REMORSE
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Bruce didn't even wait for the limo to be parked properly to get out of it and leave the important folder, Timothy, or anything else behind. He almost put the mansion doors down so he could get in - he didn't want to waste time using the doorknob. He hurried up the stairs, wasting the good shape he had achieved with the few days of rest. He almost ran into the butler on the way to the youngest son's room.
— Alfred, I need to see my son! — was justified even before any explanation for that behavior was required.
— Certainly, Master Bruce, but...
That little conjunction of restraining ideas was a bucket of cold water for Wayne. The vigor left him and left only the same desolate features that he had in the last few days - whenever he received a refusal for any possible improvement from Damian.
— ... "But"?
— But he is taking a nap... — The butler lifted his shoulders — Don't you dare wake that child up, you don't know what you're going to be dealing with! — said with a humorous tone, even managing to draw a sigh of relief from Bruce.
— Bruce!? — Tim called him from the top of the stairs, held his father's jacket, briefcases and still tried to balance the open notebook in his other hand — Alfred!?
— I'm going, Master Tim! — the eldest responded equally good-naturedly while leaving Wayne alone to decide whether or not to enter his son's room.
He entered.
He was careful enough to open the door gently and quietly.
He managed to contain a murmur or another while looking at that room full of drawn papers scattered on the floor; rumpled clothes coming out of the closet - with Ace using some as a bed -; dropped things - probably by Alfred, since the little cat licked one of its paws on the shelf -; TV on any drawing being broadcast; Titus sleeping on the bed, belly up, taking up almost as much space as the other two sleepers:
Selina was with Damian practically in her lap, with one arm around him and the other being held by the boy. Little Wayne seemed to have slept in the middle of a masterpiece: a design on his mother's forearm as if it were a tattoo.
— Bruce, Alfred said...
The boy couldn't even finish the sentence before he fell silent when he saw the whole scene. Unlike Bruce, who was content to just admire, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and started taking several pictures.
— Tim — the father called him in such a serious tone that he made him put his cell phone in the pocket again and pretend he did nothing. And then he continued: — I want you to keep all the photos after me.
— Yes sir — He smiled.
— I want it too... — Selina said quietly, keeping her eyes closed, completing shortly afterwards: — Yes, I am awake.
— And how is our son? — Bruce asked in a mild tone, even affectionate, while he sat on the edge of the bed to be close to them.
— From the state of the room, I think it was the "hungry gremlin" version that woke up... — Tim grunted looking around and getting closer too.
— ... Damian is fine. It is the same adorable child from a few days ago, the only problem it's... — She stopped as soon as the little one moved a little. He only dared to say something when he was absolutely sure that he was sleeping — ... It's just that he doesn't keep quiet.
— Are you saying that it was my son who did all this? — Bruce frowned, unable to imagine even him rising from the bed alone for the next few days.
— And in a few minutes...
— ... How? — Drake asked trying to understand.
— At the time of the bath he wanted to choose a pajama, then he wanted to draw, then he wanted to find Titus's ball, then he wanted to draw again — she yawned — Ah, they had the questions too, several questions...
— Questions about what?
— Several things. In fact, we met at a charity dinner.
— ... Did he ask about me? About that toy bird? — Tim stared at the floor, blaming himself for everything that happened.
— He asked a lot about...
Before Selina managed to finish, Dick came into the room almost putting the door down - and that was because Bruce left it ajar. The boy was so flustered that he slipped on one of the leaves lying on the floor.
— How is he!?
— Dick! — Bruce tried to call him back to himself, but was completely ignored.
— He is fine!? Did he really wake up!? — Asked while climbing on the bed, expelling Titus and taking Damian from Selina's arms. He checked the temperature, rocked the younger brother back and forth and even had the courage to pick him up and take a few steps towards the door, justifying himself with: — He should be being monitored in the laboratory!
— No, he is perfectly...! — the cat tried to explain, but Bruce interrupted:
— Dick, put your brother where he was and let him sleep!
— But B...!
— Now!
— He's just taking a nap, Dick... — Tim rolled his eyes at the whole drama of the older brother — Apparently, it is better to leave the gremlin asleep.
— I'm not a gremlin at all! — Damian grunted slyly while passing a hand over his eyes, finally awake. He rested his face on his brother's shoulder and waited for some explanation for why he woke up with Dick holding him.
— ... Well, guys, I would love to stay here with you... — Selina got up from the bed — ... but Alfred may need help. Take good care of my baby! — Smiled, gave her son a kiss on the forehead and left soon after, leaving the three horsemen to take care of the taken child - apparently tired.
Tim stared at the floor, the walls, anything but Damian;
Bruce was content to watch his son from afar, he didn't want to demand him close now - not when the last memory of them together that little one had was probably his father fighting with him;
Dick, the most euphoric of all, hugged his brother and squeezed like a plush;
— I made several drawings today! — Little D said proud of yourself, he didn't even want to leave his brother.
— Really!? — Richard asked laughing, throwing himself on the bed with Damian once again. By this time, Titus had already joined Ace and laid on the clothes lying on the floor.
— Yep! I drew all day, I even drew on my mom's arm! — Damian seemed to be thoughtful soon after, looking at his brothers and father. It was as if he wanted to understand the three of them being with him at the same time, until he finally asked: — ... Did something bad happen?
The three denied it instantly, but it was only Bruce who explored that question a little further:
— Why do you think something bad happened, son?
— They all came to stay with me at the same time...
— We came because you woke up, Dami — Dick smiled.
— Ah... — the little boy looked at his brother a little more seriously, then looked away. She moved away from him and curled up between the pillows where she had been sleeping before.
— What is it, little D? — Grayson asked, getting close enough to touch his hair, messing up affectionately - the strands were already at nose level, needed to be cut.
— ... Sorry for entering your room? — The child, without the courage to face them, cringed and hid his face before continuing: — I also entered yours, father...
The little boy was still crestfallen, seeing that sudden visit as a demand for explanations for "bad behavior". He had no idea that a week had passed.
— Dami...
— Son, you don't need to apologize... — Bruce commented getting closer to him. He made a point of pulling him into a tight hug - before Dick "stole" him again.
In response to the unexpected show of affection, the little boy snuggled into his embrace and hid his face in his father. It stayed like that for just a few seconds, just long enough to remember the other person who was also there:
— Ah, Timothy... — The little one stared at his brother while he was still protected in the embrace.
— You don't need to apologize for anything, Damian.
— But if I had waited...
— No, Dami... — Tim interrupted him — If I hadn't left that thing near you, everything would have been fine. I'm sorry.
— But...
— I'll try to be more careful with you now, gremlin — Tim gave a sad smile to his brother and then walked away. He started to collect the drawings lying on the floor and what was out of place - he didn't have the courage to stay close to Damian yet, much less to look him in the eye.
— I'm sorry too, kiddo... — Dick caught his attention for you — If I hadn't left and left you alone...
— You had a date with your girlfriend, didn't you? — Damian smiled — My mom told me! — He let out a lovely little laugh — Do I know her?
— You cannot imagine how much — He sighed.
— ... And why didn't she come to see me?
— Because you need to rest a lot before receiving visitors — Bruce answered for his eldest son — That is why no friend of yours has come to see you yet... — He hugged the little one a little more. If he could, he would put Damian away from everything and everyone just to make sure that nothing bad was going to happen.
— Dad...
— No.
— But I haven't said anything yet...! — Damian looked at him in surprise.
— You don't need to apologize to me.
— But dad...!
— I already said no, Damian — Bruce interrupted him in a slightly more serious tone. When the little boy finally settled down in his embrace again, he continued: — I was the bad father fighting with you for nothing... I just …
— You don't know how to deal with children? — Dick tried to complete.
— Are you authoritarian? — Tim also offered help.
Grayson snapped a finger, as if coming up with the perfect answer:
— Inconsequential!
— ... I just end up getting nervous for not knowing how to act with you, son — Bruce preferred to ignore the previous comments — Before it was easier because I treated you as I treat your brothers. But it was wrong, you are too young to be treated like an adult... — He held his son even tighter. If it wasn't a small grunt from Damian, maybe he would continue to squeeze that boy completely forgetting the strength he had ... — Sorry... I... I don't usually hug much and...
— My mom squeezed me a lot of times today! — The little one smiled, looking at his father with green eyes shining like never before.
— And what did you do today?
— Drawings! — He replied right away — I finished a whole block of sheets! I also played with them! — pointed to the exhausted dogs, lying on the floor — Ah, I also learned to do somersaults just like my mom, she taught me!
— Somersaults...? — Bruce smiled, but in fact he was about to leave his son with his brothers and go and demand explanations about that directly to the catwalk. How dare she teach something so dangerous to a child!?
— Yep, want to see!?
— Not now, son... — The father sighed and broke the hug, pushing Damian gently so that he lay down on the bed again — Must be tired.
— I already rested! — the little one smiled and sat down again — Dick, do you want to go in the garden with me?
— Er, Dami... — he tried to talk it over — How did you use an entire block of sheets?
— Drawing...
— I know, kiddo, but there are twenty sheets... How did you make twenty drawings?
— With coal... — He showed the crumbs scattered on the bed.
— Actually there are thirty sheets — Tim commented while placing all the drawings on the table, attaching the sheets against each other and aligning them by the edges — Thirty with a 300g/m², whatever that is.
— These are watercolor sheets and... — The little one fell silent when he saw what his brother was doing — And... I will paint later, but...
— But what, Dami? — Dick asked worried, wondering the sudden sadness of the youngest.
— Now it is no longer possible... — He already had teary eyes.
— Why not, son?
— Tim ruined everything by putting it together — Damian muttered under his breath, sad.
— ... I just fixed them! — Drake tried to defend himself, but it was enough to separate the sheets again to see the blurred drawings and with some parts erased — Dami... I swear I didn't know that...!
— No... — the little one interrupted him as he finally got out of bed — It wasn't because he wanted to... right? — He smiled, clearly trying not to cry for the lost drawings.
— Son, you can draw more later. It is better to rest now.
— Yes, Dami! We can spend the whole day drawing and...! — Before Richard could finish the list of things he was willing to do to keep his little brother distracted, Damian interrupted him by giving some excuse before leaving the room:
— I'm going to see if Mr. Pennyworth wants help!
As much as he was trying to look good, it was obvious how sad he had become. Bruce sighed and got up to go after his son - he didn't want him coming down the stairs alone yet.
Dick and Timothy remained silent. One felt extremely guilty and the other was shocked:
— Did you see, Timbo? He ran away! He managed to run without even holding anything!
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NOTE
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Poor you, Timothy J. Drake, can be a terrible brother even when he tries to do the right thing! I'm glad Damian can now run.
The charcoal is a great material for sketching canvases and things that take ink because it is very easy to erase (try to take a piece of the barbecue charcoal and do something on a sheet of paper, it will disappear if you run your finger). For it to be fixed on the paper, it is necessary to use some fixative product (type lacquer, shellac...).
Weight of sheets is the weight in grams (g) of the leaf per square meter (m²). The heavier the weight, the thicker the paper. Depending on the material, the most suitable are sheets of heavier weight, mainly for the use of wet techniques (such as watercolor, which uses water to dilute the color pigments).
