December 14th, 2018. 18:07
He noticed pretty early, and at the same time, he realised it all too late. Because when he did notice, he also realised that it had been happening for a lot longer as well. Dick sighed, rubbing his head in an attempt to get rid of the headache that was currently plaguing him. And he wondered if this is how Bruce felt all these years.
At least he now understood him better. As a child he always wondered why his dad was such a mother hen, always worrying about him, always on edge for something. Dick used to think that it was Batman related, but now he understood that it definitely wasn't. Bruce was on edge because of him, because of Jason, and Tim.
Because he worried, and cared, and the three of them weren't the best-behaved children out there, and Cassandra was a whole different story. Add that to their nightly job, and Dick understood fully what Bruce had gone through years ago. He wished he'd known sooner, so he could tell his father that he was grateful for everything.
And he wished he didn't find out until his father died and left him with his son to raise.
Not like he regretted taking in Damian, he loved the little demon.
"Is something the matter, Master Dick?" Alfred asks, and Dick glances up, bright sea blue eyes filled with worry and trouble, like Bruce's always were.
But it was just so hard sometimes.
"I don't know Alfie, it's Dami." Dick says, rubbing his face at the sentence. Alfred hums thoughtfully. "He's usually grumpy, just not… not like this, and not this long."
"He has indeed been spending a lot of his time isolated from our company."
"You've noticed as well?" Dick wasn't actually surprised come to think of it, because of course Alfred would notice, he noticed everything, even if Dick tried his hardest to hide it. Somehow the butler just knew everything.
"He has been irritated during breakfast, he does not respond to my conversations anymore. He has been having trouble concentrating as well. His homework has been lacking its usual finesse."
"He's been hiding from me as well, he's not as sneaky as he thinks he is." Dick mutters. "It's also been affecting his duties as Robin, but I know that telling him that will only make things worse." Damian already doubted himself, and his place in the family, too much as it was. He was constantly torn between two ideologies.
He was almost a stranger in his own home at times. The expectations of Ra's and the League still too prominent in his mind, the expectation to always be the best, the need to always be on edge and to always be ready for an attack even in the safety of his home. And most importantly, the conviction that he constantly need to prove himself to earn his spot.
That he always needed to be the best, and could never make mistakes or he'd be kicked out of the family or killed.
And Dick was almost sure the former was worse for Damian at this moment.
"Perhaps it is best to inquire about his problems?" Alfred says, and Dick eyes at him. "You will not know until he tells you, Master Dick." Alfred affirms, and Dick chuckles.
"Why are you always right, Alfie?" Dick shakes his head, more to himself than anyone else, and stands up from his place.
"Years of practice." Alfred jokes. "Now off you go, dinner will be ready in an hour and I do not want you late."
December 14th, 2018. 18:14
"Dami?" Dick asks softly, knocking on the door. Not the door to Damian's room, he wasn't there, but Dick already knew he wasn't. He had been spending more time in another room, an abandoned room a little bit further into the manor that Dick had only really seen the first time he came to the manor himself all those years ago.
But until now, the room didn't add anything for him, so he hasn't gone there since.
There was no response from the other side of the room, and Dick took that as an invitation to enter the room. If Damian really didn't want him entering, he would've told him so. He slowly opened the door, allowing for Damian to still protest, but luckily he didn't. The room was badly lit, the windows still uncovered but not helping either.
It was already dark outside, and really, the fireplace was the only thing illuminating the room.
"What are you doing here, buddy?" Dick asks softly, glancing at Damian. The younger boy was currently sitting on front of the fireplace, back leaning against an old desk that was still in the room. He was holding a sketchbook, pencil brushing over the paper without any hesitance, and seemingly without any difficulty as well.
Dick couldn't help but smile slightly. Damian loved art, and he could always calm himself with drawing. It was something Dick discovered not too long after Bruce had died, when both of them were still figuring out how to work with each other, and Damian was still figuring out how to act away from the League of Assassins.
Damian didn't respond to him, but didn't show any signs of being too annoyed, which Dick took as a good sign. He carefully walked over to the younger boy, sitting down until their shoulders were brushing. Damian tensed for a moment, but didn't take his eyes off the paper that was in his now tense hands.
He also didn't try to get Dick to leave, which meant that Damian wanted him there. Dick always knew it was going to be difficult to raise a kid, his little brother. But Damian was a whole other case, a boy with another language. Not just because he was raised in a different continent, but also because it was a pain to figure out what Damian meant when he said something.
Yes didn't just mean yes.
The two brothers were silent for a moment, and Dick just glanced at Damian, and the painting he was making. It was a very simplistic drawing, and yet so expressive. A snowstorm, Dick could easily spot. The whole area was filled with a thick layer of snow, at some points the tips of grass sticking out but otherwise invisible.
Damian inhales suddenly, hand stopping completely. There was another tense silence. "Grayson...?" Damian eventually asks, he didn't continue, biting his lip. Dick didn't speak, knowing better than to interrupt Damian right now. Eventually the boy shook his head, turning back to his drawing with a stubborn frown on his face.
"Talk to me." Dick pushes softly when it was clear that Damian wasn't about to continue. "I can see something's bothering you, Dami. none of us will judge you for admitting that." The frown on Damian's face only worsened and his hand clenched around the pencil, and he stopped moving it, probably afraid to butcher it.
"I… I feel sad." Damian eventually said. Dick blinked.
"You feel sad?" He asks, and Damian sneers.
"Tt, forget I said anything." Damian spat, and Dick recognised the way his muscles moved, he wanted to move. Dick grabbed Damian's wrist softly, keeping him rooted in place.
"No no no, that's not what I meant. But you have to be more specific than that kiddo." Damian relaxes slightly, letting Dick drag him down to the ground again. "This has been going on for a while now, I just want to know what so I can help you." Dick continues, and Damian looks him in the eye for the first time since he entered that room.
Then he drags his eyes down. "I do not know."
"What do you mean?" Dick asks softly, reaching for Damian's other wrist and almost forcing Damian to twist towards him. Damian obliged without a struggle.
"I do not know why I am sad." Damian admitted softly, not daring to glance up.
"That's okay, we can figure that out together" Dick whispers, rubbing Damian's hands with his thumbs. "Can you tell me what's bothering you?" It was almost like walking on eggshells with Damian sometimes. He had to carefully construct sentences and choose words to not give Damian the wrong impression.
What is wrong with you? wouldn't do well.
"I have been tired lately, I have even taken up your ridiculous habit of sleeping during the day." There was a venomous tone in his voice, but Damian lowered his eyes, continuing with a softer voice. "I still feel so tired. My mind is not working and I do not want to be around anyone sometimes."
Anyone else wouldn't be surprised by the last statement. They would call him a demon, and of course he wanted to be left alone. He threatened everyone that came too close, figuratively and literally, and bullied everyone away from him that offered to get to know him. But it was all a defence technique.
Damian wanted people in his life, but he couldn't get himself to let people in. Back in the League that would've been punished, he had been punished for getting too close with people. But that didn't mean Dick didn't see how much Damian longed for something to stay at his side.
Comfort him, protect him, love him unconditionally.
"Am I broken, Grayson?" Dick startled out of his thoughts at the question, so vulnerable and so broken. The fireplace crackles next to them but Dick didn't pay attention.
"No, never Dami." Dick affirmed, not allowing any room for doubt. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around Damian's shoulders. Surprisingly, and at the same time not surprising either, Damian leaned into the touch, snuggling close to his older brother. "Why the fireplace?" Dick asks softly.
Damian shrugs. "It felt right." Dick swallows for a moment, squeezing his little brother for a moment before reaching into his back pocket. "What are you doing?" Damian asks, and Dick smiles slightly, unlocking the phone.
"When I was younger, before Bruce took me in-" Before my parents were murdered. "My mom would sing songs to me when I felt down."
"Did you ever?" Dick almost snorts at the question, because there was so much childlike innocence in the tone of his voice. And for once, Dick was reminded how young his little brother actually was. He wasn't that much older than when he became Robin himself all those years ago.
"I did, more than you'd imagine." He squeezed Damian again, dragging him a little bit closer again. "I only have one recording of mom singing, the rest was lost somewhere. But I remember the songs, and now when I'm feeling down, I still listen to them."
Damian stayed silent, watching him with compassionate eyes. Dick smiles sadly at that. Just months ago, when Damian just came to live with Bruce, he would've never thought those eyes could hold anything but anger, let alone so much raw compassion. And he realised, not like he hadn't before, that he terribly misjudged Damian at first.
Dick presses play, putting the device in front of them. The recording was old, scratchy and basically bad quality. But Damian didn't comment on it.
Hours later, Alfred was the one to find the two. Dick glances around, but Damian had long fallen asleep, lulled into it by the music playing and the comfort of having his older brother there.
"Sorry we're late." Dick whispers, smiling as Alfred wraps a blanket around both of them.
"That is quite alright, I am grateful to see him taking comfort in you, Master Richard." Alfred smiled, tucking the blanket a bit tighter around the younger boy. "Have you been able to figure out what is troubling him?" Alfred lingers for a moment longer, before he turned his gaze towards the older man again.
"Not really, he didn't know either." Dick says.
"You seem to have an idea, do you not, master Richard?" Dick frowns slightly, glancing at butler.
"I think it has something to do with being in Gotham. He grew up in a different climate after all, I don't think it's a coincidence that he's feeling bad now it's getting colder."
"That would indeed be a plausible theory." Alfred nods. "What do you suggest we do now?" Dick smiles down at Damian, bringing him close to his side but Damian didn't seem to be aware of it. As if he was a ragdoll.
"I'll try to research it, but not now. It's clear how exhausted he is."
"Indeed." Alfred affirms. It wasn't like he showed any physical signs. He didn't have bags under his eyes, but his behaviour was a clear sign of how tired Damian had felt all these days, if not weeks. And knowing Damian, it was possible that this had been affecting him for much longer than he'd admit.
"Sorry again for dinner." Dick said, but Alfred shook his head, turning to the door.
"I will be informing the rest that you will not be going out on patrol tonight." Alfred said, glancing at Dick for a second. "And that is not up for debate." Dick snaps his mouth shut, chuckling as Alfred left the room.
Dick turned to Damian again, pulling the blanket tighter around him and reaching for his mobile before putting up the same song again. He shifted slightly, making himself comfortable and laying his head on top of Damian's.
He allowed the sound of his mother's voice to lull him to sleep as well.
This turned out to be not too 'music' centered as I had thought it would.. welp. I seem to have this problem with a lot of stories this week xD
Anyways, this story was inspired by a few things. I had a conversation with my study advisor about winter depression, because she mentioned that a lot of foreign students suffered from this because the Netherlands the days are quite short in the winter compared to more southern countries.
But I also really like stories that focus on Damian's heritage (Because lord knows DC sometimes forgets that). I love exploring that side of Damian, and reading about it.
So if it wasn't clear, (lord knows how messy I can be sometimes) Damian is basically suffering from Winter Depression, which is more or less what it sounds like. It's not actually caused by the cold, but rather by a lack of natural sunlight that messes up your biological clock, and Damian is affected because before this he lived in Nanda Parbat, which has way more sun than Gotham had, especially in the winter.