adoration.

it's all right.

"you're all i need, i'm in the middle of your picture, lying in the reeds. i am a moth, trying to share your light"

Weird, neglected, a nobody. that's what you are, or were. that's how your parents treated you, peers, 'friends'. never seeing pass your last name and fortune. though never always in the spotlight, your parents never needed you for anything, just public appearances here and there,  nothing ever meaningful, scolding you if you dared frown for too long; but, they couldn't let the public know they cared about small shit like that. they couldn't risk their public image be ruined by you, imagine preaching peace and love, while being so forceful and abusive; not the best look.

your parents were uncaring and cruel; not just to you but to each other, the yelling, banging, fighting, it felt like every night an altercation would happen between them. but even with their harsh demeanor they forced you to succeed; homeschooled you, shoved tutors down your throat, hoping you'd be good enough to one day take over. you hated them. though you despised the people who brought you into this world, though you were still grateful, you grew up into an upper class household; always full bellies every-night, a clean bed to sleep on, bathing regularly; you knew you had it good, better then others in gotham. from a young age you've seen what it was like in this gloomy wetlands of a city. you tried; even at a when you were younger you tried, any allowance you had handed back into the public, helping in homeless shelters, donating to charities, to the renewal fund, this was when everyone had hope in it at least, before they died.

your parents were close to the wayne's , not nearly as lovely or kind, but they were close. following the death of them, you remember your mothers weeps, you've never seen her that like, well you barely saw her, and when you did you always noted her cold stare in private, even in public, you could always see the resentment when she looked at you. she was never a warm women; no 'i love you's', 'i'm proud of you' no comfort, and unsurprisingly your father was the same, though he hid it better in public; the hugs, the kisses, the affection, only in public, only for show; you loved it nonetheless, affection was affection.

The day you saw your mother weeped was the day everything changed, not because she weeped, but because she broke; seeing her friends lifeless body changed her, as anyone would. your mother fell into a deep depression, you never saw her, she never left her room nor a public statement of her disappearance; she was gone. during this time you saw the younger women your father brought in; blondes, red heads, brunettes; they all wore skimpy clothing and strutted in the same, their arm laced around his waist, his own mirroring the ladies.

the last time you saw your mother, she was a shell of a woman; thin stature, her cheekbones more prominent than before,  sunken in eyes, she was hollow. you remember that day much more clearly then you'd like. the way she approached you, her slow limp forever imprinted on your brain. her cold unwelcoming hand brushing your hair out of your face, you recall feeling unable to look at the women, her whole demeanor made you nervous and left you froze. she placed a cold kiss onto your forehead before she staggered away. this being the final interaction you had with your mother, before she killed herself; yes, of course you were a little distressed, but you barely knew this women, never talked, never went out with her.

you guys never bonded, and on the rare occasion you would talk it would never be good; hitting, the degrading worlds, you could barely call this women your mother. this death brought a down fall to your family's name, speculations on her being murdered, suicidal, hell even fucking kidnapped, the press tried sucking every theory in the book and wanted to spit it out on paper; your father announced that he she passed via illness, not wanting to cause anymore unnecessary drama, but eventually he'd be the downfall of this 'legacy'.

your father would leave the estate for long periods of time, longest being a couple months, but you couldn't really care. you'd roam the streets during these times, being alone most of these days had it's perks; getting noticed by a few people, but nothing was really different for you, you were a nobody; until you met him. you remember seeing the old wayne manor for the first time, or the orphanage. you remember seeing the kids play outside, most scrawny and beat up looking, yet lively. you noted every kid you saw there, but him specifically, he stuck out; he sat awkwardly still, forehead pressed against the fence, looking down intensely into his book; he looked around a similar age to you, maybe a little older? but he was skinnier then most, his long brown hair framing his round face, shagged and unkept, his clear frame hanged loosely onto his nose bridge, threatening to fall off. you stared at him for a little, noticing every little bruise and scar on his pale skin; you got lost in your thoughts, in the sympathy for these kids. seeing how bad it was in person flipped a switch in your little brain, all the hours, all the money gone into change for this city, into renewal, for what? for children to still live in filth? for them to grow up and turn into fucking dropheads? seeing the orphanage with your own eyes changed everything, made you realize; lies.

so caught up in though, unaware of the eyes piercing back at you. the two of you locked eye contact for a while, before having the courage to walk up towards him, the conversation was.. awkward to say the least, he was tense, stuttering, you could tell he hadn't talked to many people, but to be fair neither had you. this was one of the first times you've talked to some close to your age; all your tutors were a significant amount older then you. you guys clicked, talked about anything that came into mind, you remember giving him a little trinket that day, grasping his hand tightly to hand it over. exchanging goodbyes when the children were getting forced back inside by one of the caregivers.

"uh before you go could i get your name"
you remember that sickening sweet smile.

"edward"
"nice to meet you edward"
you gripped onto his hand through the bars, shaking it lightly, grinning softly before saying your name back.

"you have a p-pretty name"
and that was it. he scurried back into the manor and left you alone. no one's ever complimented you like that before. no one's ever complimented you.

authors notes:
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i hoped you enjoyed the first chapter ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪。this is my first time writing anything like this so lmk anywhere i can improve on!!