, and his vision starts to blur. So, Damian closes his eyes, and his knees gave up, making him sit instead.

“If you had asked for my love, I would’ve given it to you in a heartbeat.” Damian sighed, and all the strength in his body left with his breath. “I would’ve stayed here forever if you wanted me to, but when you left, it’s painful to stay. So I ran away from this place.”

The lights getting too bright, he’s starting to lose his balance. His head lulled from side to side, he suddenly feels tired. He scoots forward a bit and lay down on the grass beside Jon. Looking up to the veined branches and tiny dense leaves. A few lights breached through, they look like dots, shining bright light stars. Jon and Damian used to pretend they’re constellation made for them.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited, I couldn’t... I was scared too.”

He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but when the lights return, he is no longer at the back of Kent’s farm under the oak tree.

It was the school's hallway. They’re in their middle school uniform, the bell just rang so there were no kids around. They talked as they were going to their separate classes.

One thing had led to another, and Jon asked, “Hey Dami? Where’re you planning to go for university?”

“We haven't even finished middle school yet.”

“Humor me! Just wanna know.”

“My mother chose that for me already, probably somewhere in Brittain.”

“Wh-what? That far?” Jon was for the lack of a better word, caught off guard like it’s so far from what he expected.

“Yes, I don’t have control over that.”

“But why? I thought your mom lets you do stuff on your own now.”

Damian laughed out loud, “Hell would freeze before that happens. Al-Ghuls forge their children as the previous generation sees fit. It was done for my mother by my grandfather, and it is done for me by her. Soon, with the fiancee of her choice, I will have a child on my own and forge them.”

“Fi-fiancee?”

“Yes, I’ve met her. She’s older than me by four years. We’ll marry when I have come of age and established a position in the League of Al-Ghuls, and you, of course, without a doubt will be my best man. There’s a list of accomplishment of what I need to do the moment I was born. The Al-Ghul family line is prestigious, and I can’t say I’m pressured when I can execute every expectation perfectly without a struggle. But, I’m pushing my mother’s patience for staying here until high school. So I have to meet her demands for university no-”

Damian realized after a few steps of his own that Jon didn’t follow. When he turned around, Jon had tears pouring cats and dogs from his sky orbs of blue. Hand clenched into a shaking fist, Jon pursed his lips and looks at Damian as if one of them just died.

Never in their years of friendship did Damian ever made Jon cry, not even when Damian had pushed Jon away before.

Seeing Jon cry as if the world falls apart, Damian didn’t know what to say. He wanted to apologize but he didn’t know what he did wrong. So, Damian did what he can do. They skipped class for the first time, and slip into the empty gymnasium. When they’re alone there, they sit by the bleachers and Damian put his arms around his shoulder as long as he cried.

There are so many things Damian wanted to ask, say, and do that are different.

He wanted to say, “Tell me what’s wrong.” His replayed memory let the word be said.

Little 15-year-old Jon looks at him, “No, Dami... I’m just afraid.”

“You claimed to know me but you don't! I don’t want to lose you too!” Damian exclaimed. His words echo meaninglessly to the imagery that long passed.

Jon said nothing. He had said nothing for a long time back then, just crying on his shoulder as Damian foolishly keeps silent.

A bright light flashed across his eyes and everything is white. When color returns, Jon is no longer in his arms.

He was in the school hallway, he remembered this feeling of dread cooking in his gut that tells him to turn around and leave, but he wanted to see Jon more. To confront him about why he cried after his restlessness finally able to break his apathy.

It was their first day of school in 2011 after the new year holiday. Damian remembered it like it just happened yesterday. He was –despite his disdain of breaking the rules- running down the halls because he woke up late. Alfred had thought he was sick and let him be, but what happened was, Damian couldn’t sleep because he’s nervous about asking Jon why he cried. It bothered him until Damian finally felt that enough is enough. He needed to talk to Jon about it, and he psyched himself to do it until 3 am.

While he was running to his class, he heard a loud bang from the end of the hall. Children were screaming as the continuous sound of what Damian had identified as gunshots, fired repeatedly like a machine gun.

Damian had just arrived, he’s near the exit and he easily turned around ran out of the building.

There’re a lot of kids following him to run outside in a panic and on their phones, Damian did that too. And the first one he called was Jon, who doesn’t pick up. Then he tried Clark, who fell on voice mail, and then he tried Lois who finally picked up.

“Lois? Where’s Jon? There’s a shooting happening, don’t come!”

“Oh, Oh dear God.., I already drop him to school.”

Damian blanked out, and the next thing he did was run back into the school building the same way he came out. Jon had AP Science for the first period, and Damian ran towards that class without a second thought.

There’s laughter growing closer down the hall mixed with pleading and cries. Quickly, before the voice grew too close, Damian hid on the janitor’s closet with the louvered door.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears when the weight of the situation finally settled on him. There’s a killer on the loose, and they had guns. From the shots that fired, and the sudden silence, there’s a possibility that someone could’ve already...

Damian heard screaming growing closer and running steps.

From the space between the parallel bars on the door, Damian peeked out to the halls, seeing a couple of school's running and pass. But before they could disappear from Damian’s eyesight, shots fired, and red dots appear on their back before they fell flat on the floor.

A boy giggled maniacally and ran pass the hall holding an assault rifle. The boy was a senior, someone from Damian’s class. The gunshots continue, followed by children screaming, but it’s further now. Damian’s fear of his life redirected to his fear of Jon’s life. Once again, he tried calling Jon’s phone as he steps out of the closet. The gunshots were far away now, and the school was awfully quiet.

At long last, he finally heard Jon’s ringtone.

Damian ran as quick as he can, towards the voice of the ringtone that was far away from the gunshot.

When he finally reached Jon’s class, which was empty, he sighed in relieve.

They had an emergency exit plan in case of disasters happened. Damian followed the sign that hung from the ceiling and follows the pathway to the exit. The more he ran, the more body he found. His eyes darted around the barely developed bodies lies lifeless on their own of pool of blood spilled on the white tiles.

Damian tried calling Jon’s phone again.

He heard his ring tone. A melancholic piano and a voice singing gently with his smooth voice. Damian sought that familiar melody in the dead silence of the hallway.

It was Jon’s favorite song, one among many on the CD they often play on a portable cd player when they go camping. The song calmed him, makes him focused as his feet stepped over the bodies in the halls. On accident, His feet stepped on blood once too many times in his horror. Reciting the lyrics helped himself from breaking down.

“I-I'll find repose in new ways though I haven't slept in two days, cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone. But drenched in van-n-nilla twilight, I'll sit on the front porch all night. Waist deep in thought because when I think of you I don't feel so alone. I don't feel so alone...”

The song was finally loud and clear. He made a turn to the left, and the exit is right at the end of that hall. Some bodies laid right before they reach it, those were people who didn’t make it.

Vanilla twilight is still playing, and he knows where it’s from. A dim light shines through front trousers pocket in one of the body laying down the halls.

Damian hangs up, and the light goes out too.

What was he hoping for when Damian walks closer to that body? The black-haired boy looks away from him as if sparing him, giving him a chance to look away. But Damian persists, walking towards the body that laid still on the floor with two growing red spots on his chest. Kneeling beside the body, right on the pool of red, with trembling hands, Damian slowly held his face and turns it to face him.

The skin was still warm to the touch, and the face that he adores with its soft features doesn’t even move the tiniest muscle. A few strands of his soft curls stick on his face. A pair of unmoving eyes stared back at Damian, a haunting sight how empty they were.

Every drop of blood in Damian’s body turns cold. His hands trembled as he held Jon’s face. A light came into view from the end of the hall right in front of him. He saw Jon’s pupils constrict when the lights hits.

“Jon?” Damian called, rubbing his face gently, but Jon still didn’t move at all.

The next thing he knew he was lifted by the stomach and a lot of grown-ups yelling and running from the light.

Whatever their face looks like, it’s blurry. Whatever they said, it’s wispy. What’s clear as day is Jon’s eyes on him as Damian was taken away.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, “Don’t take me away, let me stay here. Jon!” No one heard him.

He was a light tween and in shock, he barely put up a fight. His hands reached out to Jon, but the man that carried him ignored his plea.

It was the last time Damian ever saw Jon.

Damian didn’t even walk up to his casket on the funeral home, he doesn’t want to see Jon with his eyes closed.

After he finished middle school, he left to Saudi Arabia, continuing the task his mother planned for him ever since he was in her stomach. It served as Damian’s goal, a distraction, something to occupy his mind.

Years passed and he’s married to his work more than he is to his wife. To be fair, so is she. He rarely stays long in Gotham. Only a day or two for business trips, and he left as soon as he can. Then it became a habit to avoid ever coming to Gotham.

Damian was raised like an heir, but Jon makes him feel human, a kid, a teenager. The first person that ever make him feels like, well, a regular person. He got a taste of family and love. Jon taught him that it’s not shameful to be vulnerable. For the first time, Damian felt happy. Not accomplishment after succeeding a task. Not relieve when he doesn’t make a mistake. Just pure happiness.

There’s nothing left in this city if Jon is not here.

That is, until the dreams of him crying, like he’s trying to take him back here.

Damian had felt numb since Jon left. He doesn’t let himself remember the bad or the end, only the good.

He doesn’t let himself misses Jon.

But he did. Every single day since that day there has been a whole in the shape of him in Damian’s chest. And every day since that day, Damian had gotten better at ignoring it.

Even so, the past still caught up with him. Damian still can’t forget, and he can’t pretend it didn’t happen anymore.

Damian wakes up sobbing, crouching in a fetal position towards Jon’s grave. His tears flow like rivers on a rainy day. Tucked his head on his knees, Damian hugs himself as he cried out his chest over his loss after ten years of keeping it in his tight lidded heart

A hand landed on his back, and slowly, Damian looks up and see Lois with a slight curl on her lips and sad doe eyes.

“Did you ever said goodbye?”

“I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to let him go.” Damian croaks.

Lois pulls his arms up and caught him in a hug. Damian quick to latch on too, holding onto her back. Her long fingers rub the top of Damian’s head in slow languid movement. Rocking him slightly side to side.

“I think you’re here for a reason,” Lois comforts, “Why else would you come after ten years without looking back?”

Damian looks over her shoulder, to the fields of sunflowers that faces west, to the glow that starts to orange.

“The dreams. I dreamt of him crying. I just... wanted to say I’m sorry for making him cry.”

“But my son died.”

“Not to me,” Damian persists, and immediately realized what he just said, “I never... It all happened so quickly. I saw him the day before, I was here with you and Clark and Jon to see fireworks, and the next day he... I just can’t... I’m not ready to let him go just yet, Lois I can’t--”

“I know, Damian. Believe me, I know how it felt... But you’ve met now, you’re here.” Lois keeps rubbing his back.

“Do... Do you think he brought me here?”

Lois chuckled, and it puts a weak smile on Damian too. “He wanted you to know how he felt, he wanted you to mourn him, and he knows the only one that can bring you to do that, is himself.”

Jon’s crying in his memory had brought him here. Maybe the sudden reminder is not a coincidence. The sunset grows dark, and after taking a deep slow breath, Damian closed his eyes. His mind takes him back to the last scene of his dream.

The memory didn’t change, nor was it a mere dream. He can’t forget the last day he saw Jon like it’s a cursed blessing.

But now, with his eyes closed and Lois familiar smell to Jon’s, he remembers that moment even clearer and with more details.

A police officer was the one that carried Damian out of the hallways filled with dead kids. Paramedics run in from the opposite way of where he was taken. One of them kneels beside Jon’s body, while his eyes are still at him, shining like the lake under the blue sky, like how Jon always sees him. The paramedic pressed their fingers on Jon’s neck and started to press the wounds. Jon’s eyelids twitched like a dying flutter of butterfly wings still trying to fly. And Damian sees that, sees that Jon is still alive as he was taken.

Do you know why I always smiled, Damian? He heard Jon says, but his lips don’t move.

In their last moment together, even as they’re being separated, they get to see each other one last time. With the last energy he had, though it was weak and faint, Jon was smiling at him.

Because I was with you.

Damian breathes in as he opens his eyes to meet the sunset again, and tears roll down to Lois’ shoulder. Was he imagining his voice? Somehow, for whatever the answer is, Damian accepts it.

“Lois, he was alive.”

“He was critical when the paramedics found him, there’s nothing they can do,” Lois corrected, her voice cracks, “And I’m glad you’re the last thing he sees.”

Slowly, she retracts just enough to hold Damian’s face and wipes his wet cheeks with her thumbs. She looked just like Jon. His look of compassion, feminine nose and those earnest blue eyes, all he got from her.

“What am I going to do now?” Damian faltered.

“You’re going to cry your heart out until it’s satisfied, and then, you move on.”

Damian bites his lips, and eyes pooled with a new wave of tears, “I don’t want to forget him.”

“I’m not telling you to. Moving on is not forgetting. It’s coming to terms with loss, and when you remember him, it won’t hurt as much. It’s going to be a long process, especially when you never even started. But you’re welcome to come and talk to him, or just to visit me and Clark. You’re not alone, we’re going to be fine.”

What Lois said is just still too hard to accept, but the one who weeps the most was her when she drove to the school right after Damian’s call and sees Jon’s body in a bag. If she can do it, maybe it’s worth a try for Damian.

“Thank you, Lois... Can you leave me with him for a bit, please?”

“Of course sweetheart,” She complied, patting Damian on the back before she stands up and leaves.

Damian takes his attention to the knoll behind him. It’s lush from the bottom to the top. When he looks up, the gaps between leaves and branches no longer glares with light like stars since the sun is setting. The sunflower fields are dense and healthy, and the pasture around them is lush, pillowy and green. It’s a pretty sight, one that’ll never be the same.

Damian looks down to the placard on Jon’s headstone.

“Thank you for telling me,” Damian traces the name Jonathan Samuel Kent on the placard. “Thank you for bringing me here,” his fingers move down to the year, 1995 – 2011.

“My life was a script. I never mind it, but when I saw you, smiling without a care in the world, made me feel that happiness too. For a short moment, my mind went, oh, this is not so bad, maybe I wanted this. I see you, and I see and felt... freedom, that I can choose you instead of what’s chosen for me. I found happiness with you... but you left before I get to say it, before I even knew what that feeling meant.”

His tears roll down again, even after the storm he shed, somehow he still have another coming. This is the most he cried in all his life. Ten years worth of sorrow and despair. There’s going to be more of these in the future, he’ll have a hard time sleeping, and he’ll cry whenever he re-read his diary, or see their picture on his old room.

Yet somehow, Damian finds himself cracking a smile as he looks down to Jon’s grave. When he remembers Jon crying in his dreams, he doesn’t feel guilty anymore. Even though he knows Jon cried because of him, evidently, it was no one’s fault.

Jon cried because he loved him.

“I’ve loved you too, Jonathan Kent.”

[kid-crashed]

Catch Me If You Can (Part 1)

This is a DamiJon College AU based off of some fantastic fanart by @une1st that you can find right here. Part 2 coming soon!

A shrill whistle rang over the practice field, easily being heard over the sound of rock music blasting from a set of speakers.

“Come on boys! Let me see that hustle!” The coach would have been easily identifiable, even without the booming voice. He was a giant man, easily six foot five, maybe more, with muscles straining against muted gray sweats. He was the only one standing on the sidelines, while the Metropolis City University football team practiced. “You best wake up and get your asses in gear or you’ll be running laps for the rest of the day!”

“Yes Coach!” The call came unanimously from the team as they worked through a series of warm up drills. Practice had only just started; earlier than normal, but they had their big Homecoming game tonight. This was their last chance to get a little extra training in.

The team finished their warm up, the coach stepping into the center of the field.

“Alright boy, take a knee.” The herd of college kids formed a semicircle around theman. His eyes surveyed his team  before landing on one member in particular. “Kent. Get your butt up here.”

“Sir, yes sir.” The guy in question stood up from amongst the team with a cocky grin on his face: Jon Kent. At twenty years old, he wasn’t the youngest person to ever make team captain, but he was still only a junior; a fact which had originally left a bad taste in the mouths of some of the seniors. Still, no one could deny that he’d earned this title, captain was elected by majority vote after all. But it was early in the season. This was his first big game to prove himself in.

He was tall by most standards, short by football’s, at six foot one. But more importantly, he was built almost entirely of lean muscle. His shoulders were broad, half inherited from his father, half the result of doing farm work his whole life. Unlike a lot of the members of the team, who looked like they snorted protein powder and skipped leg day regularly, Jon’s muscle mass was evenly distributed, giving him a conventionally fit, and attractive build.

He wiped the sweat on his hairline with the sleeve of his practice jersey. A clip board was handed over to him. It contained notes about each player on their team, as well as on their opponents.

“Alright folks,” He cleared his throat. “As you know, we’re going against Gotham tonight. Coach Stone can’t be trusted to call the shots ‘cause it’s his alma mater, so I’ll be taking over instead.” There was some collective snickering amongst the team. It was a running joke to five their coach a hard time for having gone to their biggest rival school. “So, here’s how it’s going to go.”

Jon started listing off the positions for roughly half of the team, mostly upperclassmen who were guaranteed a little spotlight in the homecoming game. There was a promise to all the new freshies and returning sophomores that if they proved themselves during training, they could get a little action too.

“Alright boys.” Coach Stone piped back in once Jon was done. “Take five for water, then we’re back to it.”

The members of the team split off back to their bags. Jon had left his over on the one long metal bench that stood at the bottom of the hill leading that lead to the field. As he walked up to it, he was able to look around and notice the small crowd of people interspured all over the knoll.

It wasn’t uncommon for other MU students to sit around and watch various athletic teams work out below. It was a nice place to hang out; sunny, but with a few trees for shade, and easy walking distance to one dining hall, the main gym, two libraries, and some of the larger academic buildings.

Seeing all these other students out here brought a smile to his face. He liked feeling like he was part of a community.

“Yo Kent, think fast!”

Jon’s head snapped up just in time to see a football being launched right at his head. God dammit. He ran back a few steps, thanking every fiber of his body that his reaction time was pretty high quality. Jon was able to cover enough distance that rather than being smacked in the head, the ball slammed his right in the chest. Jon wrapped his hands around the ball, pulling it in and keeping it close with his forearms. Nice. Ball: Caught. Receive: Perfect… Except… As he let his body follow the momentum, Jon felt the back of his ankle knock against something, and he toppled backwards.

“And down I go.” The exclamation was involuntary as he hit the ground with a thud. His recovery period was quick. The man sat up just in time to see one of his teammates cackling at Jon’s expense. “What the hell Batson?”

“Sorry man.” That boy was not sorry. Billy had been a close friend of Jon’s for years, but he could be a bit of a joker. “Also, uh, sorry!”

Jon scrunched his eyebrows at the second apology, noting that it definitely wasn’t for him. That was about when Jon became aware of the weird lump under his leg.

A backpack.

Shit.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon scrambled to his feet, brushing any grass or dirt off his sweatpants. He was careful for the disrupt the bag anymore than he already had.

“You should be.” The lower register voice made Jon unintentionally wince -- Please don’t start a fight right now -- He look at the person belonging to the backpack.

A guy sat on top of jacket, as if he were using it as a picnic blanket of sorts. He wore a rather comfortable looking green sweater, despite it being a nice, seventy six degree day. As Jon’s eyes traced over the figure under the sweater, taking note of how naturally tanned the guy’s skin was, leading up to the mans face and -- Oh… Oh that was a death glare if he’d ever seen one.

It was then that Jon realized he was also stepping on something, well, somethings to be exact. He took a step back and kneeled to pick up an assortment of what he was pretty sure were charcoal pencils. “Um… here.” He handed them to the guy.

This guy stared at Jon for a moment before reaching out with one color-covered hand, palm out flat. Jon dropped the pencils in the hand, being careful not to get any of whatever that ink was on his own hands. He watched as the individual organized the charcoal next to a box of what looked like oil pastels. Well, that explained the color.

“Sorry again.” Jon felt kinda sheepish. “It won’t happen again. I’ll yell at the guy who threw the ball, and uh… yell at myself for falling.”

The fellow sighed. “I didn’t think I’d be in the way when I sat here.”

“You’re not! I promise this was a one time fluke.”

Hazel eyes seemed to study Jon’s face to see if he was really sincere or not. “I’ll take your word for it.” The man then picked up a sketch book that had been resting on the grass next to him, and leaned it carefully against his knees.

Suddenly, something clicked in Jon’s head. “Oh! You’re that dude who’s always drawing here!”

“Excuse me?” The guy rose an eyebrow, and for some reason Jon suddenly felt a bit flustered.

“No I mean,” He took a step back, trying to actually think before he spoke. “I just see you here a lot. Like, during practice I’ll look and and it’s like, boom, you’re there.”

The other male let out a sigh, turning his attention away from the moronic quarterback, and back to his artwork. “I suppose I’m here often.”

“You are.” Yeah that sounds about right Kent. Tell the guy exactly how often he’s here. That’s just a fantastic idea. “I mean, well, I notice that you are.” There was an awkward bit of silence, where this other student was probably just trying to ignore Jon’s presence on that hill. Rightfully so. He was definitely just bothering the guy. “So… Do you always draw the team?”

“No.” The answer was short and simple, but one glance upward must have allowed the man to see just how painfully curious Jon was. “Sometimes I draw what’s in front of me, sometimes I draw based on assignments, sometimes I just draw whatever comes to mind first.”

“That’s so cool.” He peaked over the edge of the sketchbook once more to get a look at the work in progress. “You’re really good.”

“Thank you.”

Jon was about to open his big mouth all over again, probably to make another dumb comment, when his coach’s voice suddenly boomed over the whole field. “Kent! Stop flirting and get back over here!”

“Yes Coach!” Jon called back over his shoulder. “Uh… I’ll catch you later?”

“Perhaps.” The artist shrugged. “Goodbye, Kent.”

For some reason, that just brought a grin to the junior’s face. “It’s Jon, actually. Kent’s my last name.”

“Alright then. Goodbye, Jon.”

“Can’t I get your name first?”

The man looked up from his work with a sigh, making eye contact with the football player once more. “Damian.”

Practice ended rather uneventfully, with the usual post-training pre-game huddle Coach Stone always made them do. Supposedly it boasted moral until the more official motivational speech in the locker room, but Jon didn’t know enough about psychology to say one way or another. The members of the team started branching off, each going back to their bags to collect their things and head out. As Jon was heading back to his own bag, he looked up and noticed that the artist from before was starting to pack up his things as well.

“Hey!” Jon ran over to Damian, before the other was fully packed up. “Wait a sec.”

Damian didn’t slow as he put placed a piece of wax paper between the pages in his sketchbook, and closed it. “What do you want?”

“Are you going to the game tonight?” Jon awkwardly adjusted the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder.

Damian looked him over, then, he carefully put the sketchbook in his messenger bag. “I doubt it.”

There was a very good change that Jon looked like a kicked puppy. A pout grew on his face. Childish? Maybe. But if it works, it works. “Why not?”

The art student shrugged. “I never purchased a ticket. Besides, I’m not so interested in sports events.”

“I can get you a ticket.” H flashed a grin. “And you could just come and draw or something?”

That got a puzzled look in response. “You want me to come to your game, and not watch it?”

The quarterback shifted, rocking back onto his heels, then to his toes. “Why not? Can’t a guy want to see a pretty face in the crowd?” He studied the expression on Damian’s face, noticing the change from confusion, to what he dared to call fluster.

“How--” Damian coughed into his hand. “How will I get the ticket?”

The smile on Jon’s face would have split his head in two. “I’ll leave it at Will Call for you.”

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Your Tears in My Dreams (DamiJon) Part : 1/2

Rating : General Audiences

Summary :

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer. But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried. ---- Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Why do you want to know now?” “Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.” “You think it’s your fault?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Inspired by this beautiful art of Jon crying and Damian not knowing what to do by @glitter-dc

Read on AO3

Click Keep Reading to read on Tumblr.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Jon was his best friend and the only friend that ever counted, but their relationship didn’t start smoothly. As a privileged nine-year-old boy that only knew about the expectation he’s meant to fulfill in a world of adults, Jon’s sincere friendly approach was extraterrestrial.

Yet, no matter how much Damian pushed, Jon insists. To Damian, Jon is nothing more than his father’s journalist best friend’s son. Damian had understood the political need to befriend each other, but Jon never sees it that way.

Jon who’s always as bright as the sun when he smiles. All his frontal teeth would show, and the one teeth on the top right that bent inwards sticks out more than the rest. The apple of his cheeks became prominent whenever he’s too excited, and blush just like roses in full bloom whenever they were running, or if it was a hot day. His eyes would shine like clear lakes under the high noon. Strands of his raven-black soft curls bounce cheerfully and swept through the wind like feathers whenever he moves.

Always, Jon would smile through the rain, through the bad scores he gets, and through the wounds that he gets whenever they’re playing too rough.

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer.

But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried.

It was the first and the last time Damian saw him that way.

The memory comes in as a dream, played like a slow-motion clip that lasted forever. Long enough that at one point, Damian asked why Jon cried, which of course, Jon in his dream didn’t make a sound any other sound than sobbing. But when Damian woke up, it felt like it lasted a second. Like every dream, Damian thought he’ll forget it after a few seconds being awake. But this time, the way Jon looks at him with his sorrowful eyes and downturned lips, stays the whole day, and the day after that, and so on.

Damian can still feel chills down his spine at how deeply Jon’s eyes pierce through his soul. The details of how strands of his black loose curls tossed around because he just took a nap at break time. The way his tears sticks to his lush lashes and glisten like morning dews on blades of grass under the light of dawn. His tightened jaw as if to hold his voice. Bawling with a heavy stream of tears rolling down his red apple cheeks.

Every detail of that moment would never be forgotten, but only that one frame, in that perspective that felt prolonged forever. Damian can’t remember anything more after or before that.

To be expected of course. After all, that happened ten years ago.

++++++

“Ah, Master Damian, I didn’t expect you for another day,” the family butler, Alfred, called from the library where he’s been cleaning. He takes off his usual suit and only wears his white button-up with sleeves rolled.

“Sorry for the unexpected arrival, I’ll clean the room myself.”

“Was there something urgent sir?” Alfred is as sharp as ever, Damian missed that about him.

“Yes, I’ll ask you about it later.”

Then Damian continues to walk down the halls and into his room. The room is still fairly clean, he’s touched that Alfred cleans his room even though he never stays the night in the manor for years. Whenever he has business trips in Gotham, he always stays in a nearby hotel, and only came for a quick dinner together, only if that family was in town.

It’s been forever since he last enters this room, just by the whiff of scent already felt like a blast from the past.

Back when the politics of his country were heated and dangerous, Damian was sent here to seek refuge. His family’s company, the League of Al-Ghuls, were caught between the heat. Though now that he’s older, he knew that his family participates in that political war. That’s why Damian’s life was in danger.

So, he was sent to a place owned by a father he never knew he had at nine years old. It was not expected that he had grown fond of the place and elongated his stay until his mother demanded him to come back to have proper education for her standards.

Ever since he was a child, he’s meant to continue the family business. Now he’s considered perfectly weaned and being trusted to have good judgment for the benefit of their empire. It is how their family is. It is what Damian had excepted with consent. Then life just swept Damian away.

The last time he was in this room, he was 15. There’s a picture of him and Jon by his desk. A thin layer of dust accumulated at the top of the frame. It’s a picture of them on a school trip to Ocean City. Jon had many friends beside Damian, but he wanted to take a picture together first.

Damian cracked a smile, seeing little Jon wearing his dad’s bright blue bucket hat on top of his awry hair, and a smile bright like the sea on their background.

He looked for his old stuff. Pictures, diaries, books, anything that can give him a clue. When he’s checking one of his bookcases, there’s a row dedicated to journals, textbooks, and sketchbooks. He recognizes some of the journals’ spine. When he takes it out, his heart raced.

It’s his diaries, not just any diaries too. He used to exchange them with Jon. They’ll write about their day and give them to each other once a week, or sometimes once a month. It was Jon’s idea from an old Japanese comic he bought from a discount box. It was ridiculous and Damian had thought it was intrusive.

Damian doesn’t know how Jon can talk him into sharing his personal thoughts with someone. Saying his feelings out has not been his strong suit, but writing it is another story. It’s easier to tell his secrets to inanimate objects that’ll never judge him. But what really made Damian went along with it, was because Jon’s diary is entertaining and fun to read. Usually filled with dad jokes his father told him and things he gets in trouble at. The way Jon writes it is just like how he talked with all his quirks and slang.

The tradition doesn’t last their whole friendship though. Some time into their teens, they stopped exchanging their diaries.

Though Jon never asked for his diary again, Damian kept writing out of habit. His brown covered journal, the last one, is a diary he never gave to Jon.

Flipping through the pages, he noticed that he didn’t write them on a regular basis. Some are days apart, some weeks, even months. Most of them are from 2009 to 2010, and the only content in there is frustration, anger, and self-pity that he’s too proud to tell anyone else.

Right at the last entry that stops in the middle of his journal, he finds the one he’s been looking for.

‘17 November 2010

Something absolutely bizarre happened today. Jon cried. I was lost for words at seeing him cry for the first time since I have ever known him. Jon is not one who cries easily, or ever. He’s strong and he had pulled through a lot of misfortune that happens to him with only a frown or anger. He had a very deep wound on his forearm from scrapping it upon a loose nail on a plank, he bled a lot but he just hissed and screamed in pain, in that process, he shed a tear, but it was not ‘crying’. Even when his father scolds him badly after we went to town till 4 AM, all he did was frown.

We were just talking as we head to our class. I didn’t ask why at first. He was terribly sad and I’m afraid of saying the wrong words. So, I just pat his back and took him somewhere people won't see. I don’t want him to feel embarrassed if someone sees him like that when he clearly needed to cry. Maybe he’s been holding back something that he didn’t tell me.

It was also the first time I ever missed class. Of course, my mother will be more upset about this more than father, but I did not feel regretful. Jon needed me for once, and the consequences are light compared to the situation. Though I will not enjoy the incoming international call.’

And that’s it.

Damian sighed in defeat and disappointment with his fifteen-year-old self. He admits, he was not the most emotionally intelligent child back then. Even so, this means Damian is worried over Jon’s well being more than what caused it. Jon was precious to him at a point, even more than his duty as an Al-Ghul.

Since his own diary doesn’t reveal what he’s been looking for, he would need to ask from someone else.

++++

‘I’ll be staying in the manor for approximately a week, I hope it’s okay.’

‘Of course, you’re more than welcome. I’ll be home for dinner.’

‘Alright, I’ll tell Alfred to anticipate you.’

“Who’re you texting with?” his older brother, Dick came to the living room with a big jug of tea. His hair is a mess as always whenever he’s back home, and a wardrobe just as hideous. It’s six months too early to be wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, and Dick paired it with a skimpy boxer.

Damian had come to terms with it, only because Dick is his favorite brother.

“Is it a speeecial someone? Maybe someone... who is not your wife?” Dick raised his eyebrows scandalously and takes a loud slurp of his tea.

Damian scoffed up a chuckle, “You know my relationship with my wife is strictly business, she has her own set of lovers.”

“I still can’t understand what’s the point in marrying, if all it was is for business.”

“Politics in an Al-Ghul family is different from a typical American one. It’s why my mother became a Wayne for a short yet beneficial time before their scheduled divorce, and conceived me, just as she planned.”

“I... still can’t get my head around that. Family isn’t politics.”

“I’ve come to know that thanks to you, and this family.”

Damian gave him a thankful smile while Dick melts with eyebrows downturned. Really, they’ve come a long way. The one that really thought him the meaning of love and family is the Waynes.

“Then where are your own set of ‘lovers’” Dick looks ups and close his eyes dreamily.

“And why would I told you about my affairs?” Dick gasped, putting a hand on his chest, again, this particular sibling always able to make him crack a smile,  “I was texting father, in case you’re still wondering, he’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good to know you’re on good terms! When did that happen?”

“Ironically, by being his business partner I get to see him and talk to him more than I was just his son.”

Dick burst a fit of a laugh, almost spilling his hot tea to his bare thigh.

“So, I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, I hope I’m not taking your time from work.”

“No! Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I do visit on weekends when I can.”

“And the others?”

“Well, you know our siblings, they came when they can, but they’re all busy doing their own thing. Jason’s on tour. Tim won't be back for a year, a project in France. Duke’s with Doctors Without Borders. Steph...” Dick trails and made a face.

Damian’s jaw hits the floor, “Don’t tell me, she married him?”

Dick chuckled, “Yup, now she’s in the middle of a jungle in Indonesia, teaching anyone that needs it.”

Damian shook his head with a defeated smile, “Last time I was here, even the mansion feels crowded with... was it six of us? Now it feels a bit empty.”

“Well, little hatchlings ought to left the nest sooner or later,” Dick rubs his head. “So, you wanted to talk to me, but it’s not about reminiscing the past, isn’t it?”

Damian smirked, ever the detective.

“On the contrary, it does have something to do with that, but not about our family,” Damian takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, “You’re the one I talked to the most when I was a child.”

Dick squints his eyes, “Yeeees?”

“I was wondering if I ever said anything about Jon in particular.”

“Jon? As in Jonathan Kent? Your bestie?”

“Yes, Dick, Jonathan Kent. Is there something wrong?”

“No no! Just... it’s been so long since you talk about him.”

Damian just shrugs.

Dick put his cup of tea down on the table and narrowed his eyebrows, “Alright? What do you need?”

“I believe I had a fight with Jon, or maybe I made him so upset that he cried. Did I ever talk about these things with you?”

Dick sighed and tips his jaw to the side and raise his eyebrows, already at loss, “You were totally mega best friends with Jon. Honestly, I can’t choose, you were complaining about him a lot.”

“Only at first,” Damian chuckled, remembering again, “He was not the friend I asked for, but among all the wrong button he pushed, once when he pushed the right one.”

“And that is?”

“He treats me like a child, but as an equal, and expect nothing of me. Most of all, he’s incredibly patient.”

Dick is making a face, biting his lips from smiling too widely. Damian rolled his eyes and his older brother keeps him to himself.

“Ahem, did you know when you made him cry?”

“My diary said it was November 17th of 2010.”

“I think I was in Barbados with Barbara then, for the honeymoon?”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t have called you then.”

Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Damian, why do you want to know now?”

“Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.”

“You think it’s your fault?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

++++++

“As in Jonathan Kent?”

“Yes, Alfred. I don’t think I befriend any other Jon. Or any other person,” Damian chuckled lightly.

“I have not heard you talk about sir Jonathan in a very long time.” Alfred grabs the plates, and Damian grabs the utensils.

“Dick said that too. It’s just something I’m curious about.” Damian puts the spoons and forks on the sides of the plates on the dining table.

“When did it happen?” Alfred asked as he gets a bowl of salad with beans while Damian grabs a bowl of baked creamy mushroom penne.

“We were 15.”

“That’s ten years ago, Master Damian, why does it matter now?”

The question stabs through his chest like a dull knife, “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not late to dinner, am I?” walked in a man with a suit in his hand, loose tie around his neck and an opened button at the collar. The middle-aged man smiles when he sees Damian there.

“I’m impressed you’re not,” Damian put his hand on his hip.

“I’ve missed eating dinner with you a lot. I’m not gonna miss you again when you finally decide to visit your old man.”

“I’ve seen you a lot, father.”

“As Bruce Wayne, a business associate, not as your dad.” Bruce put a hand on Damian’s had and rubs it. As annoying as it is that his father ruined his coiffed hair, it always feels comforting to be patted on the head. The sensation will remain a mystery.

“I’ll put my things away and get Dick,” Bruce announced and walks out of the kitchen.

There’s a pulsing throb in his chest. His eyes are on the door his father walks out from but his feet stay rooted in their place. Damian has gone this far, it’ll be a waste not to try. So, he chased his father out and meets him in the hallway.

“Father,” he called, and Bruce turns around, “There’s a reason I’m visiting.”

“I figured. You don’t usually stay in the Manor if it’s not for the holidays, and our conference will only take two meetings.”

“I took a few days off after we’re done with the trade.”

His father knits his thick eyebrows together, looking concerned, “Why are you taking days off? That’s unlike you.”

Now Damian felt foolish. The matter feels even more trivial now, Damian finally sees that. He flew over for a conference that could’ve been done by his close peers just so he can ask his family about his ‘dream’. His father is right, this is unlike him. How did he even get here? Damian had hesitated before. Brushing off ever coming back to Gotham unless it’s for business purposes. Even at holidays, he’ll never force himself to spare the time to come, and if he does, it’s never longer than two days.

But this time, before he gets to hesitate, he was already on the way here.

“It’s alright, Damian, you can ask anything,” His father comforted, already treating it seriously.

With a heavy heart, Damian raises his shoulders, “It’s just.... something that incites my curiosity, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Let me judge that after you tell me.”

Damina bites his lips, crossing his arms and hold onto his elbows tightly. Eyes darting around, before he finally just let it out.

“It’s about Jon.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, lips parted open and eyes widen, “Jon,” the man breathes. “As in that Jonath-”

“Yes, Jonathan Kent, son of your best friend Clark Kent,” Damian cleared with a firm and irritated voice. Sighing, he cleared his throat, “Something happened when we were kids. I know Jon. He’s always bright and happy, but I remembered that he cried in front of me once, and he looked devastated. I don’t remember if I ever asked him why. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

His father’s sharp eyes soften as he noticeably holds his breath, “Damian...” he called gently, “You know what happened when you were kids.”

Damian paused, breathing mindfully as if to stay calm, and he managed to squeeze out: “This is before that... in 2010”

“That’s ten years a-”

“I know,” Damian raises his voice, frustrated. He knows it’s silly of him to ask around an uncertain memory from ten years ago, but... “I just wanted to ask if I ever told you about Jon crying. Please just tell me if you remember or not.”

Though Damian already knows his father wouldn’t have known anything. Bruce was a distant father when he’s a child. His friends were only Dick, and Jon who he thought was a beneficial ‘friend’.

It doesn’t hurt to try to ask, Damian thought. Somewhere in his childhood, he forgot when, he and his father tried to mend their rocky relationship. Even though they don’t share the same last name, they’ve been family.

“You did mention it to me,” Bruce said, and Damian’s heart jumps.

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled, “You were in a sour mood. I thought it was because of something I’ve done again.”

Damian huffed with the corner of his quirking up, “We weren’t always rainbows and roses, but this one is not because of that, right?”

“No, you told me about Jon. You’re upset with him, not angry or irritated. You always know what to do, but that time, you don’t.”

“Me? Upset with Jon?”

“Not as in at Jon. You told me that Jon is keeping secrets from you, and you’re upset because of that.”

“Now can you tell me why you cried?”

Jon finally stops crying, and his deep frown turns around, but this smile is not the same. His red-rimmed eyes look at Damian with his clear blue irises pooled in tears like overflowed ponds.

It feels like the world stopped in that quiet gymnasium they snuck into.

“I don’t think I can ever tell you why,” Jon’s voice croaks weakly.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“No, Dami...I’m just afraid.”

“Of what? What could’ve scared you enough to not let me know?”

“I can’t tell you! Just, drop it! Okay?” Jon burst, and immediately looks guilty. He folds his arms and leans away from Damian who’s left puzzled.

Damian is angry, but mostly, disappointed? He thought Jon is close enough to lean on him, but it certainly doesn’t seem so. Even in anger, Damian doesn’t have it in him to leave. After years writing diaries, it doesn’t feel as heavy now to tell at least a snippet of sentimentality to Jon... In vocal form.

“Fine, keep your secrets, what is a man without a few? But know this Jon. You are a person that is dear to me, dare I say even more than my family. You’re the most treasured friend of mine, and I only wish to ease the pain that you’re feeling.”

Jon wails even louder that his voice echoes in the empty gymnasium. He can’t believe Jon’s still able to shed even more tears after the previous wave of pouring rain. Damian hold his breath and leans away, the guilt makes him uncomfortable being this near to Jon. He might just make things worse. Let’s never say his feeling out loud again, he had learned his lesson.

Just as Damian was about to scoot away, Jon loops his arms around Damian and squeeze tight.

“Stay with me for a bit. I know your mom’ll be angry, but can you skip class?”

Damian scoffs, Jon asked as if Damian would say no, which is absurd. Damian put his hand on top of Jon’s while the other is on his back, rubbing them gently to comfort. A wet patch is growing on Damian’s chest where Jon pressed his shut eyes. Warm stuttering breath felt through the shirt and onto Damian’s skin. Closing his eyes, Damian buries his face on Jon’s soft black curls.

Jon smelled like the sun.

“Yes, I can Jon.”

The memories come slowly, it’s not as clear as the dreams, but it’s one puzzle pieces among many, and this one fits where it should be.

“Did I say anything else?” Damian leans closer.

“I asked what would you do about it, but you just shrugged. You’re quiet for a few days and then Jon started to come over again.”

Damian sighed a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. Now he remembers what happened after, but he still doesn’t know why Jon cried. Jon couldn’t have started crying out of nowhere. Must’ve been something he saw, or something Damian said to him.

“Why does it matter now?” His father asked, rubbing salt on his wounds.

Damian clenches his hand, “I dreamt it, I thought I’ll forget it later, but I didn’t,” he confessed, “I couldn’t sleep... I feel restless remembering that I had done him wrong, that I had made him cry and not knowing why. I wanted to seek the reason and say I’m sorry.”

“Then why don’t visit the Kents?”

Damian’s whole body tensed, “No, I can’t. Something this trivial, I can’t possibly-”

“It certainly isn’t trivial for you if you can’t sleep because of it.”

“It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t bother them for something like this.”

Sighing, Bruce puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “They’ve asked about you whenever I met them, they care about you enough to worry. They’ll be delighted to see you.”

Damian bites his lips, still hesitant, “You think so?”

“I know so, I’ll call them to expect you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it myself. They still live in the same apartment?”

“No, they live in their farmhouse permanently now.”

“Thank you, I’ll call them after our deal is done,” Damian stated.

“They’ll welcome you, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Even so, Damian can’t stop the uneasiness piled up in his chest, “I hope so.”

tbc