Batmom & Batfamily Imagines [2]

withering flower || Damian Wayne

Warning(s): ANGST, self-hate.

A/N: have you ever wonder, 'why hasn't this person written any angst lately?'
wELL, I cope by writing fluff and now you may get a box of tissues or better yet, get your lover to lend you their shoulder. If you're single you may get your stuffies or pillows for comfort like me.

Or maybe a punching bag. Because—FUCK, Damian's an asshole.

We have the Hanahaki AU people. Please be tame with me, I've never written this AU before.
Because this is an AU, Damian is 18 might as well make him as an assassin that he was born to be but like Jason—he is kind of an Outlaw. He knows Bruce, yes, but doesn't live with him.

::

You could feel it in your lungs, slowly but surely growing inside of you, vines slowly creeping up to your throat along with your growing feelings. You couldn't help it really it just appeared out of nowhere, not like you wanted it to happen.

These... feelings, they were nothing but a pain in the ass.

You scoffed at your reflection in the mirror, dark and baggy eyes, pale skin, dry and chapped lips, messy hair, god no wonder he never cast you a second glance.

Then again, he was nothing but a heartless killer, an unnecessarily good-looking killer. Even when he killed he had to have a good reason to do it, the way he killed was just ruthless. Your big man, the man you were in love with.

Damian--fucking--Wayne.

Why? What was it that you saw in him?

Oh, maybe because he found you on the ground that day, miserable, broken both physically and mentally. He picked you, patched you up, trained you with no mercy and made you the person that you were today.

Or was it because the way he looked at you, so different, unlike the way he looked at his henchmen that got your foolish heart to misunderstand that he wasn't looking at you with affection or in the way you wanted it to be when it was nothing of sorts.

"Fuck," you swore, violently coughing with both of your hands cupping your mouth.

Petals falling onto your palms, covered in blood, some fluttered to the floor as you dumped them into the bin quickly before you could mull over them. Too disgusted by them, you didn't want to be reminded by your one-sided feelings.

Later that night, you stood by his side again. Wind hitting your masked faces, from the corner of your eyes you saw the dim light from the moon outlining his figure. He looked ethereal, untouchable. The strands of his black hair brushed by the breeze, some got onto his cheek and you wanted to brush them away from his skin.

The all too familiar ticklish yet painful feeling bubbled in your throat.

You whipped your head to the side and tried--keyword: tried-- to silently cough those stubborn petals into your hand. Unfortunately for you, Damian was sharp. He had his eyes on you the second you barely moved your head.

"Who do you have feelings for?"

His voice caught you off guard as much as his voice did, the tensing of your shoulders didn't go unnoticed by those observant eyes behind the lenses of his mask. He kept you pinned under his gaze, expectant and impatient.

"Well?"

You eyed the petals in your hand, small twigs were also there--you noted, blood pooling in your palm. Realizing you hadn't answered him, you shrugged your shoulders to come out as nonchalant about the matter.

"Not sure," you lied.

"How unlucky," his answer was immediate, cold and it made you shiver. His eyes already drifted away from you to the building across the road, "you better get that flower out of your system," a scoff, then he pulled out a grappling hook, aiming it at the targeted building after he spotted a silhouette of a man appearing in the window, "because I don't see you that way."

He knew, he fucking knew about it all this time.

Your heart thumped harder against your ribs and suddenly it got too painful to breathe, mouth opening instinctively as you gasped for oxygen, then coughed and coughed and coughed.

Blood, twigs, withered petals and a few whole flowers came out of your throat, splattered to the pavement like vomit. Maybe you were vomiting. You weren't sure because you were panicking, eyes blurring with unshed tears.

It hurt to know that the same person who lifted you up was the person who also pushed you back down.

Fuck this, fuck him, fuck everything, you cursed in your head after you were done coughing the life out of you, standing up with shaky legs.

You weren't getting that operation just to spite him.

::

Uhh, okay XD
It's not that sad isn't it, just irritating :>

In the end, you just end up throwing the biggest 'fuck you' at him :>

I'm gonna make a fluffy one next time...maybe.