𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴅʏꜱᴛʏᴄʜɪᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ

Damian had arrived home from the airport in the middle of the night, having been dropped off by Vincent and the grumpy, cigar-smoking female chauffeur, Gianella. With some trace of mortification warming his cheeks, he wondered if he was ready to part from his beloved after their long time together, experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions alongside one another. In true Vincent fashion, he granted one last embrace and a kiss that melted (most of) his concerns away.

With that, Damian walked up the front steps of the manor, waved to the soft-eyed mafia heir, and waited until the limousine was out of sight, heading out of Bristol. With a heavy sigh that spoke of an arduous few days, he picked the lock of the front door and entered, carelessly throwing his jacket to the floor and trudging up the grand stairs. While he would usually scale the side of the manor and climb into his bedroom window to avoid needless conversation, he was much too exhausted physically and emotionally to hold his body's weight on the building's steep ledges. He wasn't willing to risk his health when he had just achieved the closest thing to true happiness he would receive.

It was a miracle that he hadn't bumped into annoying siblings, meddling butlers, or detective fathers as he lazily dragged his feet toward his room. He kicked off his shoes sloppily as he closed his door and slumped into bed without removing his daywear. Sighing, he rolled onto his stomach and fell asleep almost immediately, lost in a reminiscent of his new favorite color.

Shades of purple danced behind his closed eyelids as he drifted asleep.

Vin yawned heavily, stumbling through one of the long corridors of his house. It took a few attempts to get his jelly-like hand to turn the knob, but he got into his quarters eventually. He pushed the door shut behind him and smiled tiredly at his unchanged space as he hefted his suitcase onto his bed. He looked forward to adding hints of his new life to the room.

In fact, he could start now.

Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he retrieved a single Polaroid and examined the shiny surface. His thumb brushed against a thatch of black hair and a pair of green eyes, and he breathed out heavily through his nose, going over to his desk.

Hanging next to his rack of art supplies was a corkboard. Pinching a tack from a small container, Vin pinned the picture to the board and observed the brand-new addition to his small doodles and favorite nature photos.

He and Damian stood in their Hawaiian shirts covered in wet sand. Vin's head was thrown back mid-laugh; his mouth was open enough to see his purple tongue. Damian's eyes were closed, arms crossed, with his purple-dyed lips curled into a smirk. A crab clamped Jojo's foot, but catching their new violet accessories had sent him into giggles.

After placing the beach and mountain picture Damian had drawn for him back on the wall over his nightstand, Vin slipped into bed and fell into slumber almost as soon as his head hit the cool pillow.

Breakfast had been quite a spectacle.

It had been blessedly quiet when he had awoken first at his usual five in the morning. It was difficult since he had gone to sleep so late, but his rigid schedule was non-negotiable and had already been skewed enough by his impromptu trip to Italy.

Gradually, an hour passed. The first guest to join him was his father, who blinked at his youngest son before giving him a simple nod, which Damian returned. Seeing that his father trusted him enough to find his way home was refreshing.

Cain arrived soon after and sent him a smile and a wave before digging into a blueberry muffin. Thomas was surprised but happy to see him. Drake pretended to be disappointed, but Damian could see his furrowed brows smoothen in relief. Gordon had known of his presence as soon as the plane had crossed North America's borders. Todd sat next to him and gave him a friendly noogie, which he did not appreciate in the slightest. But, considering that the white-streaked oaf wordlessly slipped him a few extra pieces of fruit, he let the treachery slide. Brown was a screeching banshee and might as well have transformed the morning meal into a Shakespearean production of betrayal and tragedy with the drama she infused into her flamboyant, wild waving of her arms as she spotted her missing pseudo brother casually chewing on a piece of pineapple.