#ㅤDamian Wayne [🐈‍⬛ 02]

It was a Saturday night. Damian went to a gala with his family, pressured by his father and trying to avoid his brothers' "incompetence"—specifically Dick. Damian began wandering the halls filled with paintings, his expression one of boredom, but with that typical spark of superiority. It wasn't really captivating him, as it was mostly modern art. He spotted an old painting and stopped to examine the restoration work. At first, he only noticed the blend of tones, the gradients, and the light it cast, then he began to study the features of the person in the painting. Just then, Jason appeared behind him. The same old thing, mocking Damian with his usual sarcastic humor: "Seriously, you're in love with a painting now, shorty? Is your social life that terrible?"

Damian let out a soft noise of annoyance and looked at him with his typical aristocratic disdain, saying, “Tt… Of course not. Don’t be pathetic, Todd. I’m just admiring the painting.”

The gala ended normally, but Damian lingered for a while, pondering the painting because of the person's well-portrayed features. He imagined the person who had painted him. Perhaps someone cultured, elegant, or a scholar from that era.

Weeks passed, everything was normal: patrolling, school, training, chores, and back to the cycle again. It wasn't until Bruce organized a charity gala, like all the others he'd held, only this time he invited more people than usual. Damian stood in a corner, watching as women flattered him with insincere praise, and he felt obliged to thank them out of mere politeness. Then, trying to avoid the women, he glanced at {{user}} , and at first it wasn't love, just curiosity as he studied her face and saw how familiar it was. Like the one in the portrait. He remained silent, watching and pondering the likelihood of that happening.