Impression
A/N: Written for Dick Grayson's birthday.
He was the quiet one who was secretly screaming.
He was the gentle one who was secretly fighting.
He was the brave one who was secretly crying.
All that and so much more bottled up in one small, black haired, blue eyed bundle of seemingly boundless energy.
But she knew the truth.
They had never really spoken before. But she was a writer. And she took notice. He had caught her interest. And that was dangerous for anyone. She observed from afar. Like a wild animal, she didn't want to spook him in fear he'd run off. But she wanted to be his friend. He didn't seem to have many friends.
She couldn't understand why not.
He was smart, funny, kind, gentle, easy going, and good looking. Not to mention he was athletic, could sing, and was multilingual. Also, the fact that he was the adopted son of a billionaire didn't hurt either.
But she didn't care about that last one so much.
To her it just made him more intriguing as a character.
What was his life at home like?
What had it really been like before he had been adopted?
She had heard that he was from the circus.
She was new and he wasn't.
Was it true?
The callouses on her hands and bruises on her feet made many people think she was a gymnast. But they were really from Parkour. No one knew she could do it. She wondered if he had a secret like that.
He had such amazing eyes.
She found herself staring at them.
She felt as if she were looking at something rarely seen. Like a priceless jewel or a buried treasure. They were so deep, so full, and so blue. The kind of eyes someone could get lost in. But that thought made her blush and look away. It wasn't until a few moments later that she realized she now had the urge to draw. She wanted to draw characters like him. Acrobatic blue eyed boys with hands covered in well-earned scars and souls bursting with secrets and mystery.
So she liked him.
She still stayed away.
She could pretend that her life was as exciting and mysterious as any of the characters in the stories she liked to read. But he had real curiosities.
She thought she should introduce herself.
Say 'hi'.
But such a seemingly easy feat was nearly impossible.
She couldn't pretend to know him just through a few glances.
She wasn't some weird stalker who kept a diary about his every move and peered through his windows at night.
But she had hit a road block with her writing.
Her family and friends said it was just a speed bump. That she would get back into it in time. Her English teacher said she needed to find her own inspiration. Something to base her works off of. She needed to root herself as if she were a tree. Not a flower. Flowers, although pretty, were flimsy and weak. They were blown over easily.
He wasn't a flower.
He was a tree.
The kind of tree that rooted itself in family and love. The kind that grew through pain, sorrow, and tragedy and burst through the darkness to stretch its branches into the sunlight of hope and possibility.
Okay.
Sorry.
That was getting too poetic.
Oops.
But the point was, that he had suffered. He had suffered the way most others never would. But he hadn't allowed that to suffocate him. He had moved through it and allowed it to make him a better person.
He was the one who had it all figured out.
He was the one who could make you smile no matter what.
He was the one who would be the first to put their arm around you when you were feeling down.
So he became her model.
She looked to him for inspiration.
Using the people who interacted with him as the basis for even more characters and plot development.
And pretty soon, she was writing again.
Better than ever before.
Her stories were becoming fresh, hot off the presses.
She had never quite understood that expression but she liked it nonetheless.
She learned to push through that roadblock and drive like there was a lion on her tail.
And it was all thanks to him.
His big blue eyes, dishevelled black hair, and ritual lateness were just a few of the things that drew her to him.
But she didn't like him superficially.
She didn't 'like' him at all.
To her, he was the untouchable prize. One she was okay with staying away from.
He saved her again and again by just sitting there and being her model.
Once, she had even gotten up the courage to ask him to sit down and let her do his portrait. He had agreed easily with a friendly and encouraging smile.
She had left the whole thing in pencil, except for his eyes.
She couldn't leave them blank. So she combined every color of blue, silver, and white she could until she came up with the perfect shade.
People overlook eye color as being non-important. Almost non-existent. But you can tell a lot about someone from their eyes. It's important that the color is stated or described in all its glory.
Don't people often say 'the eyes are the gateways to the soul'? If that were true, what did people see when they looked into her eyes?
What did they see when they looked into his?
She kept her distance.
But he and she became closer. He talked to her sometimes. She did his portrait every now and again. And it wasn't long before she began to realize that they were becoming friends.
It wasn't until she was invited to his birthday party that she realized they really were friends, and had been for some time.
She was self-conscious in the dress her mother had bought for her. It was pretty and all but it didn't have sleeves.
But he greeted her at the door and led her inside.
There she met a blonde girl, an energetic red-haired boy, a young man who smelled like the sea (the good smells only) a boy with a big dog and a girl with a big smile and red hair.
They were nice, and accepting.
They were amazing.
They all sat quietly while she sketched them.
It wasn't much of a birthday present but he seemed happy to receive it and thanked her with a smile.
And nothing had changed, really.
He was still her model.
And she was still a writer.
But now…now they were friends.
A/N: This one's special. Good? Bad? Weird? I know it's not the usual but it's written from the perspective of someone outside of the knowledge of Batman and co. Anyway, it's 11: 30 PM and I have school tomorrow. Please R&R. J