Do you even care?

They Don't Love You.

Damian gritted his teeth against the pain in his rib and closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady.

He wonders if his brothers would care if they found him. Found him lying in a puddle of his own blood, bones broken and looking like death had come.

He wonders if any of them would show up at his funeral. He wonders if they would cry. Would they even care to show up? Probably not. They would probably celebrate him going away.

Maybe his father would care. It was after all his idea. His idea for Damian not to fight those bullies. To just let them be. And look where that had landed him.

Broken and bleeding to death in some back alleyway. This really wasn't how he had thought he would die. A second time anyway. He had thought he would die by some huge foe. Or maybe of age. Or another natural cause.

Not because some bully had overpowered him and his friends had taken turns beating the shit out of him. He had wanted to fight back so badly but he hadn't wanted his father to shoot him a disappointed look. He hadn't wanted his brothers or sister to look at him in disgust for hurting the ‘innocent’.
Tt. Says so much about them.

While Damian was bleeding out from a knife wound the bully had given using a rusty pocket knife, he began thinking. About his ‘family’, his ‘friends’ and his ‘team’.

To be fair he didn't even think his family was his… family. They barely even functioned together on a good day. Hell, half of them  if not all, hated him. Drake barely gives him the time of day and he continues to think of him as an assassin even after he changed. Even after he proved himself time and time again that he wasn't an assassin.

Todd. Well Todd barely speaks to him as it is. Only to insult him or to ask where the others are. Had he even apologised for shooting him? Probably. Or probably not. Damian couldn't remember with how much blood he was losing. He let out a small humourless laugh.

His father barely even gave him the time of day as it was. He hadn't even remembered his 13th birthday. He hadn't even bothered to ask him normal questions a father asks his son. But Damian couldn't blame his father. He had been the unexpected one. The unplanned one. The unwanted one.

Grayson was another story. He would probably actually care. If he wasn't focusing on someone else. Maybe he was still comforting Wallace after Damian had almost killed him. He couldn't blame Grayson, though. Grayson was very well liked and he attracted people to him like how the planets were attracted to the sun. But Damian was selfish. He just wanted someone to love him. Was that so bad? Probably coming from an assassin like him.

Pennyworth. Now this man Damian knew loved him, no matter his flaws. He would miss their talks and those times they had tea together. Those were the most pleasant moments ever. He would definitely miss those over anything.

Kyle. He would miss her. She had been nice, even though her and his mother hadn't gotten along and he was his father's bastard child. Those two had shared some secrets that they would never tell the others and he had thought that maybe they could get close enough for him to call her mother. Guess it was too late for that.

He then thought of his actual mother. She would think him weak just like grandfather will think. She would probably be disappointed that she hadn't had the honour of killing him again.

He let out a sharp gasp as he tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position but that just agitated the wound worse and Damian couldn't help but feel like crying.

He thought back longer and couldn't help but think about Jonathan. The boy-man-  whatever the hell he was now, hated his guts. Well that's what he assumed. People who like you don't normally call you baby Hitler, but who knows? Maybe that's just another thing that's different here and Damian is just a freak for not knowing it.