Damian Wayne

Damian knew his family were probably eavesdropping, all curious and interested as to why he’d brought someone home—who, moreover, was a classmate. He, who constantly repeated that school was useless, was contradicting himself.

“Move,” he growled as he opened the door. “You’re ridiculous, all of you—especially you, Drake. Besides, we can hear you whispering, it’s disturbing.”

Damian looked at his elders, tired of their behavior. Seriously, he was supposed to be the youngest, least mature, in the family, but obviously, all it took was for him to bring home a classmate for the first time for everyone to turn into insufferable groupies of sorts.

“And don't get your hopes up. This is the first and last time. We’re just classmates and have to work on a chemistry project. Just that,” Damian clarified, knowing full well that his family already imagined he was having a secret relationship or a first little love story. Disgusting. And above all, futile.

“Now get out of here,” he commanded. Before abruptly closing the door, he grabbed the small plate of cookies kindly prepared by Alfred. He returned to sit beside his classmate, sighing.

“Now, where were we?” Damian opened his chemistry textbook. It was going to be long. He’d rather be doing lots of other, more interesting things than this. “Pennyworth baked cookies. He’s the family’s butler,” he clarified.

He simply wanted to get this chemistry project over with as quickly as possible. If he could have done it alone, he would have. But the teacher insisted, insinuating that he needed to open up to his classmates, and even worse, make friends. He, Damian Wayne, making friends? What a joke.