Find You (Jon X Damian fanfic)

Memories

Damian sat on the dusty sofa, leaning forward. He picked the sofa himself. He and Jon got into a huge argument about it too, Jon stubbornly wanting the sofa which could be converted into a bed and Damian eventually winning and buying the cheaper and more practical one for themselves.

Damian closed his eyes and smiled gently at the memory. He was glad he came alone, he could reflect on his memories and look around in peace.

Dick had been strangely overprotective of him lately and it was starting to get on Damian's nerves, to say the least. This was a good breather for him to get away from his helicopter brother.

Damian opened their work room door where two tables sat at opposite walls, each decorated to suit their own aesthetic. There was a clear line in the middle of the room, very literally.

Before they officially moved in, they made some changes to the colours of the walls, half the room was electric blue, a colour Jon impulsively chose and later regretted. The other half was a cloudy grey, which matched Damian's pure white table and other monotone coloured furniture.

"Stupid boy..." Damian chuckled, strolling to Jon's side of the room that was decorated with posters of bands and movies as well as a collage of photos of Damian and himself. Stuffed by the corner with a red beanbag were plush toys from when he was younger and a few newer ones. His collection extended to Damian's end where he had a bookshelf that had a few stuff toys scattered by the ends.

"It fills up the empty spaces!" Jon had said, disorganising Damian's collection just to stuff them in.

Damian's heart tugged nostalgically, he had to find Jon. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't.

Nothing changed about the apartment, there were no traces of dust or anything out of place.

Almost like someone had come here to clean up.

Damian strode into the kitchen, where cups lay on the drying rack, looking closely, he noticed that the sink was wet.

Someone had been here. Recently too.

Damian's hand rested on his dagger, hidden beneath his sweater he had personally designed for maximum weapon hiding ability.

He squatted down, hanging close to the walls where he was hidden from the living room.

He heard a door creak open, it was a miracle that he hadn't been caught earlier. Footsteps approached the kitchen.

Damian held his breath, half of him wanted to pounce on his intruder and the other, more rational side, told him to asses the situation first. That was until he spoke.

"Hello? Hmm, I swore I heard something."

Damian forgot how to breathe. That voice...

...Jon?