YELLOW
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It was after midnight.
Batman was supposed to be on the streets and, contradictorily, Bruce was in his son's room. He would play the role of night watchman, but first he wanted to put Damian to bed - a small act that would have a big impact on their relationship, according to Alfred.
Damian, by the way, had spent the whole afternoon drawing - he remade the drawings that his brother had damaged and was now painting them.
— Just one more to go... — he tried to negotiate using that sweet and irresistible eyes he had.
— Son... — Bruce gently ran his hand through his hair — It's too late.
— But it is the last!
— Damian, look at you... — He held his face with his hands, causing the little boy's attention to be directed to him — Your eyes are red with sleep.
— I am not sleepy...
— Yes, you are — he sighed, releasing him — And the more you fight against sleep, the longer it will take to finish the drawings. You better go rest and finish them tomorrow morning.
— What if I don't wake up? It will be missing one...
Damian saw that situation as something really important, he would not forgive himself if he did not finish that small task he had imposed on himself... he needed to get a taste of the job done - no matter how much he did not understand the need to set goals and try fulfill them at all costs.
Bruce, after hearing those words, could not think of any way to continue the conversation. He had no idea what might be going through his son's head to make him think he wouldn't wake up - it could just be an expression, a little emotional blackmail... or Damian was really thinking he wouldn't wake up the next day.
— It is past midnight, gremlin... — Tim commented entering the room with a coffee mug in hand.
— I am not a gremlin... — the little one replied softly. He had forgiven his brother for the damaged drawings, but he was almost hopeless of winning at least some of his affection - mainly because of that nickname.
— Wouldn't you put him to sleep? — Without answers, the boy got closer to Bruce and asked again: — Bruce, shouldn't he be in bed?
— Ah... — Awakened from the thoughts, the father sighed, squeezed his temple and finally answered: — ... is finishing a drawing.
Timothy smiled and approached his brother, he was curious to the point of leaving the coffee aside. Earlier, when he collected the drawings, some were as sharp as a black and white photograph - such as those depicting Titus, Ace, the cat Alfred, objects... - but others were just some meaningless, probably unfinished spots.
He ignored the youngest of the house, after all, Damian was too focused to notice his proximity. Tim preferred to analyze the paintings: perfect, sharp, as if they were printed photos instead of drawings made by a child... however, those that were meaningless spots, continued like this: meaningless spots, black spots on completely yellow leaves - several .
— I finished! — the little one announced, smiling. He was proud of himself - something he hadn't felt in a long time.
— And what exactly did you draw? — Drake used a tone a little harsher than normal. It didn't hurt, he just couldn't understand why another copy of yellow paper with a stain on it - it didn't make any sense.
— I drew this... — Damian held the sheet carefully due to the fresh ink and showed it to his brother.
— I know, grem... Dami. I know you drew this, but I want to know what it is.
— ... It's an explosion.
— No matter what it is — Bruce interrupted their conversation — Son, you better go to sleep. Tomorrow you talk about the drawings...
— Bruce... — Tim sighed, incredulous — Your son just said he drew an explosion and you send him to sleep? — He looked at his brother — Damian, where did you get that an explosion is just a yellow thing with a stain in the middle?
— From my nightmare... — The little one tried to hide the clear disappointment he felt now. No matter what he did, he might never be good enough for his younger brother - and his father.
— Damian, you better go to bed before...
— And how was that nightmare? — Tim interrupted Bruce. He was curious, now not just for the strange drawings, but because he remembered Damian perfectly begging to be woken from a nightmare.
— I don't remember well... — Damian sighed. He wanted to remember, but the little he remembered he drew - he wanted to recognize that black spot, but no matter how many copies he made, he couldn't.
— Enough of this subject, Damian.
— But I wanted...!
— No — Bruce interrupted him — You will sleep and forget about this nightmare, drawings of explosions or anything like that!
— But...!
— I said no!
— Bruce! — Tim got between the two — Stay calm, he's just talking about a silly dream! — He looked at his little brother who, at that point, already had teary eyes — Speak, Dami... what do you remember about the nightmare?
— Th-here was a lot of noi-ise... — He took a deep breath trying to stop the crying before continuing — And I was in a tight place, I cou-uld only go forwa-ard ... — He looked at his father, at the look of disappointment he had — ... When I managed to le-eave... — He took a deep breath again, now facing the floor — ... And I looke-ed back, it was all yellow... It was ora-ange and red, but it was ver-ry yellow... — The tears they were already oozing — And something was behi-ind me, but I don't know what it i-is! — It collapsed. Remembering that was scary, in addition to making it uncomfortable for the other two to see it just as a "stupid dream" — I reme-ember, but I don't know what it is! That's why I dre-ew it, because when I get back to normal, I'll be able to find out!
— Okay, Dami... — Tim said in the nicest tone he could, hugging the youngest and touching his hair — It's over... — He stared at his father, hoped Bruce would do something to calm the boy, but he he simply left the room and left the two alone, murmuring before leaving:
— I'm sorry.
— It was the same thing several times! — Damian looked at him.
— It's just a silly dream... — He smiled.
The little one took a few minutes, until he was able to stop crying and get away from his brother's embrace. He dragged his feet to the bed and threw himself between the blankets and pillows, hid himself in the middle of them.
— Do you want me to stay here a little longer?
— ... You don't have to — the little boy answered almost in a whisper, trying hard not to start crying again.
— Ok... — Timothy didn't need to stay there, but he did. He sat on the edge of the bed, silent.
When he noticed that his brother intended to stay there a little longer, the little one approached him, with slow movements like those of a frightened cat. With all the space that bed had for them, Tim preferred to stay just on the edge and Damian huddled beside him.
— When you sleep, I will need to leave — the older one warned.
— Oka-ay... — Damian whispered quietly, he was still sniffling.
And so it was done.
Tim fiddled with his brother's hair until the little one finally gave in to tiredness. Then, instead of staying in the room or going to work on something, the boy preferred to look for Bruce.
He met him in the cave, he was just putting on his uniform to go out on patrol - still looked disappointed.
— Why did you leave that way? I had to calm the gremlin alone... — With the lack of answers, he continued: — It doesn't have to be like this, B. It's normal, any child has nightmares sometimes — Again receiving silence, he continued the one-sided conversation: — Were you disappointed that he didn't recognize Batman in that spot? His memory must be returning little by little, soon he will remember!
— I am not disappointed with him... — the voice bordered a dry and cold desert — ... I am disappointed with me.
— Why?
— Because I failed Damian even in his dreams — He stared at the boy.
— It was just a nightmare... — Tim sighed — And as much as a black spot on the yellow background is synonymous with Batman, maybe it was something else. He may be reliving some memory while he sleeps...
— Reliving memories... — Batman stared at the floor in silence.
Damian's memories could be summed up in a relentless struggle to please someone. First to grandfather, then to mother, then to father.
Each day was just another day of struggle, just a struggle, because he never received recognition for anything. Glory was saved only when he reached perfection - unattainable - or when he finally managed to be someone's pride.
As much as he tried, Batman, Bruce, or just Damian's father couldn't remember a moment he spent with his son just being a father. Without pressure, without imposing rules, without demanding something…
There were no good, relaxed memories, not even of his birthdays...
On the last, on the thirteenth birthday, he was busy with yet another of those Justice League meetings. Damian celebrated his birthday only with Alfred, just as he celebrated his, with the difference that Bruce was still alive - he just had priorities before his son, as always.
— ... These memories for a normal child are nightmares — he murmured — I made my son live in a nightmare... — he verified.
— If it's any consolation: you didn't do it alone, his mother helped a lot...
— ... He is afraid of me.
— Bruce, that's not it... he loves you.
— ... It just makes everything even more painful... — He stared at Tim — ... If he hated me like Jason, shouted all the wrong things I did... — He shook his head from side to side — ... He doesn't, he just distorts and thinks he's wrong.
— Each one has a different way of dealing with this type of thing — As much as he tried to alleviate the situation, Timothy knew that those words entered in one ear and left in the other.
— I always put something ahead of him, ahead of you... — Sighed — What kind of father does that? — He stared at the ground once more.
— It is Batman who puts priorities ahead, I know Bruce thinks differently.
— Batman is also your father, I am... — He pressed his temple — And I always make mistakes.
— B... — the youngest approached, holding him by one arm — Are you feeling well? Is the pressure again?
— I always leave my children waiting for me in the face of death and I arrive too late! — he said between his teeth. He felt contempt for himself.
— Alfred! — the boy called, supporting the vigilante who continued to babble accusations against himself — Alfred, we have a problem!
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NOTE
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According to the first issue of New Titans (Rebirth), Damian had to celebrate his 13th birthday "alone" because his father received an important call from the Justice League. Apparently, Damian is more than used to not being a priority for his father...
Fortunately, Alfred stayed there with him and even made a strawberry and vanilla cake, which was praised by the boy.
The gift from his grandfather, Ra's, was a beautiful threat entitled to a dead Robin… poor baby.
