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[personal profile] tyrror
Title: First Night
Universe: First!Verse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Damian Wayne/Colin Wilkes

Previous: First Day



The little things, he figured, were what made them great.

While it was true that the vast majority of people on this planet are only drawn to the large, to the grandiose, to that which everyone will see an wonder at...Damian was slowly learning that the smaller the action, the smaller the notice, the greater the meaning in having ever done it at all.

Mountains can tremble.
Skies can fall.
But …

Blankets move...
Feet shuffle...

And broken hearts never forget.

Some things are too much for children to take. That much he understood all too well.

Tears fall when the world can’t see. Little noises lost to the dark because the dark doesn’t tell stories, doesn’t tell tattles, doesn’t tell truths so you can go on pretending they might be lies. Silence swallows sobbing and all that is left is the face you give the world when you are the hero, you are the prodigy...you are the orphan across the hall.

The world wasn’t perfect, isn’t perfect, and his is no exception. So it is he finds himself opening doors against the night, dark holes amidst the dark, crossing floors and pulling back sheets that don’t want to give him the room.

“D-Damian?” The words are laced with confusion and, somewhere deeper, somewhere they hope they’ve hidden...fear. Tripping over themselves to cover tears and sounds that only children are supposed to make. Children who might think they are alone.

Strong hands, warm and worn far beyond their age slide over him, soothe the wrinkles in the worn t-shirt he decided to wear to bed that first night in his new...home. The word was still new in his mind. Not quite yet something he could grasp as being his and he could feel the desperate hands of panic edging their way into his chest again, clawing at his mind and pulling him back to where he had been moments before.

Weight enough to shift the mattress of his overly large bed shook him back to what was now and he tensed as the arm that hand was connected to slipped gently around his stomach and pulled him back into another body he hadn’t yet realized was there. Breath played little dancing games with his hair where it brushed past the back of his head and he opened his mouth to speak when the other boy’s voice broke through the blackness and stopped him.

“You should be more quiet,” it spoke in a mock of disappointment and annoyance, “ you are bothering the rest of the mansion.”

The hand at his stomach fisted slightly in the material beneath it as if to emphasize the point and the redhead forced himself to take several breaths through the remaining hiccups, let himself fall back into broad shoulders and strong arms, let himself...sleep.

And, for the first time in a long time, he did just that; for an entire night, with nothing in his mind outside of warm arms and cotton sheets.
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tyrror

December 2012

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