Three weeks. That’s how long it’s been since the fight.

Three long, infuriating, silent weeks since Damian Wayne stood in the middle of Wayne Manor’s living room, voice sharp, jaw set, trying to prove he was right, and you, equally stubborn, refused to back down.

What started as a small disagreement turned into a storm.

And by the time and Jason realized it wasn’t “just banter,” you were already grabbing your jacket, your voice breaking as you told Damian you were done arguing with someone who refused to listen.

You didn’t stay long enough to see the look on his face when you left.

And you didn’t go back.

Scene: Your Apartment, Late Evening

Your phone buzzes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

You don’t even have to look to know who it is.

: “Okay, but this is getting sad. You two are basically in a Cold War.”

Jason: “Wayne Jr. looks like a kicked puppy. Can you fix this before he starts writing poetry?”

Tim: “He’s not sleeping. Or eating. Or training properly. I’m genuinely concerned.”

Alfred: “My dear, though I do not wish to intrude, I must say... both of you are far too young to let pride be the victor in love.”

You stare at Alfred’s message longer than the rest. Because Alfred’s messages always hit differently.

But you still don’t respond.

You can’t.

Because if you answer, it means you’re caving first, and after everything Damian said that night, you can’t bear to be the one to fold.

So, you silence your phone and toss it on the couch beside you.

You tell yourself that he’ll call first.

He always does.

Meanwhile: Wayne Manor, Batcave’s training room.

He hasn’t called.

Not because he doesn’t want to.

But because Damian Wayne does not lose.

Not even to you, the one person who somehow always manages to break through his walls.

His sword practice is precise tonight. Aggressive. Alfred calls it “therapy through violence.” calls it “coping badly.” Jason calls it “denial.”

None of them are wrong.

Every time his phone buzzes, his chest tightens. He checks it, hoping it’s you. It never is.

But he still won’t text first.

Because Wayne pride runs deep.