The thing about attending college from home was that, at the end of the school semester, you had to give some exams at the actual university. Because it would be all too easy to cheat from the comfort of your home. And so, a stressed-out Robin, or better said, a vexed Dick Grayson was relearning for the umptieth time his courses for neuropsychology, and the effects of psychological damage to the parietal, occipital and frontal lobes. He already knew the temporal one. Apparently, damaging the parietal one causes writing difficulty and the occipital one, vision problems.

"So injury to the frontal lobe can cause depression, huh? If I don't get a good grade, Bruce would probably be so disappointed, I'll fall into depression myself," Robin concluded, before reminding himself that he had studied five hours a day all week, instead of sleeping, and that, despite looking and feeling like a zombie, he knew the material. Well, almost all of it, crime-fighting did him no favors when it came to studying.

And for the first time in forever, Robin wished he had not progressed so fast with his education. If he was not gifted then maybe he could have still been in high school like it was the norm for teens his age. Heck, maybe he could have studied the day before the exam and still gotten a fifty percent. But then Bruce would yell at him and would come to ground him no matter their arguments. Robin can just imagine his friends' flabbergasted faces as the frigging Batman came to their tower, no, stealthily entered their tower after dismantling all of Cy's security only to nag Robin about his homework. He had nightmares of such a genre sometimes.

For now, he had chosen to study psychology to better understand the mind of the people around him, especially criminals. He was also thinking of becoming a criminalist in the future. But there was no rush, he was only sixteen after all.

That is why, after explaining to the titans why he had to leave today, and putting Cyborg in charge as was expected since he was second in command, Robin went to the university.

"Good luck, friend Robin! Break a hand!"

"It's break a leg, Star," Robin said, while cackling softly.

After Starfire managed to raise his spirits, albeit temporarily, Robin, dressed in civvies and maskless, took a taxi to the learning institution.

The driver noticed the boy kept muttering "Frontal lobe...responsible for, problem-solving, memory, emotion, social interactions."

"Hey, kid, big exam today?" the driver asked, curious.

"Huh? Oh, yes Mr."

"You're going to do just fine kid, just don't worry too much. It is only an exam. If you don't pass it the first time, you can pass it the second or third time. It's not the end of the world."

"Tell that to my dad," Dick Grayson responded softly.

They reached their destination safely, Dick got out, looked at the big, looming institution, then started smirking.

'My first university exam. It can't be worse than fighting Slade' he reasoned and got inside.

The other students noticed his short stature, youthful features and nervousness.

"Kid, are you lost? Middle school is that way," one of them said between snickers.

Dick rolled his eyes and said "How original. I haven't heard that one before."

"I'm just full of originality," the haughty student who did not understand sarcasm spoke.

"Hopefully you're full of brains, too. Did you study?" Dick asked, opting for an amicable behavior.

"Kid, I know the source material like the back of my hand. Quiz me."

"Okay, what does damage to the frontal lobe cause?" Dick quizzed.

"Ah, writing difficulty! Wait no, loss of sight. Wait, wait. I wasn't ready dang it!"

Dick threw him a pitying gaze and said "Good luck."

Soon enough, the teacher in charge of them came and, after distributing the subjects, Robin began writing almost mindlessly all that he learned.

Happily, he knew all three of the subjects. Unhappily, he was writing a bit messy because he was afraid of not finishing in time.

He ended up writing so much more than his classmates. However, after finishing the exam, and handing in his papers, he began having doubts.

What if it wasn't how he remembered? What if he was even worse than that guy he quizzed? What if Beast Boy was right and they lived on an alternate Terra after the real Earth planet had been devoured by giant chocolate cookie monsters?

What if?

So, in order to alleviate his worries, he decided to call one of his closest confidants and his grandfather figure, Alfred.

"Alfie...I'm scared."

"Master Dick? Are you injured?" the butler's worried voice asked.

"Even worse, Alfie. I'm waiting for my exam results."

"I know with certitude you have done brilliantly, young sir. Do not worry needlessly."

"Alfred you don't have superpowers. You can't know for certain." Robin snickered.

"Call it intuition, young man. Your father is here, would you like to talk to him?"

"Actually Alfie, I don't really-"

"Dick!" Bruce Wayne aka Batman said after taking the phone from Alfred.

"Bruce..."

"Son, how was it?!"

"Someone made fun of my age again..."

"You know clearly I'm talking about your exam, chum," Bruce affirmed, smiling fondly.

"I think I did okay, but I'm not one hundred percent sure," Dick told him

"Okay, I understand. I know you studied, though if you're not one hundred percent sure then it's clear your superhero life is affecting your studies, Richard,"

"Ridiculous, Master Bruce," Alfred scoffed.

"We shall wait for the results and then see if we have to up your study time. I'm not above coming to the tower for periodical study sessions."

"Dad!" Dick yelled horrified.

"I love you, Dick. Your education is important," Bruce said and Dick hung up the phone.

He was feeling increasingly worried until one week had passed and he found out that he had received, predictably, a one hundred percent.