There was a gate. Dammit. Hadn't thought of that. Of course there would be a gate. Of course there would be. Why wouldn't there be? Nobody can just waltz into his place.

This was his place. Massive.

Fuck, I had walked all that way and it was starting to fucking rain. Damian must have had a phone or something. Why didn't I do that first?

I held him with one arm and searched his pockets, eventually finding a nice phone. Like, nice. Like, custom nice.

I pulled up the contacts. None of them said 'home' of course. Pretty boy couldn't be simple. I dialed the first number.

"Master Damian, your father is worried about you." The voice said.

"Uh, er, hi, you see, I kind of, um…"

"Who are you? What do you want?" He demanded.

"I want to drop off this brat who's been following me all day." I snapped.

The line was silent.

I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, rough month, but Damian is unconscious and I carried him here. I'm at the front gate of Wayne Manor. Can you come get him or something?"

The gates opened.

"I shall wait at the front door."

The line went dead.

Dammit, I had to walk up there.

I fixed my scarf, making sure my face was covered, then I walked the long trek up to pretty boy's house.

I knocked shave-and-a-haircut. It was becoming a thing, for some reason. The sound was appealing to me. Knock, knock-knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock. Just something I liked about it.

The door quickly opened. A tall, well-built man and an older gentleman were standing at the door.

"Damian!" Bruce Wayne scooped his son from my arms. "What happened?!"

"He followed me." I answered sheepishly. "To a fighting ring. Where he promptly jumped in and tried to save me even though I don't need it. And I had a meeting after with some unsavory characters and I didn't want something to happen so I knocked him out."

I was not about to admit that I knocked him out in the ring.

"What kind of unsavory characters?" The older gentleman asked. "Why don't you come inside. You're soaked."

"I'll be fine. I would suggest, though, that pretty boy gets some dry clothes."

"Please, come in." Bruce Wayne moved to let me in.

I awkwardly mumbled that I didn't need to dry off, afraid they would see my teeth and send for the police. That was a long ass way back to Mum and Pop's house.

"Please." He said softly.

I dropped my eyes to my wet Chuck Taylors and stepped inside.

The older gentleman, whose name was Alfred, hurried me to a fireplace and had me sit in front of the flames. I do admit that the warm felt nice. I started shivering.

"You'd catch your death." Alfred put a large, fluffy towel around me.

"I'd be fine. I have an aunt who is a doctor." I had to remind myself that she was a plant doctor, but she looked after the whole family so she had to know something about human doctoring.

Wait, I wasn't human. Nevermind.

"I'm sure, but still. I will drive you back to wherever home is for you.

"Oh, here." I handed Alfred the phone and wallet. "I kind of used them to get here."

"Thank you." He smiled at me. "Do you like hot chocolate?"

"Um, I guess."

"Then I shall return with some.

Uh… Hot chocolate… At a rich guy's house.

My eyes fell to my feet again. "Wish I could tell Daddy and Wally about this…"

I closed my eyes. No, no, no. Oh no. Tears began to fall down my cheeks.

"Alfred can be pretty scary, can't he?"

I wiped my tears with my already wet scarf. It just smudged them around.

Damian sat beside my chair. He was in a pair of pajamas, his hair a little wet. He offered me my hoodie back, although it was soaked.

"But he's very kind when you get to know him."

"Sure." I mumbled, feeling myself sinking down further into depression.

"Want anything? I bet he's making his hot chocolate for you."

"That's what he said." I nodded a little. I didn't want to talk.

"We have a few guest rooms."

"I don't want to…" Stay. "Impose."

"It'd be nice to have someone lively around here, even if it's just for a night." He smiled.

Bright, white, rich boy smile. I sighed and shook my head.

"Dad is surprised you didn't go through my wallet and take my cash. I have like two hundred dollars in cash."

"I don't want your money, pretty boy." I rolled my eyes.

"Or take my phone."

"I don't want that either."

"What do you want then?" He asked.

"I don't want anything." And it was the truth. I didn't. I didn't want hot chocolate or fluffy towels or pretty boys looking up at me with big eyes.

"I have to give you something. You could have stolen my stuff and left me somewhere after how careless I was to get knocked out by you."

"Bet your dad is pissed."

"Livid." He grinned conspiratorially. "But he's just glad I'm alive. I'm gonna get the lecture 'you should be more careful', or something."

"Sucks to be you, rich boy."

"Oh, is that an upgrade? To move from pretty boy to rich boy?" He laughed.

I sighed. "I don't know. Take it how you want it."

"You okay? You seem tired."

"I'm fine." I snapped. "Why is everyone asking me that?! I'm fine!"

He held up his hands like I was aiming a gun at him.

I sighed again and slumped in the chair. "Sorry. Rough month. I… I lost my parents. My dad and his boyfriend, I mean."

"I'm sorry." He looked solomn. "Seems like a lot of people can relate to that. My dad included."

"Yeah, but you still have yours."

He nodded. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do for you?"

"I just said no, didn't I? What is with people, no means no." I grumbled, trying not to sob.

"Harmony… Er, right?" He made sure.

"Yeah. That's m'name."

"I think you should stay the night. Come on, I'll take you to a guest room." He stood and offered me a hand.

"Master Damian, perhaps you should leave the young lady alone?" Alfred came back, a cup of hot chocolate on a tray for me.

"I need to go." I stood too. "I can't stay here."

"If you leave, I'll follow." Damian crossed his arms.

"Now you're a spoiled rich boy, huh?" I muttered.

"Master Damian, please."

"Damian." Bruce Wayne walked in. "Why aren't you in bed?"

Damian scowled. "I'm fine."

"I'm not so sure."

"Go to bed, pretty boy." I waved him off. "I'm outta here anyway."

"Lemme get my coat." He ran off.

"You aren't following me!" I shouted after him.

Silence between Alfred and Wayne Senior and I. I moved past them back to where I remembered the door being.

"Harmony." Wayne Senior's voice stopped me.

I turned and squinted at him. That voice sounded familiar.

"He's going to follow you. At least take the umbrella by the door." He pointed.

"Control your child." I scowled.

"He's his own person. He's decided that being rebellious suits him." He sighed. "Just watch out for him, please."

This guy was seriously stressed out. He looked old as hell with enough creases in his face to make origami.

"Yeah, okay." My face softened. "I can look out for him. Don't worry about it."

Damian ran down to us and grabbed my hand. He was fully dressed, no fancy clothes just a long sleeve shirt under a tee and a pair of baggy pants. Could he even wear things like this? He was Bruce Wayne's child, right? Didn't he have to look nice or something?

He pulled a hood over his head as he yanked me out the front door. I snatched up the golf umbrella as we walked by and waved it at Wayne Senior and the Butler, hoping it might calm their nerves a little bit.